#my dramatic ass writing

[inoreuct]

would you agree that we all need more Sanji getting nosebleeds over Zoro in this fandom?

YES *pelting down a hill waving the proposal for this in my hand like a madman* YESSSSSS

the first time sanji gets a nosebleed over zoro is his clue-in that oh. i’m not straight, am i. the swordsman’s doing a bench press (shirtless, as always) as sanji walks by (and sanji sneaks a look, as always, because who wouldn’t?) and when he glances over the plates he has to do a double take because what the fuck. zoro’s pressing more than twice his body weight. zoro’s repping more than twice his body weight. he’s just registered that maybe he’s stared for a bit too long when he feels something warm and wet on his upper lip, iron dripping over his mouth, and he books it for the galley.

he slams the door shut and presses his back against it before he slides to the ground and screams into his knees because what. the fuck. it’s not even that he’s getting hot and bothered over a guy; it’s just that the guy’s zoro. he’s not supposed to get nosebleeds over zoro.

but he does.

and it gets worse.

zoro walking around shirtless on deck? nosebleed. zoro re-tying the sails and just hanging on with his legs around the mast? nosebleed. zoro strutting out of the shower door, damp with steam and hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist? nosebleed. zoro tsking irritably and grabbing all of sanji’s food and packages from him to haul the whole lot over his shoulder? NOSEBLEED.

and not even that. he starts getting breathless around zoro and his chest hurts. he kicks zoro back while they’re sparring one day and the swordsman grins, feral and unrestrained and all challenge and teeth, and sanji’s heart spasms so hard that he actually wonders if he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. he’s barely twenty, he isn’t ready to die— much less because of some stupid marimo. chiselled abs and a nice set of biceps are only worth so much of sanji’s dignity. he twists and smashes the sole of his shoe right into zoro’s pretty face.

still, it gets so, so bad that he’s elected to just. avoid zoro completely. he’s sneaking around corners and running across open expanses ducked low like some kind of goofy thief and he knows it’s so fucking stupid but he doesn’t. he doesn’t know if zoro likes— no. he doesn’t even think about it. there’s no way, and if he gives himself false hope he’ll just break his own heart. he doesn’t know if zoro likes men, or anyone, much less him; nobody in their right mind would, not really. he's nice to have but not to keep and he's come to terms with it.

…until zoro corners him in the galley and demands to know what the fuck’s going on.

sanji stays facing away, slowly washing the dishes even as his heart pounds so hard it hurts. he is painfully aware of the way zoro’s seething like an over-boiled kettle in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest and stock-still because he never, ever shakes his leg even though sanji knows he wants to.

his sponge squeaks across ceramic. the water’s warm against his fingertips, and his eyes flick up to meet his own reflection in the porthole window; he looks… well, he doesn’t know. scared, maybe. nervous. his mouth is thin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, a shudder running its fingers down his spine even as his heartbeat thumps between his ribs and god, fuck, it aches. and he knows. he looks himself in the eyes and he knows that somewhere along the line nosebleeds had turned into falling in love and he was the stupid idiot who had just let it happen because he was too weak to pry zoro out of his thoughts.

his gaze flicks down sharply when he hears the sudden scrape of the chair, and zoro spits, “look, i can’t fix whatever i did wrong if you don’t tell me what it is.”

sanji’s heart throbs. “what?”

he can hear zoro’s scowl. “what, what? i obviously did something. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

the cook almost laughs. he bites it down and swallows his words, salty-sweet at the back of his throat. guilt nips at him; zoro’s his rival and and his personal annoyance and a blockhead but he might also, maybe, just maybe, be sanji’s best friend. and sanji hasn’t been very fair to him lately.

he swallows again, clears his throat silently. “you didn’t do anything, marimo,” he murmurs to the plate in his hands, trying for airy and getting more somewhat vaguely strangled. he coughs. “just forget about it. sorry i’ve been weird.”

sanji will deal. he will, somehow; he’d been careless and careless is dangerous and for perhaps the first time in his life, he has too much to lose. he’ll squash his heart into a box and lock it down tight like he always has and it’ll hurt, but when does it ever not? he mentally declares the matter done and dusted as he shakes off the plate and gently sets it on the drying rack.

his lungs hitch as a callused hand cups his elbow.

zoro pulls him around. he’s too weak to resist. the edge of the sink digs into his hip as stormy grey eyes scan his face and zoro looks tense, his jaw set in the way it only is when he faces off with a particularly vexing foe.

“did i not look happy enough at dinner?" he asks, and it could be mockery but it isn't, not with that edge to his voice; not desperation, but damn near. like filter paper burning its way to ash. "was it my clothes on the floor? my boots on the bed? what?”

sanji can't stand it anymore. he looks away, tries to twist out of the invisible bonds zoro has him trapped in, but fingers looped around his wrist are all it takes to make him stay and fuck, fuck, he's so fucked.

"sanji, what did i do?” zoro breathes, brow furrowed, voice too near and too damn earnest, and sanji's throat bobs as he digs the heel of his palm into his eye.

this isn't how it's supposed to go. zoro isn't supposed to care. zoro isn't supposed to be standing here in the galley saying his name in that tone of voice. a hand carefully pulls his own away from his face, and zoro doesn't fucking let go, and sanji feels too much like he's been stripped down to the bone.

"i know," zoro continues, gruff like he doesn't know how to be anything else, "that i upset you. so would you please tell me what i did so i can fix it?" he bends lower still, ducking to try and catch sanji’s line of sight but sanji just can't look at him. "i'll fix it, i—"

"you can't fix this." the words are out and in the air before he can stop them, and a bittersweet smile curves his mouth. "there's nothing to fix, so you can't fix it. just let it go, alright?"

zoro wants to argue. sanji can tell. but the swordsman lets out a measured exhale after a long moment and pulls back, face carefully neutral. "at least tell me what's going on, cook."

sanji looks down at his feet. "...i can't."

