#some swear that the Bat has a cape

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 57

Cryptid Batman but… While at first it was all tricks, simply fear and shadows and tricks of the minds, that doesn’t stay the case. It’s barely noticeable at first, the way the grunts deepen to something akin to growls by the time he takes a small child from the circus in. It’s not too alarming when their vision in the darkness gets better or their skin feels as cold as a corpse the moment they step into the streets. 

It’s hard to explain to Jason when his own teeth begin to sharpen and nails become talons the first time he puts on that domino, when it almost seems to meld with his skin into downy feathers. 

It’s hard to stay in denial with each new clan member about how much Gotham has sank Its claws into their bodies of mortal flesh and bone, how much they’ve shifted from the forms they were born with. 

[wondersinwaynemanor]

i have this hc that the rest of the batkids are getting comfortable in going to Jason and Roy's place, and just know that Jason won't get mad because of Lian's presence.

[i promised myself i won't make the scenerios too long]

---

Jason walks out the room to get some water from the kitchen, when he hears the kitchen cabinet open.

and viola, it's Tim and Steph opening a box of fruit loops cereal.

Jason, tries to keep his voice low: What in the actual fuckery are you both doing here in the middle of the night?

Steph, munching on some food, raises both of her hands: This was Tim's idea. I'm innocent.

Tim, shrugs: Lian said I could have some of her fruit loops.

Jason: I swear, Replacement, I'm going to-

Lian, walking from behind the counter, rubs her eyes: Don't be mad, Jayjay. I told Uncle Tim and Aunt Steph they could take some of my food.

Jason, frustrated at this point: Did you wake her up?

Tim and Steph both shake their heads.

Roy, from their room: Jaaaaaybird, let the kids eat!

Jason, sighing, takes Lian's hand slowly: Let's get you back to bed, Princess.

Lian, sleepily: Don't forget to add to the swear jar, Jayjay.

Tim and Steph laugh quietly by the time Jason and Lian disappear for their sights, and continue to eat.

---

at 5 in the morning, Roy shrieks from the hallway. Jason immediately goes out to check.

Roy, a hand on his chest: Damn it. Cass scared the living hell out of me.

Jason, raises his brow: Cass???

Roy points to the living room. Cass is sitting comfortably on the couch, still in her Black Bat suit, but cowl off. Lian has her head on her lap as Cass runs her fingers softly on her hair.

Cass looks up at the two men, but doesn't say anything. then smiles down as she sings a low lullaby to Lian.

Jason: Uh, I think it's best if we let her be.

Roy, nods: I agree.

---

as Jason and Roy are getting comfortable on bed, Lian knocks on their bedroom door.

Jason: I already put her to bed. I think it's the chocolate milk, Roy. She gets a little hyper before bed.

Roy, getting up from his position, chuckles: Maybe munchkin got hungry. Again.

Jason chuckles with him, putting the blanket higher on his upper body.

Jason is not too sure, but he dozes off for a few minutes. and reaches for Roy on his side, but he isn't there. thinking, Lian did get hungry, he stands up from the bed and exits the room.

he should have just continued to sleep.

on the couch, there's Dick, still in his suit, a few bruises on his face and a bandaged leg, and Duke, on his suit as well, a few bruises on his face too, but no bandages whatsoever. Lian is sat between them as the three of them watch an animated show on the television.

Jason, standing a distance from the couch, crosses his arms on his chest: Last time I checked, this is supposed to be a private apartment for three people. This isn't a vacation home-

in sync, Dick, Duke and Lian shush him, their eyes glued on the screen.

Roy laughs from the kitchen.

Jason, approaches him: What's going on here?

Roy, wipes his hands on the kitchen towel: Lian let them in. Dick is injured-

Jason: Good.

Roy, pulls Jason close by the waist: Dick, your brother, is injured. I patched him up. Duke thought it was a good idea for them to stop by here to rest.

Jason: And they're ruining Lian's sleeping hours.

Roy, kisses his temple: It's a Saturday, Jaybird.

Jason, murmurs: Sure.

Roy, smiles: You're such a dad now.

Jason blushes, hiding his face on Roy's shoulder.

---

as Roy brings Jason on top of him, they hear Lian's loud giggles from outside their room.

Jason, looks down at Roy: I thought she's asleep already.

they both stand up to check on Lian.

and it's her and Damian on the living room floor, a kitten between them. the kitten is wrapped with Robin's cape.

Jason: Looks like the brat found another kitten.

Jason and Roy stare lovingly at the scene for a few minutes. Lian smiles brightly, patting the kitten gently. Damian is also smiling, caressing the animal on his arms.

[zylev-blog]

Batman, pre identity reveal goes to the Watchtower for some buisness. Dick is going through a phase, and insists to come with him, but only hanging to his leg like a koala. He relents, his cape is big enough to cover him, after all.

Later, Flash comes up to him. “Hey, can you take a look at this?”

He reaches his hand out through his cape, exposing Dick as Robin for Flash to see.

“Is that a child?” Flash asked.

“Hrrn.” He grunts.

“Hi!” Dick grins, wide and feral.

After that, it becomes tradition for every few years, Batman hid children under his cape. He simply rolled his eyes as every single one of his children cling to his legs, stomach, and arms like koalas. It was weight training. Nothing was going on. He certainly didn’t want to listen to them complaining later on.

A few years after the first incident, Green Lantern came up to him to ask him something. Only to hear a snicker from Batman’s cape. GL tried to ignore it. He really did. But after a while, the snickers became quiet laughter, and GL could swear he heard “uno.”

So GL pulls back the cape. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, and Spoiler were under the cape. Each one had uno cards in their hand and looked very annoyed at GL’s interruption.

“Do you mind?” Nightwing asked.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left Signal and Black Bat at home.” Orphan complained.

“Black Bat almost gave Superman a heart attack last time she came with us.” Nightwing pointed out.

