#i need to see him stumble down like a domino

[hyunpic]

hyunjin on bubble: me today

[cassandracain52]

so I’ve seen lots of fics about Bruce coming back and finding out things like Tim loosing his spleen or Damian getting shot (on multiple occasions by different people) and he almost always finds out by either having dug into the Batcomputers records and stumbling across it or just seeing it on scans or something after Tim or Damian is injured

but imagine for a moment Bruce finds out, not on his own, but by the others telling him.

And by “tell him” I of course mean that they all automatically assume that he already knows about all of it(because he’s the worlds greatest detective so obviously they don’t need to say anything) so they never bring it up until they mention it one day in passing and nearly give him a heart attack.

for example:

Bruce: Tim, I need you to come with me to speak with Dr. Thompkins down at the clinic about that new drug that’s been circulating

Tim: Oh, sure thing, just let me grab my mask

[Bruce not saying anything but looking at him confused because Tim is already fully suited up and wearing his domino mask?]:

[Tim, now wearing a surgical face mask]: Ok, I’m ready! [Bruce just staring at him, waiting for some explanation. He doesn’t get one.]:

Bruce: Tim

Tim: hm?

Bruce: Why are you wearing a face mask..?

Tim: Oh! Well Dr. Thompkins got mad at me last time I came to the clinic without one because there’s a lot of sick people there and I should be more careful since I’m immunocompromised-

[Bruce, immediately cutting him off]: Wait, what?

[Tim, slightly confused]: She got mad at me when I didn’t wear one last time..?

[Bruce, equally confused and growing very concerned]: No, not that. You’re immunocompromised?

[Tim, now completely lost because this is all common knowledge?]: Uh, yeah??

[Bruce, even more concerned]: How??? What do you mean??

[Tim, getting annoyed and rolling his eyes]: Well that’s what they call you when you have no spleen, Bruce.

Bruce: What.

[Tim finally realizing that, just maybe, they skipped a step]: I have no spleen? It got stabbed so Ra’s took it

[Bruce, about to have an aneurysm]: RA’S DID WHAT-

______ Or like him finding out Damian had his entire spine replaced

Bruce: Hey, do you think it’s strange Damian’s so small?

Dick: No?? He’s ten?? Ten year olds are small?

[Bruce, audibly concerned]: No, I mean don’t you think he should have grown some by now? Is he not eating enough?

[Dick, immediately relaxing]: Oh, that? Yeah, it’s fine

[Bruce, still concerned]: Are you sure? I was taller than that at his age

[Dick, waving his hand dismissively]: Nah, he’s fine. I think the spine replacement just stunted his growth a bit

Bruce:…

Dick:..?

[Bruce, near hysterically because all his kids somehow keep losing pieces of their insides and none of them seem bothered by it??]: his wHAT- ____

Dick has to spend the next several hours trying to stop Bruce from making everyone do a mandatory medical examination so he can make sure none of his other kids are missing anything

Dick promises that it was just the two things

Bruce is not reassured

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Iceberg Siren pt 1

**based on a prompt by @purple-goo-writes about Danny getting a job as a club singer for Penguin- I hope y'all like it!**

Oswald Cobblepot watched as his lounge’s newest acquisition crooned on stage, the crowd transfixed by the young man’s stunning voice. The Penguin was beginning to notice that the Iceberg’s profits went up by twenty percent every night this particular new hire was singing, and he had plans to promote the kid. Daniel Nightingale lived up to his name.

He’d stumbled into the young man in an alley, starving and beaten, and offered him a cleaning job. Daniel had taken him up on it, after his sharp blue eyes searched Oswald’s face like he could see his very soul. One of his bartenders had heard the young man singing while he worked a few weeks in, and soon enough, Daniel was the Iceberg’s crowning glory, even if he didn’t know it himself.

Oswald would make sure the young man knew how valuable he was to the Penguin and never left.

Danny gave a short bow to the crowd after his last song, and they all made noises of disappointment as he slipped off the stage through the door in the back. It had been several months since he’d started singing at the Iceberg, and he was thriving. Penguin had started paying him more for less work- Two nights a week he sang, enchanting the denizens of Gotham’s underworld.

It was probably cheating, that he was using some ghostly tricks picked up from Ember, but it’s not like the GIW existed in this universe to track him down.

“Siren! Boss wants you in the VIP lounge before you take off.”

Matt, his security detail, was waiting for him outside his dressing room.

“Sure! Walk me up?”

Danny winked at Matt, who just rolled his eyes.

“Happily married, Siren. Let’s go.”

With a laugh, Danny turned to head up the back steps to the VIP area, swinging his hips a little to make Matt sigh in exasperation.

He wasn’t truly interested in Matt- nor anyone else he’d met in the dimension, but as he began to be fed on a regular basis and filled out more, he found that people thought he was attractive, and he enjoyed the attention. It was far different from being reviled as a nerd or even as the local menace. The attention of people who wanted him felt easier to control even than the attention he received from the ghosts as their king.

The door to the VIP balcony swung open as he approached, and he was waved through. Plastering a sultry smile on his face, he slunk through the tables, winking at patrons as he made his way to his boss.

The Penguin was sitting in a comfortable chair on a raised dais, across the table from a man Danny hadn’t seen in the Iceberg before. The stranger was wearing a domino mask, and had a streak of white through otherwise black hair.

“Thank you for coming, Siren. Please, sit!”

An attendant melted out of the shadows with a third chair, placed beside the bossman. Danny smiled gratefully at the attendant and settled into the chair.

He wasn’t sure what Penguin wanted- sometimes he called Danny up just to show him off in his glittering dress that clung to his skin, and sometimes he called Danny up to read whether a person was trustworthy or not.

“Siren, Mr. Hood here was suggesting a possible business deal- why don’t you hear him out and tell me what you think?”

Ah, reading. Danny could do that.

“I don’t have time for nonsense, Cobblepot.”

The man’s growl raised goosebumps on Danny’s arms, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. Damned if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

“Oh, but Mister Hood, I’d love to hear about your business proposal! What my employer does with his money affects us too, you know- if the business proposal falls through….” Danny batted his eyelashes at the man. “I’m sure you know what happens to the bottom line.”

Red Hood sighed, and then began to explain himself.

Danny didn’t listen to the actual proposal more than he needed to make the appropriate noises. Instead he listened to the tone and cadence of the crime lord’s voice, the way his body moved as he spoke. Everything screamed sincerity, even the small, half-formed core pulsing in the man.

Wait. Hold up. Turn around, go back. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. A core? Here? In someone so clearly still living?

He would have to investigate, but later. His employer was beginning to look to him for a verdict.

“Wow! That sure does sound interesting,” simpering, Danny stood and wrapped an arm around Penguin’s shoulders. “I think you should hear him out, boss- he seems pretty up-and-up to me!”

Penguin smiled sharply up at him and then waved him away.

Danny could feel the stranger’s eyes on him as he left, swaying back to where Matt was waiting at the door.

~~

Look. Danny didn’t intend to get into this situation on his day off, but things just happened to him that didn’t happen to other people. Sam and Tucker would call it the “Fenton Luck”.

Danny didn’t think luck was involved at all.

If luck had been involved, the weird clown wouldn’t have attacked him with a crowbar. If luck had been involved, Danny wouldn’t have responded like he would with a ghost. If. Luck. Had. Been. Involved, the clown would not have flown back into a brick wall and then slumped like a marionette with it’s strings cut.

Stepping forward, Danny leaned down to check his victim’s pulse, but reeled back when he got a good look at the man’s face.

The Joker’s sightless eyes stared back up at him.

Ancients.

“Whatcha got there, sweet thing?”

Luck had nothing to do with anything in Danny’s life, ever. He was cursed somehow, that had to be it.

“A bagel?”

Harley Quinn hopped off the roof and came to investigate Danny’s dead body.

“Sure looks to me like an ex-boyfriend of mine, and not at all bagel shaped. You didn’t even leave a hole in him!”

“I’m…. Sorry?”

Harley grinned up at him, all teeth and a fierce light in her eyes.

“No need, sugar, you did a good thing. What I wonder is why the gas hasn’t triggered?”

Danny laughed nervously- he couldn’t help it, his fear response was laughter!

“Gas?”

“Mhmm! Had his body rigged, the bastard. Joker gas should have spread for six blocks or more when his vitals stopped.”

“Oh. I- you won’t tell the bats, will you?”

“My lips are sealed! I don’t owe Batsy anything!”

With a sigh, Danny shrugged.

“I’m a meta. Joker gas preys on fear, and so do I. The gas must have triggered, but I’m close enough that I filtered it pretty fast.”

Harley put her hands on her hips.

“Batsy doesn’t like metas much.”

“The Bat can suck it.”

She laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“I like you, kid! Let me call my body disposal squad.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Poison Ivy and the Red Hood walked into the alley, looking around cautiously. Harley had talked Danny into braiding her hair, and was chatting amiably at Danny.

“-And that’s why Bill owes me a trip to Cabo. I don’t plan to collect, though, he’s just a henchman. Ives! Thanks for coming!”

Red Hood put his hands on his hips.

“I get why you called her, Harley, but why me?”

Harley tilted her head, pulling her hair out of Danny’s hands carelessly.

“You deserve to see him before he disappears, kid. The whole of Gotham deserves that, but we can’t risk it.”

“See who?”

She pointed at the body, and Red Hood went to inspect it. While he did so, Ivy walked up to Danny, peering down on him.

“I know you.”

“Hi, Dr. Isley.”

“I was right! You work for Oswald. Almost didn’t recognize you without your getup. I take it this was your doing?”

“Yes ma’am, although entirely on accident.”

She laughed, and Danny smiled too.

“One we’re all glad for. Thank you.”

There were stomping footsteps, and Red Hood was suddenly in front of them. Harley stood up from the box she’d been sitting on, shielding Danny with her body.

“You did this?”

Danny the angry pulsing of the Hood’s half-formed core. It felt similar to the way his own core had felt when he was forced away from Amity Park. He slid out from between Harley and Ivy and held out his hand.

Hood took it, whether on purpose or unconsciously.

“Hi. Danny Nightingale. I just avenged thousands by accident. Please don’t kill me.”

The pulsing turned from anger to relief, and the Red Hood laughed. It sounded odd through the modulator in the helmet, but Danny smiled along nonetheless.

[eccentricgrace]

the one who left behind his name || BatFamily

summary: dick gets hit with fear toxin. this experience reveals a lot of surprising conversations he needs to have with his brothers.

tags: dick grayson’s eldest daughter syndrome, bruce wayne’s c+ parenting, fear toxin, lots of hugs, hurt/comfort, found family feels

wc: 12,100

⚠️tw: canon-typical violence, blood, injury

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

The irony was, Dick didn’t see the green mist settle in until it was on his tongue. An acrid, medicinal film, seizing his lungs in a chokehold while he buckled over, hands clutching at his knees for a sense of stability.

In a second, his mind sparked back on like a match lit in a gas chamber. His hand shot up to his mouth, it clamped around his nose, he held his breath; all attempts in vain to undo what he knew would begin soon.

He made an ‘abort’ gesture, stumbling back into the shadows. “Robin,” he rasped out. “Code Fern. I’ve been hit, we’re heading out. I need Agent A to—“

“I’ve got it,” Damian snapped. “I’ve collected a sample for Agent A to analyze as we sit here wasting time. What’s your status?”

Dick grimaced as he tried to think of a way to soften the blow, to ease the fears edging from his baby brother’s voice. It was hard to think when he could feel his heart start to pound, when he knew the beginning of something terrific was stirring, except ‘terrific’ meant—

“Nightwing, status,” Damian repeated, his voice strung tight. “Do we need to call an assist?”

“No,” Dick said quickly, even though his legs shook and there’s a stutter in his heartbeat. He ignored it and pulled himself down the dark street.

In a moment, the world twisted on its axis, and in the second that Dick paused to blink, Damian was at his side. He shoved his small frame under Dick’s arm, trying to support his weight.

“Liar,” Damian hissed. “You can’t even stand straight, Grayson—“

“Names,” he chided lightly.

Damian ignored him and pressed forward with determination. “We need to get you to the cave before Crane’s delusions kick in.”

Dick half-heartedly agreed, and tried not to acknowledge the growing twitchiness of his mind. He felt eyes at the back of his neck, something lurking in the dark, watching them.

“Stay alert, Robin,” Dick directed, turning his head to get a view of his peripherals. “We’re still on the ground, baby bat.”

Damian made a frustrated sound and continued ignoring him.

“Nightwing,” a voice filtered in through his comms. Low, gruff, stern. Shit. “Status.”

Dick exhaled stiffly through his nose and brought a hand up to his earpiece. “I got hit. Low grade gang, I wasn’t expecting them to have toxin. I think they stole it, but still— I should have known Scarecrow’s long silence was a red flag.”

“You should’ve,” Bruce cut in. His tone was clear, made up of all his no-nonsense inflections that always made him feel like he was eight years old again, with all of the false confidence and none of the worthwhile experience. “That’s disappointing, Nightwing. I trained you better than this.”

The words sent a rush of anxiety through him, like he’d been mentally knocked back. His throat went tight as he tried to form an argument. “I—“

Dick paused. His hand hesitated on the comms, and he pulled away. He looked to Damian, who was watching him with a not-so-subtle side eye. “Isn’t B off tonight? I thought he had a gala.”

“Father isn’t online,” Damian confirmed, his eyes narrowing through the domino. “Are you hearing him now?”

Dick sighed in agitation and let his hand drop from the earpiece. He avoided Damian’s exact question, instead saying: “We need to move faster.”

Damian nodded, schooling his expression into determination. His face faded in and out of view as they marched through the dark alleyway, his hand retaining its tight grip on Dick’s elbow.

“I failed you tonight,” Damian said. He was sure. Certain.

He’s never certain of himself, not really, not unless he believed he had made a mistake. It’s one of the many things that Dick had learned the hard way, one that still broke his heart when he caught it.

“I should have noticed the toxin before you got hit. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Damian ducked his head once.

“It will,” Bruce said, his voice ringing metallic through comms. “He’ll disappoint you again, and again, and you’ll have to watch until you can’t do it any longer. Not even I could stand you for too long. The cycle won’t break.”

(“You’re firing me?” Dick guffawed, his arm still in its sling, fresh blood still on his bandages. “Bruce—“

“This isn’t for discussion. You’re done,” Bruce said. He turned around. He won’t look at him. Why won’t he look at him? “You aren’t being safe, you’re taking too many risks.”

“Necessary risks!” Dick cut in, the forced smile slipping from his face. His eyebrows are pulled tight in a stressed glower. “You can’t just take Robin away from me, Bruce. Robin is mine, I am Robin.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce snapped. He stalked toward the door, still hiding his face, the damned coward. “You were fatally injured, Dick. You were reckless. You failed the mission. You don’t deserve—”)

Dick’s exhaled sharply. He forced himself down to his knees and gripped Damian’s shoulders. His head hurt. He swallowed thickly. “You’ve never failed me.”

Bruce made a low, disapproving sound. “That’s not what I said, Robin. I’m in your head, I know you haven’t forgotten what really happened.”

Dick flinched, his shoulders hiking up to his ears. He shut his eyes tightly. “We’ll talk more about this later, but the serum, it’s getting worse.”

“You can’t listen to it,” Damian reminded him, his face pulled into a determined scowl. “It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

“It was real, though,” Bruce scoffed. “Wasn’t it?”

(Bruce’s mouth snapped shut before he finished the sentence, his teeth audibly clicking together.

“I don’t deserve what?” Dick asked quietly. His face was hot, the air rushing out from his nose like a dragon, like some beastly inhuman thing.

Bruce said nothing. He said nothing, and wouldn’t look at him, and Dick felt more alone now than he had since…)

“Nightwing!” Damian shook him off. “Focus!”

Dick groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, his head spinning. His heart was beating out of his chest, he felt sick. He couldn’t move, not even if he wanted to— he just felt paralyzed.

“It’s not real,” Damian said, grabbing his wrist. “Damn it, Nightwing. Snap out of it!”

(“You made me this, Bruce, I don’t have anything else,” Dick said, and as he said it the words bubble into a manic laugh, like he’s just realizing it for the first time.

For so long he’d seen it as the only good thing in his life, that Bruce had been able to save him from himself. That Bruce had scooped him up from the bloodied floors of the Circus, cold floors of the Gotham City orphanage— but now the floors of the cave are just as bloody, just as cold.

A gilded cage is still a cage.

The only good thing in his life has now just become the only thing. He’s a bird without wings.

Bruce didn’t say goodbye to him before he left.)

“I was busy,” Bruce said lamely. “You were acting like a child.”

“I was a child,” Dick rasped, the words keening from his throat. His vision tunneled, going dark around the edges, and he bit back a swear. “Robin, call backup.”

If Damian replied, he couldn’t hear. There’s another hand pulling at his wrist, to which he knocked away in his panicked instincts. A following clatter on the ground echoed through the darkness, then a muffled sound of pain.

“Shit,” Dick said. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—“

Bruce sighed with resignation. “Always reckless. Always endangering the people you claim to love. You won’t ever learn, will you, Robin?”

A blinding light hit his eyes, and he hissed, his arms shielding his face from the spotlight. Wind whipped around him, and there was so much sound that started at him in waves. Cheers and whistles, the steady tin dribbling of a timpani, a symphony of thunderous applause.

Dick weakly dropped his arms, squinting out at the lights, all white beams that strobe past him, that move in and out of view. In the light, little bits of paper fell: cheap, thin squares in colours of faded red, yellow, green—

He’s been here before.

A million times, more, he’s been here. He breathed in, was hit with the scent of hay, of chalk, of sweat, of blood. On his tongue he could taste it, the metallic tang of sheer horror and a scream so deep it could only be felt.

“Richard!”

Dick’s head shot up. Crouched on the edge of a platform an entire tent’s length away, he could catch the blurry figure of Damian. He was injured, blood dripping from his nose.

A spotlight dropped on Damian, and the boy winced, ducking his head to cover his eyes. Dick’s mind stalled. He couldn’t tell what was real or not.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… BOYS AND GIRLS… HALEY’S CIRCUS IS PROUD TO ANNOUNCE…”

A trapeze dropped from nowhere, the bar dull with chalk. The timpani sped up, drumming impossibly in tandem with his heartbeat.

“…FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY…”

In all his nightmares, Dick could see where the rope was fraught, could see what he missed the time that it counted. This wasn’t an outlier. He could see the singed edges, he could see them.

“…THE FLYING GRAYSONS!”

(He was four when he learned to fly. He was never nervous. He never felt safer than he did holding onto his Tată’s warm hands, and he never felt more free than when he was swinging through the air with a laugh in his chest.

“I want to do this forever,” he insisted after his first day of practice, standing on his toes. “Can I, Mamă? Please?”

“My little Robin,” Mamă laughed sweetly, combing his hair back between her fingers. “You were just born to fly, hm?”)

The band was playing loud, circus music that twisted in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong shapes. Dick hazarded an alarmed look towards Damian.

“Dami,” he called out frantically, stepping up. “Damian, hang on. Don’t move, okay?”

Damian’s eyes look back at him, all wide, unsteady. He looked so young now that he had removed his domino— Dick can’t remember when he’d done that.

“Richard!” He called out. “Do you have a plan?”

(He’s eight years old and it’s the end of this summer’s tour. His Mamă did his hair, gelled the short waves down nice so they wouldn’t fall in his eyes when he hung upside down, because he’d fretted when they started practicing their big act.

He’s got his perfect show-stopping smile on, one of his front teeth missing, but bright and cheery all the same. His outfit had been pressed last night, glittery red and green with stripes of yellow dashed along the chest to look like a bird.

His knees locked around a trapeze bar, and he swung back and forth, grinning at Mamă because she’s always so beautiful when she soars through the air. She winked at him, and to his glee, he caught a quick glimpse of her sparkly eyeshadow.

The crowds cheered. He felt like he was on top of the world.)

The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he gritted his teeth, holding out his arms to keep some semblance of balance. He looked back up, barely-concealed panic in his eyes. “Richard, we’re running out of time. I should— I have to jump.”

“No!” Dick shouted, a sudden bark of a word. He made himself sound as stern as he could, the panic ramping up in his chest. “Damian, do not jump. Stay there.”

Damian was going to fall. There wasn’t a question about it. Dick looked at the bar dangling in front of them, and he made a choice.

“I’m—“ Dick took a steadying breath, and forced his shoulders to relax. “I’m coming to you. Just stay there.”