"like hell you can't," zoro replies immediately, and it's such an abrupt reminder of their normal banter that it wrenches a rough noise from sanji's chest. "i was the one who held your hair back after you had, like, seven margaritas too many. don't think you could tell me anything worse than the experience of trying to stop you from falling into your own puke."

"oh, jesus fuck," sanji swears on instinct, then laughs. it's unfortunately hollow. "that was one time, asshole."

"one time too many," zoro hums, raising an eyebrow. "so you gonna tell me what's going on, or do i have to make it a captain's order?"

sanji grits his teeth.

"i will drag luffy in here, i don't care—"

"fucking—" he holds his breath, flipping around to white-knuckle the edge of the sink and letting it out slow. "fine. you ever loved someone, marimo?"

"sure." zoro shrugs easily, crossing his arms as he looks out the window. "kuina, but i think i learned to love her memory more than anything else. luffy, nami—" a near-unnoticeable flutter of thick lashes. "you."

sanji exhales through his nose as he rocks back on his heels. squeezes out air till it hurts. "you know that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean, then?"

he turns to look at where zoro has settled lazily against the counter, the moon turning his eyes to silver. "I mean the kind of love that makes your blood race. that makes you want more even when you know you'll never take more than you're allowed. the kind that makes your heart hurt so badly you feel empty without it."

the swordsman's face is unreadable as he tilts his head slowly. "i did say i love you."

it hits sanji like a bullet. he sucks in a sharp breath, and his throat burns as he turns away and tries to stop his shoulders from heaving up. "don't fuck with me, zoro. not about this."

it feels rather like a cruel cosmic joke. he's so near yet so far, just one step away with a gauzy curtain between but he can't touch it. he won't. he's got too many things on the line and yet he can't even name one of them.

"hey."

he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of salt that shouldn't even be there, and look at that. little sanji's gone and broken his own heart again.

"hey," zoro tries again, more insistent, one hand hovering in the space between them and sanji feels the pull of it like a magnet.

he doesn't turn away as it cups his cheek. doesn't run as fingers slide through the short hairs at his nape, a thumb behind his jaw. his lashes are damp. it is everything he wants and everything he cannot have and he can't—

"look at me."

"i can't," he breathes, lungs rising fast and shallow. he's afraid to open his eyes. he's afraid of what he'll see.

"yes, you can." zoro shifts closer and another hand joins the first. it's big and rough and warm and he holds sanji's face like he's the moon herself. "look at me, curly."

he can't.

he does.

zoro's gaze is almost painful to meet straight-on with how intense it is. he seems to realise, face softening as he leans closer, closer, posture loose enough that it would be no problem for sanji to shove him away. "you love me," he breathes. "yes or no?"

sanji's heart stops. his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, his brain a mess of yesnoyesyesnoiwon'tican’tido—

"don't think." zoro's voice cuts through the haze as he shakes his head slowly; a sword through smoke, silver-bright, singing in the air and leaving silence. "don't think. you love me, yes or no."

the galley swims around sanji as his vision blurs. he feels his tears spill hot down his cheek, knows the way zoro aches to brush them away and yet stays still. he opens his mouth and it feels like stepping out of the only shelter he's ever known; he is an open fucking wound and he's raw and everything hurts, everything but zoro. zoro. zoro. "yes."

just one word, three simple letters, and still it feels like damnation; if he'd never said it he could deny it but now it's real. the swordsman relaxes, shoulders dropping enough that his forehead brushes sanji's, and sanji tracks the way his throat bobs. the way steel-grey eyes flicker over his face, molten in the light of the electric lamps and the moonlight spilling through the window, gilding zoro like something out of a dream. a fairytale sanji read as a child until the edges of the pages fitted familiar to his thumbs as his little hands reached for a happy ending that was never meant to be his.

he shakes, now, as zoro reaches up to run tentative fingers through straw-pale hair. "let me love you. yes or no."

"i—" the sound that twists from his mouth is cracked jagged down the middle, unpolished as a common pebble picked up off the damn street. "you don't—"

"yes or no."

"i'm not what you want," he gasps, his face wet.

"yes or no."

sanji wants to break apart. because zoro sounds like he's begging, and he cannot fathom anybody possibly wanting him that much. he wants to scream and cry and claw at the walls until his nails break. he wants to shatter into pieces all over the floor without having to worry about putting himself back together. he wants. he wants, and zoro's looking at him with the closest thing to reverence he's seen in his life, and even that isn't enough for him to believe it. "i'm not what you want."

he can barely look at zoro. he can barely look at himself. the shame is clawing a pit into his stomach, and he lets it, feels every inch of it, because what kind of person doesn't know how to be loved? his breath catches wetly as zoro cups his jaw in both hands, tilting his face up, and once again sanji is too weak to pull away.

"you are everything i want."

the words are so fierce, so sure, and sanji is cracking apart at the seams. the stitches pulled tight by his own hand are unravelling and he can't stop it��

"yes or no."

zoro's breath ghosts warm across his mouth, fingertips in his hair, just far away enough for sanji to see the way his eyes are blazing and yet he waits. his thumb on sanji's cheek is the gentlest thing sanji has ever known.

"you'll get tired of me," he tries weakly, one last time for good measure, and zoro just shakes his head. the resolve in his expression does not waver even once.

sanji breaks.