“Tt. Signal is too bright to hide under the cape.” Robin added.

“You have a problem, Batman.” Green Lantern looked at the Bat.

“The only problem he has is annoying green turds disrupting our game.” Red hood grabbed the cape and dropped it back over them, and the shuffling of cards could just barely be heard.

[awhoreintheory]

okay so MCU canon Peter in DC is all funny and games but what about comic canon Peter? Peter who’s in his 30s, whose life is falling apart(again) and has clones to deal with(man I hate the fact that Ben became evil :(.)

extra points if Miles and/or Mayday is with him. This single dad is STRUGGLING. And the bats wanna help him/his kids cause man! Look at them :(

(extra extra points if Dick = Richard Parker. That’s a whole nother can of worms. Like the bats are thinking Peter = Family of Dick they didn’t know but NO! It’s actually Dick’s son! Dicks a granddad!)

I want to PSA to anyone sending asks/requests, I'm not ignoring you!! I'm just a slow writer!!! I hope you enjoy though <33

Peter B. Parker could, 100%, picture landing in (yet another) alternate universe. You know what? As a matter of fact, he expected it.

What he didn’t plan for, however, was being stranded in another universe with his baby girl strapped to his chest. 

But here he was, crouched in a narrow alley in the darkest corner of Gotham City, New Jersey. From the name alone, Peter knew he landed himself in a section of the Multiverse Miguel had expressly labeled as off limits. It wasn’t his fault he’d landed here, though!

One minute he’d been web-swinging through New York, enjoying a rare peaceful day with Mayday babbling happily, and the next he was crash-landing onto a grimy rooftop in the most dangerous city he’d ever seen. It was like New York turned up to eleven, all shadows and towering gargoyles, dripping with rain that seemed perpetual. The interdimensional bracelet he’d been given to travel the multiverse was sparking and smoking in his pocket— total toast. He was officially stranded. 

Ok, so it maybe, kinda sorta, been an eensy weensy, tiny bit Peter’s fault. 

Peter’s, very high-tech and likely expensive bracelet had been, uh, scratched in a fight the day before. Barely even a nick! He swears he could’ve reattached the wires and fixed the screen. 

He probably should’ve also taken the watch out of his robe pocket before he started swinging Mayday to daycare. 

MJ was going to be so mad. 

It became evident early on it’d take a little bit to find a way home, or for someone to find him. If it had just been Peter, he could’ve roughed it on some rooves and abandoned buildings. It wouldn’t be a big deal, he knew he would be getting home eventually. Being a little smelly was the least of his worries. 

But he had his baby girl with him. 

So, with the money in his wallet, he found an under-the-counter, rundown but otherwise warm, apartment in a place called Crime Alley. (What a seriously terrible name) Peter started pulling together whatever side gigs he could, fixing appliances, tuning up electronics, just enough to get by. Even for a guy who was used to scraping by, the situation felt bleak, especially with Mayday depending on him. 

His little red-headed whirlwind was still too young to understand what was happening, but she noticed the tension and started clinging to him more tightly. Peter knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but he wasn’t sure how to trust anyone in a city that had both criminals and vigilantes lurking around every corner. When he spotted someone in a cape swinging overhead, he instinctively hid in the shadows, holding Mayday close, her tiny face tucked into his shoulder.

But the Bats noticed him. 

It was hard not to notice a single dad with no records, no job, and no explanation for why he was squatting in Gotham’s most dangerous neighborhood. Bruce, ever vigilant, put out word to the family to keep an eye on him. 

Jason, who patrolled Crime Alley, wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “A guy moved into my turf with a baby?” he grumbled to Tim. “Either he’s got a death wish, or he’s crazy.” 

Tim, on the other hand, was fascinated by the mystery. He dug through every database he had access to, and then some. But “Peter Parker” returned zero results— at least, none that matched this Peter Parker. no criminal record, no birth record, no online footprint. It was like he just spawned in! 

Dick didn’t have a whole lot of opinions. He thought the man was nice, though he had only met him once in a routine mugging. He evidently cared for his daughter, and matched Nightwing’s wit and humor pretty nicely, too. He looked annoyingly familiar too. Maybe it was Tired Dad Chic? He kind of reminded him of Bruce, in a way. 

Steph seconded the funny part. This Peter guy could be one of those dark-humor comedians. 

From what they observed, and conversations supplied by Jason (who was his neighbor in a series of fortunate events), Peter really did seem to just be an ordinary guy.  

Then one night, Peter was picking up groceries from a corner store when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a man in a ski mask brandishing a knife, gesturing for his wallet. 

“Hand over the money, and I won’ hurt ya’ kid.” The man threatened, waving his knife around threateningly. Peter tensed, dropping his groceries in favor of cradling Mayday closer. 

Peter blinked at him tiredly. “The best I can offer is some lint and a can of beans.” 

The man tensed, stepping closer in an attempt at intimidation. Peter thought that his face turning red with anger was kind of funny.

“Don’t fuckin’— are you makin’ fun of me?” The man fumed. Peter might have let out a sleep-deprived chuckle, partially forgetting to respond. 

The mugger lunged, and before he could dodge, Peter felt a searing pain in his side as the blade plunged in, his vision blurring with the shock. Normally, Peter would’ve disarmed the guy without breaking a sweat, but tonight, with Mayday in his arms and his body worn from days of restless sleep, he kind of just… blinked and the knife was there. 

Peter blinked again, then looked back up at the man.

“Oh, wow,” he said, his voice dripping with deadpan sarcasm. “A knife in Crime Alley? Super original. Really, I’m honored to be a part of your creative process.”

The mugger blinked, clearly caught off guard. Peter rolled his eyes, adjusting Mayday to better apply pressure to his side. “Next time you stab a guy, maybe aim for someone with insurance.”