Bruce had trained him for moments like these. Times if his cable broke, if some accident occurred to his grapnel while he was still in the air. He knew, theoretically, the least-damaging way to land from a potentially lethal height.

That was with one person. Not two.

He pictured the steps in his mind. Grabbing Damian, tucking him to his chest, turning over before the inevitable impact. Injury would be the best case scenario.

Dick’s ready to take that chance.

(Dick’s swinging back and forth, the blood rushing to his head, and something about the rope—

Mamă was swinging towards him, and something wasn’t right. The rope thinned, and before Dick could even process what the problem was— it happened.

SNAP.

His Tată gasped, his Mamă’s eyes went wide, her hand still stretched out to take his.

Dick’s arm lunged as far as he could without falling, his small fingers strung out as if the centimeters would make a difference.

It didn’t.

He screamed, and he kept screaming, and sometimes it felt like he never truly stopped.)

“Damian.” Dick smiled, attempting to pacify him before the damage. “You’ll be okay.”

Damian furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes wildly darting from the trapeze bar to Dick. “What? Richard, don’t do anything stupid! What are you—“

He took a few steps back, shook out his limbs, and swallowed his fear.

He leaped towards the bar. The rope strained under his weight, he could hear the way it pulled. Damian yelled a swear, seemingly having connected the dots. It didn’t matter now. He needed to build more momentum.

He swung his legs back and kicked them forward, and a loud round of applause shook the stadium. The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he nearly toppled over the side of the uneasy ground.

Dick swore, and he kicked harder, using every bit of his weight to get the trapeze moving.

“Damian!” He shouted. “Jump on three! Okay? I’ll catch you!”

Backwards, forwards. Dick’s hands were sweaty through the gloves of his suit. Damian was mouthing to himself: One.

Backwards, forwards. The rope pulled taut. It creaked. It was almost over. Two.

Backwards, forwards. He launched off, the rope pulling apart with an echoing snap. His eyes locked on Damian, who had jumped towards him just as the platform crumbled. Three.

Dick reached out his hands.

(Mamă reached out her hands.)

He’s falling.

(She’s falling.)

Damian’s fingers brushed against his, just barely, just enough for Dick to pull him closer. The two of them tumbled through the air, birds without wings. The world spun, and Dick turned Damian away from the impact as it grew closer—

It took two seconds for the world to explode in a menagerie of bright, painful colours. Two moves. His spine, the ground. The wind knocked out of him.

Under the sound of the audience, still clapping, still cheering, oblivious to the blood, he could hear them— the circus clowns laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

In his arms, a crumpled bundle shifted and cried out. Dick hissed weakly as the movement jostled his back. A spark of fear gave him the energy to lift his chin, just enough to look down.

“Damian?” He wheezed. “Dami, you okay?”

Damian climbed off of his chest, and held a hand to his head. It came back blood-soaked, crimson running down his wrist. He looked back at Dick with dazed eyes. He made a small, confused sound at the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Dick sat up, ignoring the white hot pain shooting through his entire body. He stumbled close to Damian to investigate the wound.

Somewhere during the fall, he’d hit his head. There was a lot of blood. Inevitable– head injuries were always the bloodiest because the brain needed a lot of blood; there were a lot of vessels to be broken up there. He definitely had a concussion.

He pressed pressure onto the wound, sinking a terrible warmth into the fabric of his suit.

“Okay,” Dick said quickly, cradling Damian’s head in his hands. “You’re okay.”

(He was always more tired after a mission.

Usually the farther it was, the more free he felt— an effect of his nomadic early years. He learned pretty fast that the rule didn’t apply to extraterrestrial travel. He preferred his feet on the ground he knew best, and the long space missions the Titans had to go out on lately were really good at draining him of all his energy.

That’s why he spent the entire trip home soothing the bone-deep exhaustion by imagining himself walking through the door. He’d collapse on the couch, sprawl all his limbs out and laugh at the way Jason would trail in after him with a scowl.

Jason would stumble over his explanation that the first living room’s TV had the best audio quality, to shove over so he could watch The Princess Bride, and Dick would move over just to kick his feet back over Jason’s legs.

They’d wrestle over the remote and then Jason would glare at him and say “welcome back, by the way,” and then Dick would finally feel like he was home.)

Someone dropped behind him. The fall of heavy boots. A familiar sound. Dick turned around and faced a red helmet and full weaponry.

“You called for an assist,” Hood said bluntly.

“Damian,” Dick rattled off quickly, keeping his hand clamped on the bleeding wound. “I mean Robin, he’s injured. TBI, external bleeding head injury, I haven’t had time to properly triage.”

(He’s walking up the hill, the winding road up to the foyer, and he’s thinking about Alfred’s hot cocoa. He’s thinking of Bruce, and mimicking his facial expressions everytime he turned away until Jason cracked and let out one of his kiddie high-pitched laughs.

He got to the door, and something felt wrong, like the rope, like the—)

Hood stalked forward. He clicked his helmet off and tossed it to the side, the metal clanging on concrete. He leaned down beside Damian and looked over the wound.

“Definitely a concussion,” Hood sighed heavily. He said something mumbled to himself, then tried snapping his fingers in front of Damian’s face.

Damian was wildly out of it, drifting in and out of consciousness. His fingers twitched from where they were held in one of Dick’s hands, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curling in an annoyed sneer— he was scared, disoriented, and he was trying to fight it off. Oh, Dami.

(Maybe he was paranoid. Recent events had definitely made him noticeably more twitchy, but he couldn’t imagine why it would make him feel like this.

Not even paranoia could cause this, he wanted to think— this feeling of something so deeply off center, a molecular-level change that he couldn’t place.

He took a breath, shook off his shoulders, and put on a smile— perfect, show stopping, just like Mamă taught him — before he knocked on the door.

The door opened promptly. Alfred had been waiting for him.

Alfred’s hand shook lightly on the door handle. His handkerchief was tucked messily into his suit pocket, wrinkled and well-used. His hair was thinner, his eyes were sunken in, red-rimmed, his lips were pulled together primly. Grief emanated from every tired line of his body.

Dick’s smile was whisked away and paranoia was replaced with dread, shuddering over him faster than he could breathe, from his hair’s split-ends to the soles of his feet.

He swallowed, his gaze going steely. “Who was it?”)

Dick shuddered, everything was hurting so badly— the world was blurring, he’s messing everything up, and Damian was injured in his lap and he needed help.

“We have to get him to the cave, or Leslie’s,” Dick pleaded, looking up to Jason. “Whichever’s faster.”

“The cave. Leslie’s on the other side of town, and Agent A is already prepared for a shit show,” Jason said. After a moment, he sighed. “I got here on my motorcycle, though. Not enough room for three, even if Demon Brat is a shrimp.”

“Take him,” Dick said immediately. He lifted Damian up, his entire spine screaming with pain. He winced, and pressed on. “Take him to the cave, I’ll find my way back.”

“Whatever.” Jason reached down and took him in his arms. “What happened, anyway?”

(“Bruce. Tell me you’re lying,” Dick said, barely getting the words out with the way he shook. “Tell me you didn’t bury my…”

Bruce didn’t speak. He was looking at him, finally, after all the time, but his gaze was empty. His eyes were grey, devoid of feeling, of focus.

“Bruce!” Dick shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. He needed Bruce to flinch, to blink, to breathe. Anything would be better than this.

Bruce just stared.

“God damn it, answer me!” Dick punched the table again, his eyes scanning furiously over Bruce’s void of energy.)

“Dickface,” Jason snapped, sounding mildly alarmed. He shifted uncomfortably, the unconscious kid groaning in his arms. “Hey, what the fuck. It wasn’t that serious, why’re you crying?”

Dick blinked rapidly, his hands coming up to his face. Tears made his cheeks wet and cold. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping them away. “I don’t know, I— he fell. That’s what happened. We—“

“Did you fucking drop him?” Jason spat out, looking at Dick with disgust.

“I didn’t drop him,” Dick bit down, his teeth clicking together painfully. His stomach turned with waves of nausea. “We fell together, I tried to—“

“You did,” Jason scoffed. “You did drop him. Nice fucking going, Dickie. Do you know what a fall from that height does to someone as small as him? You may be able to take it, but chances are he fucking won’t.”

(Bruce swallowed. “I’m sorry, Dick,” he mumbled drunkenly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dick’s vision was beginning to blur, a familiar rage burning its way back into his veins, back to the circus, back to screams and police sirens, back to Zucco.

An empty whisky glass from Bruce’s desk found its way into Dick’s hand, and was thrown across the room with a brilliant amount of force. Dick didn't look while it shattered and fell to the carpet in a million shining pieces.

“Sorry is something you say when you break a fucking glass,” Dick gritted out. “Not when you kill somebody’s fucking little brother.”

He couldn’t breathe. He’s taking in air faster than his lungs could register it. “What did you do, Bruce? What the hell did you do?!”)

“You’d think the first one would be enough for the lesson to stick,” Jason spat bitterly. “But no, somehow, you just keep collecting dead birds, huh?”

“No,” Dick scraped out. He bowed his head, pressing into the gravely pavement. A gasp forced out from his lungs as the tears made him heave. “No, no, no.”

The boots trailed around him in a lazy circle. “Another baby brother lost. Stop fucking crying, Dickie, I know you don’t actually care. You gonna miss his funeral, too?”

“I’m so sorry.” Dick made fists, he grasped uselessly at the concrete, catching and ripping at the fabric of his gloves. “He didn’t tell me. Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Sure. Sure, he didn’t tell you, so it wasn’t your fault.” Jason gripped his hair and yanked his head up. “Which is it, then? It isn’t your fault, or you’re sorry? Which is it?”

He’s pissed. His eyes a manic green, the way animals carried vibrant patterns so predators knew to steer clear. It’d been so long since his last bout of pit madness, he’d already fought this battle before, it was supposed to be over.

“Everything you are, was what I wanted to be,” Jason said slowly, his eyes dark and gleaming, tilted and dangerous. “Now I can’t even look at you without feeling sick.”

“I know,” Dick croaked.

“When we finally kick the bucket, I pray we go to different hells.”

Jason released his grip, and Dick’s skull slammed against the floor in a blinding white flash.

(“Nightwing. We’ve gotten a code red from Titan Tower.”

Dick paused, his movements lilting in confusion. “Tim’s the only one there this weekend.”

A sharp inhale through the nose, B’s telltale giveaway of panic. “The Red Hood has been seen at the location.”

Something heavy fell in Dick’s stomach. His eyes darkened. “…Leaving now.”)

Rather than waking up in one of Gotham’s infamous back alleys, Dick lifted his head in an indoor grey hallway, industrial, stretching a long way before an inevitable turn.

His heart was still pounding, his breath still stuttered with every inhale and exhale. Two brothers gone, two fathers lost, one mother dead. He wanted to curl up and stay there shaking until it was all over, let the misery wash over him until the bubbles stopped.

“I didn’t train you to give up,” Bruce said, his voice cracking through his skull. “If you’re going to die, you’re going to make it useful.”

Someone was calling his name. Somewhere else, as it echoed and rebounded through the ominous hallway. He lifted his head again to look.

At the far end of the hallway, just before the turn, a dash of red smeared on the wall. Dick knew like the back of his hand what was meant to follow, every horrible moment that awaited him.

“Don’t just lay there,” Bruce commanded. “Run, Robin.”

(Dick’s voice was hoarse from how loudly he’s bellowing as he sprinted through the tower’s floors. He barely heard Tim at all, a cry, weak and frail as a baby bird’s, and then he was running again towards the sound.)

He was running through the hallways. He couldn’t remember getting up, all he could remember was—

(—blood on the wall. Blood on the floor. It was everywhere.

Good god, it was everywhere, and in the center of it all there was—)

“Tim!” Dick fell to his knees, gathering up the teen and pressing his hand to his bleeding neck.

Tim keened, tears and spilling crimson on his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He grasped helplessly at Dick’s arms, his feet pushing against the floor in a squirming mess as he tried to deal with the pain.

“It’s okay,” Dick repeated feverishly. He’s moving like a ghost, like a possessed man, like a puppet. “I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to the med bay. Come on.”

He scooped Tim up and half-dragged him to the medical bay, and he’s digging through the drawers with one hand and—

(— he’s holding Tim’s bleeding throat with the other, and Tim kept trying to speak. He was gasping and floundering like his life depending on choking the words out, rather than actually living.

Dick kept shushing him. He’s razor-focused, he’s scatter-brained, his hands are doing a million things at once, he’s not moving fast enough. He packed the hemostatic gauze and—)

— he wrapped the injury with more cloth, and—

(—it’s hiding the red, it’s working, his little brother will be okay, Dick will make it okay and—)

—there’s so much blood, it was soaking through, and nothing was working. It wasn’t supposed to be this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. These weren’t the way the words were written. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.

“You’re—“ Tim gasped, the sound wretched and wet. “A murderer. A fraud. You…”

Dick made a panicked noise as he pressed more gauze, more cloth, more pressure, and the shock was starting to settle into Tim’s body. His eyes were going glassy. His face was so pale underneath the bruises and drying blood.

Tim gurgled, his hands going limp and falling to the side.

“Not another,” Dick shook. “Not— Not again.”

He reached out—

(—to take his mother’s hand—)

(—to call Bruce—)

(—to ruffle his brother’s hair—)

(—to keep pressure on the wound—)

—and his hand is caught by someone else’s.

It was akin to the exact moment a storm cleared, or taking a proper breath after a marathon. Atlas with a sudden bout of freedom, shoulders free of the world for one clear, distinct moment.

He exhaled, squeezing the hand in his in a strange desperation. He needed this to be real.

The hand squeezed back. Someone’s speaking to him in low, soothing tones.

The scene in front of him faded away into nothing, a cloak of darkness falling over his view. He felt tired enough to sink into the dark, enough to breathe now like it wouldn’t be his last breath.

Distantly he thought maybe his heart had finally given up, that this was the peace before his consciousness gave into oblivion. A pang sat in his throat, a heaviness at the thought that he would be leaving his family in need of him, but — but this couldn’t be stopped. Not anymore.

“Shh…” a callused hand gently graced his face. It’s warm and it’s safe, and he was so tired. His eyes shut, his body went lax at the abrupt crash of adrenaline. “It’s all better now. Just rest.”

In the end, it hardly felt like a choice at all.

He went to sleep.

Waking up properly was a slow, miserable process.

He kept getting flashes of awareness, fragments of scents, of sights, of sounds. Sometimes he panicked, and then there was that voice again, gruff and steady, telling him everything was going to be fine.

All the while, he dreamt.

In dreams, everything was just as fuzzy, so much so that it was hard to distinguish from reality until he would jerk back awake.

He was nine, carrying his things in a big black grocery bag he got from a social worker up the front steps of the manor. He’s thirteen and he’s broken his ankle on patrol. B won’t stop fretting and Dick won’t stop rolling his eyes.

He’s fifteen and he hated the world and he loved his dad. He’s seventeen and he wanted to come home now, really, he did.

He’s eighteen and he loved to sit next to his little brother and listen while he read books with words so big he couldn’t pronounce them out loud. He’s twenty-two and his little brother was dead and every morning he made two bowls of cereal for himself and a ghost.

He’s twenty-four and there’s a scrawny boy with messy dark hair and determined blue eyes on his doorstep and his brother’s voice was in ear telling him about “the importance of remembering history, Dickface.”

He’s twenty-five and Robin kept looking up to him with such hesitancy, and Dick hated himself because he couldn’t remember how to be who he needed to be. His smiles became more bright, the unfortunate but necessary byproduct of an artificial sun.

He’s twenty-six and everything was upside down. Damian was so angry, Tim was too confident, Jason wasn’t himself. For a moment Dick knew how Bruce felt. Maybe they were never cut out for loving people. He didn’t think it was supposed to hurt this much.

Now, Dick lazily blinked the sleep away from his eyes and swallowed the stagnant saliva in his mouth. He felt warm from what he assumed to be an IV drip, and dizzy from whatever drugs he had to be on.

“Dick.”

Dick glanced over to the chair beside him, where Bruce was still sitting. He had a neutral expression on his face, but his shoulders were tight, and he knew exhaustion when he saw it. He knew Bruce.

“Are you with me?” Bruce asked.

Dick exhaled carefully through his nose. Chances are that this wasn’t another hallucination— especially because he felt like an actual human being and not anxiety personified. “Depends. I thought you had a gala tonight.”

“I had a gala two nights ago.”

Dick sighed. He used his strength to push himself up into a sitting position. Bruce’s eyes never leave, tracking along each movement with quiet calculation. “I was out that long?”

Bruce grunted an affirmative.

This was the part of the mission where Dick would give his report, try and point out all his mistakes, inevitably fail, and listen to Bruce’s lecture about the most important thing he missed.

No reason to mess with tradition, he figured, so he let his head fall back on the pillow and went back to where it all went wrong.

“Damian and I were on patrol. I got dosed with toxin,” Dick recounted, closing his eyes. “I gave the order to get out of there. I told Damian to call backup after the hallucinations started feeling more real.”

A flying trapeze. The Red Hood. Tim. Dick sighed again, his cheeks going hot. “The hallucinations were unrealistic, I should have been more logical with my approach. It was the flashbacks that screwed me over, I think. It made everything… feel real.”

Bruce wasn’t saying anything, only watched him carefully. All this time and Dick still hated when he did that. He looked back at him and waited for the reproach, the promised lecture.

Bruce finally cleared his throat. “Fear toxin alters the mind,” he said. “Often the first thing to go is rationality and logic. I don’t blame you, Dick— you were strong, you and Damian made it out alive. Today, that’s what counts.”

Dick hesitated, watched the way Bruce’s eyes flickered, the way his jaw tensed minutely between certain words.

“Something happened when I was out,” he surmised. Bruce looked away, effectively confirming that he was right on the money. “What was it?”

“It proved… challenging,” Bruce struggled, “to get you en route to the cave. The footage is available, but I would avoid it this time. It was a close call.”

“Was I the only one hurt?” Dick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. His mind flashed him pictures of Damian in his arms, of Tim on the ground.��He hated fear toxin.

Bruce nodded once. “Nobody else sustained injuries.”

Dick sighed with instant relief. He let himself relax back into the cot. “Where is everyone, then? I figured at least Damian would be here.”

“I sent him to bed,” Bruce crossed his arms, a very tired amusement passing his face. “I stopped letting him argue back at hour forty-four. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit.”

Dick smiled. “How long ago?”

Bruce flicked his wrist out and glanced at his watch. “Six hours ago. It’s two in the morning.”

Not enough sleep for Dick to justify waking him up. He’ll wait for a few more hours, or until Damian wakes up to find him. Whichever came first.

“You should go to sleep,” Dick told him, because he could see the dark circles and knew Bruce probably had been too busy working on an antidote with Tim to rest. At Bruce’s visible hesitation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be alright here. I know you have me hooked up to monitors anyway. Seriously, get out of here.”

Bruce took a moment, and then relented with a heavy sigh. “If something comes up, you know what to do. Goodnight, Dick.”

Dick found the footage on the lenses of Robin’s mask.

He didn’t like watching himself on fear toxin, not that anybody did. The vulnerability is unsettling, sure, but watching himself behave like a wild animal never sat with him the right way. He couldn’t be like Bruce, who would watch his patrol footage and pick it apart mercilessly just to improve his technique.

Furthermore, it was weird to see himself from Damian’s eyes. Himself, crouched down so they’re eye-to-eye. In the footage, Dick was trembling. He flinched at nothing.

“The serum,” he had said, but his voice sounded distant, like his head wasn’t fully there. “It’s getting worse.”

Then, Damian. Sure-fire and defiant. “You can’t listen to it. It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

With Damian’s eyes, he watched himself look around the alleyway like a hunted dog. His chest stalling every few seconds and then his breath increasing in speed.

“Nightwing!” Damian reached for his arm and shook violently. “Focus!”

He made a wounded noise and didn’t move, hiding his face in his hands— he remembered this. He remembered this happening. This was when the first flashbacks kept catching him off guard.

“It’s not real,” Damian had tried. “Nightwing, snap out of it!”

This was where memory started to trail off from reality.

In reality, Damian was on his comms, his eyes locked on target to whatever Dick was doing, ready to catch him if he flew off. He was calling a code— Oracle sent everyone to pick up collateral. Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Orphan. They went in teams.

Damian doesn’t leave his side. The footage clipped to a later timestamp.

He watched himself flounder in terror, looking around with choked gasps and half-mumbled words like he was caught in a nightmare.

“Damian. Dami.” Dick caught Damian’s arm, his eyes distant, his pupils shrunk small. He was whispering. “Damian. You’ll be okay.”