"yes." the word scrapes itself out of his throat seconds before arms are going around him, and he sobs. lets the swordsman bring them both to the kitchen floor as he curls up in zoro's lap, fingers clawing into his white shirt, numb with how hard he cries because nobody, nobody has ever stayed. not without him getting hurt in the process. he pushes them away when he gets scared and they let him and then it becomes his fault when it all blows up in his face, but zoro's not leaving, and it's so foreign to him that he's shaking so badly and he can't stop.

a warm, heavy palm smooths over his spine and he lets himself be shifted closer, settles sideways as zoro wraps an arm over his shins and rocks them until his breathing evens out. the embarrassment hits like a gut punch; he knows he looks like a mess, face blotchy and hair everywhere and eyes puffy as hell, but zoro cards his bangs out of his eyes and looks at him like he doesn't care, and sanji turns away.

he feels... fragile. like he's made of tinted glass and spun sugar, like he'll cave in at the slightest touch. there is something melting in his chest and it drips down over his ribs; pools fresh as a river in spring, offset by the grounding presence of zoro's hands on his skin. "don't say i didn't warn you," he mumbles, masking his very real fear behind a layer of watery bravado as he hides his face in zoro's shoulder, and of course, of course zoro sees right through him.

the swordsman's thumb traces the swirl of his eyebrow before zoro rests his chin on top of sanji's head. "i don’t listen. you know that."

you know me, is what goes unsaid, and sanji doesn't deign to reply. he buries his face into zoro's chest and breathes in the smell of steel and sword oil and— he sits up slightly, eyes narrowing. "you've been stealing my deodorant, yes or no." the way zoro stills momentarily is a dead giveaway, and he yelps when the swordsman flicks his forehead.

"would you rather i be stinky?" zoro scoffs, rolling his eyes gently as sanji settles back down with a huff.

"you still are stinky. if we're gonna be together i'm expecting you to shower at least once every two days—" zoro groans, and he powers through, raising his voice, "—and if you aren't fussy i'll let you shower with me."

the way zoro instantly stops complaining cracks a laugh out of him. it's weak and watered-down, but it's a start. zoro's hands slide back into his hair and he hums as he lets his eyes fall shut.

the moon's full tonight. their ship rocks gently, and sanji gets comfortable; zoro's warm and solid and happens to make a perfectly respectable pillow. the thought that he can have this now sends a thrill through him.

he's not a fool. he's not optimistic when it comes to this. when it comes to love.

but with zoro's thumb rubbing mindless circles against the side of his thigh and a kiss pressed to the top of his head, he's got a pretty good feeling about this time around.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

@grimdarling69 hey heres the thing i talked about

(AU of the above writers crack treated seriously danny as damian au)

I Know Those Eyes prologue

“We need to go faster.”

Lex only barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“I’m going as fast as I can, little badger.”

“... if you’re making a stable portal. I don’t believe it should be stable.”

Ah. Attention: caught.

“You think someone will find it.”

“No. I know someone will find it. I’m not-”

The boy cut himself off, but he heard the full message loud and clear:

I’m not ready.

In that respect, Lex had been lucky. He didn’t have anyone he wanted to return to, save the two cores he had (rightfully, apparently) entrusted to Damian. Damian, however, clearly planned to reintegrate his two selves. Troublesome, but he was sure he would have time to address that once they’d dealt with more time-sensitive concerns.

“Alright. What do you suggest?”

“There’s exactly one design that cut corners and still worked, afterwards. We can rig it to fail after one use.”

Lex smirked.

“Fail safely, or fail catastrophically?”

And Damian–Daniel–did not disappoint in his response.

***

Whatever Luthor had been trying to do, he had taken it to his grave.

At least they had learned why Damian–high concentrations of the radiation unique to Lazarus water had been found at the…blast site. Clearly, Luthor had thought Ra’s Al’Ghul’s grandson had some knowledge of the inner workings of the substance, and Damian, their brave, dearly missed Damian, had decided to fake his death to keep his family out of range of his…sacrifice.

Maybe one day, Bruce could make peace with that. Forget the size of the damage from the explosion. Stop thinking about the mere minutes they had missed Damian by.

One day.

A funeral, a mourning period, one year stretching into another, until it was four years later, and though he always kept Damian close to his heart, his son no longer haunted him.

Until the day he did.

[officially-other]

My first attempt at writing that's vaguely like poetry: from a dragon

I am not what you think.

I walk around, awkward limbs and flighty mannerisms, and you think I’m strange. You have no idea how strange you would think I am if you only saw what was underneath.

Underneath, I am a creature of the ocean. Something that could never pass as human, and no longer wants to. Saltwater rushes through my veins in secret, silent to everyone but me. To me, it’s a roaring sound of the waves that I have never seen except for within my soul. It yearns to dissolve into the ocean like it could long ago, but for now those days are over and I am hidden underneath skin and muscle.

Underneath, there are wings; fins; antlers. They ache to tear from my back, through my skull. Nonetheless, they stay hidden for me, safe in the silence. Protected like I protected my kin in a lifetime so close to the surface and yet unreachable. Wrapped in a form that no longer coils around them like a serpent, but keeps them hidden from predators well enough I suppose.

I suppose.

I accept my form reluctantly and do what I can to make it mine. I shape it to feel better when I discover my gender, and when I can’t shape it to fit my true self I cover it in things that feel a little more like home. A little more draconic. A little more like the ocean that I never have seen, but feel homesick for anyway.

I do find joy in being in this body, at least. Out there, there are others. Angels working minimum wage, dragons sitting on a park bench, wolves buying groceries. We hide, but we do so to be free. We walk through crowds, and no one notices our scales and fur and feathers. But we do. We see each other, even if from miles away, and we see what’s underneath.

And underneath, none of us are what you think.

(Tags for side commentary/context)

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

I can't think of a title for these clone wars headcanons

Ahsoka does this thing that never fails to get a laugh out of the people around her and it’s the fact that she calls herself an angel whenever someone calls her out for doing something bad or reminds her of something she’s done she’ll look around before going “Who me? I’m an angel”

Which has the whole group bent over laughing hysterically sometimes they’re able to choke out a sentence that sounds like “Jedi aren’t supposed to lie” or something along those lines 

So I’ve had this idea for a while but I feel like something along the lines of sign language would be necessary for the troops to know if they’re on a stealth mission 

And even tho the Jedi don’t need to sign with each other it’s kind of common practice for them to learn some to communicate with the troops

Some signs can differ from troop to troop but they’re close enough that they’re easy to understand and it’s very rare that the other troop will get confused 

Sometimes those signs will leak off the field and into their day-to-day lives most of the time the troops will use signs to be kind to their Jedi who have migraines after a difficult battle but the signs are used the most around Anakin