The mugger stumbled back, looking increasingly confused by Peter’s lack of fear. Peter sighed, bouncing Mayday gently as she began to fuss. “Listen, I’m already running on no sleep and the caffeine fumes of yesterday’s coffee. And now you’re just making my night even worse.”

Peter winced, feeling the slow but consistent leak of blood. His healing factor was helping, but it was dulled due to lack of sleep and hunger. 

Between one long blink and the next, someone had jumped down and knocked out Peter’s would-be mugger. 

After another blink Peter realized he was on the ground, Mayday’s wails filled the air, her cries echoing down the alleyway, and Peter tried to smile through the pain. “It’s okay, baby,” he mumbled, clutching her tightly. “Daddy’s fine… just a little… scratch.” But his vision was going hazy as he pressed a hand to his bleeding side. The world began to spin.

One of the vigilantes that Peter recognized as Red Robin rushed over, talking hurriedly into a comm. Peter blinked up at him, his mouth curling into a weak smile. “Hey, nice costume,” he muttered. “Does the utility belt come in dad sizes?” 

Red Robin blinked in surprise, but otherwise keept his focus as he worked to stop the bleeding.

“It doesn’t, unfortunately.” Red Robin offered, popping open his emergency med kit. “I’ve got help on the way, ok? Stay awake for me.” But his attention was snagged when Mayday, overcome with distress, reached out to him, her tiny hands gripping his arm. She wasn’t just clutching it— she was sticking to him, her fingers locked like suction cups on his suit. Tim’s eyes widened as she scrambled up his arm, scaling it like a bug on a wall. 

Red Robin took it in stride, scooping Mayday up as he continued to work. Peter had been on the Meta radar for a bit— a few things here and there just a little off, and it was mostly based on Red Robin’s time spent with super-powered individuals. 

But as he patched up Peter, he discreetly swiped a sample of blood, stashing it in his belt just as the Batmobile pulled up. 

—

Later that night, he ran the sample through the Batcomputer, expecting some small lead. A Meta, possibly insect-based? What with how the kid had stuck to him. Instead, the results left Tim absolutely speechless. 

Peter Parker, the man who was in his early 40s and a single father, didn’t just match someone in the system— it matched Dick Grayson.

Not as a brother, or a cousin, but as a son. 

Tim must’ve ran the test at least 100 times. It came back the same every single time. 

Tim called Bruce and the rest of the family, each of them crowding around the screen with varying levels of shock and amusement as the analysis rolled in. Dick was dumbfounded, staring at the results in disbelief. 

“You’re telling me this guy is my… son?” he stammered, struggling to wrap his mind around it. 

Bruce, socially unaware in all his glory, tried to comfort Dick. “He’s likely from far into the future. Barry said there was a ripple in the timestream around the time Peter showed up.” 

“So what does that make Mayday?” Jason asked, snickering. 

“His granddaughter?” Steph said with a teasing grin. 

“Wow, Dick. You went from a dad to a grandpa in the same minute.” 

“That’s gotta be a world record.”

“You think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record?”

Dick groaned, rubbing his temples as Jason laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“He’s from the future, right? Something must’ve gone wrong on his end," Tim said, folding his arms with a thoughtful look. "He’s definitely got the skills. Moves like you, Dick. It's obvious he's had training.”

Dick couldn't help but smirk, puffing up a little with pride. “Of course he does. He’s got Grayson blood in him, after all.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, because the whole ‘falling on his face with a baby strapped to him’ bit? So graceful.”

Tim rolled his eyes, trying to stay on track. “Look, I don’t know why he didn’t come to us for help in the first place, but the point is, he’s family. We should get him back to his time, if that’s even possible.” He looked over to Bruce. “Are any speedsters available? Maybe the League could lend us Wally or Barry—"

“Hold on,” Dick interrupted, frowning. “I’m not sure we’re ready to ship him off just yet. The guy’s been trying to make it on his own. He’s got a baby to look after, and I think he’s afraid of dragging us into whatever’s going on with him. You know this family and their pride.”

Damian, who had been silent up to this point, finally piped up, his arms crossed. “I’ve seen him with the baby. She’s… persistent.” There was an almost begrudging respect in his tone. “But he clearly doesn’t have the resources to keep her safe here. If he did, he wouldn’t be living in Crime Alley.”

Dick nodded. “Exactly. The guy’s holding it together with duct tape and dad jokes. We can help him and get him back on his feet while we figure out a way home.”

Bruce, listening intently, finally spoke up. “He’s right. Until we find a way to get him home, Peter and his daughter stay here. We’ll pull together whatever resources we can to help them both.” 

Steph and Tim shared a look. He just wanted to meet his grandson and great-granddaughter. 

There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed the decision, and then Tim looked at Dick, a small smirk playing on his lips. “So… you ready to be a dad, Dick?”

Dick flushed, looking a mix of horrified and pleased. “I’ll just stick to ‘Uncle Dick’ for now. Baby steps.”

EXTRA:

“Hey,” Jason drawled, barely suppressing a smirk as he looked over at Dick, “you think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record? Fastest unplanned parenthood, or maybe most confusing family reunion?”

Dick rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Very funny, Jay. Maybe we can submit you for most inappropriate comments per minute.”

Jason chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just saying, man, it’s impressive. One day you’re Nightwing, lone acrobat extraordinaire, and the next? Boom— you’re the proud father of a scruffy, interdimensional— what'd you say it was, Tim? Spider-dad? A Spider-dad.”

Tim snickered, glancing up from his laptop. “We’re all just living in a 'Strangest Family Reunion’ reality show at this point. Besides, if anyone’s submitting to Guinness, it should be Peter for most relentless optimism under terrible circumstances.”

Bruce cleared his throat, giving them all a look. “Enough. This isn’t a joke. We have a situation to handle here.”