Damian froze. He quickly turned away as a motorcycle was heard behind.

Dick watched as Jason came into view, much like he did in the hallucinations, although here he moved forward more like he was approaching a feral animal.

“You called for an assist?” He tried to joke, his usual deadpan failing with the undercurrent of worry that pulsed through. (Neither of them did well with fear toxin. They hated it both equally.)

Dick watched himself react to the words like he’d just taken a bullet. The way he lurched away, the immediate hurt that followed on Jason’s face.

“It’s not you,” Damian said immediately, echoing the thoughts Dick had. “You know that, Todd.”

“I know,” Jason shrugged. He inched forward tentatively anyways.

“No,” Dick scraped out, gasping. He started to scrape at the ground with his hands, leaving them bloody. “No, no, no.”

“Fuck,” Jason said quickly, as both him and Damian rushed to stop him from shredding any more skin. Jason flinched as Dick let out another keening cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his head lulling uselessly forward. His body shuddered violently. “He didn’t… tell me… Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry...”

Jason made a frustrated sound, strangled at the back of his throat. “Fuck. I’m making it worse. Why didn’t you call Tim? He likes Tim.”

“You’re not making it worse,” Damian snapped. “Stay focused.”

“I’m focused,” Jason snapped back. “Let’s get him to the cave. You think you can keep up with me with your grapple?”

Damian marched forward, taking the hook from his belt. He exhaled stiffly through his nose. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Hood. We’re wasting time. I’ll see you there.”

The footage jumped again, rerouting to the security feed in the cave. It showed the medical bay at the forefront, the cot he was lying in, and the computer in the back. It was chaos.

Jason and Bruce argued loudly as they held down Dick’s arms and kept him pinned to the cot, as he seized and gasped. Alfred stood to the side holding an oxygen mask to Dick’s face, trying to get the two to stop shouting. Damian stood still at the foot of the bed, scowling while he overlooked vitals. His hands shook.

“His BPM is too high,” Damian growled over the noise. He spun around to where Tim had been pacing in the back. “Drake, his heart is going to inevitably fail if you don’t work faster.”

Tim, muttering to himself, moving around computers and flasks like a mad scientist, didn’t meet him with even a look. “I’m working as fast as I can,” he spat back. “Yelling at me won’t make a cure magically exist.”

“I’m just saying,” Jason insisted, “he got worse a hell of a lot faster after I showed up, and now with you here, he’s about to fucking die!”

“I didn’t ask you to just say,” Bruce cut sharply. “You know just as well as anybody else that the effects of Crane’s toxins are unpredictable, and–”

Dick managed to land a stray hit in all his panic, shoving Bruce away and sitting up from the cot. His eyes wild, his chest heaving; he pushed out of Jason and Alfred’s hands and tried to stumble off the cot.

“Fuck,” Jason swore. “Now look what you fucking did–”

Damian clenched his teeth. “You idiots– can’t you do one job correctly?!”

Tim swung around. He marched over, pushing Damian to the side, shoving past Jason and Bruce, and ignoring them all as they turned their attention. He leaned down beside Dick, who had fallen to his knees. He held a syringe in his hand.

“Tim,” Dick stammered, reaching forward. “You’re bleeding, you’re…”

Tim grabbed his arm and stuck the syringe into a vein, his jaw set in a firm line. Dick made a panicked noise and seemed to flounder back, but he had already finished injecting the antidote. It was done.

“It’ll set in an hour,” Tim said, looking around the stunned room of people. “He’ll probably sleep a lot, so someone should sit with him. And all of you should apologize to Alfred for the headache.”

After a beat of silence, it was Damian who spoke first.

“I’ll take the first shift.” He paused. “...Hopefully you did a considerable job, Drake.”

The footage ended.

Dick turned the device off with a shaking hand and closed his eyes for a long, long time. He breathed in. He breathed out. He did it again, and again, and again, until it didn’t feel like he was living it anymore.

He had barely been drifting when the door to the medical bay creaked open. When there was no following noise, Dick knew it was Damian. His footsteps were always too quiet to hear unless he wanted someone to hear them.

He opened his eyes, and Damian was scowling at him.

Dick smiled easily. “Hi, there.”

Damian scowled harder.

Dick’s smile faded, and he swallowed, letting himself go solemn. “I’m sorry, Dami. I know, I shouldn’t have let myself get hit. I endangered you, I could have hurt you, or worse—“

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Damian scoffed. He marched into the room, sitting down in the nearest chair with a huff.

His hair stuck up in all directions, he was still wearing his pyjamas. Dick noted with unrestrained glee that it was the joke Nightwing pair he bought last Christmas. He just looked like any normal kid who had been woken up too early, and Dick loved him more than words could express.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Dick asked instead, tilting his head. “I know whenever B got hit with a fear toxin, I would get pretty freaked out.”

Damian watched him quietly for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were considering this. He knew sometimes it took a moment for Damian to decide whether or not he was safe to engage in a particular conversation, and he respected that— so he went quiet and patiently waited.

“You spoke a lot,” Damian said finally, his expression easing. “Much of it was incoherent, but there were times where you would say something clear. I believe you were convinced I was in danger.”

Dick nodded. He kept his hands folded on his lap to prevent himself from fidgeting too much.

Damian then looked down. “I believe you lied to me. You told me it would be okay. Or, tried to.”

“I did,” Dick said slowly.

Damian’s jaw clenched, his eyes very focused on the floor. “You nearly died several times before Drake synthesized a working antidote. The fear was making your heart dangerously fast— anybody else not used to the stress would have died.”

Dick frowned, but remained quiet.

Damian looked back up, the scowl returning, albeit weak. It couldn’t hide his watery eyes. “It would not have been okay, Grayson.”

The youngest of all of them. Underneath all the violence and sharp words, it was hard to forget that Damian was still just a kid — a kid who had lost everything just like the rest of them.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said quietly. He hesitated. “You’re right, Damian. I’m sorry.”

“I do not wish to grieve you,” Damian warned, an imperceptible waver in his voice. “It would be inconvenient. Your life is–”

The words broke, and he quickly looked away, glaring harder at the floor.

He sniffled and his hand quickly swiped over his cheeks. He kept his shoulders tight, his body language full of fire and brimstone, spiked and thorned just like he’d been when he first arrived.

“If you die,” he said coldly, baring his teeth, “I’ll hate you forever.”

There are few things on this earth that meant as much to Dick as his family. After everything he’d lost, the things he gained only meant that much more. His little brothers; they all came from grief, born and bred.

Jason had crept through after Dick thought he had nothing left to fight for, when he instead fought everything as if it would repair the loss.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grow around the loss and gave it new life instead.

Tim was the one nobody thought to worry about, the anomaly, the one who bypassed the firewalls in the midst of the crisis. Broke down faulty systems, repaired them, forced his way through the cracks that Dick couldn’t find it in himself to caulk.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grieve the present and appreciate it at the same time.

But nobody had expected Damian. When he crash-landed in like a jet on fire, it was like the ground underneath them went uneven, and he continued to break their expectations with every step he took.

Robin replaced Robin. This time, Dick learned a lot of things. He learned what it was like to have a Robin.

He learned the weight of holding a sleeping kid on his chest, how he would do anything to keep him looking that peaceful. He learned to keep an ear out at night, to keep his door unlocked in case there was a nightmare, in case he was needed.

He learned how it felt to have a piece of his heart living outside of his body— and, like anybody, Dick didn’t like it when his heart was broken.

“Everybody dies, Damian,” Dick said carefully. “I really hope you won't hate me, when I do go.”

He exhaled, watching as Damian wiped away more of his angry tears.

“But,” he continued. “I’m not dying today, or hopefully anytime soon. I’m here, just like I said I’d be, and… I’d rather not spend the rest of my long life with someone that I love so much being angry at me.”

Damian shifted in his chair, like he was ready to bolt at any moment. Despite his best efforts, his bottom lip quivered and his scowl was starting to falter.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Dick said quietly, the words cracking at the end. He cleared his throat, ignoring the burning at his eyes. “I’m sorry that I scared you. Next time, I’ll—“

Damian stood up promptly and marched forward, his face properly scrunched up to avoid tears. He crossed the room in three steps, and by the third step his resolve had fully broken.

Watching Damian cry was like watching the world tear itself apart. He’s twelve years old and had the same rocky edges of the mountains he’d been forced to climb, had the same ferocity as the currents he’d been forced to swim against, had the same chill as the tundras he’d survived.

He held onto so much, so much; all before he’d barely started to carve out a spot in life big enough for him to stand in. It was hard work. It only ever got harder.

Dick would reshape the earth in his own hands if it meant the land would soothe the old aches and reset the broken bones. He’d take every hurt and every pain and he would do it smiling if it meant his little brothers never saw an inch of it.

But he couldn’t do that. Instead he had to be content with letting his arms open, and trusting that Damian would crawl up into them. That would be their peace.

Damian wept, broken little sounds choking their way through his tears. He buried his head into Dick’s abdomen and kept his arms curled up to his sides.

“Oh, Damian. Băiatul meu dulce,” Dick soothed, hushing his voice to a murmur. His heart was bleeding, a messy thing in the cage of his chest, and he quieted it down, too. “You’ve got me, Dami. I’m okay now. I’m okay.”

He pressed a kiss to his baby brother’s head and tried not to let himself lose the last semblance of emotional control he had as Damian’s cries racked through his small frame.

“This is your fault,” Damian stuttered through tears. “I’m still mad at you. Just... don’t leave.”

“I know.” He kept his hands busy by drawing circles over Damian’s back. He took deliberately slow breaths and rocked gently back and forth. “I’m right here, honey. You can be as mad as you want, I’m not going anywhere.”

And then words dwindled into nothing, because sometimes the silence was better. He pressed his nose into Damian’s hair, kept himself close. His hands worked their soft rhythm on his back, continuing even as Damian’s breathing slowed to a calmer pace.

His chest and upper stomach was soaked in salt and he didn’t give a damn about it.

After a few minutes of quiet sniffling and the sound of a hand smoothing down the wrinkles of a fleece shirt, Damian huffed. He kept his face hidden as he spoke.

“Emotions,” he said tentatively, drained of energy, “are exhausting, and embarrassing.”

Dick smiled shortly. A rush of relief passed over him, because talking was good. Talking meant he hadn’t truly ruined everything.

He passed his fingers past Damian’s forehead, carefully folding loose strands of hair away from his eyes. “Get some sleep then. It’s early, nobody will be up for a while.”

Damian was quiet for a few moments, considering. He exhaled. “You’ll wake me if—“

“You know I will,” Dick assured him softly. “Just your eyes, baby bat.”

Damian made an aggrieved noise, but made himself small while he settled into the cot.

His baby brother fell asleep in two short minutes— and a piece of Dick’s soul clicked back where it belonged.

Getting out of the medical bay was always a victory. His consistent visitors had been Damian and Alfred— while Batman and Red Robin had picked up slack on patrol, which was reasonable. Dick watched from cameras and would give occasional commentary through the comms with O.

(Jason, he hadn’t seen anywhere.)

Since the toxin, Dick had been trying to get himself back to normal. He wanted to let the memories wash away to the back of his mind where they usually were, instead of lingering on the forefront like a bad breakup.

For him, getting back to normal meant doing normal things— or, as normal as it could get. He sat on communications and bothered Bruce with his puns. He helped Alfred collect laundry. He watched animal documentaries with Damian. He practiced defense in the training room. He bothered Bruce some more.

He finally caught Tim in the kitchen, falling asleep into a bowl of cereal— bits of soggy cheerios stuck to his cheek and his hair saturated in almond milk.

Dick smiled to himself and then knocked his knuckles on the counter.

Tim lifted his head and looked up with an amount of unconcern that was almost impressive for someone who had almost drowned in their (12pm) breakfast.

“Dick,” he said, blinking a few times. “You’re out of the medbay?”

“Second day out,” Dick informed, giving a sympathetic smile. He yanked off a paper towel from the roll and wiped the milk and cereal off of Tim’s face.

“Oh.” Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning imperceptibly. “…Nobody told me.”

Dick made a noise of disapproval and grabbed his own bowl from the cabinets. He sat down beside Tim and poured the cereal in. “I would have been in there a lot longer if you hadn’t figured out the antidote. So, thank you.”

“You would’ve been dead, actually,” Tim corrected, stirring soggy cereal around with his spoon. “And it’s fine. It’s what I’m here for.”

Dick frowned into his own bowl and poured in the milk. “Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, when you had a second. That must have been pretty stressful for you, I wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“I see you’re at the getting-to-normal stage,” Tim observed, glancing over. “I know you probably already talked to B. Definitely talked to Demon Brat, because he’s less Demon than a few days ago. Jason’s next, right?”

Dick looked up to reply, and then paused.

Tim’s face was of its usual paleness, the normal dark purple shadows painted under his eyes. He knew about Tim’s bad working habits, his insomnia, but seriously— when was the last time this boy got any sleep?

“Why can’t you be next?” Dick asked instead.

Tim scoffed, his lip lifting up in a half-smile like something was amusing to him. He shook his head. “I think you could probably find Jason in—“

“I’m serious,” Dick interrupted. He set his spoon down in the bowl, letting it clink. “You’re my brother too, Tim.”

“Sure,” Tim said with a nod. “It’s just, you know. You have to add a ‘too’, don’t you? Implying there’s an original to be added to. Which is fine, seriously. I don’t know. I’m not offended or anything— you don’t have to lie to make me feel better about something that doesn’t affect me anymore.”

Dick stared, his jaw loosely hung open as he tried to fumble together the pieces of what Tim just splayed out.

“Tim, I—“ He shook his head, feeling slightly hysterical. “Explain that again?”

Tim huffed a laugh. He pushed his bowl away from him. “We don’t have to do this, Dick. Seriously. Whatever it is, I forgive you, we don’t have to make it this big thing.”

“Tim,” Dick said sharply. Tim straightened, his tired smile gone in an instant, his eyes alert, and Dick felt a wave of regret hit him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I shouldn’t have. I just— I need you to explain. Please.”

Tim frowned and pushed his hair out of his face. “I don’t know how to explain this without you getting pissed at me. Or you.”

“Start from the beginning,” Dick said tightly, his eyes still shut. Images of blood on tile and a little boy at his doorstep kept fading in and out of view.

“My beginning, or yours?” Tim asked, a lilt of a joke on his tongue.

“When we met,” Dick answered, not understanding the question. When was the beginning not just the beginning?

“We met at—“ Tim paused. He looked over Dick with something calculative in his eyes, and his lips twitched before his entire body went still, eerily calm. “We met at your apartment. You remember. I knocked on your door until you let me in. My hands hurt.”

“And?” Dick asked painfully.

“And what? And you hated me,” Tim said, laughing grimly. “You hated that I asked you to come back to Gotham, and then you hated when I became a Robin.”

Both true, but the reasoning of it was all wrong. Dick’s face must have contorted in a truly horrifying way, because Tim quickly put his hands up.

“Hold on, I’m not saying you hate me now,” Tim explained. “I know that’s not true. Don’t worry. But I also know that we don’t have any kind of bond, right? You and Jason were special. You were the blueprint, Jason was the one to make the pattern… And I mean, he’s right, isn’t he? I was the replacement. You were even the one to decide when I wasn’t needed anymore, because then you gave the role to Damian, and he was your Robin.”

Tim finished, and slumped back in his chair with a shrug. “So, it’s fine. I know I’m important to you. I’m just not at the top of the list. I made my peace with that a long time ago, it’s not a big deal.”

He felt sick.

Dick got up from the counter and walked to the other side of the kitchen, bending over the sink, and just standing there. His hands gripped onto the porcelain edges. He kept his eyes trained on the water that dripped from the faucet.

“Dick?” Tim called out from behind him. “Shit. I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. None of this is your fault, really—“

There were a lot of questions running through his head, and he felt dizzy from the guilt racking over him in waves. He turned the faucet on to its coldest setting and splashed the water on his face.

He turned around and Tim was behind him, his eyes intense with concern, his eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders up to his ears like he was ready for a war.

“Should I get Bruce? Alfred?” Tim asked carefully. “If you don’t answer, I’m getting them both, so choose wisely.”

Dick shook his head. He kept shaking his head. There was so much he needed to fix, he wasn’t sure where to even start.

“Can I hug you?”

Tim blinked. He looked him over quickly, like he was scanning for injuries. Seemingly satisfied, he gave him a very confused: “Yes?”

Dick pulled him in by the shoulders and hugged him as if it were the first time.

The more he thought about it, he actually couldn’t remember the last time that he hugged Tim. Tim always seemed to shy away from physical affection, seemed to stiffen up, so Dick had always tried to respect that.

But in the few seconds that Dick didn’t pull away, something different happened. The stiffness of Tim’s shoulders slowly eased away. He exhaled softly, and seemed to melt into touch. Hesitantly, his arms lifted to hug him back.

Dick tightened his hold and grieved every time he hadn’t been more patient, every time he hadn’t given Tim just a few seconds.

“You’re my little brother,” Dick said firmly. “No ‘too.’ I’ll make it up to you. All of it.”

“Why?” Tim mumbled.

“Because,” Dick laughed brokenly. “You thinking that you don’t mean everything to me, just like Jason and Damian do, kills me. I don’t know how I let it go on this long— but it’s done. It’s getting fixed.”

Tim was quiet for a long moment. “But I don’t know how to fix it,” he said anxiously. He pulled away, staring at Dick with those blue eyes.

The same blue eyes as before, the ones peering at him from across a dingy living room, the ones staring blearily from a blood-smeared hallway, both saying: I’m trying to pick up the pieces. There’s too many for me to hold.

His little brother: and it’s about time Dick acted like it.

“Tim.” Dick looked back at him seriously, his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “This one isn’t for you to fix, baby bird. This is my screw-up. And it looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Tim stared at him, nodded surely, and ducked back in for another hug. He’d never done that before.

Another piece of his soul moved. It wasn’t fixed, but it was healing from something he hadn’t known was broken— and he thought it would be okay.

A week, and he still couldn’t find Jason.

As it turned out, nobody had really looked. He’d been entirely radio silent since Dick’s encounter with fear toxin had been resolved with a synthesized antidote, and nobody had thought to bother him since.

Dick had been texting Babs consistently with questions of whether Jason was alright, and she’d always just sent him a simple message describing that he was safe and checking in with her on his patrol routes. Which meant he’d only been avoiding the family comms. Which meant something was wrong.

In the end, it was Alfred who had finally given him a tip. Polishing dishes with a fresh cloth, his lips pursed, he seemed to be contemplating a variety of decisions and their determined effects.

“I know he needs his space,” Dick explained, taking each plate as Alfred dried them to stack them away in the proper cabinet. “But I just have this terrible gut feeling that he’s overthinking something and that it’s my fault. Arguing is the last thing I want to do, I’m just…”

“Worried,” Alfred finished for him after a few helpless seconds. He sighed softly, setting the cloth down on the counter. “Yes. I figured as much. My hesitancy is not with your capacity to handle these things with care, Master Dick. I know you care for your brother a great deal.”

Dick frowned, leaning backwards. “What’s your hesitancy?”

Alfred met him with solemn eyes, effectively pinning him where he stood “My hesitancy is your unwavering willingness to fix things before you’re ready to fix them. You’ve been through a great deal this week, and I’m very familiar with how these particular experiences take a toll on you. Do you think you’re ready to speak with him?”

Whatever Dick had expected, this had been the last on the list. He floundered, taking in the words, and then looked down thoughtfully at his hands.

“I think,” he said after a moment, “letting this linger is hurting me more than talking about it will. I need to talk to him, Alfred. I need him to know how much this matters.”

It was apparently the right answer.

When Jason didn’t want to be found, there wasn’t much to be done about it. Crime Alley was only a small part of Gotham, but also the most dense in shadow– and if there was anything a bat could do, it would be to disappear where the light wasn’t.

With Alfred’s tip though, he found Jason in thirty minutes. The roof of a mom and pop ice-cream parlor, tucked into a city street corner between a laundromat and a piercing place. He’s a looming shadow against an air conditioning unit, and there’s a flickering glow of light coming from the cigarette between his fingertips.

Dick landed behind him, his feet soft on the asphalt. “Didn’t you quit?”

The shadow didn’t respond at first, exhaling a slow plume of smoke. “Only on good days.”

Dick walked up, standing beside his brother so they were shoulder to shoulder. Jason offered the box, and Dick silently shook his head. He put the box back in his pocket without so much as a shrug.

“The hell are you doing here, Dickface?” Jason asked. He sounded tired. “Figured the big man wouldn’t have let you leave the house in costume for another week.”