I feel like it would be pretty easy for Jedi to get overstimulated especially if they’re as powerful as Anakin so it’s not uncommon for him to go nonverbal after a battle or if he’s in a force rich place

If he’s only kind of overwhelmed he’ll use Ahsoka and Obi-Wan as his interpreters and talk through their bonds but sometimes even that is too much so signs like “please” “thank you” “sorry” “hungry” “thirsty” “more” or “I’m okay” become pretty commonplace

It’s not enough to hold an in-depth conversation but that usually works in Anakin’s favor because drawn-out conversations tend to make him nonverbal for longer periods

When Anakin Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are stressed it shows up when they’re asleep 

Anakin sleep talks whenever he’s even slightly worried about something he’s woken poor Ahsoka and Obi-Wan up more times than the duo can count by saying stuff like “Hey hey are you awake?” while he’s out like a light

It freaks the duo out because he’s weirdly eloquent in his sleep bro is holding entire conversations do those conversations make sense to anyone but him? No but they’re conversations nonetheless

Ahsoka sleepwalks it doesn’t matter what happens during the day if it even slightly stresses her out she’s up and out of bed the second she’s slightly asleep it scared the force out of Anakin the first time she sleepwalked in their quarters because she was just standing over him menacingly 

The first time Obi-Wan was introduced to Ahsoka’s sleepwalking was during a sleepover that the trio was having and he had just drifted off to sleep when he heard the buzz of two lightsabers in the other room

Both he and Anakin walked into the kitchen to find Ahsoka standing with her sabers activated she wasn’t in a fighting stance by any means so they could easily disarm her but all Anakin did was ask “You want water snips?” and she nodded while holding out her sabers which he easily grabbed

Only after Ahsoka had a nice glass of water and laid back down did Obi-Wan ask questions the main one being “Is that normal?” and Anakins replies “Well the sabers are new” like someone talking about the weather 

It wasn’t until morning that the trio discovered Anakin and Ahsoka’s kitchen table was cut in half the togruta was incredibly apologetic but Anakin was just impressed that she managed to do it without waking them

Normally Obi-Wan snores like a lawn mower but when he’s stressed he grinds his teeth the real kicker is he grinds them so hard that it’s just as loud as the snoring and the only difference is the poor man wakes up with a sore locked jaw

One time Anakin heard a shiny say that they could never tell what Ahsoka was thinking and the other commented that she’s “like a vault” which had him doubled over in almost painful laughter 

When one of them finally gained the courage to ask him what was so funny he just said “If you wanna know what she’s thinking look at her face” and he’s not wrong girly has the most expressive face it’s like looking at glass

But the people who love her hope that trait never changes cause there’s nothing quite like seeing her face twist as she has to talk to some dirtbag or light up when she gets a compliment 

Recently I got some ideas when it comes to Clone Wars characters and baking

Anakin is one of the best damn cooks in the galaxy he’s also really good at making a meal out of virtually nothing it’s scary impressive but on the other hand the man can’t bake for shit

Cause with cooking measurements aren’t really needed in fact on Tatooine people would scoff if you asked for them but it’s kind of the opposite for baking unless you’ve been doing it for a very long time

So Anakin “Just pour it until it looks good” Skywalker hates baking with a burning passion which is funny because he’s got a sweet tooth the size of a gundark

Ahsoka’s only really used to cooking by Anakin’s side which results in her only really remembering half the recipe like girl can mince like no one else but she can’t make a full dish without calling Anakin to ask for help 

But baking is where this girl thrives she loves to bake and try new recipes which works out because Anakin’s the human equivalent of a garbage disposal with the aforementioned sweet tooth

Cody is pretty proficient at cooking and baking he doesn’t do anything fancy and he doesn’t really like doing either he mostly learned out of necessity cause

Obi-Wan and Rex can’t cook or bake for shit and they’re perfectly fine with that fact like they’re a-ok with living off government rations if it means they never have to step foot in a kitchen 

Padme sweet angel lovely girl thinks she can cook and bake can she….. No

But the thing is she tries so hard and puts her whole heart and soul into her cooking and baking so everyone tries to act like she can it’s the galaxies best kept secret and it’s one that everyone’s happy to keep

There was one time when that secret was almost spilled on Ahsoka’s birthday when Padme offered to make her cake and no one could warn the poor girl cause that would spoil the surprise party

All Anakin could do to rectify the situation was buy a cake from his and Ahsoka’s favorite bakery and hide it in their quarters after the party

During the actual party Anakin pulled her off to the side to warn her just before the cake could be brought out and from an outsider's perspective it looked like a sweet moment between the siblings 

But in actuality all was going on this “Soka you know how you said I was the best master you could ask for” “Yes I said it when I first walked in are you finally going senile” “Well remember all that love when I ask you for the biggest favor” “which is?” “Padme made your cake” “No” “And I need you to act like you love it” “Anakin please if you love me at all” “If you love me you’ll eat the cake and tell her you love it and once the parties over you’ll get to eat your favorite cake in the whole wide world”

And they kind of just sit there and Anakin swears a few tears fall before Ahsoka says “Fine” and he hugs the everloving force out of her before they walk over to eat a slice of the galaxy's prettiest abomination 

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 3: #228B22

AO3 - MASTERPOST

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He will."

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

He was alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In plainer terms, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Navigator, Ancient of Storms

Jasmine Nightingale, the Guardian's Scepter

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

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

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

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

"It's 'scavenger hunt.'"

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dick looked devastated. "But-"

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

"Correct."

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

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

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

Everyone paused at that.

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

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

"Potty mouth!"

-

Danny was starting to get tired of waking up sore.

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

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

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

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

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

But where was home?

His home was gone.

He had nothing to return to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are having another panic attack."

"C-can't-"

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

"It hurts-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then, Daniel-"

"Danny!"

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

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

At least someone needed him again.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danielle muffled another sob.