Dick, still grinning, turned back to Bruce. “All right, fine, we’ll save the record-breaking for later. Right now, I say we start by finding this guy and getting him some real help.”

[fanfic-obsessed]

I have a prompt for you, in light of the recent (very entertaining) DCU aus you've posted. If you were going to do a batfam-are-cryptids-but-now-the-justice-leauge-meets-them thing, how would you do it?

Have I told you thank you yet, @somestorythoughts, your prompts and responses make me so happy. Also I almost always end up with  more to write, which is fun.

Now back to the important part.

Fair warning, I screw with ages and timelines with this one. There is no canon here

I think, as far as a cryptid status is concerned this will be a ‘Batman is a founding, and funding, member of the Justice League, but has never revealed his identity’ kind of idea (with all the precautions therein to make sure even the metas can’t guess his identity). There is some speculation throughout the Justice League that Batman does not actually have a civilian identity, that he is the spirit of justice possessing a cape and cowl (Seriously there were three attempted exorcisms).  It is known that Batman always works alone, and that no one is to set foot Gotham, a few of the youngest members disbelieve that Gotham even really exists. 

However there are always rumors that can’t quite be dispelled.  No one in the Justice League can figure out the Watchtower’s firewall (designed by Oracle). Through the years there have been half heard conversations by the JL that almost sound like a wellness check after a fight, going either direction over a com line they can’t access. Sometimes during particularly difficult fights masked strangers will appear, most of which fight with styles similar to Batman, only to vanish again without a word. A few swear they have caught code names (Robin…or maybe Red Robin…Or was it Red Hood…no it was really Black Bat…there might be a BatGirl????) but no one can confirm anything.

In addition, it is impossible to quell the rumor that entering Gotham uninvited means you will disappear.  Not every time and no one can figure out the difference between being escorted out and vanishing, but there have been several heroes from the community who vanished after entering Gotham over the years.

What’s really happening is that I love the Young Justice Team and want a way for it to work with Cryptid BatFam. 

Two of the most notable, the first but certainly not the last, were Bart Allen, Impulse, and Cassie Sandsmark, Wonder Girl who entered the city limits together to try to prove that they too could be heroes. Both were 15 when they vanished.  Unknown to anyone else, at the same time an unnamed clone of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor was also sent into Gotham, as a test of some kind. 

All three of them, for different reasons, entered feeling abandoned or dismissed by the people around them. So when they encountered Tim Drake, as Robin, age 14; he called dibs and adopted them on the spot (Tim: These are my children Cassie, Bart, and the newly named Connor. Yes, I carried them in my very own womb and I am very proud of all of them. No, I will not accept questions. Batkids: Cool! Niblings. Batman<sighs>: At least tell me you didn’t kill someone to acquire them. Tim: I just told you, I birthed them myself).  So Cassie, Bart, and Connor are absorbed into the BatFam. Both Bart and Cassie decide against telling anyone where they are, with Connor not really having anyone to tell.  It should also be noted that the JL avoided asking Batman about the whereabouts of the kids who vanished after entering Gotham, they didn’t want to admit where the kids had gone. 

Three years later, Jason, as Red Hood (Jason did not die here, though it was close. He still took on the moniker of Red Hood after a beating by the Joker), age 19 happens upon Roy Harper, age 20 after Roy had a fight with Oliver and does the same thing. Only Jason dragged Roy home and introduced Roy home as his newest brother, giving Bruce a crazy look that said under no uncertain terms that Bruce better break out the adoption papers immediately; never mind that Roy was not underage.  

At the same time Raven, originally 26, was de aged to about 8 due to an attempted possession by her father, accidentally portals into Gotham and practically climbs Dick Grayson,age 22, in fear. The effects of the spell and the portal wiped her memories past her physical age.  So now Dick has a daughter as well, who he thinks is a Gothamite since he never saw the portal.  As far as anyone from Justice League Dark can tell there was a portal leading to Gotham where Raven disappeared but no one knows what happened (Batman and his family are looking for an adult Raven and never connected her to the 8 year old Rachel that became Dick’s daughter).

Others also disappear, having been adopted by the Waynes

What I am saying is that Gotham is considered quite a bit more dangerous to the caped community and the Batfam encompasses a few people it might not have otherwise. I think it would be funnier if Batman was not aware of his family's cryptid status (It never occurs to him that his kids have never been invited to join any of the younger generation teams).

Something sparks a partial return of Raven’s, now around 14 or 15, memory, enough for Rachel (who is the current Robin) to realize she is Raven. At her request, Batman announces this at a meeting and her intention to remain Dick’s daughter and Bruce’s granddaughter.  The JL react confusingly (they are all losing their collective minds at the thought that Batman has kids AND grandkids).  His response that one of his sons made him a grandfather when the boy was 14 does not inspire confidence.  Eventually, and I do mean this takes ages, it leads to the entire Batfam coming up to the Watchtower.  In spite of the masks Barry recognizes Bart, and after a moment the Wonder’s also recognize Cassie. Both had been desperately missed (the feelings of abandonment had been a misunderstanding).  Though the Wonder’s and the Speedsters both try to hug their missing members, it becomes clear that you can pry them from their mother, Tim, introduced as Red Robin, only when Red Robin is dead. 

The Speedsters look at each other, shrug, and immediately start lobbying Red Robin for Visitation (it does not matter that Tim’s kids are all adults with their own lives in Gotham). The Wonders do not have a chance to do the same as Connor, code name Agent C (he decided he did not want to be a field Vigilante, instead he has taken on a support role, like Alfred, where he is their Mechanic/Mechanical Engineer), drops the bomb that he is a Clone of Superman and Lex Luthor (Connor had not been told enough by the scientists at CADMUS to know what was going on, or even if Lex was aware his DNA was being used but of course the Bats did a DNA, he didn’t even know what the lab was called or where to find it).