“Well, what B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Jason grunted noncommittally.

Dick glanced at him through his peripheral, his mouth twisting in thoughtful complication. He thought up different ways to start a conversation. He discarded each one.

It didn’t use to be like this. Dick remembered. He remembered nudging his little brother to get him to talk, taking him out of the house– seeing his little brother’s stomping grounds, taking him to old restaurants and parks that Jason never wanted to ask Bruce about– as often as he could. Not often enough.

It used to be so easy, like it was part of him– and maybe it had been part of him. It just happened to be the part that had died with Jason.

Dick laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, Jay. I used to be better at this, didn’t I?”

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Jason said bluntly.

Dick shoved their shoulders together. “Come on, I’m being serious. This wasn’t always so bad, was it?”

Maybe his voice was strained. Maybe his pleading was too obvious. Maybe he shouldn’t even be asking Jason this at all— it wasn’t his fault that Dick was so miserable at being the big brother. Jason shouldn’t have to comfort him about his failures.

It was just—

He just—

“No,” Jason said after a moment. “It wasn’t.”

The relief was painful. It was hard knowing, truly knowing, that there was something so important to improve upon. That somewhere along the way, he had fallen so far from his standard.

Dick rubbed a hand over his chest, right over his heart. He pressed deep into the muscle, hard enough to feel the bone underneath. His throat felt heavy. He opened his mouth to let out an apology, but—

“Sorry,” Jason said first, his voice gruff. He kept his eyes trained on the street. His fingers fiddled around the cigarette as it burned and cinders flicked to his boots.

Dick quickly looked up at him. “Sorry?”

“Yes,” Jason gritted out. “I know that’s not what you expected to hear because you don’t give a shit about yourself, but I’m sorry. I’ll stay in my own lane from now on, you don’t need to fake it anymore.”

Dick leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows as sudden bouts of defensiveness coursed through his head. Jason leaving was the last thing he wanted, for the rest of time.

“Jason, what the hell are you talking about?” Dick strangled himself for words. He started pacing across the rooftop, tugging at his hair again. “Fuck, do all of my baby brothers think I just want them gone?”

“That’s the thing, Dick,” Jason said back, his words sharper than his knives. “I don’t even think you realize it. I think you’re just so good at ignoring your own bullshit that you don’t see how much you’re still fucking terrified of me.”

Dick stalled. He slowly turned around, his hands falling from his hair.

“Is that what this is?” Dick asked, pressing forward. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“No need to get theatrical. I’m not blaming you,” Jason rolled his eyes, finally flicking the cigarette to the floor. “I’m violent, I don’t play nice. I nearly fucking killed Tim, that alone is enough to cement a piss-poor relationship. I’m not the little kid you used to take out for fuckin’ milkshakes anymore.”

Dick bit down on his tongue, watching the way Jason stumbled over his next few words. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and pulled out a new one from his pack, holding it unlit in his hands.

“I thought we’d resolved it,” Jason admitted finally. He looked up at Dick with his lips pulled into a tight smile. “Or that, at least, you didn’t totally fucking abhor me anymore? I don’t know. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I fucked up. I’m still fucking up. I’m still atoning. I know that now. So, I say again, genuinely. I’m sorry.”

Dick stared at him for a long moment, feeling fire in his blood. An uncomfortable heat in his head that made him sick from pressure, a volcano that didn’t know where to burst from. He took a steadying breath and shut his eyes.

“Sit down,” he said.

Jason scoffed. “What?”

“Sit down,” Dick said again, and slumped next to him on the floor. He extended his legs out and leaned back on his palms. “Please.”

Jason slowly crouched down to join him. He leaned his back against the air conditioning unit again. There was a tenseness to him, his jaw set in a firm line. He wouldn't hesitate to start fighting again, if the conversation called for it.

They sat quietly while Dick put his thoughts in order, Jason fidgeting in an obvious discomfort.

“When I got hit with the toxin, I saw the circus,” Dick said. “Damian and I were on the trapeze.”

Dick had told him once, about the circus. Had showed him the pictures of his parents, had told him why Bruce really adopted him. Told him about Zucco. About Robin. About all of it. Jason knew what it all meant to him. He knew.

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he sighed heavily. “Shit. You don’t have to—“

“Damian fell. I caught him, but it wasn’t enough,” Dick continued, growing louder over Jason��s interruptions. “He was bleeding, he had a concussion, it was bad. That was when you showed up to help. And you took him, you asked what happened. You figured out I hadn’t saved him, and you said that—“

His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, determined to continue. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. That’s why it hurt so much.”

“You weren’t hurt. You were terrified, Dickie,” Jason said lowly, looking at him with haunted eyes. “What the hell could I have said to make you so fucking scared?”

Dick hesitated, letting a shiver run over him as he thought back to the hallucination. He made a complicated sound. “That's not the point, though, is it? You don’t really want to know that.”

“No,” Jason decided quietly. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“The point is,” Dick leaned forward, looking right at him. Making himself as clear as he could be. “I was never afraid of you.”

“You should be,” Jason croaked weakly. “I’m no good. I always have been.”

“No, Jay,” Dick shook his head vehemently and lightly nudged his side. “You’ve always been good. Always. More than good, even. Magic.”

Jason barked out a wet laugh, covering his eyes with his hand. “I said it one time. You’re such an asshole.”

“But it’s true,” Dick smiled, his eyes bleary. “From way back when you were all bony elbows and small enough for me to haul over my shoulder, you’ve been magic. You made me who I am, Jason. We have quite the big crew now, but you’ll always be the one who made me a big brother. Once upon a time it was just the two of us. That means something.”

“I ruined you,” Jason argued roughly, his voice cracking up faster than he can repair it. He swallowed. “You said it yourself, all this shit used to be easier before. I fucked it all up.”

Dick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You didn’t fuck it up. I can prove it too: we’re both still here, and against all odds, you’re by my side. That tells me more than anything that we can still salvage this.”

“Do you really want that?” Jason asked dryly.

“Jason, the years I didn’t have you next to me were the worst ones of my life,” Dick said, the humor leaving him completely. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. It felt like I was always a day away from giving up. Now that I have you back again…”

He trailed off, and they both fell into a silence. Words intoned. Words left unsaid. Jason nudged him with the toe of his boot, a nonverbal sign of acknowledgement. A physical sign that he was still there. Dick nodded once, and Jason looked away.

“You know,” Dick said after a moment. “I actually think I have something that can fix this.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Jason sniffed, cocking his head to the side. His eyes red-rimmed, but focused. “D’you got emotional superglue in that fucking utility belt?”

“Close,” Dick said, and wiped his face of all tears. He pulled out his wallet, and held up a twenty dollar bill. “I have it on good authority that milkshakes fix everything.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh, staring at the money in hand. “Well, shit. When you put it like that…”

Dick wiggled his eyebrows, and Jason cracked an indulgent smile.

Just like that, it became easy again. A familiar song played on rusty strings. Their eyes still red, their voices still raw— they hauled themselves up by eachother’s arms and started again.

As they bump shoulders on their way through the front door, the last piece of his soul jostled into its rightful place.

"Little Wing, you know I love you, right?" Dick asked, stirring his milkshake aimlessly with a frosted metal straw.

Jason looked up the crummy diner table and stared for a long moment, before relenting.

"Yeah," he said easily. He had chocolate on the corners of his mouth, just like a little kid, like nothing had ever changed at all. "I know, Dickie."

Dick smiled and nodded to himself.

Yes, every piece of his soul where it should be. Even if cracked and dented in odd places, they were all there. Finally, he felt like the world was righted.

[zedleaked]

OVERTHINKER THOUGHTS AND SCRIBBLES

HAD SOME DIALOGUE TOO FOR A HYPOTHETICAL FIGHT [I'VE ONLY DONE TWO SCENES] WHICH I'LL PUT UNDER THIS CUT HERE [IT IS LONG]

Opening Cutscene

Distant chatter from Prethinker and the Desk Jockey’s can be heard as the camera slowly zooms out from a blackboard that says “Warning: The Following Instance is Not Canon.”

Prethinker can be seen with Professor Pete (Toontown Schoolhouse guy) tied up in a chair.

Prethinker: I do not appreciate you and the Toon resistance trying to put an end to my plans.

Consider this payback for making my life more difficult!

I’ll still be taking these freebie Desk Jockeys for personal use, since you won't be needing them anymore now that you’re here!

Now where was I…?

Ah yes, I remember now.

Prethinker walks over to the blackboard and rubs out whatever was written on it, starting to doodle something on the board.

You see, the plan is simple.

Prethinker takes out one of those pointer sticks and taps the blackboard with it, which has an illustration of Buck and Dave forming High Roller.

I’ve been studying the art of Cog-fusion. A fascinating phenomenon that was showcased by Mr. Ruffler and Mr. Brubot a year ago.

How they achieved such a thing is still beyond my grasp, however the potential of fusion is nothing to scoff at.

Prethinker draws a doodle of himself on the board next to a plus symbol and a question mark.

If we combine the right Suits together, we could achieve something truly unstoppable for those Toons!

That’s where you Brianbots come in.

You will find me the perfect candidates to experiment with! A willing Suit won't come to me on a silver platter you know?

A quack could be heard which causes Prethinker to perk up.

…What was that noise?

The quacks grow louder until Duck Shuffler crashes through the wall Kool-aid man style. He rushes through the Desk Jockeys, causing them to tumble over like dominos.

Duck Shuffler: FRHIRFIUHRIWHFR!!!

The Desk Jockeys blow up, making that one Deltarune explosion noise as Duck Shuffler gets up from the ground.

WOWIE! Thith theemth familiar!

Prethinker looks at him outraged, his brain turning red.

Prethinker: YOU! What are YOU doing here?

That stunt you just pulled involving plowing through the wall was against every single law of physics!

Duck Shuffler: Lawth are merely thuggethtionth methinkth.

Prethinker: They are not suggestions! A law is a set of rules that are created and are enforceable by social or governmental institutions to regulate beha- (Wikipedia definition for law: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Law)

Duck Shuffler stands in front of Prethinker’s speech bubble.

Duck Shuffler: Geeth! Quit your yammerin’, you’re boring me here!

It’th not like you’re a goodie two thhoeth anywayth, what ya did to me was thhurely againtht the law!

Prethinker: We do not talk about that, Ruffler.

Duck Shuffler: Oh yeah, whaddya gonna do about it?

Duck Shuffler steps in close, looking down at the Prethinker.

The Prethinker shoves Duck Shuffler, making him stumble a little.

The Duck Shuffler shoves him back which causes them to keep hitting each other until they get into a cartoony fight ball.

The two of them collide with the wall where the blackboard is, causing a giant explosion and a flash of light. A distant metal pipe noise could be heard.

The smoke from the explosion clears up as it reveals Overthinker.

Overthinker: WHERE- WHERE AM I?

{You dolt! What did you do now-}

The Toons finally intervene as they approach the Overthinker.

T-{T-} T-TOONPH!!!

{Hm, thiph could me phalvaged-}

YOU THERE!!! YOU COULD {Did I jupht liphp-?} HELP ME OUT HERE! HELP ME! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

The room seems to start getting cloaked in a purple hue as weird smoke starts to form from Overthinker’s chemical explosion.

[Phase 1 of the battle starts.]

Second Cutscene

Overthinker: YYYYEOWCH!!!!

Overthinker reels back from whatever the last attack used on him was.

You guyph really pack a punch! What’ph the d-d-deal with THAT???

I’m feeling- I’M FEELING, {phick} YOU’RE- You’ve knocked the BRAINPH OUTTA ME!!!

Overthinker starts to shake uncontrollably.

THIPH EXPERIMENT WAPH A- WAPH A- {Failure!} FAILURE!!!!!!! I’M A FAILURE!!!!!!!!!

There’s a big explosion as Overthinker unfuses into Duck Shuffler and Prethinker again. The camera pans down to see the both of them in the Yamcha and Family guy death pose respectively.

The two of them get up from the ground.

Prethinker: Grr! Buck, this is all your fault! We could’ve beat them if you didn’t keep mixing unfamiliar chemicals together!

Duck Shuffler: Aww! But that wouldn’t be tho fun-

Prethinker: This isn’t about fun! This is about winning! You like winning don’t you?

The Toons take a step closer to the two of them

Duck Shuffler: Aww, ratth! We forgot about them-

Prethinker: Fret not- I have this covered.

Prethinker snaps his fingers as he summons a few Desk Jockeys to cover for them.

Prethinker: This won't hold them back for long, but we have to cooperate here-

Duck Shuffler: Oh tho now you wanna work together, huh?

Prethinker: This isn’t the time for snide remarks, you know all about this fusion thing, right? Just do what you do with Brubot or something!

Duck Shuffler: I only mingle well with Dave becauthe he doeth hith part.

You gotta do your part too, pal! Tho let me lead next time!

Prethinker: …Hmph! Fine. I’ll do as you say, but only so we can win!

Duck Shuffler picks Prethinker up and hoists him onto his shoulders.

Duck Shuffler: HAHA! Then let’th get thith thhow in the road!

[Phase 2 of the battle starts, the Toons fighting the Desk Jockeys and Duck Shuffler and Prethinker separated.]

[livwritesstuff]

Steve is up past his bedtime.

(Because he's in his mid-fifties and needs one of those now).

It's 2:30 in the morning and he's awake, sitting in bed with a book and doing his best to ignore the dull ache of exhaustion because his oldest daughter, Moe, hasn't come home yet.

He keeps glancing at his phone, waiting for the screen to light up with a notification from the Ring doorbell they've had up and running for a few years.

Steve had been on the fence about getting it installed, but Eddie wanted it (and it was that or the touch screen toaster, and Steve didn't think he'd be able to take his kitchen seriously with a touch screen toaster).

The late-2000s had turned Eddie into a tech guy. Steve isn't sure if it should have come as a surprise to him or not, but it's true either way. Their kids are 1000x more proficient with it, for sure, but they also grew up with it. The last time the girls were really impressed was when their local Pizza Hut got one of those big touch screen soda machines, but Eddie is pretty much guaranteed to be into anything with a touch screen, anything he can control on his phone.

Steve, on the other hand, reached his capacity for technology with the 2nd gen iPad, which is still up and running even in the 2020s and he still uses it to play Hay Day with Hazel despite being practically the last people on Earth doing it. He’s not interested in any of the new stuff.

The one thing Steve was totally game for was getting a Ring doorbell, because with the girls old enough to come and go mostly as they please, it’s nice to have a better sense of those comings and goings.

It wasn't easy for Steve – relinquishing some control to give their daughters the independence that they'd be chasing whether they had permission or not, but the girls have called their dads to get them out of sticky situations enough times for Steve to know they're making the right decision, even if he doesn't like it.

Ridiculous as it feels, that silly smart doorbell does actually provide him with a small sense of relief.

As is proven yet again when his phone lights up with the long-awaited Ring notification.

"Jesus Christ, finally," Steve mutters, and Eddie, who'd been dozing off by his side, lifts his head.

"She's back?" he asks.

Steve nods.

The notification opens in time for them to see Moe stumbling up the porch steps. There's a boy her age – unfamiliar to Steve even up close – watching her warily from a few paces back. She's wrapped in a big sweatshirt and cradling a greasy Domino's bag like she'd used to hold her stuffed animals.

Moe grapples for the door before pausing and leaning towards the camera.

"Sorry Papa," she mumbles, shaking her wrecked bangs out of her eyes.

"Oh, look at her, hitting you with the Papa because she knows it makes you go soft," Eddie says with a smirk, "No apology for me though, that's kind of bullshit."

Steve shakes his head with a snort.

Moe finally gets the door open and makes her way inside. They hear the sound of the door closing downstairs a split second before it comes through the phone. The boy waits until she's inside before waving weakly at the camera.

"Uh...I'm Nate," Nate says, looking completely exhausted and sounding as if he regrets addressing the camera to begin with, "I'm sober. I drove her home. There’s, uh…I gotta get other people home."

Steve snorts as he watches the boy turn and walk back down the porch steps.

"Poor kid. Long night – closest Dominos is, like, thirty minutes from here."

"Jesus," Eddie shakes his head, "Think Moe would be totally mortified if we tracked him down to say thank you?"

"Yes."

"Sweet, sounds like a plan.”

[sethcertified]

「 KNIVES OUT ! 」 . . . 📁 01

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

w.c. : 2.5k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . it was just another night til [name] got those two very odd calls

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

The night had taken over Woodsboro, California. An unfamiliar blue breeze had swept through as the sun ducked down behind buildings and night emerged from the suns departure; a tiny golden blaze of warmth and light on the horizon marking the rebirth of a perfect night from the sun's ashes. On any other night, I would've been tucked into bed with a song blaring into my ear drums, surely destroying my hearing, but today was Monday, which meant that I had the displeasure of closing up the video store for the night.

Despite my lack of enjoyment in being there, it was mine turn, fair and square. Randy had closed yesterday, so it was rightfully my duty to clean the shop and lock it up until the following day when we would open back up for business. That was the mantra I had repeated to myself as I dusted the shelves and the many dvds that were placed against each other like dominos that occupied the space. It was a dreadfully boring task, but I needed the money, so I made due.

A yawn escaped my mouth as I finished up the sci-fi section. My eyes flickered up to the ticking analog clock above the entrance doors. The clocks hands pointed to a quarter past twelve. My cheeks puffed out as I blew a frustrated mouthful of air into the atmosphere. I'd have no time to finish Randy's pre-calculus homework and be able to deliver it to him before first period. I cursed under my breath at the realization. Hopefully he would be fine with me giving it to him after school.

I blinked tiredly as I stumbled towards the reception desk, dropping the duster off at desk's newly wiped down countertop. All I had to do now was check the register; my last task before I could go home and flop into my bed. Opening the register, my fingers agilely sorted through the money. I spoke in a hushed voice, counting how much we had made the previous day. As the dollars increased in price, my sorting got slower and slower 'til I arrived to see the crisps $20 and $50 bills that occupied the bottom of the stack. All of it put together was more than I made in a week.

I bit my lip as my hand clutched an $100 bill that rested at the very bottom of the pile. Rent was coming up soon, and I knew we wouldn't have enough unless a miracle happened. This could be that extra push that my family so desperately needed so we didn't end up on the streets. My eyes scanned the store, making sure nobody could witness my thievery. Luckily, we had no cameras, so my crime would go unnoticed. I stuffed the money into my jacket pocket before shutting the register shut. My eyes shut as I exhaled a breath of relief. The money burned in my pocket. Guilt chewed at me but I just shook the feeling away. We needed this. I needed this.

With that being my final task of the night, I moved into the break room to grab my stuff. My backpack laid pressed up against the wall alongside my packed lunch. I leaned down as I slid the sleeves around my arms, putting my backpack on. I grabbed my lunch pal before brushing the dust off my clothes. It was finally time to go home. My hand wrapped around the cool metal of the door handle before being rudely interrupted.

"RI-I-ING!"

...

"RI-I-NG!"

The clattering of the phone echoed in the empty store, startling me. Who would be calling at this time of night? I sighed as I closed the door to the break room and made my way to the still ringing phone. It shone under the light that streamed from the window, its red coat looking as beautiful as ever. My fingers wrapped around the phone as I brought it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hello." The assumed man replied from the other side of the phone; his voice not hinting any emotion. Despite that, I didn't mind the monotone inflection in his voice as a yawn escaped past my lips. "Is there any reason you're calling so late? We're closed, you know."

"Why do you think I'm calling?" The man answered with the same monotonous tone as before. My eyes squinted with confusion at the question. I had gotten weird calls before but never ones so vague. To be frank, it annoyed me. "To buy a movie?" I remarked sarcastically. "Call back during store hours, asshole."

"Such vulgar language," the man laughed, finally leaving behind his monotone cadence, "I should wash that mouth of yours with soap."

I rolled my eyes, "You're gonna spank me too?" My voice had gotten higher in pitch and whiny as I mocked the man by mimicking the tone of a child. A hum escaped the other line in an endless reply to my tease. As the hum continued on, I checked the analog clock once more as my patience wore thin. 12:20. My attention darted back to the phone as I stood waiting for the man to say anything in return. With nothing but the now dreadful sound of a hum escaping the line, I slammed the phone back into its rightful place.

"Dick," I mumbled as my had flattened on the cool surface of the entrance doors. What a way to make my night worse. I shook my head as the heel of my shoe clicked against the solid concrete of the sidewalk. Walking alone at night usually never unnerved me, but something in the air made my muscles tense in fear. My mind trailed back to the call, yet I immediately disregarded it. It was just some teenager trying to mess around with an overworked employee such as myself.