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

"What did he do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"WHAT??" Danielle screeched, whipping around.

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

Sam protested, "We would never!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck eternity!"

"Tell us what to do."

"We'll always be there for Danny."

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

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

Jazz held her breath.

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

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

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

"How would I do that?"

"You need to become my apprentice."

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are not an al Ghul.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, so this was Phantom.

-

[the-daiz]

#2— leap rewards

—Flufftober day 2: Rainy day (prompt extras)

Pairing; Speed-o’-sound Sonic x reader

Tags; Established relationship, corny, corny reader

Synopsis; Kisses, tenderness and cockiness.

✎Word count; 1.3k

♪ Playlist; Feenlayalik | فين لياليك

A/N; ew this is so cringy it’s killing me. One of the very few fluffs I’m writing, so eat well. I hope I didn't miss any typos woops

The rain, only a few lone droplets a moment ago, drizzled across the dark streets in a thunderous rhythm.

Your fingers curled tighter around the plastic bag in your hand, and you could do nothing but purse your lips as you watched the cruel misfortune cackle at you behind the glass of the convenience store.

It was midnight. Almost midnight, and you were restless, so you decided to simply head to the small familiar store to find something to eat in hopes of quenching your boredom.

Unfortunately for you, however, the night sky had hidden the clouds encasing the city, and who would bother checking the weather app for such an inconvenient outing?

You muttered a fleeting curse as you contemplated running all the way back to your apartment. You'd probably catch a cold, but what other choice did you have?

"Seriously? How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?" The snarkiness laced in the individual's voice didn't go unnoticed by you, and you needn't glance to your side to know who the ominous figure— that seemingly materialized out of thin air, was.

"Of course I'd find you here." You sighed, masking the relief that had washed over you.

"I found you." His smirk stretched. "Actually."

"Yeah, ok, what are you doing here, anyway?" You finally turned your head to glance at him. The lights from the streets poured onto him with such great precision, even while being obstructed by the rain droplets racing down the glass tiles. He looked enchanting.

Speed-of-sound Sonic. What a name. What a face. Always so beautiful, always so alluring. Always keeping you ensnared in its bewitching existence. Always keeping you chasing after its beholder.

"Looking out for you. I had a feeling you'd get yourself into some kind of predicament." He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes, the smug turn in the corner of his lips never faltering.

"So you were stalking me?" You concluded.

"In a sense." He shrugged.

"How shameless." You shook your head, a smile slowly creeping up your features.

"Oh? So you don't need my help?" He raised a brow. "Save's me the trouble, then." He turns around, walking away, pretending that he's about to abandon you.

But knowing him, he would do it if he's feeling cocky enough.

As quickly as he does, though, you latch onto his arm. One hand faintly squeezed his while the other clasped onto his inner elbow. His brows rose and he blinked down at you with gleeful endearment.

His lips stretch to form a grin once more, but this time, it holds less arrogance than his previous one.

He feels a stretch of warmth pool into his chest as your palms press around the fabric of his sleeve.

The both of you fall silent, as the sound of pouring rain outside filters the quiet around you.

"What?" Sonic finally speaks as he stares at you.

"You know what." You roll your eyes with a grumble.

"Hmm, no I don't think I do."

"Does being a prick turn you on or something? Help me." As soon as those words flew past your lips, his hands were quick to carry you off your feet and into his arms. One of his arms supported the back of your knees while the other held you firmly by your back. You let out a soundless gasp at the sudden action.

You still hadn't gotten used to his speed.

"Sure. I won't do it for free, though." His smirk was back, but you had no time to retort as he was already soaring out of the shop and into the streets. The wind slammed into your curled frame along with a few spatters of rainwater. You scrunched your eyes closed and held your breath, your hands gripping tightly onto his sweater.

After a few seconds of wind constantly ramging into you and breath-knocking swerves, everything stills. You slowly pry your eyelids open, and you're met with the clean walls of your home. The lights were on. 

Did you forget to turn them off? or did he turn them on just now?

After blinking a few times while taking in a few deep breaths as your heart hammered from the sudden adrenaline rush, your gaze trailed up to his face. He was peering down at you, his grin faded and replaced with a stoic, serene look. He carefully set you down.

"How'd you get into my apartment?" You asked as you glanced at the closed and supposedly locked door of your home.

"You should be asking how I was able to carry you." There it was again, that snobbish look. He leered down at you with amusement, expecting you to push his face away with a scoff and head off to place the items you had purchased into the kitchen.

Instead, you stood unmoving before him, staring up at him with quiet fondness. Your fingers relaxed and a small thud was heard as the plastic bag fell, discarded on the floor. Your pupils moved to glance at each of his eyes, stammering as if unsure where to look. They both- He. Him. All of him was ineffable. 

His grin felt spindly.

The way your eyelids sat solemnly as you peered at him. And the sound of your inhales— he didn't know what it was but it was coiling around him, hindering his mobility, at least, his mental one.

Heat began to creep up his neck. He had to hold back the urge to dart his gaze away from yours, growing flustered under your fervent gleam. 

He continued to feign control, face flushed and sweating, and his mouth fell open into an empty gape, lips slightly twitching before he spoke.

"You're dying to taste me, aren't you?" His brows furrowed as he continued to forcefully stretch out his grin. Surely now you would've been tired of his stuck-up attitude. He expected a shove to his chest paired with an eye roll from you.

You cracked a soft smile instead. He felt a jolt ram into his chest when you slid your hands around his neck and hummed a nod, completely unfazed by his remarks. You pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. He squinted his right eye and frowned as you attacked the side of his face, pressing harder onto him before dramatically ending it with a prominent 'mwah' sound.

Your grin widened giddily at his expression, a mix of annoyance and stubbornness-- along with a faint cast of pink spreading to his ears. You closed the distance once more and engrossed yourself in a soft, fleeting kiss. He instinctively gripped your waist with a hand to steady you, his head tilting to the side as he contributed to your tender affection. He didn't like that it was fleeting, but he had no say as you broke the kiss and began to line pecks on the side of his lips.