Superman does make the connection to CADMUS labs, which he had shut down a few years earlier-though he never put those reports in the Watchtower computers as he considered it an internal matter (Batman would like it noted that all of the Batfam reports end up in the watchtower computer and is irritated that the other heroes do not do the same). 

Connor had been the only ‘viable’ clone but all the records (whether viable or not) had been stamped with ‘failure’, so Superman had not known that there should be a clone of him out there somewhere.  Also the intervening years of being able to process, ‘hey this person I knew, and was once friends with, stole my genetic material to try and create a new person without my consent or knowledge’ without having to deal with the results of said actions (Compounded by the guilt of not being able to look at this miniature version of himself without making the connection to his enemy Lex and his violation, knowing intellectually that it was not Connors fault for being created or that Connor was created specifically to be a weapon against Superman, but still not able move on emotionally, not enough to be responsible for a child) added to the fact that it is pretty clear that Superman does not need to be responsible for Connor means that superman can verify that Connor is happy where he is, which he is. Then Superman can, with a clear conscience-since Batman is undeniably paranoid enough to have a plan if Connor becomes a villain or an actual problem, offer to help with unexpected powers and have Connor meet the rest of his family. 

So Red Robin is simultaneously mediating the reunion between his three children and their other families, all the while ready to take down a Cape that breathes wrong in their direction. 

Red Hood, sans helmet but with a mask, is creatively and rhythmically cursing Green Arrow out on behalf of Roy (I want you to picture a Red Hood that practices and excels in the art of Flyting).  Green Arrow had made an immediate, and poorly phrased, inquiry into Roy sobriety.  Roy has been sober for almost 3 years. 

Damian, codename Firebird, is critiquing several of the last major fights and their fighters while having a discussion about blades and underwater fighting with the Aqua family.  He is also keeping a protective eye on Nightwing and Robin, who are facing off against JLD (who would like to see if what happened to Raven is reversible-mostly to make sure she is healthy and whatever happened is stable, Nightwing and Robin are taking it to mean they want Raven back instead of Robin). 

Steph as Spoiler, Cass as Black Bat, and Duke as Orphan are explaining to a largely horrified audience of former Titans the complicated legacy of the Batman, Robin, and Batgirl names in Gotham (The current Batgirl, Helen Wayne-12 year old daughter of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne- is standing with Bruce and Alfred-mask firmly in place. She is new to the name and this is her first mission outside of Gotham). It is at this point that the Justice League finds out that there are a number of times when the Batman they dealt with was NOT the same person. Someone also brings up the rumor that Batman is actually a haunted piece of clothing, to the entire BatFams bemusement.

At no point during this process does anyone in the Batfam reveal their civilian identities (save the ones that are now known, like Bart, Cassie, and Roy).  They also do not admit to the fact that every single one of them steals and impersonates each other frequently (Tim holds the honor of having patrolled, handled an Arkham breakout, and met with someone outside of Gotham, and handled a world wide invasion in every vigilante identity from Gotham successfully).  

It also should be noted that this does not provide clarity to the Justice League about any topic regarding Gotham or its vigilantes.

[dairy-farmer]

Is me~ back to haunt you Ask Box o/ because I just had A Thought(tm)

What if~? The OPPOSITE of my Magic Sex Toy idea? Uno Reverse?

But how would that even work? You say. Tim would very obviously notice!

Oh ho ho~ ye of little Faith! *slaps my "join the Church of Civilian Tim" poster I obviously made myself* CONSIDER! Not a cape! Semi-stable schedules!

We open our scene with stalking. As ya do. Tim would prefer you call it "bird watching" or "observing the night life" but... let's be real here. Stalking. He's getting them NICE Premium Pics for his Definitely-Not-A-Stalker-Shrine. There's a newbie on the scene. A gaudy robe wearing mofo.

3 guess what HIS shtick is. First two don't count.

But! Thing is? Tim is no long a wee baby faced pre-teen. He is a Man(tm). Legally, twice over. And well... you find a LOT if Neat Late Night Shops running after the bats. He may have been persuaded by CERTAIN libidos that maybe he should check them out. Who can say? You can't prove ANYTHING. These bags are groceries and no you can't check..

Where was he? Ah, right, Pics of the Nightwing booty. *click*

Tim forgets Rule Number 1.5: ALWAYS keep an eye on what the villian is doing.

By the way... what that bright light? Oh, just a SPELL BOLT. Fuckin DODGE, MAN!

He fails to dodge.

🥺 H-His camera... Night-booty... Also why does he feel? Tingly? He doesn't stick around to figure it out. Grabs his TRAGICLY dead camera and bolts. Not getting caught at the scene of the stalking TODAY, no sir! Batmans definitely gonna check the area and he SHANT be there! Early night it is!

He gets back to his apartment. Still feels tingly... but less? Maybe those charms he looked up how to make protected him after all. Still, shouldn't push his luck, you know? He settles in for the night. Gets a warm shower.

Comes out and eyes the bags he dropped by the bed... and... well...

He DID wrap up early~ Maybe treat for Timmy time. He digs them out.

Weird.

They? We're already pretty life like (it's why he bought them) but... when he TOUCHES one? He swears it gets MORE life like? He really should look this up or something... suspect toys in Gotham and all... but on the other hand? Horny. And the boxes WERE closed. It's fiiiiine.

But which one? It's kinda been a while. And he doesn't want to be sore tomorrow. This one!

So Tim lays back. Let's himself enjoy working himself open. Then works the fake(?) Cock inside himself. And oh~ it's WARM. Twitchs. He let's himself enjoy a slow, lazy session. Get really sloppy and relaxed before finally finding juuust the right angle aaaand~

Across the city, the current Robin, Damian Wayne, is shaking APPART on a roof top. Sweat pouring down his temple, thighs trembling as he tries ro stop himself from rutting up into empty air. It won't help. Won't make the damnable TEASING go any faster. Wet and tight and PERFECT around him.