Maybe it was something in the atmosphere that unnerved me so, I reasoned. I wasn't sure what exactly, but tonight felt different from most nights here in Woodsboro, California. The air wasn't as suffocating, for one. Usually the air would be so thick it seemed to stick your to your body, yet I didn't feel any of that thickness tonight. In fact, I felt a slight chill.

My hands dug into my pockets, trying their best to a avoid the nighttime cold that swept through the area. The money laid in the palm of my hand, providing me some warmth. I looked up to see the night sky shining down on me. Stars lit up my way home, providing me a companion on my walk. My gaze darted back down as slight tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. "Not now," I mumbled. I quickly wiped away the singular tear the fell down my cheek.

As much as I hated to admit it, crying had begun a frequent habit of mine. I only allowed a few tears to slip out when I was alone, but my solitude didn't diminish my shame for being such a wimp. I crinkled my nose as I sniffled a bit trying to keep my composure intact. When I was younger and my calm composure would fall, Cotton or my mom would comfort me. But now, neither of those were options. Cotton was in jail and would be for the rest of his life. And my mom? She had become a shell of herself after Cotton's arrest. She wouldn't move or talk or do anything anymore. In truth, she was a living corpse. Bony face, bloodshot eyes, sluggish movements. The only difference between her and an actual corpse is the few times she would moan out "Cigarette" to me.

It was impossible to ignore the resentment that had built up towards my mother. She had abandoned me, yet forced upon the responsibility of taking care of her onto me all at once. I gritted my teeth as I kicked a decently sized rock. If Cotton was still here, Mom wouldn't have become this zombie. She would still be her regular self. Not this dead version of her. Another tear slipped down my cheek. It burned against skin.

Cotton should be here. Everything would be just fine if he was. Our family wouldn't be shunned, I'd have my big brother back: we'd be just like any other family in Woodsboro. I bit my lip as I looked up to the sky once more. Cotton's last words to me echoed in my head, "When you miss me, just know I'm not lightyears away." He had flashed me a grin so bittersweet before the guards dragged him away. They had yanked on his handcuffs roughly, motioning for him to start backing away. His eyes widened in panic at the feeling.  "I love you, [Name]. Tell mom I love her too." He said quickly before he was taken away. It had happened too fast for my sixteen year old brain to follow. He was there one moment, and then he wasn't.

I shook off the memory as I reached my front door. I didn't bother knocking as I unlocked the door. My mother wasn't in sight, causing my shoulders to drop with relief. I hurried to Cotton's and I shared room, jumping out the rickety, old mattress. The springs poked me, but I payed no mind. Being in a bed was enough for me to be satisfied. I groaned as I turned over onto my back. The ceiling had a couple stains, and the cracks in the corners were getting worse. "We gotta get that fixed," I mumbled although I knew better. We wouldn't be able to afford it.

My eyes closed in frustration. There was too many things to fix but never enough money. I sighed as my hand dug into my pocket. $100 dollars wasn't enough to fix any of our problems. It was a penny when we needed a quarter. A hundred quarters, actually. I shoved myself off my bed as I headed to the kitchen. It was too depressing to be in there alone with the leaky and cracked ceiling. But worst of all, the hints of Cotton that still haunted the room. All his possessions still laid untouched with the exception of his clothes. None of my old ones fit anymore but we couldn't afford a whole new wardrobe simply because I had a growth spurt. His action figures collected dust on the shelf above his bed, his bed was as messy as always, Cotton never took the time to make his bed,

The kitchen was lightly dimly by the small, slightly flickering light above the dining table. My index finger delicately traced the cool edge of the countertop, mindlessly, as I reached for the case of red, plastic cups that laid by the phone. I prayed water would settle my restless mind. The sink gradually filled the cup to the brim with the liquid that would hopefully quench my ranging emotions.

Bringing the cup to my lips, my gaze turned to the phone. My mind couldn't help but think about the odd phone call from earlier. What idiot calls at the middle of the night? I set the drink down as my finger ran up and down the spine of the phone. Maybe he was high, I figured. Or drunk. Hell, maybe it was just a teenager goofing around. My lips pursed in the wake of my troubling thought: why was I was bothered? The call didn't mean anything, so why was it lingering in my head?

"RI-I-ING!"

...

"RI-I-NG!"

My eyes squinted harshly at the phone. What the fuck? It was odd to get a phone call this late, let alone multiple, yet the phone continued to ring, reminding me that what I was seeing wasn't a hallucination. To add onto that, the call coming in just as I was thinking about it? This was either a crazy coincidence or something truly freaky was going on. My fingers clutched the phone, giving me a sense of deja vu, as I held it up to my ear. "Who is this?" I asked.

"You don't remember me?" I jerked my hand away as my eyes stared down the phone. It was him. How was it him? I bit my lip as my eyes burned. This couldn't be just a coincidence. There was no way in hell it was. "How'd you get this number?" I interrogated the man. He laughed a strangely familiar but equally as cruel laugh, "Small town."

My nails dug into the countertop at the force of my deafening grip. "This isn't funny, you know. And I swear, if this is you, Randy, I am going to snap your neck tomorrow."

"I'm not Randy." The voice replied laced in smarminess.

"Then who are you?" I asked. My question was by no means friendly. Which in truth, it wasn't meant to be interpreted in any means as friendly. There was a slight pause before that deafening voice answered me once more, "I'm the person that framed your poor, older brother." My grips on the phone loosened as my eyes gazed at the phone with the memory of that fateful courtroom day. Billy. Was this him?

It certainly didn't sound like him. I bit my lip harshly as my mind bounced back and forth. If I responded, would I be giving him exactly what he wanted? But if I did hang up, I would be angering someone dangerous. Before a clever response could leave my mouth, Billy's presumed voice broke out. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Is this who I think it is?" I barked out. I didn't care for the taunts or tease. All I wanted was for this torture to come to an end. Billy Loomis had made my life a hell ever since that courtroom. He painted me as murderous, a freak, someone to avoid. Billy Loomis had a way with words, and with those words he had outcasted me. Made me laughed at, teased, bullied. It was my own personal form of hell.

"Depends. Who do you think I am?"

"Billy," I mumbled under my breath. "Billy Loomis."

"You're gonna have to speak louder than that, or else I won't be able to hear you." The voice replied. I scowled as my knuckles turned white. "I said I'm hanging up on you," I lied. The phone slammed against the kitchen wall as I clutched my head in pain. What was happening? And why now? I shook my head as I head back to my bedroom and flopped into the bed. The smell of Cotton still hung in the room and I inhaled it sharply, trying to wash away any remainders of the odd phone call.

Yet the call remained in my head, smothering me. My fingers clenched the sheet in frustration. There was no way I was getting much sleep tonight so I let myself stay awake, gazing into the blackness of my pillow. All I could do now was pray it was a meaningless prank call, and not the devilish boy that haunted my dreams.

✎ notes . . . slow start, I know, I know, but trust me things will get intense very soon...

©️ sethcertified 2023

[coffeeandbatboys]

Where Your Road Leads

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader, platonic Torrent (Kix, Jesse & Rex) x reader, platonic Echo x reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, temporary spousal death, pregnancy, fluff, language, throwing up...I think that's all

A/N this is possibly my longest one shot ever...

A knock sounds on your door.

Kix.

You'd been expecting him for the last two hours and he’s just now made it to your home. You open the door with every nerve buzzing.

“Kix, what took—”

You pause in fear when his face reveals only sadness and guilt.

“What's going on?” You demand, ushering the medic inside.

“I'm so sorry, vod'ika.” Is all he can manage with tears gathering in his eyes. Fives. Something bad happened to Fives. You’ve heard the report that he'd tried to kill the Chancellor, and that he was wanted by the Corries. But you thought he'd be safe with Rex. After all, the captain had been worried about him when he stopped by earlier.

“Kix.” You repeat. “Where's Fives?”

The medic takes a deep breath.

“He’s been,” he chokes on a shaky breath and his already unstable voice lowers to a whisper. “killed.”

Your knees buckle beneath you and you want to throw up. You stumble to the ‘fresher, Kix following behind to hold your hair as you empty the contents of your stomach.

“Oh, maker! No….fuck no.” You cry, dry heaving now. “There's no way.”

Kix runs a hand over his face to hide the haunted look in his eyes.

It takes a few minutes for your breathing to calm down. “And the test?” You quietly ask the question you've been dreading since he came in. It’s the reason you were expecting him, after all.

He turns to face you.

“Conclusive. You're two months pregnant.”

For the next six months, Torrent is always a comm away. Kix stopping in to make sure you're eating well enough to support both you and the baby, and Jesse helping you set up a nursery. Rex goes with you to most of your appointments if he can. You're grateful to have a family, even if they're not blood, and even if you and Fives weren't officially ‘married’. He’s still your husband, and they're your family.

It still hurts to wake up with a cold back where there would normally be the warmth of his chest, pressed against it, and anything that reminds you of Fives in your apartment remains untouched

When Echo is brought back, he finds out all about what happened and decides that the Bad Batch can wait. For now, he needs to uphold a promise that he'd made to Fives when the two of you first got together. If anything were to happen to a domino twin and his significant other was left behind, the remaining brother would take care of them. Even with the looming realization that his best friend is dead, Echo couldn't be more excited to be an uncle.

A year and a half later, you're sitting at the table, reading about the Chancellor’s ‘accidental' death and a subsequently revealed plot to kill the Jedi via the GAR, when you hear the front door open. Echo must be back with little Fiv'ika from the store earlier than expected.

But the footfalls that find their way into the kitchen aren’t mechanical like Echo's, and there's no excited babbling from your son.

You turn to see just who had let themselves into your house and—

Well…damn. This is new.

Fives is standing in the doorway. His curls are a little longer and his shoulders hang a bit, but he still has that light in his eyes, and his goatee is kept the way he always used to do it, and the tattoo is on the same spot that it always was.

You don't trust your eyes with the image. He can't be alive. He would have been here this whole time if he was alive.

It’s only when he speaks that you accept that he's here.

“Ner runi…” he murmurs, and you cross the distance to throw your arms around him. He's warm and soft and above all, he's real.

“Fives!” You cry, bitter tears rolling down your cheeks. “Where the hell have you been? You were dead!”

Instead of letting him answer, you grab his face and crash your lips against his. He returns the kiss with a relieved hum and tugs you closer. When you pull away, he wipes a few tears off your cheek with a calloused thumb, and his own eyes become glossy.

“I went in deep cover to investigate the chancellor. Commanders Cody and Fox are the only ones who know that I'm alive at all.”

The front door opens again, and this time it’s the sounds of your laughing child and Echo announcing “We’re home!”

Fives, however, stills with panic and pulls away from you.

“Osik,” he curses himself. “I should have realized that you could have moved on.”

I didn't.” You cut him off. “I didn't move on. You're in for the surprise of your life, Babe.”

His eyebrows scrunch as Echo and Fiv'ika enter the room. Echo stops in his tracks when he registers Fives’ face and you silently take the child from his arms.

“Firstly I want you to meet your son, Fives Jr., or as we call him, Fiv'ika.”

Fives’ eyes go wide and his knees suddenly feel shaky. He's not sure that he trusts his voice, but he tries anyways.

“You had our first kid and I wasn't there? Oh, maker. Fuck.” he brings a hand to cover his mouth, and tears spill over his cheeks. He falls to his knees and looks up at you.

“Ni ceta, Mesh'la. I don't know what to say…”

You shake your head and tug on his sleeve, silently asking him to get up. You wrap one arm around the love of your life and press your temple to his, while the other arm holds your son.

“It’s okay. You whimper. “We’re here. Were together.”

Fiv’ika reaches tiny hands up to grab his father’s goatee. Fives lets out a wounded noise and kisses your cheek.

You pull away for a second.

“Secondly, you’ll want to see who’s been helping me.”

Confusion crosses his face and you look over to Echo, who’s been standing outside the doorway of the kitchen.

“Who is….” Fives trails off, eyes locking on his twin. “Echo?”

The paler clone’s eyes fill with tears and he nods.

“Su cuy’gar, Fives.”

Your husband gives your shoulder a squeeze and rushes towards his brother with open arms. The two quickly fall into a sobbing embrace and you watch, practically beaming.

“I would ask how you’re alive but if I survived being blown up I’m pretty sure that it’s not that hard.” Echo laughs.

Fives only looks horrified. “I am so sorry to both of you. I should have been there-”

“Hey,” you stop him, moving next to both of them, Fiv’ika in between. “We’re safe.”

Fives pulls you all together in a hug, mumbling “I love you all so much.” He’s holding his entire world—his wife, his son, and his twin brother—in his arms, and he’ll be damned if he’s letting any of you go soon.

Mando'a translations:

Vod'ika: Younger sibling

Ner runi: My soul

Osik: Shit

Ni ceta: I'm sorry; I kneel

Su cuy'gar: Hello; You're alive

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Brotherly Love Pt.7

Series Masterlist

Summary: Your time with Arkin has come to an end, but what about your new alien friend?

Warnings: Handcuffs, injury, Jason being distant, Damian's attitude.

(Takes place a day after the last chapter.)

~☆~

You walked down into the Batcave, knowing that Arkin would be taken as soon as you get down there. What you didn't expect was to see Superman down there. You had walked over to Kon who was standing next to Tim, he acknowledged you with holding up a fist, waiting for you to put your own up to his like he had taught you when you first met him. That one day, he and Tim had visited the Batcave for use of the computer's down there, and you just happened to stumble upon the two of them.

But, now you stood watching as your father and Superman conversed, talking about the boy that sat in the clear box in the middle of the room.

"Hello!" A voice spoke next to you. As you turned, you came face to face with a boy around your age. Seemingly he was another variant of Superman and Kon, his hair was the same color as theirs, his eyes were the same as Supermans, he was levitating and he had the infamous 'S' logo on the chest of his suit.

"Hello..." You spoke lowly.

"I'm Jon!" The boy exclaimed, shooting a hand out for you to shake. You hesitantly put your hand in his own, and he erratically shook it up and down.

"I'm Y/-" you stared before being interrupted.

"Y/N, I know!" He quickly stated, smiling even wider. Your eyes glanced down at your hand that was still holding Jon's. The boy himself followed your eyes and quickly let go before scratching the back of his neck.

"Sorry." He sheepishly mumbled, his cheeks turning red. You offered him a tight-lipped smile before excusing yourself, walking over to the cage that Arkin resided in.

"Arkin." You sighed, putting your hand up to the clear glass. His dirty blonde hair fell onto his face as he looked up at you with a shy smile.

"No hard feelings, I promise." You giggled out.

"Thank you." He spoke out in a breathy tone, smiling even wider at you. You watched as he walked up to the material that separates you and place a hand where yours rested, acting completely different than he did the day before.

"Y/N!" Your father called out, a signal that your time with Arkin was being cut short. Superman came over, opening the box that Arkin was contained in, and put cuffs on him. Before Arkin could be loaded into the van that was taking him, you stopped them, rushing up to envelop the boy in a hug.

"We'll write to each other, okay?" You whispered to him, pulling back a little so that you could see him nod. After your hug, he hopped into the back of the van, not taking his eyes off of you. As the van started up and was about to drive off, you yelled out.

"No hard feelings!" Just one last time, watching as a genuine smile spread on Arkins lips.

You watched as the van drove off out of the Batcave. Honestly, it was probably Dick driving the van to an unknown place so that officials could take him and not know where the Batcave was. You failed to notice as Jon walked up to your side. Maybe your skills were rusty because that's two times you had missed the boy.

"Boyfriend?" Jon asked, startling you.

"NO!" You yelled.

"I met him yesterday!" You exclaimed with a scrilunched up face. Jon stayed quiet before finally speaking up.

"I-i knew that, I don't know why I asked." He stuttered out, visibly embarrassed.

"Calm down." You laughed, the sound bringing a smile to Jon's face. You took in a deep breath as you recovered from your quick laugh, causing a sharp pain to instantly stab at your side. Jon watched as you winced. He held out an arm to hold you with as you tried to compose yourself from the quick jab of pain.

"I need to go." You mumbled. A pair of arms grabbed you from behind, offering support as you walked to the elevator. As you stepped in, you looked up at Jason, his face covered by just his domino mask instead of his helmet.

"...I'm sorry." He whispered into the air, so low that you would think that you had imagined it.

"It's okay." You muttered back. He had every right to be upset about what happened yesterday. His head finally turned to look down at you, watching as you stared at the doors of the elevator. The events of 6 repeated as the two of you walked out of the doom box and into the living area. Jason helps you sit down on the couch, offering you a stray pillow to hold on to before disappearing for a second.

"You're lucky it was nothing serious." He muttered as he walked back into the living room, talking about the ache growing in your body. He offered you a pill and a glass of water, trying his best to make you comfortable.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, staring down at you as you finished your water.

"...will you sit with me?" You whispered shyly, looking down at your feet. Jason didn't respond. He just took the empty glass from your hand and sat it on the side table next to the couch. He sat himself next to you, throwing an arm behind your neck and pulling you into himself, your knees bent as you pulled your legs up to sit with you on the couch.

"Comfy?" Jason asked, looking down at you as you nodded. "Good."

A figure watched from the doorway, balling their hand up into a fist as their green eyes watched the two of you before storming off.

~☆~

After Arkin had been safely given to officials, and your pains had been deemed okay, Jason took that as his sign to leave. He had lightly shook your body off of his own, muttering about his he was late for something and left you alone. Alfred had come into the room not too long after handing you a basket and asking if you could take it down to the Batcave. You agreed, walking back down to the place you had been in not too long ago. As the elevator dinged, signifying that you had arrived, Jon's head shot up, waiting for you to step out. You walked out, handing Tim and Kon their lunch, and then moved to where your father and Superman were huddled.

"Um, I have lunch..." You mumbled, watching as both men acknowledge you.

"Y/N, right?" Superman asked, already knowing that he was correct.

"Yes, sir." You said, returning the smile that he had given you.

"I'm Clark." He smiled even wider, taking your hand in his. His demeanor reminded you of Jon. Only his handshake was firm and quick instead of Jon's lingering shake. You nodded before handing both men their own sandwiches.

Damian and Jon were in the corner of the room sitting at a table. Your brother was simply reading a paper, whilst Jon was smiling and waving at you. You offered him a small smile and a short wave before making your way over to the two of them.

"Hi, Y/N." Jon giggled as you passed him, handing Damian a sandwich. You let out a breathy laugh as you sang out."Hi, Jon." Damian stopped his reading and looked up at the two of you from where he sat.

"Do you wanna sit with us?" Jon asked as he accepted a sandwich from you.

"Sure." You smiled out, sitting on one of the chairs that was at the table.

"Whats he doing?" You whispered into Jon's ear, talking about Damian, who was glaring at the paper in front of him again.

"Reading a police report." Jon mumbled, taking off the clear plastic that was wrapped around his sandwich. You did the same, opening the extra sandwich that had been in the basket. Jon quickly swallowed the food he had been chewing before turning to whisper into your ear. "Y'know you and him are nothing alike."

"Are we supposed to be?" You asked him, still speaking in the same low tone.

He smiled at you before shaking his head and turning to look back at Damian, who was now staring at the two of you.

"If you are going to gossip, please do it elsewhere." He snapped, not taking his eyes off of the either of you.

"Sorry..." Jon mumbled, finally making Damian look away. Jon turned to look at you with a hidden smile on his face, trying not to laugh. You doing the same as you looked at him, you quickly mimicked the look that Damian's face held, causing Jon to let out a howling laugh. Damian let out a loud sigh before jumping from the table and taking his belongings with him, walking off to the elevator. You watched as he walked, it's not that you meant to annoy him, you just wanted to lighten the mood. As you turned back to Jon, you noticed him already staring at you, "What?" You asked, subconsciously wiping around your mouth.

"He'll be okay." The boy told you.

"I-i know he will." You rushed, not mentioning the fact that you and Damian had only just broken your months long silence with each other

"So, what are you going to wear this weekend." Jon asked, breaking the awkward silence that took over.

"Huh?"

"The party, t-this weekend." Jon hesitantly spoke, not knowing if he should've told you or not.

"How do you know about this, and I dont?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to get answers from the boy in front of you.

"Um, we were invited..." Jon started "Your dad is the one who invited us."

"What!?" You quickly yelled, turning to look at your father. Clark held a hand up to hide his face, almost like he knew what you were talking about.

"I know nothing of this!" You hissed.

Jon shot you a small smile, "Hey, we can hang out again!" He beamed.

"I suppose we will." You sighed, dreading what's to come.