"You're so sappy it's repulsing." He huffed, tugging you closer as his other hand gently pressed against your nape.

"Stop talking, you're ruining your face." You murmured before planting another kiss along his jawline.

"You don't have to talk to ruin yours." As soon as he riposted, he jerked your head to face his and pressed your lips together once more. Your eyes melted shut as you pushed further into him, your mouths swaying a passionate song, much different than his usual frantic ones. 

Your hands slipped to cup the sides of his face as you slightly deepened the kiss. In response, one of his arms wrapped around your torso, and euphoria coursed through him as he held you closer.

Faint panting hung in the air as you broke the kiss, looking into each other's eyes. You squashed his cheeks a little with your hands, flashing him a toothy grin. His face was still and adorned with bliss as he gazed into your grace.

"I'm not being serious." He breathed out, his features remaining placid. You snickered, your eyes squinting as your grin spread further.

Ugh, what the hell were you!?

"I know."

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Guys if I’m being really honest i would suck someone’s dick for comments or reblogs. I will become the first whore to sell my body, my soul whatever anyone wants just for more attention on my writing. (I’m addicted to attention and the satisfaction of people enjoying my hard work)

[swiftfootedachilles]

im just gonna be honest gang obviously its gonna be easy for you to say youre in love with a character and theyre an angel when anytime they do something you don't like you brush it off as out of character

[wienners]

"is gooseworx upset about digital circus becoming a cocomelon ass thing id be so angry lol" I cannot express to you how much they have achieved the DREAM for an online indie animator. they got millions of views with A PILOT ALONE! the original characters are already being cosplayed and the models are being thrown into random ass meme videos as if its a massively famous IP! all that with an indie 3D studio! AND the cg actually looks incredible!!! think they're gonna be okay if some content farms use their models for some brainrot finger family video.

[velvetlilith777]

just popping in to let you all know that ficmas is taking a pause for a quick second.

our busy season at work came early (usually post christmas) so we've been working mandatory overtime, i'm behind on christmas irl and i woke up today with a cold 🥰

this pause should only be a couple of days at most. just need to finish a couple of things up before i get back to being regularly and chronically online 🖤

so sorry for the delays!

[namazunomegami]

Lord of the Flies, Gluttonous Queen, Prince of Filth, Prince of Decay, Goddess of Ekron, Lord of Slander, Queen of Pestilence and Famine, The Rotting One

I Solomon said unto him: “Beelzeboul what is thy employment?” And (s)he answered me: “I destroy kings. I ally myself with foreign tyrants. And my own demons I set on to men, in order that the latter may believe in them and be lost. And the chosen servants of God, priests, and faithful men, I excite unto desires for wicked sins, and evil heresies, and lawless deeds; and they obey me, and I bear them on to destruction. And I inspire men with envy, and desire for murder, and for wars, and sodomy, and other evil things. And I will destroy the world.” - The Testament of Solomon

[romantically-yours]

I wanna pick up a girl and pin her against a wall and give her lots of lil smooches while we giggle like the little gay goblin gremlins that we are

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOOST as much as maroon has taken over every single brain cell of mine, i can’t seem to stop thinking about 24 hours!eddie and reader lately! they still got me on a chokehold!

i was just thinking, like in the long run, were they endgame? i know they’re head over heels for each other but like.....are they in it for the long haul? what would happen if like the topic of getting married or having kids was brought up, how are they both going to react? 👀

i’m not asking or forcing you to write a blurb out of this or anything so please don’t feel pressured, i’m genuinely just curious about their lore!!! 😭 and i also miss them so much lmao might end up re-reading the series again while waiting for the next maroon chapter ❤️❤️❤️

anyway i luv u and i hope you’re having a great day!

wanna know a secret? they definitely still live rent free in my mind as well.

they were definitely end game in the long haul of things. in my mind, it's actually funny, because i've thought about them watching their friends constantly getting into relationships and those relationships constantly ending, and yet they're still there and going strong as ever while everyone is just like "...what the fuck?"

nancy and johnathan would probably end up breaking up in the twenty four hours universe. that's actually canon based on a sequel idea i had. like, we're talking not very long after the events of the main fic. nancy would go to reader and probably rant in the midst of her heartbreak "i just don't get it. i thought me and johnathan - we were gonna make it, you know? i thought we had the perfect relationship. and, no offense, but compared to you and eddie, we did." (which she obviously doesn't mean, but she's just hurt and projecting. we all know nancy was a number one reader x eddie shipper). and reader could grow insecure about it and overthink, but when she ends the day getting to gossip all about it to eddie, he just scoffs and said "excuse me? what the hell does that mean? out of spite, we're definitely gonna end up growing old together. gonna mock them from across the retirement home as i kiss all your wrinkles. that'll show them." and she's just reminded that, oh, yeah. it doesn't matter what other people think. this is her idiot for the long haul. and spoiler: it isn't spite keeping them together. it's the way eddie looks at reader like she painted the night sky just for him. it's the way eddie is the first person reader wants to talk to in nearly every scenario, the way he's the first person her eyes draw to in every room no matter how crowded. they bicker endlessly, they aren't always acting the most lovesick and nauseatingly affectionate with each other in front of others, and there's certainly been plenty of fights where the gang holds their breath for the announcement of a breakup, but they always find a way to make it through. always. they're one of those couples, ya know?

and i could also ramble about the whole marriage/kid discussion, but i actually had a short one shot about it i wanted to write! i think i've avoided posting any of the excess content i had planned for them because i don't want to beat a dead horse, you know? it's been over a year now, and even though i love and adore them, i don't want to seem like i'm milking that universe haha. if that's something y'all would like to see now even though it's been so long, i am finally out of my funk with writing them and could probably post some of those one shots! especially because the way they go about conversations like kids/marriage is so fuckin funny to me.

i luv you even more, and hope you have the most wonderful of days, friend <3 thank you for not letting one, but TWO??? of my stories take up residency in your thoughts. it means the world to me and i'm giving you all the hugs and forehead kisses <3