Came out of NOWHERE. One second he was patrolling, the next barely catching himself from falling. Stumbling into an alchove on some god forsaken roof. Hands fumbling to turn off his comms. Absolutely not. They could NOT hear him like this.

Panting into hands pressed tight over his own mouth to stiffle the sound he wants to make. Beg and demand that magnificent heat go FASTER. Plunge him DEEPER. But he CANT. Because there's no one there. Just him and the slowly increasing pressure in his balls, begging for relief.

Then, like prayers answered, it DOES. He could WEEP. Can't stop the aborted jerks of his hips as he chases his relief. Soon is trembling like the virgin he ISNT anymore as he spills into... into SOMEONE.

They take it so well. So perfectly.

He's RUINED. His hand will never be enough after this. And Tim has no idea.

Sure, he's not stupid. He didn't buy toys the fake cum. (So to be safe plan B it is) But? In the cold like of day? Prooooobably magic sex toys. Eh. It's Gotham. Not the weirdest thing to happen. Tim's keeping them.

And using them.

Thus begins the "phantom lover" incident, as Bruce will insist on calling it. Because "we were haunted by random fuckings" sounds... unprofessional. And he's a Dramatic Bitch at heart.

Damian, obviously, told NO ONE. Patrol? Utterly normal. Mind you business. But Bruce? Uncomfortable conversations for EVERYBODY~☆

See, Tim has a long day. His new camera isn't gonna be in for a WEEK. There is no point in going out. So his evening stretchs long and empty before him. Which... SPEAKING of things both long and things empty... >.>

He remembers. There was an absolute UNIT that he bought. It also has that base... which mean he could put it on the sex pillow. Try riding it... oh he's GOTTA, now.

Lucky for Bruce, he's not even in the cave when it hits. Unluckily, it is a cock teasing hell. Nothing to hold. No body to press close. No skin to run his hands across or ears to whisper filthy praise. So TIGHT. Fluttering and fighting to take him. Sinking little by little. Can't even HEAR him praising them. He can't even distract them, rub their clit and sooth them as muscles relax.

Can't hold them by the hips and work them up and down. They way he knows will work best. At angles that will make them SOB. Just nothing, nothing, nothing. Trembling and eager around him but so SLOW. Pausing again and again to adjust. Can't thrust in, can't pull out, only TAKE it. Let himself be teased.

But OH. When they finally, FINALLY get a rythme? He knows they can hear a word he says. Not yet. But the FILTH he growls. The audacity of what they're doing. He's GOING to find them. Going to pin them done and-

Tim spend the next day sore, but happy. Definitely not an "every day" sort of toy, but holy shit the orgasm. He hasn't slept this well in a WHILE. Though... when he wakes up? The Bats are acting weird. Violent, hyper-focused, seemly shaking down leads with a single minded enthusiasm. Weird.

Speaking OFF. Now he's wondering... does the possibly fake cum... TASTE like real cum?

One way to find out.

And... look. Dick may have been warned, but it's one thing to hypothetically get your bits milked dry and another to be doubled over seeing the face of god. He would gladly kill a man for the ability to grab hold of whoever is doing this and ram home. The mouth on him is a thing of wonder and it keeps TEASING the tip. They keep running soft, pampered, little hands up and down his length. God he wants them to feel him in their GUT. Fuck their face and their ass and any OTHER holes they have til everything is sloppy and wet and-

Yep! From the tast flooding Tim's mouth, that's real cum. Good his he got his shot. But it begs the question... whoms't exactly is he fucking? Tim's not sure he's comfortable with random hook ups. What if, Gods forbid, it linked him to the JOKER or something!? He'd have to blow up the city and everyone in it.

He considers this as he resumes his sta- he means, BIRD watching. Newly be-camera-d. Weirdly enough, now Nightwing is acting off too. What is going ON? Also... he could of SWORN he saw the Red Hood a second ago. Did he leave? Aaw D:>

.....what's that sound?

*boss music starts playing* That would be the Red Hood. Owner of the mythical Common Sense gene. HE immediately phoned a friend! And by THAT we mean he beamed up to The Watchtower to get poked at by magic users until he had a scanner.

Beep beep, mother fucker. You have explaining to do.

OR, counter argument.... Tim makes a run for it. Doesn't GET far. But he Sure Did Try! Jason is unamused. Consent is sexy, kids. And he has the gun to explain that. But! TIM has the panic babbling to explain his horny stupidity and innocence.

Fair enough. He's confiscating them though. If you get horny, just fucking ask.

Wait.... really? Does Jason really mean that?

And... two things. Cute Horny Idiot knows his identity. And.... he never said HE wasn't also apparently a horny idiot. Sure, why the fuck not.

He confiscate the magic contraband... then bends that twink in HALF. Comms off, back into it. Tim can barely breathe, pressed down so tightly to the bed as his guts get re-arranged, callused hands holding his legs spread, his childhood hero rumbling FILTH into his ear as hips snap against his, again and again and AGAIN. The world is hot and fuzzy around the edges and... AND-!

Jason's pretty damn smug that HES not only the one who found mystery twink, but them fucked him incoherent. He seriously considers just... not saying anything. Whoops! Nothing to find here folks. To bad the Watchtower is a fuckin snitch.

So obviously Bruce finds out. And wants to "talk to him". Which inevitably ends with Tim, pressed close to his front, held still as he "fucks him properly". Which as far a Tim is concerned is a god damned excuse to EMPALE him on his monster of a cock. Work it deeper and deeper, all while holding him like a lover, as he absolutely DESTROYS Tim's poor puss. Makes him lose count of how many times he's gotten off. Until everything is too bright and hyper sensitive. Til it's nearly hurting but not quite there and all Tim can think about, as he whimpers and drools, is SLEEP.