~☆~

We are nearing the end of the series.

:(

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[rowniebow]

and they were roommates | peter parker x male!reader | 7/7

summary: closure.

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: fluff :D

word count: 1.3k+

an: thank you for reading and all the support :') i appreciate all of you! u inspire me to be a better writer!

previous ⭒ masterlist

⭒

you had not seen peter since that night.

it has been five days and eighteen hours.

if anyone asked him, he'd say he'd regretted his actions. terribly so.

but no one knew. no one asked.

and if he had kissed anyone else, you'd have been the one to know. he would have ran straight to you to tell of the whole situation.

but he kissed you.

his best friend.

and now he didn't feel like he had a best friend.

now, it's not as if you ran away. no, you just avoided him to the point of changing your entire schedule.

you left an hour earlier and sat in your classroom in the dark, wondering what to do.

you came home late at night when you knew he'd be out participating in his nightly endeavors, going to a café to grade (or just hiding in your classroom still, it's your comfort place other than your shitty apartment with the man at home that you were avoiding).

you always made sure to be home before he got back from his activities, though. just in case he needed help.

but it's the weekend again.

and quite honestly, you miss him.

⭒⭒

you stumbled in your apartment, hands full of mail and paperwork you needed to do, as per usual.

an extravagant sigh that turned into a groan leaked from your throat as your stomach rumbled but the will to cook struggled to present itself.

peter watched you bump against the counter and curse yourself from the couch. his knees bounced with the debate of whether he should make himself known like he originally intended or not.

he was well aware of how you snuck around when you assumed him to be asleep and out of the house.

he woke at four in the morning every day the last week while you got ready for work and listened to you shuffle around.

guilt swelled in him when you jumped with a start after noticing him. staring at you from across the room.

"jesus, peter," your hand sat on top of your chest, willing for it to calm your heart.

"sorry,"

"what are you doing here?"

peter willed himself to smile, "not happy to see me?" the pain in his eyes and brow didn't pass the confidence act, though.

you chose to ignore his comment. mixed feelings were brought out from his presence. a lot of feelings you didn't want to admit you had.

instead you looked down at the sad eggs you had gotten out in your hand, "do you want anything to eat?"

your voice was quiet, shyer than he'd ever heard it. he seemed to be pulled further into the pit of guilt.

he made you quiet and shy around him, he thought. he did that. he ruined it.

"no, that's okay, thank you,"

the clattering of you pulling out pans was painful in the silence. it refused to let him form the words he had been going over all night.

peter would never tell you but he had been sitting there for two hours waiting for you to get home. just searching for the right words.

in that moment, words escaped him. the perfectly crafted sentence he had built fell apart on the ground like dominoes.

"w-we-," he choked when your eyes snapped to him. "we never finished twenty questions."

"no," you nearly whispered after another stabbing moment of silence. "i guess we didn't."

"it's your turn, if you want." peter tried to swallow, feeling more like a bread ball with nails hammered in from every angle was falling down his throat than saliva.

"i think i'll skip my turn,"

peter hated the formalities that were present between you two. "alright," he just wanted it all to go back to normal.

peter considered the way you hadn't used the eggs you pulled out at all. instead you were just eyeing them up and down while you listened to him.

"did you want to kiss me?" the words strangled the air, but you immediately looked up at him.

"yes. i said yes." you practically whispered, hesitantly.

peter found your eyes, and the sincerity in them lifted the suffocation he had been feeling the last week.

"why did you kiss me?"

"i-," peter was almost baffled by the question. he thought it was quite obvious.

although, your innocent ignorance to the emotions of people was something he understood very well about you. he could recall stories of your childish confusion easily.

"i like you," he couldn't hear your shaken sigh of relief over the sound of his pounding heart in his chest. "a lot."

your heart was beating just as fast as his, if not faster. but by the looks of you, peter would think you're almost disinterested in the conversation.

what he couldn't see in the dark, hardly lit, tiny, kitchen-living room combination, was your worried brows and your lip nearly bleeding from the biting. he couldn't see the way your jaw shook every few seconds and the tears that threatened your eyes.

you didn't handle stress well.

"do you regret it?" peter nearly blurted out.

"no!" your head shook, your brain banged against the sides of your skull with every movement. "no, no, not at all. d-do you?"

"no!" peter replied with similar enthusiasm. he hastily stood from the couch and stumbled his way into the kitchen before you.

he opened his mouth to speak, you assumed to take his turn in the game.

you, however, were just about done with the game.

"i like you, too," you interrupted. his agape mouth fell closed with a click of his teeth. his wide eyes glimmered a reflection of the city lights. "a lot."

"oh, that's-,"

"i-i, uhm. it's been a while for me, though,"

"me too," a smile pulled at peter's lips.

you're just always so cute, even when you rambled your worries like this. his posture dropped to slouch against the counter, gazing at your twitching fingers.

the comfort of being around you - being in his own skin - seeped back and leaked through his veins.

"right," you muttered, recollecting the stories he's told you from years ago. "i don't really know how to do this,"

"i don't either. we don't gotta know, though. we can do it our own way."

"okay," a sigh of relief left your lips. peter smiled brightly at you.

your sight spun looking at his smile. you wanted to rub it right off of his face.

he stepped towards you slowly, once again leaving room for you to escape if you wanted.

you very much didn't, though.

no, you stood waiting for him. practically inviting him in.

he arrived to his spot in front of you, merely an inch or two away. his hand slowly raised, hesitantly landing on your cheek.

the fridge over his shoulder proved to be more calming than him in that very moment. he watched your eyes and how they refused to meet his.

his smile only grew wider, though. at the thought of making you nervous in (hopefully) the good way.

"can i-," his whispers floated through the air to you.

they traveled along the hills and lakes of your skin.

they traveled through the forest of your hair.

they traveled towards the canyons of your ears.

and submerged themselves in the sea of your brain.

they swirled in that ocean and pushed and shoved at something that forced you to move before he could finish.

and your lips were on his once more. your eyes squeezed so tight that tears practically leaked through them, his words leaking out with them.

peter, baffled by you like always, breathed you in like a summer's night.

he was engulfed by you, whether you knew it or not. you absorbed him all of the time. you chewed him constantly and spit him out, only to chew him up again.

you were constantly abducting him with your eyes. you brought him in to your ship and ran tests on him. you dissected every fiber - every molecule - and put him back together again, better than before.

you healed him from the inside out.

you drove him to be better for you and for himself.

you inspired him to care again.

to be again.

you were his roommate, and he was yours, but now, you are something much more.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@armand0alg0 @cryinked @djmalik52 @fadedver @garlicforthewin @pinky-parker @softboi14 @1ischai

[nyaagolor]

have a really specific but fun poly ship on my mind- klavier and apollo and simon blackquill (clay is also fun to throw in there but i know some people are indifferent to him) and i would love to see some shenanigans with them :3c

I tried to draw this and failed miserably so mini-fic instead:

There was a limit to how many people you could realistically fit on a motorcycle. They were made with specific specifications in mind, specs that changed how the bike rode, how it handled, whether or not it would be safe. Klavier Gavin knew this-- he told them this-- and yet the mortifying ordeal of not being able to perch on the back of his harley seemed like some grave sin to the three men trying to stuff themselves in behind him.

"Athena can do more with her Vespa," Simon pouted, shifting back and forth as though trying to mentally map how he was going to fit all six plus feet of himself onto the single rider bike. He was standing now, hunched forward just enough to crush Apollo into Klavier's back and pushing the rockstar halfway over the handlebars. Klavier frowned.

"There is no way that thing is street legal," he replied, trying to arch his back in a way that let Apollo unpeel himself from his leather jacket.

"You guys," he protested, shoving a hand to the back of Klavier's neck and wrestling his way to fresh air, "have cars."

"I also got stabbed last month," interrupted Clay, who was sitting opposite them on the tail end of the bike and playing on his phone. "You can't be mean to the guy who got stabbed."

"How long are you going to milk that?" Apollo grumbled, and Clay just whistled something and leaned into Simon, crushing Apollo for a second time. The attorney had resorted to kicking at the others' legs, which made Simon square his shoulders and nearly send Clay careening off the bike entirely.

"Heyy," he grumbled. "If you're gonna be cranky about it, we should just hitch a ride with one of the officers."

He waved down a Prius with a familiar detective inside, who rolled to a stop just beside them.

"Need a ride?" asked Ema Skye over the tops of her glasses. Klavier nodded desperately, trying to domino the freeloaders off of his bike. Three of them eagerly nodded, Simon adding his approval with a well-timed grunt as they all toppled back into the parking lot-- Clay stumbling a few paces away and Simon shoving Apollo to the side where the attorney had fallen into his chest. Ema flipped her sunglasses back down. "Call an Uber then."

Not needing to look back at the indignant trio trying to crawl back onto his motorcycle, Klavier just sighed. They were never getting home.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Masterpost of AUs

As promised, here's the (wip) masterpost of all my AUs. In alphabetical order with a short synopsis, and the tags are all on this post so you can easily search them up :) if there's any I missed, please send them to me so I can get them added! If the last tags aren't alphabetized that means I need to get on my laptop and move them around lmao

Bittersweet Reunion AU

TFA AU wherein the jet twins are Starscream's offspring specifically produced by the autobot government, and their finding out kicks off an entire domino effect storyline

Blitzbee Baby AU

Exactly what it sounds like. TFA Bumblebee gets Blitzwing sparked up and neither of them realize until he enters emergence

Cross Dimensional Shenanigans

- Umbrella tag for anything that involves more than one iteration of transformers interacting with each other

Cross Dimensional Starblitz

- How the CDS started. Focuses solely on TFP Starscream and TFA Blitzwing’s weird friendship

Cryptid Seekers AU

- Everything is the same except seekers are terrifying cryptids. Nuff said

Cybermorphs AU

- An AU in which a group of warframes working off planet accidentally stumble into an ancient, buried xenomorph nests, and come back to Cybertron bearing what becomes the first generation of cybertronian-xenomorph hybrids, aka the Cybermorphs. Features a lot of world building, Cybermorph Queen Megatron, a lot of fun alien biology, and some angsty MegOP among other ships

Cybertronians Are An Invasive Species

- No war AU wherein cybertronians are an invasive pest species that have moved onto earth and cause the most havoc

Cybertronians Are An Invasive Species: The Soap Opera

- Takes place in the invasive species AU, but specifically is about a goofy soap opera created by humans with the bots as the inspiration

De-Extinction AU

TFA, the autobots have finally run out of stored Allspark energy and, seeing as the artificially created population is completely sterile, are now an officially endangered species. Their only chance at salvation lies with the decepticons and their ability to produce "sparklings"... whatever those are 🤭

Hindsight AU

- Aligned continuity. Arcee goes back in time in an attempt to stop the war with the help of Vector Prime, accidentally creates a much worse world. Goes through several crazy timelines, currently on the Self Imposed Exodus.

OS×BB AU

A TFA storyline wherein Omega Supreme wakes much much earlier than canon, becoming truly self-aware and sentient. He and Bumblebee form a connection and Things Happen

Shadows House AU

- Exactly what it sounds like. All of our favorite bots and cons are parasitic fae members of the Shadows Family. Megatronus is plotting to bring it down from the inside. Lots of secrets and spooky stuff

Subnautica AU

- Starscream and Skyfire (and sometimes the other seekers) stranded on the terrifying hell planet, 4546B

Terran Task Force

- An angsty AU that involves GHOST getting their slimy hands on the Emberstone and making legions of their own little terran warriors

The Repopulation Project

- A dystopian future AU wherein the autobots won the war, and in an effort to save their species from extinction, implemented the repopulation project. It warped and twisted over time til the war frames are kept as nothing but livestock to be bought, traded, and harvested. In an attempt to change the horrific conditions of their present society, Optimus gambles by having decepticon high command reborn in the hopes that they'll be able to overturn the huge mess he made

Unicron Reborn AU

- Technically an AU/what-if of the 5th timeline of Hindsight. Unicron is killed and later reborn as a sparkling on Cybertron; Megatron adopts him. Later gives rise to The Spawn

[arctrooper69]

Training For Failure

A/N: I just needed a pep talk from Echo today. (Also, I love soft!Echo fics with all my heart, but I think sometimes people forget that he used to be a badass ARC Trooper and still very much has that vibe going on when he's not playing Mom to Omega 😂)

Warnings: Tough Love from Echo. Reader is feeling bad about themselves.

--------------------------------------------------

"Come on, keep up!" Echo called out, glancing over his shoulder to see you jogging several paces behind him.

You gave him a thumbs up and a grin to hide the fact that you were dying inside. Or at least that's what it felt like. Were lungs supposed to hurt like this? With every strained inhale, the chilly morning air burned it's way through your chest.

Echo jogged in place, watching as you ran over to him, breathing heavily. He clapped you on the shoulder. "You're doing good so far!" He encouraged. "Here, drink." He tossed you a water bottle giving you a little grin. "Just around this bend and we'll be done our warm-up."

You choked on the water, spilling a mouth full down the front of your shirt.

"Wait, this is just a warm-up?" You panted in disbelief.

Echo chuckled, "Yeah, like I told you yesterday. We jog to the training gym, go a few rounds, and then walk back."

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, resting your hands on your knees to help soothe your screaming lungs.

"You okay?" Echo put a hand on your back, looking at you, brows upturned with concern.

Nodding, you gave him a thumbs up. " I'm good!" You gave him a grin and stood up quickly. A sudden wave of dizziness hit you out of nowhere and you stumbled to the side. Echo grabbed your upper arm, keeping you upright.

"Whoa! Hey, take it easy now. Hands on top of your head."

"What, are you arresting me or something?" you jokingly scoffed.

Echo rolled his eyes. "No. It helps the blood circulate better. Helps you catch your breath."

Nodding slowly to avoid worsening your lightheadedness, you obediently rested your palms on top of your sweaty hair. As weird as it sounded, it did help. Slowly the ache in your lungs began to let up, your breaths came more easily and the dizziness abated.

Kriff, you were out of shape. A heavy feeling of shame settled in your core, replacing the sharp sting of laboured breathing.

"Sorry for slowing you down," you mumbled, looking down at your feet. What had you been thinking when you asked Echo to help you train? You were so not going to survive this. "Maybe you'd get a better work-out on your own without me. I'd just kriff it up anyway."

Echo stiffened, "No. Stop." You looked up at him in confusion. His eyes were sharp and serious as though they could see straight through you. It was the same look he had on the battlefield. The look of a leader.

"Look at me." He gripped your shoulders between his flesh hand and scomp link.

"I am." You avoided eye contact.

"No," he moved the tip of his scomp arm beneath your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his.

"Listen, I don't want to hear that kind of talk." He said firmly. "The only way to get good is to keep going."

You swallowed and looked away feeling a little intimidated and embarrassed. Echo pulled you back so that you met his eyes once more.

"I can guarantee that if you keep thinking you'll fail, then you will fail. I know it's hard and sometimes it hurts but you have to stick with it."

"I can't...." you whispered feeling defeated. Tears clouded your vision, threatening to fall.

"You can." Echo reprimanded. "You can and you will. You're strong." He paused, thinking for a moment, and sighed.

"It does help though, when you have a partner - someone who can motivate you and push you to your limits."

He paused again, breaking eye contact for a fraction of a second. "My brother Fives was that person for me."

He met your eyes again.

"Our squad - Domino Squad - almost didn't make it though training. We failed every simulation. We couldn't work as a team and even the instructors said we'd never make it; that we were failures. I started to believe them because what they wanted from us seemed impossible. I wanted to give up. But Fives wouldn't let me. Fives believed in us - he believed in me. 'We will not train for failure' he told us. He pushed us hard, dragging us all out of our bunks to practice again and again and again. Until finally we made it. Fives was right. We don't train for failure. We train to better ourselves and therefore to better our brothers - our squad."

"I didn't know that," you said softly, wiping your eyes, "I guess I could use a friend like that." Echo nodded.

"Fives was that person for me. I will be that person for you. I will not allow you to fail. Yes, you'll make mistakes, you'll fall on your ass more times that you can count but that's not failure. You only fail if you give up. Failure is a choice."

Echo's voice radiated confidence. You could almost feel it invading your own skin and bleeding into your bones. No wonder they made him an ARC Trooper. He was stern when he needed to be, confident in his abilities, and adaptable to whatever situation was thrown at Clone Force 99.

In addition to all that, Echo was compassionate. He truly cared for his teammates and for that you were glad - for that and everything else, you loved him.

"So what do you say we finish off this work-out?"

You nodded your head, giving him a small smile. "Sir, yes sir!"

Echo grinned, squeezing your shoulder. "Good. Then wipe your face and follow me."

You took a deep breath and began to run, keeping pace with Echo. "And I know a great smoothie place we can hit afterwards."

"Sounds like a plan."

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabeewrites

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

[bat-anon]

AAAAA TADC LIVEPOST!!!

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO

THE WAY THE INTRO GOES FROM EARLY 2000S COMPUTER GRAPHICS TO THE 3D ANIMATION IS SO GOOD!

Caine! My good buddy Caine! And it’s the opening sequence from the trailer too

BUBBLE CAN TALK?!?! IS THAT ALLOWED?!

I love Caine’s animation! I love the way he talks and his body language

AN OPENING THEME INTRODUCTION FOR THE CAST

Kinger’s little pillow fort I can’t 😭 Someone please comfort this man

The animators knew EXACTLY what they were doing with Jax!! I feel so called out like damn okay!!!

What do they mean “*Disclaimer: Kaufmo the Clown did not show up today.”? How can someone “not show up” in the Circus when Caine can literally teleport the performers to his location and they can’t leave? What’s really going on here?? 🤨🧐

It still feels illegal that Bubble can talk

The VA has a pleasant singing voice tho. Definitely confirms that they’re performing for some invisible audience in some Truman Show style

Love the lyrics here. “Day after day after day after day after day we fly!” really drives home the fact that they are stuck here doing the same things over and over for seemingly eternity.

I’m literally not even a minute in (only at 0:48) because I have so many thoughts and excitement that I have to keep pausing

POMNIIIIII MY GIRL POMNI

WHY IS THE FLOWER POT GLITCHING OUT OF THE FLOOR SO FUNNY ACBNFRJKGD

The music slowing down and dying as Pomni knocks them down like dominos god this show really is comedy gold

Gangle’s mask! I’m so sorry bestie!

Oh god it’s like that meme of everyone at a party judging you I’m-

Is it just me or is Michael Kovach’s performance different than in the trailer? Of course it could just be because Jax is annoyed right now

“Caine, is this one of your NPC’s or is this a new sucker?” AVLGDXV Pomni must take one of the “I am not a robot” test. Also do they get NPCs??? Is Jax referring to other AI or actual NPCs???

She IS trying to remove a VR headset!

Pomni rn:

“You just need to get your head together” Ragatha this is not the time

THE SWEARS ARE CENSORED! ANOTHER ONE FOR THE BINGO CARD!

Caine: THIS IS A PG PROGRAM!

Do you think the censor thing applies to swear words in other languages too?

“You, my friend, stumbled into an incredible world of wonders! Where anything can happen!… E-except for swearing.” I love you Caine.

AFJKJRED I THINK I CAN ACTUALLY MAKE OUT MOST OF THE CURSES POMNI USES OH MY GOD

Yeah don’t be a dick Jax

“Did someone say something about an insect collection?” What? Insect collection? What is Kinger talking about?

Oh so this is where the dream thing kicks in. I wonder how long that’s gonna last until Pomni realizes that it’s real

Do you want me to kill Jax for you Gangle? Because I’ll kill him if you ask it’ll be on sight

THE DIAL UP OUUUUUG HIS CANE SPINNING IN THE BACKGROUND

Yo they got minigolf? Nice

I really hope we get episodes of the cast going to these locations and doing sitcomass things there

THE VOID

The moon talks?!

THE MOON WANTS TO FUCK CAINE?!

Oh GOD what did she throw up?

OH GOD BUBBLE STOP DON’T EAT THAT

EVEN CAINE AGREES WITH ME

TEAR THE BITCH APART!

Caine’s reaction to Pomni mentioning the door is sus…

I like that Caine let’s everyone choose their name idk I like how chill he is with regards to their mental/emotional autonomy

“I said that like five minutes ago” Shhh he has computer lag

“Don’t worry Zooble. I’ll make it something unobtrusive that you can still choose to not get involved with!” See, another example of how Caine wants to respect his performers feelings! I love this guy!

What’s a Gloink? Are they the stars?

THEY ARE THE STARS I WAS RIGHT

Humanoid hash- Caine, do you know what a hash brown is??