[pirunika]

I may have asked before but I’ll ask again lol

How many torian fics have you written ? I yearn to read torian stuff again !

a Lot I think. so many of them are Lost in the mess that is my (decade+ old) blog lol some i just straight up deleted bc im dumb sometimes (always regret doing that This is your warning to not delete your art or writings really...) and those on ao3 too needs to be edited so badly...

its my plan now to get all of them together linked on a post, edited, in a timeline based order. its one of my goals n I'm getting there 💪

[nonuggetshere]

GOD I HAD AN IDEA AS I WAS FALLING ASLEEP TODAY

About FaaF naturally

A sad one, TW fir near child death and harm

Involves Xero's attempt at an assassination, or it could be literally just any guard controlled by the Radiance

PK and WL need to talk about something private, and WL looks at the tiny vessel tagging along by her wyrm's side

"Should it be here?"

"It wouldn't understand anything anyway."

"Still, it's...a little..."

He sighs lightly, "Yeah, I get where you're coming from... Vessel, come here."

He kneels down and orders them to sit by the door and wait for them while they talk, says he'll come pick them up once they're done and not to move, then the two go to talk on the balcony and close the door behind them

At some point, Xero/the guard bursts in and attacks PK in the middle of the conversation, managing to take them by surprise and so gets one good swing in before PK darts away and retaliates, pinning them down with soul blades, though he has to keep his wife from killing them on the spot - he doesn't want to be so hasty, knowing they're infected and not themself. He pulls out the sword from his chest and that's when they realise, it's covered in void...

Child harm/near death TW beyond this point

After a moment of shock White Lady, who's closest to the doors, runs out and all her husband can hear is a horrified, heartbroken scream. He feels nauseous, his stomach twisting into knots and feeling like his heart is in his throat as he runs out after her. He sees her in tears, cradling a tiny bundle soaked in void. There's- there's so much void. It covers the floor where he left their child vessel and soaks through his lady's shawl and clothes as she cradles them in her arms.

For a moment he's paralysed, before he just snaps. He flies back onto the balcony, screaming at the possessed guard that he'll kill her, he'll make her pay for this, and he slays them in his rage (something he'll regret and feel ashamed of later), still hitting and screaming at Her well after the possessed person is dead and she can't hear him anymore.

He collapses, panting, near tears, and just gets himself up and stumbles out the door and towards the two, he wants to see how bad it is for himself.

Flower survives, but just barely. They had multiple stab wounds and lost their left arm, if not for their parents immediately healing them they'd be dead. They're barely older than 5, still so very little and defenceless, PK is horrified at how could anyone hurt a baby this young and helpless (hypocrite), even if they're not alive.

They're still on bed rest because that was so much damage and their mother doesn't leave their side and their father only leaves when necessary. They still don't realise Flower's alive and they know they shouldn't be so attached but it still feels like their baby and they can't just leave them. WL spends the entire day by their side, gently stroking their hair and horns with her now permanently void stained hands and softly coos and sings to them

Of course, they quickly realise they ARE alive because no way in hell a toddler is getting this hurt and NOT crying and screaming the second they wake up <3

Which just makes this situation so much worse

[lesbiantoaster]

What is lost, what is found (Lenore x Annabel - Nevermore)

Firstly a disclaimer is due: I'm European and don't know how to English. And it's my first time writing such a long text. I just needed to put this short story somewhere which isn't in my head. I apologise in advance...

Sound of heels tapping on wooden flooring as four pairs of feet run through the corridors of the Nevermore Academy. Blood roared in their ears as Ms Poppet's words about Duke's whereabouts has been ringing in their heads. They hardly let her finish as Lenore run from the lecture to confirm her worst fears, and the rest of the gang followed her suit. Finally, they reached the merits table and frantically started scanning the list looking for Duke's name but couldn't find it... No thought Lenore as she felt her throat fighting and her sight getting hazed. No... No... NO! Her legs finally gave away as Lenore's knees hit the floor and tears slowly began to flow down her cheeks. Shortly after she was joined by the rest of the gang. Everyone was crying and hugging each other really hard, yet it felt so wrong since each of them could feel the gaping emptiness left behind by their friend. It can't be... cried Lenore in her mind as she looked up once more just to make sure Duke's name wasn't there.

There was a barely audible "No!" heard behind them. All of them turned their heads towards the newcomer just to see a very distressed Morella frantically scanning the merits table till reaching the ultimate conclusion - Duke's gone... Behind her, there was the group of people Lenore wanted to see the least. Ada and Will were standing beside sinisterly grinning Montressor and Lenore noticed that they were suspiciously avoiding looking in her direction. Prospero was standing a little bit further behind the group leaning against the common room's threshold looking stoic as always but also a little intrigued by the whole situation. But the only person who caught Lenore's attention was Annabel. Memories of their last conversation flashed in Lenore's mind (but that's another can of worms that'd be better not to be opened right now). The blond was trying to look indifferent to this whole situation but Lenore spotted the look of surprise and worry behind the ice queen mask.

"YOU!" Morella's voice startled everyone presents in the room. She turned violently and strode towards Montressor. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!" she stopped about two meters before him "WE'VE AGREED NOT TO DO ANYTHING TO OTHER STUDENTS!!" no one has seen her this furious before.

But it wasn't enough to make any impression on Montressor, who just laughed and said "And what do you think I exactly have done doll?" then walked away saying "Let's leave these losers to themselves." to Ada and Will, then proceeded to go upstairs to the dormitories. Prospero gave the gang one more look before climbing the stairs himself. Annabel followed him shortly after but not before sending Lenore one last look that could mean only one thing "Meet me later". The five were left there in silence not really knowing what to do next.