Oh... and THEN he wants to talk about how Tim knows their secret identies. Ask him in the morning or Tim WILL cry at you.

He wakes up in Wayne Manor. He did not go to sleep in Wayne Manor. He can't move his lower body with out pain. Bruce is clearly pretending he planned that. Liar.

Then? Karma. His horny chickens come home to roost. Has Bruce introduced you to his sons? This is Dick and Damian. They remember you. And would like a "word".

(The word is sex and they would like it as soon as possible)

👀👀👀!!!!!!!!!!!! a reverse magic sex toy!!!!!!!!!!!!! where tim tortures the other bats by fucking his little pussy with their cocks while they're forced to just suffer and endure it until he's finished. more than once they almost scream from frustration because tim finishes before they do and he pulls them out of his warm, slick little hole. 👀👀👀👀

[shokosmokes]

Vampire Gojo

—————————————————

vampire gojo x reader for kinktober (≧▽≦) lowkey kinda sped ran because october ends in what 2 days lol, not proofread

tags: blood play, biting, smut

The bass thrums through your chest, pulsing like a heartbeat that matches the sway of your hips. The music surrounds you, flowing through every nerve, every thought, drowning out anything outside this moment. A mix of neon pinks and electric blues from the strobes flood the room, stinging your eyes, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. You feel alive, caught somewhere between dizzy and invincible, tipsy enough that each beat blurs into the next.

Your hair clings to your skin, your cheeks are warm, and you’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the way the air feels like it’s vibrating, alive around you.

The crowd is a burst of color and strange shapes—pirates, witches, a couple in matching vampire fangs and dramatic capes. Someone nearby is wearing a full skeleton bodysuit that glows in the strobes, their bones lighting up with each flash. You catch glimpses of black spider webs strung up along the ceiling, fake bats hanging down from beams, and orange and purple lights snaking along the bar. Jack-o’-lanterns flicker from the corners, their jagged smiles casting eerie shadows over the dance floor.

And that’s when it hits—a pull, magnetic and unmistakable, cutting through the fog of the music and the haze of your drinks. It’s like the entire room has narrowed its focus, all the colors and lights fading into a low hum as something, someone, comes into sharp focus behind you. A warmth brushes your neck, feather-light but undeniable, sending a shiver down your spine.

For a heartbeat, everything pauses. You catch your breath, feeling that warm pulse just over your shoulder, almost close enough to touch. The noise around you fades, replaced by the subtle, thrilling awareness of this presence at your back. It’s like the air itself has thickened, pulling you in.

It’s a strange sensation, one that stirs a blend of excitement and fear in your stomach, a feeling you can’t quite shake. Slowly, you turn, heart pounding, and you’re met with piercing eyes—a shade of blue that almost seems to glow in the darkness, like the cold light of the moon.

There he stands, tall, impossibly confident, with a smirk that’s both playful and unnervingly sharp, like he knows the effect he has on people. His skin seems to catch the strobe lights in a way that almost feels too perfect, his white hair catching every bit of glow like it’s crafted to mesmerize. And you swear, just for a second, there’s a flicker of something dangerous in his gaze—something ancient and hungry, barely hidden behind his charming demeanor.

“I couldn’t help but notice you,” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk and yet laced with something darker, like he’s toying with words that have a hidden edge. His gaze doesn’t waver, pinning you in place, the rest of the club fading further into nothingness. It’s just him and you, caught in this strange, magnetic moment. There’s something alluring about him, something that makes you want to take a step closer even though every instinct in you says you should run. But you stay rooted, pulse racing, caught under his spell.

As you turn fully to face him, his gaze locks onto yours, and you feel like you’re staring into something endless. It’s unnerving, but there’s a playful softness there that makes it hard to look away, like he’s inviting you in on some inside joke only he knows.

“Didn’t think I’d find someone like you here tonight,” he says, his voice smooth and low. “I’m Gojo, by the way. You look… lonely.” His words are layered, as though he’s not just talking about tonight. His gaze drifts down, then back up to meet yours, leaving you feeling like he’s seen right through you, reading thoughts you didn’t even know were there.

You laugh, trying to keep your voice steady. “Lonely isn’t a crime, right?”

“Not at all.” He smiles, leaning just a little closer, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “But I think you deserve something a little more exciting than loneliness.”

There’s something unnerving about his words, but it’s mixed with a thrill that makes your heart race. His fingers lightly brush yours, and your stomach twists at the contact, like an electric shock straight to your core. You realize he’s waiting, watching, gauging your response with that endless gaze. Before you can second-guess yourself, you find yourself playing along, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“So, what do you suggest, then?” you ask, giving him a challenging look, as if daring him to surprise you.

He laughs, a low, rich sound that wraps around you like velvet. “How about a little dance, just the two of us?” He extends a hand, and you place yours in it without a second thought, letting him pull you a few steps to the edge of the floor, just beyond the swirl of costumes and flickering lights.

As you move together, there’s a slow, magnetic rhythm in how he holds you, one hand at your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse jump. The strobe lights catch in his eyes, making them flicker like they hold secrets you can’t even begin to guess at. It feels like time is slipping away, like you’re caught in some strange bubble where only the two of you exist, every detail of him pulling you further into his orbit.

He leans in close, voice barely a whisper. “You’re not scared of me, are you?” His breath brushes your ear, and a shiver runs down your spine. There’s an edge to his tone that makes you question if he’s joking, but it only draws you in deeper, a strange sense of daring building up inside you.

“No,” you reply, barely trusting your voice as you meet his gaze. ���Why, should I be?”

Gojo grins, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous allure. “Maybe.” He brushes a thumb along your jawline, guiding you to tilt your head just slightly. “But something tells me you’re the type who likes a thrill.”