THEY STOLE ZOOBLE

Gangle’s reaction… they took her spouse in the divorce…

YO are we actually going to meet Kaufmo? Alright let me see the betting table who has money on him actually being voiced by Jack Black

JAX CAN BREAK THE FOURTH WALL ANDKHRJRJRJ

HA, get BONKED BOY!

It’s actually super interesting to me how Jax seems almost as tired of doing this stuff as Zooble.

She has her own room! :D

Ragatha mental breakdown moment 👁️👄👁️

He has a doorbell. Why is that so funny to me?

… something bad is about to happen

I hate Jax I’m gonna shut him up with my LIPS (I know I have terrible taste YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!)

KAUFMO IS THE BLACK GOOP MONSTER WE WERE RIGHT!!!

Wait. Enhance.

Was that the door for another human that turned into a monster like Kaufmo? Is that why their icon is x-ed out?

OH GOD

OH MY GOD HE’S GOING TO KILL HER

OH GOD WHY ARE THEY ALL GLITCHING

Did Kaufmo cause that hole?

Probably not I guess

“We’re not very good at this, are we?” You’re the dream team to me 🫶

Don’t you DARE tell her what happened

Unrelated but I just noticed the reflection in Gangle’s tears! That’s really cool!

So Jax didn’t just throw the bowling ball at them just to be a jerk, but to get all of the out of there as soon as possible without telling them what happened to Kaufmo? Inch resting

THE BOWLING JOKE HAS LANDED! I REPEAT, THE BOWLING JOKE HAS LANDED!

OH MY GLORB WHAT IS THAT THING? IT LOOKS LIKE THE SAND WORM FROM BEETLEJUICE!

I like that Pomni is doing her best to help Ragatha even though she’s super freaked out. It’s really sweet to me.

IT SPEAKS!

Are you TRYING to get the party eaten Jax? Because that is how you get the party eaten.

AKDNHWHWG THE LOSER OF THE ROCK PAPER SCISSORS BEING THE ONE WHO HAS TO STAY WITH JAX I CAN’T

Can we get an ‘F’ in the chat for Zooble?

Oh no now everything’s glitching out

THE MONKEYS!🙌

What IS the deal with this random door??

“Well, b-but, uh- yet you’re still watching it!” AKDNHSHSB the way the Gloink Queen doesn’t deny it.

OH SHIT! The cinematography of Kaufmo landing on the Gloink Queen is SUPER COOL!

“Oh thank god you’re okay! You didn’t experience a game show in there did you?” ALDKDK a reference to my favorite gag in Gooseworx’s animations!

So Pomni DID work here as a human! And I see the head set on her desk! That warning triangle was definitely there for a reason… I wonder why Pomni put it on at work? Was it her last day and she went “fuck it”? Did her company make/acquire the rights to the game and assigned testing it to her?

C&A REMEMBER C&A THAT’S DEFINITELY IMPORTANT

THE VOID

HAVE I COMPLIMENTED THE SOUND DESIGN AND SOUNDTRACK YET BECAUSE THE SOUNDTRACK AND SOUND DESIGN ARE REALLY REALLY GREAT

Woah where is this restaurant? This looks like a nice place to eat! Also I know this is late but what’s with all the mannequins? Are they the NPCs Jax mentioned earlier? I hope we get an episode of the characters in this restaurant because this setting is dope!

“Oh Bubble, you always know how to make me say this exact sentence.” Agnkjrea have I mentioned that this show is comedy gold? Because it is comedy gold.

THE WACKY WATCH AND THE AD HOUUUGH

I hope they make those as merch that

Pomni’s about to SNAP

Wait, Caine tried to make them an exit because he knew they wanted one even if he missed what they meant? That’s actually super wholesome I love him even more now!

I thought there was blood on Bubble’s knife at first but I now see that it’s just reflecting the colors around it

THE ORCHESTRAL RENDITION OF THE OPENING THEME THAT STARTS PIANO PIANO THAT SLOWLY CRESCENDOS YES

In conclusion: EVERYONE WATCH THIS SHOW AND CHECK OUT @gooseworx’s OTHER STUFF NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME I’LL BE SPAMMING MY FOLLOWERS WITH THIS SHOW AND RAIDING THE ONLINE STORE!!!

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 36

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello (TMNT), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Another chapter as requested by tumblr! May I present: the drunk chapter!

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

 “There!”

“You’re ridiculous!”

“’Bite my neck and suck my butt!’”

“He does not say tha’!”

“Yes, he does!”

“You’re-“ Your gossipy coworker got choked as his tongue swelled thick. 

Snorting, you downed your glass and slammed it down on the bar as you had seen in many movies.

Instead of screaming for another, you pouted as no one seemed to even notice over the ambient roar.

“There’sh-!” Mouth minorly obeying, your gossipy coworker shot an index finger out from where it was wrapped around a glass. “Tha’sh a thing!”

“Sucking butt? Yuh!” You bobbed on the final syllable. 

“No!” His pitched warbled next and he screwed his nose up at the sound. “I mean yes, but no!”

You hummed an agreement, your eyes traveling elsewhere.

“It was’h on Friends!”

“On basic ca-cab-le?! Tha’ was not allowed!” You feigned a gasp.

“Not butt stuff!!” He screeched and swatted at you while missing by a mile.

“Wha’ then?!” You giggled, as he failed to reel his arm back in. 

“Wha’ then?!” He mimicked before freezing. His digit then extended and curled around the glass several times before both of you burst out laughing.

Holding onto his arm to keep from falling over, you were struck by a sudden wave of nausea. Bowled over, your gossipy coworker took an unaware swig which knocked you away from him. It bobbed you back upright and the sickness passed. “Woah.”

He didn’t seem to hear you as much as see you. 

He stuck his tongue out and you imagined he must have tasted the crowd. 

“Stop!” He whined, rolling his head and losing his balance where he was simply standing.

“What?!”

“What?!”

Laughing again, your throat felt dry.

The song changed, but you could only sort of tell.

The beat was different or it wasn’t.

There were so many people in the bar.

It was so loud. 

Maybe it was just them?

“Who…?!” Had you always been off to the side like this?

Oh, you were in a bar. 

“Tony Dan’sa!” Your gossipy coworker cheered as if that was the answer to the universe.

No, there was something else.

There was a reason. 

It was elusive like a fly. 

Did you need a swatter?

“Stu-pid, stu-pid!” His glass set onto the counter, it freed his hands up to scrub his face. Leaning too far back, he hit someone behind him who then pushed him toward you. He overcorrected and you had to shove back to keep from being a human domino. 

“You two are trashed!” Someone complained. 

Loud.

Loud.

Everyone was so loud. 

Oh, you knew the offended person.

They worked on your floor.

Or you had seen them there?

Or maybe that was a meeting?

When were reports due?

“And jus’ how many have you had, Sadie?!” He spit her name like a curse.

She puffed up and you had to giggle at whatever spell was cast.

He was good at that. 

He’d been a witch for Halloween once. 

Or had that been a dream?

“I-!” The hex faded and what was left couldn’t hold a form. “-don’t need to answer that! What matters is I can annun-anun-ci-ate and you’re stumbling!”

There had definitely been green make-up involved. 

“For your-!” He looked lost for a moment before finding his drink. He then used it to point his index finger once again. “For your infor-ma-tion, I had a eur-eru… Ure.. a realiz-ation moment so I was indulgin’ in a little…!” His head tipped and marked the halt of his thoughts.

Someone behind you patted your back. 

You turned to see a person standing there. 

Who were they again?

“There you are!”

Well, they knew you. 

That was something. 

“I’m… here!” You responded. 

Nailed it. 

Why were you here?

Oh, yeah. 

That’s what you were wondering. 

“We already toasted, but check this out…!” 

A toast?

They must be another coworker then. 

Probably. 

His clothes said he was, but who wasn’t wearing business attire?

About half the bar, but that wasn’t important. 

What was important is who was. 

Probably. 

A woman beside him snickered like a cartoon dog.

What was his name?

He was like S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. in a way.

You needed to watch cartoons with him.

An ice cold shot entered your hand and you looked up to find you were in a huddle of five people.

“Dynamite!” One shouted before kicking it back.

The others followed like a wave at a sporting event and you were the last one almost out of sync.

Instead of burning there was a tropical sweetness to it.

“Congrats, Amira! Heading up the floor!”

“Three to be exact!”

“G-great job!” You added before the next person clinked empty glasses with the woman across from you.

She must have done something great.

She looked great. 

Moving up floors was a literal sense of upward mobility in your company.

How’d she do her hair?

Promotion.

She’d been promoted.

You’d worked alongside Amira before the restructuring and now she was moving into marketing.

That was it.

You wanted to pass your newfound knowledge along when the back of your collar got tugged. 

“Tell Sadie-kins where to shove her nose!” Your gossipy coworker was suddenly by your side.

No, you had backed up.

Into the bar. 

There was a bar. 

Why was there a bar?

“Ugh, you know wha’?!”

“What?!”

“What?!”

You and your gossipy coworker cracked up while Sadie slunk away.

At least, she wasn’t there anymore when you came to. 

She had freed up a space and your gossipy coworker filled it in a slide.

You shuffled towards him with your own titters leaking from your ears.

“Oh, wait, I like dis one!” Your coworker bobbed to a song.

Straining, you didn’t seem to be hearing the same thing because his movements were way off. “No, like this…!” You gave your own head bob, but that wash of nausea took it away.  

“Ew, not again!” He complained a little too close with alcoholic breath that stung your nostrils.

It receded and left you feeling woozy. “What?!”

“What!?” He quacked straight up to the ceiling and someone else echoed him across the bar.

There was a sudden cheer and everyone was tipping their drinks back.

Where had yours gone?

Oh yeah, the bar. 

You turned towards it. 

There was no drink there. 

Where had your drink gone?

“You should go home!” Your gossipy coworker shot an index finger out from where it was wrapped around a glass. “’Fore you puke.”

“I’m not gonna!” You sulked, looking forlornly for your drink.

“Get beau to dote on you! Wrap you like a burrito! Snuggle you or whatever shit romantic sacks do!”

“Ball sacks!”

“What?!”

“What?!”

You were laughing again; this one hurt.

“I lost my glass!”

“No, you didn’!” He was pointing again.

He needed to trim his nails.

“A’least there’s something on your stomach!” He tipped to the side, but it didn’t stop him. “Oh! Water, you’re de-hydrated. Wow, I said that one in one-one go.”

“Something wha-?!” Before you could finish the thought you saw a reel of photographs in your mind’s eye.

In the third person, you saw a cake being presented to Amira and you were standing three people off to the side.

Like animatic clips, three slides showed a cheer. 

A gaggle of you hit the elevators.

Someone ran out from the pack and pointed to a bar.

The first round of drinks had been shared as a cohesive group along with appetizers. 

Then more drinks. 

Then, another round. 

Then, another round. 

Then, another round. 

Merry go round. 

Each had less people. 

The bar sort of looked different afterwhile. 

Blinking out of the view-master, your gossipy coworker was mid-sentence. “-and that’z when I figured out Catherine spiked the punch! The boss!? Can you believe!?”

You didn’t. 

You had no idea what he was talking about.

Was your boss even named Catherine?

A murmur ripped through the crowd and all your gazes were tugged like a predator encroaching on a herd.

Amira had her hand up in the air and a glass to her lips where she was trying to drain it as quickly as possible.

Beside her several people were moaning.

Or was it groaning?

Was there a difference?

Glass empty, she came away with a refreshed gasp. “Sorry, y’all! Love you, but my ride’s here!”

“Amira!”

“Congrats!”

“This was so fun! I’ll see y’all at company events! I’m not dead! Francis, I’m looking at you!” With scissors she pointed out a man who threw a paper up to his face.

He lost.

“Party on, dudes!!!” She gave an accent and stuck out her tongue.

“Gross!” Your gossipy coworker made a repulsed face.

Amira began hugging down a conga line. 

By the time she reached you, you did your best to return it as you were the last one almost out of sync.

She blew kisses and cheered as she exited with another girl in tow.

“Watch.” Your gossipy coworker was right in your ear and a shiver ran down your spine at his bad English accent. “As now, that the life of the party has left, the pack will slowly break apart without its alpha.”

You were about to tell him off when two people feigned yawning.

Looking particularly fake, another stretched and a new ripple of groans appeared.

It had to be ‘groan.’

A pair of men with arms slung around each other exited with goodbyes chasing them.

Someone else was on the phone. 

Yawns were growing in size and engulfing people whole. 

“The pack is no more.” With a bow and flourish that nearly hit your shoulder, he removed himself. 

You turned to scowl. “Ya nasty!”

“Thank you!” With a point, he drained his glass and waved at the bartender.

“Another?!”

“I’m closing my tab!” He shot you a look at the corner of his eye before said man approached and he said the same sentence again. “You should do the same!”

“Tab… Wasn’t that a soda?!”

“You’re not tha’ drunk!” He screamed.

You didn’t realize you were squinting until his squished image had become too much for your facial muscles to bare. Relaxing was a relief. “Only a question!”

“Fine, it was. Everyone is on a mission tonigh-” The bartender reappeared and passed something off. 

It distracted your coworker long enough so that the bartender could address you. “And you?”

“Same?!” Your voice echoed in your eardrums.

The beat was off.

The man left.

“Call beau!” Your gossipy coworker stabbed his receipt.

“Tha’s not his name!” You grouched and turned to lean against the counter.

“Wait, don’t tell me!” He tried to snap, but only succeeded in making a delicious sign with his thumb and second finger. 

“I’m not gunna!” You rustled up your phone and flicked over to the contacts list.

He was leaning into your space, but only your head moved away.

In a flick, you went down to ‘D.’

There, at the top of the list was an outlier.

‘Da Vinky.’

You strung out a confused syllable, knowing full well your coworker was staring at your phone as well. “You’re right, I’m not drunk! What does this say?!”

Leaning straight over your shoulder and squinting as if he’d forgotten his readers, he was slow to register the entry. When he did, he recoiled away before roaring with a puff of his chest “Alright, that’s enough! I won’t have this!!”

You turned to him in alarm.

“You!” His finger was in your face and you subdued the urge to bite it off. “I’ve had juz about enough of all of you! You and everyone else keep trying to make me feel ancient! Do you know how old that meme is!?”

You did not.

“It’s not even the right artist!!”

“It’s not the righ-?” 

You were struck in a very literal sense. 

Da Vinky.

Who painted the Mona Lisa?

“No! That would be-” He huffed, bitter.

“Leonardo.”

It must have cut through the bar banter because the deadly quality to your voice shut your gossipy coworker right up. “Uh… yeah….”

Holding up your other hand to say you needed a minute, you began to step away.

How was that possible?

Your thumb appeared and clicked the contact.

There was no history.

No calls.

No texts.

The number was an outlier.

Your stomach bottomed out.

It was somewhere in your heel when you hit the phone icon.

Against the hum of the bar, you heard the percussive sound of the ring as slow motion brought the phone to your ear.

It rang exactly three times before there was an audible clicked answer.

“Y’ello?” He sang.

It was him. “How.”

“Oh! Ho ho!”

That laugh. 

You needed to hear it again. 

Confirm. 

You had to be sure. 

Everything was too loud.

Had it always been that way?

You shouldered past a group heading toward the back of the bar.

“What a surprise!”

Pushing, you breached a hallway.

There you had to kick open the bathroom door.

“Hot Friday night, I hear.”

With another full body motion, you were enclosed. 

The silence was deafening. 

“How is this possible?!” You hissed.

As if burned, you coiled against the sound of your own voice. 

How long had you been shouting?

Ages by the burn of your throat. 

Alcohol would soothe that. 

“Hm? Excuse me? One, you called me, and two, I don’t know your life.” Leo snided. 

You gave a stomp and resisted throwing out a finger much like a certain someone. “Stop playing stupid, Vorso twin!”

Ears adjusting, you heard the exact way Leo gave a single chuckle.

Sharp.

Sardonic.

Done with you.

When he began again, it curdled milk. “I mean, honestly I figured you’d text first what with it being the 21st century and all, but I already knew you were a forward one.”

“Cut the shit!”

“I slipped it into your phone at that little soiree.”

In a blink, you were on the dance floor.

“If your phone wasn’t bugged then I thought you might need a lifeline.” There was a rustle as if he was adjusting something. “Took you long enough. I’d forgotten all about it.”

Lids lifting, you were in a dirty bathroom. 

Vertigo caught you from the rapid lash whips and you stumbled. 

Catching a dirty sink, you refused the mirror. “Lifeline.” 

“Mhm.”

“You left me to die saying you’d forget my name.” Your head pounded. 

Would you ever get used to your own voice?

“Eyysssh.” You could hear his grimace. “In recap that sounds terrible, but can you blame me? I had to be tough to get through to you and I did. I saw it. I broke through that thick skull of yours. Since your phone wasn’t bugged can I assume good things?”

“He only-” Bugged it once.

That wasn’t quite right.

What were you saying?

What were you admitting?

“He…?” Leo drew out the phrase, leading.

“We’re still together.” Hand coming away from the counter, there was a tacky quality that clung to you. 

“Gross.”

Could he see you?

You spun around. 

Vertigo vetoed that option after two twirls. 

Zeroing in on a paper towel dispenser, you activated its sensor. 

Empty, it whirled uselessly and produced nothing. 

It felt like watching your brain. 

“What is your problem!?” Your eardrums vibrated the room. 

“It’s patently gross!” You heard another scuffle, but this one you could see him standing up. “Also, no, shut up, I’m getting mad. Are you kidding me right now?!”

You could not take him yelling as well. 

“Obviously!” You hiccuped. “I called you because I wanted to! Because there wasn’t a stupid contact in my phone by someone who touched it without permission while, double standard, is bitching about someone else who hasn’t.” Needing to move, you hobbled with a heavy leftward tilt. 

“Hasn’t!?” He scoffed so loud the receiver bit it. 

You had to pop your ears. 

“Now I know that isn’t sarcasm because that’s the biggest load you’ve tried to serve yet.”

“Be shit, eat shit.” You snarked.

Leo groaned loudly before sighing. “No. Yes. Okay. As I’ve promised…”

You folded your free arm across your torso.

You had to keep yourself together. 

This was a serious conversation. 

About shit. 

Important shit. 

You were focused. 

Steady.

Not about to run into a wall so you did a 180 just in case. 

Only as a precaution. 

“You… did not hang up.” His voice warped in what was clearly him checking his screen. “Why?”

“I don’t believe your excuse.”

“That I care?!”

“Yes!” It was like he was siphoning his share of your inebriation. 

“You-!” He growled and then blew out an audible air to the side. He held it there for several beats before a sharp breath said he’d start fresh. “Are a perfect match because you are infinitely annoying. No!” There were several rhythmic thumps that you identified as stomps. “I was going to be cool! I was going to be better… No, shit! Can I ask a question? I have to ask a question before I can move on with this.”

Nearing the sink, you steered away from it and nearly ran into a stall. “What’s stopping you?”

Why not hang up?

Curiosity?

Really?

That couldn’t be it. 

That got a cat. 

Or did it bring it back?

Like a milkshake. 

No, that was boys. 

“Your phone is totally bugged. He’s listening right now. In fact, I bet he’s in the room with you! Say hi for me!” Skewed with mania, Leo’s sarcasm took a haunting edge.

“That’s not even a question! He’s not-!” Here.

You almost just admitted that.

To Leo of all people.

What was wrong with you?

You had to be serious. 

You could do this. 

How did it go?

Heel. 

Toe. 

Heel. 

Toe. 

You just had to walk a narrow line. 

No one said it had to be straight. 

You tried again. “It’s not bugged.”

“You…” Leo made an abrupt sound as he seemed to remember something. “Wait, are you in trouble? Are you okay?! Say something about ordering an angel shot. It’s code for help and won’t raise suspicions. You’re at a bar right? I could tell by the buzz.”

He was intuitive.

Hadn’t Donnie mentioned he was the leader?

Was that your buzz or something else?

“Leo.”

“Don’t say my name, stupid!”

“Ugh, would you quit?! It’s not bugged. I know for a fact!”

“He’s not there.” This time he said it with conviction. 

He knew now. 

Figured it out from your stupid delirium. 

You were stupid.

You pulled your phone away to smack your forehead.

You needed to hang up.

“He let his pet out-Are you serious!? That-that makes no sense! None… none of this makes any sense! The phone is obviously bugged. You’re obviously lying. You’re being followed or he’s in the other room or this is all an elaborate set-up, with the guys in a dark room with their shady computers and their listening in and the longer you keep me on the phone, they track my location! Shit!”