After meeting with Annabel in the broom closet, Lenore entered her and Morella's room as silently as possible not to wake her roommate. As she closed the door behind, her ears were filled with the low tones of the bell signalling the beginning of the curfew. Sighing to herself Lenore changed into her nightgown and get into bed. She cast one last worried look towards the sleeping figure of Morella who looked so small. One could tell she cried herself to sleep. I hope she'll find some peace in her sleep thought Lenore and blew out the lamp standing by her bedside.

Laying in the darkness Lenore couldn't sleep. Instead, she was tossing around trying to calm down her thoughts which were speeding through her mind like bolts of lightning during a really bad storm. She was tired and broken. Sleep was the only relief she craved but wasn't granted as her mind was tormented by the events of the last twenty-four hours and the revelations they'd brought. Finally, her body falls into a light dreamless sleep.

The next day she was gently woken up by Morella.

"The breakfast will begin shortly. Would you like to join me and the rest?" asked Morella with a small voice.

"No, I'm good. Thank you." answered Lenore looking with a blank expression on her face at the ceiling. She waited until Morella exits the room when she got up and dressed for the day. She sat on the edge of her bed for a while trying desperately to make her limbs listen to her will. She felt empty. Eventually, she got up to fetch her suitcase. She opened it and took out a small ring box. She already knew what was inside, yet she couldn't help the tears once her eyes spotted the wedding band inside. She fell on the floor with a thud while her cries filled the room and her chest was filled with heartache. Now everything about her life was clear. She should be relieved... dare she say happy even, yet the only thing she felt at the moment was pain. After a while when Lenore managed to calm her nerves a little bit, she sat once again on her bed looking intensely at the small box in her hand and let the thoughts flow through her mind.

When it was time to start heading down to classes Lenore got up and looked through the window. She regarded the landscape before her. I will NOT let it go unpunished, Duke... Lenore thought with newfound determination And I will get our friends out of this hell... all of them! For you, my friend. I WILL find a way! Then she recalled all of her friends' faces and vowed them the same thing. Lastly, her mind was filled with the images of Annabel. A small smile tugged onto her lips and warmth filled her chest as she took out the wedding band and put it on her ring finger with a small "I do..." escaping her mouth, before going down to Ms Poppet's class.

During the classes, Annebel kept casting worried looks in Lenore's direction. She wasn't really paying attention but knew she can ask Morella for notes later after dinner. Because let's be honest - Ada who sat next to her probably pays even less attention to the lecture than she does, daydreaming about some foolish fantasy of hers. Annabel hardly slept last night thinking of all the things that happened that day. She hoped that she was finally getting through to Lenore who started remembering more of their lives but the happiness was short-lived since Duke's second death. She was sure that Montressor was somehow behind Duke's demise but she just wasn't sure how. But she was determined to find out and make him (or whoever else it might be) pay for it. For Lenore. Oh, Lenore... Annabel looked towards her beloved. She's been worried for her pet since their first talk yesterday. And the feeling only managed to grow stronger as the day progressed. She was worried sick at breakfast when she noticed that Morella came down without her dashing roommate. The blond recollected their last conversation just before the curfew.

"Pet! You have to believe me... I have no idea what might have happened to Duke" Annabel pleaded as she tried to put all of the remaining energy she still possessed to convince Lenore of the sincerity of her words. They've been talking while hiding inside this broom closed for at least half an hour. Annabel would be delighted if it wasn't for the grim reality of the situation.

"But what was that thing Morella said about you agreeing not to harm others?" Lenore asked. She was tired but she had to make sure Annabel wasn't behind Duke's fate. That would be simply too much for Lenore to handle...

"It was after the banquet. The guys proposed sabotaging other students to have better chances of winning the second life... I tried to gain control over them before too much would be said but I didn't think they'd go rogue so fast..." pondered Annabel "But I swear I didn't think they'd do such a thing!" Lenore didn't answer that. After a moment of silence, the blonde took Lenore's face in her hands to make sure the other will look her in the eyes for what she was about to say. Annabel gently turned Lenore's head towards her and added "I might not know what happened to Duke but I promise I'll find out. I love you and I'm sorry about your loss... Everyone could tell he was a dear friend to you... But I'm telling the truth. Everything I've told you today is true... Do you believe me, pet?" she looked up expectantly. Before Lenore could answer announcing the curfew sounded for the first time.

"We'd better be going to our beds..." said Lenore.

"But-" Annabel tried protesting but couldn't find a good argument.

"Let's meet here tomorrow after classes and finish this conversation, shall we?" asked Lenore.

"Yes. Goodnight, pet." Said Annabel as she exited the closet to head to her and Ada's room.

After classes, Annabel carefully entered the broom closet. Her heart was pounding with stress and anticipation of what Lenore would say. Her beloved pet was already waiting for her inside. It was the first chance for Annabel to better look at Lenore that day. It was clear that the recent events took a great toll on her. Annabel wanted to throw herself on Lenore, embrace her and pepper her beautiful face with kisses until all the worries would fade into the background, just to see that spark in Lenore's eyes she adored so much. But she didn't. She wanted to give Lenore as much space as needed even if it was at the expense of her own heartache. They stood in silence for a couple of seconds before Lenore began "About the question you asked me before goodbye..." she lifted her eyes to look straight into Annabel's eyes. The blonde's heart stopped when Lenore crossed the distance between them and took Annabel's face into the palms of her hands. "I do..." she said with something new in her gaze. Something Annabel haven't seen since they were alive. Love. Hope. And Trust. The blond could swear that her heart exploded with the relief and happiness that it was filled with at that moment. When she took Lenore's hands in her own, she felt it. On her right cheek. She could feel the metal band touching her skin. She didn't have to look at it, because she knew it was the identical wedding ring that she had on her left hand. She gasped at the realisation and looked into her wife's eyes to make sure she doesn't just dream about this moment.

"Really?" Asked Annabel with a hushed voice.

"Yes, really." chuckled Lenore "I really do.." as she said that she leaned down and kissed Annabel with all the love to convey everything she wanted to tell her with these two words.

I do believe you

I do remember now

I do promise to get us out of here so we can get our happy-ever-after

I do love you, too