Staring dumbfounded from where your phone had gone back to sleep, you could only bring the receiver back up to your face. “Are you okay?”

“No!” There was a loud bang followed by an equally pitched curse as Leo had clearly run into something. “Fuck!”

“Not okay…” You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

“It doesn’t make sense.” His voice sounded far away.

That was true.

What was happening?

“He’s really not there.” He repeated, this time with clearer revelation.

You listened to the thin sound of electricity on the line.

It felt like it was singeing. 

Burning up the alcohol in your system the longer it sizzled. 

“You can answer.” His voice quieted and took on what felt like an honest tone. “I’m not going to do anything.”

You looked around the bathroom.

Had anyone come in?

You’d been so absorbed in the call that you had no idea.

You were alone if not. 

He had a power.

What did you have?

Swimming.

Not him, you.

Not swimming, your mind.

Trying to shake the haze away, you took a deep breath of tinged air. It made you nearly gag and it must have relayed on the line.

“Y/N?”

You could do this.

Orange chains was Mikey.

That was burned into your mind first hand. 

What was left?

Leo was blue and so were the portals.

That means he could make those. 

What was Raph again?

Red what?

Roses?

He was pretty spikey. 

He needed a trim. 

“He’s…” You blew the gross away as best you could. “No, he’s not here. I’m out with some coworkers.”

“That doesn’t mak-“ He caught himself from repeating what was rapidly becoming his catch phrase. “He…?”

“He doesn’t let me do anything. I do what I want.” You huffed.

Dead air hummed.

You felt the need to explain, but squashed it.

“There’s no bug?” Leo’s voice was quiet.

“No! There’s no-!” Your other hand clipped your view.

Your tech gauntlet.

There wasn’t a bug.

There was a bot.

You paled.

Had you said his name?

You had.

“Shit.”

“Y/N.” Leo pressed.

“No, not shit-! I mean…” You just had to say that out loud.

“Uh…”

“I called you, did I not, Leo?” Your voice was too loud.

Who were you kidding?

You were a joke.

A comedic version of a human being.

A cartoon character. 

And Leo twirled his mustache. 

“That… sounds exactly what someone who is trying to beat a bug would say.” Leo sounded suspiciously.

Or put on a dunce cap. 

“There’s no bug! How many times do I have to say it?! You’re so annoying!” You were about ready to flush your phone and start fresh with a new one.

Donnie would buy you one. 

He could also make one. 

Probably. 

It still wouldn’t have a bug. 

“Alright, alright! Calm down!” You could see Leo shaking his palms to usher you. 

“Me?!”

“Yes, you! You’re stressing me out!”

“I’m stressing you out!?” You scrubbed a hand over your head. “Stop! Stop, stop, stop! Stop turning this around on me!”

“You started it.”

“I’m hanging up!”

“Why haven’t you already!?”

“Because-!” It’s weird.

All of this was so strange.

You felt like you were floating.

Swimming.

That made sense.

Finally, something did.

“There’s no bug.” Your anger evaporated into metaphorical waters. “There’s no trouble. There’s no trick. I was about to call Don and I saw your stupid contact. I hit call… I don’t know why. I guess… because I didn’t want to believe it was you.”

Silence was cut by someone opening the bathroom door. You mumbled an apology and stepped away even though there was nowhere to go.

They disappeared into a stall.

“Don, huh?” This time his distance was in his tone and not proximity.

That wasn’t what you expected. You wrapped your arm around yourself from where it had come away. 

The pieces were coming together bit by bit. 

“Yeah.” You could just envision Don’s face. 

“You shared, I’ll share. Good will and all that. I… talked to the guys and they told me I was being an ass. Technically, they said a bunch of worse stuff that I won’t repeat, but basically, I promised them I’d be better. I… should be better. Should have been better. I’m not. I’m still not. I got caught right back up in the same shit, but it's been… How… long have you two been… together?” Leo sounded defeated.

Was that okay to share? “Just over a year.”

“That… that long, huh?”

Again, there was that dumbstruck note.

Was it that unbelievable?

You would say it never felt like it, but it always did. 

You just had a very different reason to think so than him. 

If only Leo knew. 

Is that why you were still on the line?

“You have a year, I have a lifetime. I’m not saying I know him better. I don’t know the jackass at all. I’m just saying it’s a little harder for me to see any other perspective than my own.”

“Is that why Mikey came by?” What were you asking?

Was that the question?

Leo sucked in some air.

You wondered what his was like.

Surely it wasn’t shit filled like yours.

“For the record, I didn’t sanction that. No one did. Guy went out on his own. Fessed up after when I was asking him if he picked up those little wax wrapped cheeses I like, you know? Well, you wouldn’t know I like them. Well, now you do, I guess. They’re just so cute and I love how you peel the strip, it’s so satisfying and-” He cut himself off and you heard a poof that sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place it. “Point is, Mikey went by because he’s worried about you… I guess… we all are in our own ways.”

How did you respond to that?

Was there a point?

Did any of this matter?

Was it even happening?

Maybe you’d blacked out at the bar.

Maybe you were already home with Donnie.

Maybe this was all a dream.

“There are other forms of surveillance.” Leo noted. “No bugs, yes cameras. At the apartment at least.”

That had a new tone.

This revelation was sharp.

His probing had returned.

Or it had never left. 

Careful.

You were supposed to be careful.

No.

He knew that.

He’d been raving about a bug.

Was he trying to psych you out?

You didn’t have the facilities to deal with all these scenarios.

At least you could see them happening now. 

“You already knew that.” You tutted.

Leo chuckled. “After he confessed, I laid into Mikey about it. Yeah.”

“I get why Mikey would worry.” You held that resentment tightly.

“Right!? Thank you!” You could see Leo throwing his arms up. “I was the jerk? When he almost threw you into a building? Multiple times?! As if!”

You couldn’t help but give your own puff of laughter.

The person emerged from the stall and strolled right back out without washing their hands.

“Ew.”

“What? What happened? Hit me!” He sounded more gossipy than your coworker.

“What?” Déjà vu came on, but blew it away with a raspberry. “Oh, people not washing their hands after going to the bathroom.”

“Repulsive. Disgusting. The worst. Now let’s say, and I’m not talking about me, that someone were to do that on a regular basis, but it was just around their own home, lair let’s say, and it’s not like a wipe movement, if you know what I mean?”

You choked on a laugh. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? Nothing! We are talking about a hypothetical person and not a giant turtle man. I feel attacked right now, if I’m being honest.”

“So threatened.” You rolled your eyes.

Leo hummed and a bout of silence chased you.

You turned and glanced in the mirror.

You looked about the same as when you’d last glimpsed yourself at work.

Certainly not as wrecked as you felt. 

“Any crime?” He tested, coy.

“You’re not even trying anymore.” Your expression went humorless.

“I’ve never tried anything.”

“Let’s talk about you.”

“Perfect. My favorite subject. My social security number is-”

“Leo!”

“I wasn’t actually going to give it to you! What do you take me for?!”

“I was trying to drag you, but I guess I’ll save it.”

“No, go back! I miss our witty banter.”

“Because we totally had that.” You shook your head.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why you’re taking my call on a Friday night.”

Even through the line, you could hear his mouth snap shut.

“I told you it was going to be a dig.”

“You did.” He chuffed. “You caught me.” He groaned as if stretching. “All alone. No hot date. Just me and a big ole’ bag of spicy chips that are totally going to give me heartburn. Were you having fun?”

“I was, my coworker got promoted.”

“Good for them!”

You had a bare smile on your lips. “Yeah, she’s great.”

Leo quieted and you could tell he was processing.

The need to defend Donnie rose again and you instead acknowledged it. That forethought gave you the ability to let it wash at your feet. It rose no higher than the ankle and you could stand with the soak. It gave you an odd clarity and the need to chance something. “Murders way down, like way down.”

Leo audibly choked.

You bit down on your lips to keep from cracking up.

“But not zero!? I’m not hearing a zero!?”

You hummed as if thinking it over and hoped the line would help cut off the giggles in your voice. “Zero is tough… Depends on the date…”

“Holy-!” There was a sharp stuffed noise that you identified as Leo flinging himself out of a chair of some kind. “Yeah, I’ll say! I need a fucking date!”

“Gosh, I knew you were alone on a Friday, but I didn’t know you were desperate...”  

From where he’d clearly been moving, Leo sounds like he came to a dead halt. “Wait.”

A few squeaky giggles warped in your throat.

“You’ve got to tell me if that was a get. It was good if it was, but you’re legally obligated to tell me!”

“I am not.” You tried to put on authority to keep the juvenile statement from sounding that way.

“Miserable! You’ll give me an ulcer!”

“It won’t be me.”

“Stop! You’ve done enough!” You heard the crinkling that was distinctly a chip bag.

“Oh, I hear your date. I don’t want to keep you!”

Leo groaned so loud the phone cut out for a moment.

You finally gave into laughing.

“You’re really okay.” There was a sobering quality to his voice.

It was infectious. “Yeah, I am.”

“I gotta ask.”

You hummed an annoyed note for him to go on. He’d said that more than once. 

“How?”

You tapped your foot. “We’re dating.” You looked toward the door. “We’re happy.”

Silence.

“Look this was… something, but I have to go.”

“Yeah…” He sounded almost sad.

“You… good?” Did you care?

“Just…” He seemed bewildered. “Dating. Dating? Dating…?! I was still pulling for the tech company kid thing.”

You sort of remembered that. “Guess you lost the pool.”

“Guess I did.”

“Night, Leo.”

“Y/N.” He called out.

“What?”

“Keep my number. Since he hasn’t erased it, he really… must not have seen it. Just… I…”

You waited.

Something was mounting. 

“I get it. I mean, I don’t. I really fucking don’t, but I get that from your perspective, you wouldn’t like me or Mikey or Raph, but you don’t know us and I guess you know him and that is… something, but I’m still asking. Just keep it where it is, just in case and I get by asking, I’m raising the chances of you deleting it the second you get off the phone or whatever, but maybe… I don’t know… Maybe you won’t and for that I have to ask.”

You held out the line for as long as you were able. You then put on what you hoped was a clear voice. “What you think is going to happen, isn’t, Leo.”

He said nothing.

“It’s the same way you get it.”

Still.

You sighed. “Good night.”

“Night, Y/N. Be seeing you.”

Alarm bells sounded in your mind, but the phone went dead with an innate tone.

Why had he said that?

Standing in the empty bathroom, you turned. 

You needed to get home.

Pulling your phone away from your head, it blinked alive for you. You slammed a finger down against it and navigated to the texting app. There you slammed the call button and wondered why on earth your more drunk self hadn’t done the same. It was why you had never seen the contact until now.

Who the fuck goes to their contact lists anymore?

Donnie picked up on the first ring. “Donatello, at your service.”

“I need you to pick me up.”

“What’s wrong?” There was a sudden urgency in his voice.

Was it urgent?

You weren’t sure.

Your voice must have sounded like it.

You rushed back out into the bar where it was still full of patrons.

People. 

You needed to be around people. 

Their thrum thinned the little mental processes you had been able to stir back up. 

“Y/N.”

“How do Leo’s powers work?”

“Where are you?” He growled low.

“He’s not here! I don’t think at least…! Donnie!?”

“He would need to know where you are and how to get there.”

“Then he shouldn’t…” You flew to your old spot at the bar, but your gossipy coworker was gone.  

“Permission to track your location.”

“The bar!” Not finding the man, you pulled your phone away to see if he’d left you a message. There, Donnie marked the last text chain and it revealed something else. “The bar… that I didn’t tell you about…!” You groaned and looked around. Not only could you not remember the name of this place, you were sort of aware that this was a second location. “I’m dropping a pin, one sec.”

Why had you drank so much?

Weren’t you allowed to cut loose?

“Received. En route.”

“Okay, yeah… I don’t-” The bartender made eye contact and translated he had something. You lowered your phone. “Yes?”

He nodded to his last customer before coming over to you. “Your friend had to go.”

“Oh…” Your shoulders dropped.

Were any of your coworkers still here?

Were you alone?

No, there was a packed bar.

“He paid your tab and left you a message.”

“He… What?!”

The bartender ignored your exclamation and rustled under the counter. He came up with a little ripped page from a notepad. “Nice guy, he was worried, but something came up I guess.”

“That… does not sound like him…” You picked up the note and shuffled it with your phone.

You could feel the bartender watching you.

There was a simple scrawled sentence that said your explanation would be payment enough.

“This sounds like him.” You sighed and folded up the page for later. “Thank you.”

The bartender nodded, waiting.

“Oh, yeah, uh…” Again juggling, you found your wallet and passed over a hefty tip. “Thank you.” You clarified.

The man nodded before giving some hesitation. “Are you alright?”

“No.” The sound popped out of you and you gave a horrified look before trying to translate that wasn’t what you meant. “I’m really stressed out. My boyfriend is coming to get me.”

The bartender searched you before giving a faint nod. “I’ll keep an eye out. Just stick around there.”

“I will.” You nodded, grateful you slapped down the extra tender.

Someone hailed him and he moved on. You watched him go for a moment before bringing your phone back up. “Sorry, Don… It’s been a whole night.”

“What happened?” There was a static that meant he was airborne.

“I…” Where you clutched the note, you saw your tech gauntlet. “Leo called me.”

A lie.

You could not believe you lied.

You lied to Donnie.

You lied to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.

The latter of which would very well know as much.

How could you explain it?

Shouldering your phone, you put a hand over the piece of tech as if he could feel it.

He couldn’t.

Still, you gave a squeeze and could faintly hear Leo’s voice.

Keep my number.   

Why?

If you told Donnie, he’d surely delete it.

Why keep it?

Was it because Leo didn't know?

None of them knew. 

It was the same reason you’d stayed on the line. 

Donnie’s silence grew furious.

“He got it from the… villain gala, whatever it was called.” At least that was a half-truth.

Again, you listened to rushing air.

“He doesn’t know where I am.”

There was a sudden cut and you brought your phone down to see it was still ticking. It then hung up and you turned in time as the door opened.

Donnie looked surprisingly poised for having made it across the city in only a couple minutes. Honing in on you, he approached in two long strides and his arms extended. Holding yours out to meet him, he surpassed your hands to grab your forearms. There you felt the shake of anxiety and his head came down onto the shoulder with what you were now considering your mating mark. He rubbed there, as if to ground himself with it before coming up to search your face. “Full explanation.”

“I was a little drunk-”

Donnie nodded, clearly taking in your scent from the many others.

“I was about to call you to pick me up because people were calling it a night and… he called instead.”

There was a violent squeeze where Donnie had a grip on you, but he got hold of it before it became too much.

You pecked his cheek. He was doing surprisingly well, considering. “We mostly talked about how he thought there was a bug.”

Donnie’s face twisted up with revulsion. “Why bother?”

“Right?!” You gave a nervous exclamation and then dropped your gaze. “I barely told him anything. We… barely talked about anything. I made fun of him for being alone on a Friday… and it was all… so weird.”

Donnie nodded slowly.

“You’re not… mad?” You tilted your head.

He lit up as he registered your words and then softened. “I can name a hundred emotions I am, but mad is not one of them. Not at you.”

“But I answered… I talked to him… I-”

“You’re allowed.” 

You stared at him, vestiges not allowing you to understand. 

He finally let go to brush your cheek. “Trust, but if you’re concerned, what did you tell him?”

“That…” Flooded by his warmth, you turned slightly as the guilt of the lie nibbled at your conscience. “... there wasn’t a bug. That…” You chuffed and shook your head. “... I’m not some captive, we’re dating, and we’re… happy.” You turned to look at him, your heart feeling very much exposed.

Donnie took the information in with a calculated stare before he gave a tight nod. “If that is all, then there is little concern.”

“He didn’t… know…? Or believe me, I guess… That we’re…”

“I can’t imagine anyone who’s known me that long would.”

There it was again. 

“It’s hard to imagine.” Your gaze dropped again and this time you stepped into your boyfriend.

He released your other arm as you pressed into his plastron.

“You’re… you…” You turned your head to lay an ear against his plastron and ruminated on how that didn’t explain much.

“I haven’t always been this version of me.” He spoke above you.

You nodded. 

These variables weren’t something you were up for. 

“Can we go home?”

“Of course.” One of his arms slung around you and the other did something to the bar counter.

“I already tipped him.”

“I doubt he’ll disagree to more.”

You snorted as you turned to leave with Donnie hovering close. Exiting the bar, the sticky near summer air clung to nightfall.

“The car is nearby or we can fly.”

“Let’s fly.” You mumbled, looking up and down the street.

“Did you leave something out?”

“Not… on purpose.” You forced your gaze back to Donnie as he led you over to an alley. “The rush, the nerves, asking about his powers… I’m antsy because of the weird way the call ended.”

“Which was?” His battle shell shifted to flight form.

Coming closer, he took you into his arms. “’Be seeing you.’”

A car drove by just outside the alley and, as it passed, its light threw an animalistic sheen to the outright rage in Donnie’s eyes.

NEXT

Oh and check it: Leo did indeed get his tiny cheese!

By @thepinkpanther83 who is THE BEST FOR BEING BOTH A BETA BOSS AND DRAWING THE BEST PIC OF WEAK SPOT LEO!!!

HUGE SHOUT OUTS to my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 (MORE MORE) because they really went through it with re-writes! Love y'all!

[acourtofidiots]

since I forgot Barbara last night, here’s what I would think Barbara would do when you touch yourself without permission

cw: smut, sex toys, dom/sub dynamics, semi-public sex, voyerism, exhibitionism

Babs would definitely make you wear a pair of vibrating panties while you’re out and about with other Batfam member or another trusted friend (like Kon, Kory, Roy, etc., but let’s go with Kon for this scenario)

You would whine insistently when she hands you the panties and instructs you to keep them on but one firm look your way has you pouting but pulling the panties on under your dress. 

For the first hour, it’s not so bad. The vibrations are kept on low and you could easily tune them out while you’re at the club and grinding up on Kon. 

But when a stranger starts being overly flirty with you, you could feel the vibrations kick up a notch and it took all your willpower to stammer out an apology and stumble out of the club, with the Kryptonian in tow. 

Kon pushes you up against an alley a few blocks away, smashing his lips onto yours and grinding his hips into yours. You moan as you could feel your wetness soak your panties and drip onto his jeans, and your whining intensifies as Kon moves from your lips to nibble at your neck. 

“I know princess,” he hushes you, arms firmly keeping you planted against the wall. “I know what that slutty cunt of yours needs. But Oracle gave me strict instructions to not get you off. But she didn’t say I can have my own fun with you.” 

Which lead you to having your legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into the supple leather of his jacket as he thrusts his thick length into you. 

“Kon, p-please,” you whimper, overwhelmed by how well he was hitting your g-spot. 

He grins at you, mouth opening to respond, but was cut to the chase. 

“Aw, what do we have here?” You both turn to see Tim at the entrance of the alleyway, and you flash puppy dog eyes at the vigilante. 

“T-tim, please, please let me cum,” you beg as he steps towards you, the whites of his domino mask hiding the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. 

“As much as I want to help you, Barbara gave us explicit instructions not to give into you, no matter how hard you beg.” His gaze lingers on your chest, on how your tits were bouncing within the confines of your dress. 

You're gave a frustrated growl in return, looking up at the wall behind the two men to see a camera pointed directly at you. No doubt it was Barbara who was behind that lens. So you decided to take advantage of it. 

“Please, miss,” you whine, biting your lip and flashing a sultry look at the camera. “Please let me cum. I-I’m sorry for disappointing you. I-shit I promise I’ll be a good girl.” You could feel your walls start to clench around Konner’s cock inside you, teetering on the edge of bliss. 

Tim hums before tracing a hand down below to rub slow circles over your throbbing bud. “Babs said..she thinks that you can come, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be done when you get back to her place.”

And with that, you explode, waves of pleasure overwhelming you. The two men before you help you through it, never ceasing their moments until Kon’s thrusts become sloppy as his own orgasm courses through him. 

They pull back and help you regain your balance on your feet before turning you to face the fall and bend you in half before gripping your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, undoubtedly showing off your abused pussy to Barbara. You could feel the cocktail of your releases trail down your thigh, and all you wanted was for Barbara to clean it up, to lick you clean until you’re cumming once again on her tongue. 

“Fuck,” says Tim, as he circles a finger around your hole, and you twitch in their hold. “Such a pretty sight.” 

Kon hums in agreement. “She sure is. You guys are so lucky to have her.” He pauses as he helps you stand up once more. “Now, let’s go. You know how Oracle doesn’t like tardiness.”