You don’t know if it’s the drinks, the atmosphere, or just the feeling of him so close, but his words, his presence—everything is heady, intoxicating. You can feel the tension building, feel the silent invitation that hangs in the air between you both. He shifts his hand to your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft path just beneath your lip, lingering in a way that feels both tentative and demanding, like he’s waiting for you to close the distance.

Your heart skips as you give in, leaning forward, your lips meeting his in a slow, tantalizing kiss. His mouth is cool, unexpected, but it only makes him more irresistible, the sharp contrast sparking excitement deep in your chest. For a moment, you’re lost in him, his hands, his touch, his pull that keeps you pressed close.

The bass thrums against your chest, blending seamlessly with the rhythm of his movements. The world feels hazy, dreamlike, as if you’re moving through molasses, caught between reality and something far more surreal. The kiss breaks only for a second, and then his hands are on your waist, turning you around with a smooth, effortless spin. You gasp softly as your back presses into his chest, his presence solid, grounding you even as your head spins.

“Keep dancing,” he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and commanding, yet somehow gentle, coaxing you deeper into his spell. His hands find your hips, guiding you to sway to the beat as he moves in sync with you, each step perfectly matched. The heat of his body is undeniable, a stark contrast against the coolness of his touch, and every point of contact sends a rush through you that’s both exhilarating and dizzying.

You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm and his touch, the music vibrating through both of you, connecting you in ways words couldn’t. The crowd around you fades into a blur of costumes and strobe lights, leaving only the two of you. His breath is warm against your neck, and each soft exhale sends a shiver down your spine.

Then, his lips graze the curve of your shoulder, lingering just a little too long, drawing your awareness to the subtle, dangerous thrill of his touch. “You’re even more enchanting up close,” he murmurs, his voice like a dark promise against your skin. His words blur the line between a compliment and a lure, something meant to pull you deeper, to keep you close and enraptured.

You can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or his proximity that sends your mind into a whirl but the heat pooling at your core is becoming unendurable.

Your hands trail down his toned, almost iridescent arms, lacing your fingers with his tightly grasping at your hips. You guide one of his large palms south and he doesn’t hesitate a moment at your silent hint, his hand slowly moving down your hip and up your thigh, savoring the feeling of your skin against his palm. He can feel his own heart speeding up at the feel of your body under his touch, as if desperate to be closer to you.

He ducks his head slightly, his lips hovering just above your ear in the darkness. “Bold of you. I could be a serial killer and you’re letting me touch you like this…”

Like you could care right now. Something about him fills your senses with hypnotism. Like his presence alone magnetically pulls an unbearable pressure of lust straight between your thighs. You press his hand right where the pressure cumulates, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

His breath catches at the feel of his palm pressed against your core, a gasp escaping his lips as you lean your head back onto his shoulder. He lets out a low growl in his throat, his fingers flexing against the fabric, feeling the warmth of you against his hand.

He smirks against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against the sensitive skin there, his fingers teasingly tracing the line of your panties, barely touching the fabric, but enough to make you shiver. So drowned in lust you don’t register the way he’s practically suffocating himself in your neck. The fingers of his free hand trailing a gentle line across your pulse point before his tongue follows suit. The adulation of it all causing a trail of light airy moans to escape you.

The sound of it a dulcet melody to his ears. He hums against your skin, his lips and tongue continuing their assault along your jaw, his free hand moving up to grasp your chin, tilting your head upwards for better access as he whispers against your ear. “You like that? You like it when I touch you like this?”

His fingers dig into the fabric of your panties with more pressure, tantalizing circles around your ache, drawing louder moans past your lips. He giggles, “Youre so cute, all pliant just from my touch…” his hand trailing the span of your neck snakes it’s way away the base like he’s holding you in place as his fingers quicken their pace.

His piercing blue eyes watching you with a gaze that’s both amused and curious, the kind that sinks under your skin and wraps itself around your thoughts. He’s smiling down at you with a tilt of his head, as if you’re the only thing worth noticing, finding the way your face contorts in lust, appetizing.

“Fuck I need to taste you,” he says, almost purring, his gaze so steady that it steals the breath from your lungs.

His lips brush your neck, a sensation that sends electricity through your skin. The last coherent thought you have is a hazy realization of what’s happening—just before a sharp, piercing sensation blooms at your throat, followed by a dizzying wave of warmth and darkness.

Warmth trails wet down your neck almost mimicking the arousal dripping down your thighs. Blood. He laps at the vermillion sap like a starved dog. The suction of his bruising lips at your neck sends an airy whine past your lips. Your mind is spinning, dizzy, your knees buckle under the overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain.

“Youre practically putty in my arms. So pliable.” He groans hot against your skin.

Scarlet coats his chin as he tightens his grip around your neck, pulling your head back onto his shoulder before crashing his lips against yours. It’s feverish, the taste of iron filling your mouth as his tongue meets yours. “I like you… won’t kill you…” he breathes the words into your mouth as if they’re a set of throwaway words, as if the thought alone doesn’t make your pulse under his thumb race.

“My own little personal blood bag, yeah?”

[cookeybg]

The Colony Possessed - Chapter 1

Title: The Colony Possessed

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

Narrators: Hal Jordan, will add others as chapters progress

Honorable Mentions: Barry Allen, will add others as chapters progress

No romantic relationships

Stuff to Know: Cryptid Batfamily, maybe a bit spooky, Hopefully a bit amusing, Gotham LOVES Batman and she always will, it's concerning

[The Colony Possessed Table of Contents]

Chapter 1 - Hal didn’t get spooked easily.

Hal walked through the halls of the Watch Tower, the silence of the comfortably cool halls welcoming. The tower itself had many rooms for the various heroes to live in, but despite the ample room and pretty sweet amenities, which included not paying rent, the majority chose to live down on earth, himself included. Many stated that it was much more comfortable to be amongst the people, the whole work-life balance that has become popular as of late. While others placed the blame on the rumors of the place being haunted. In Hal’s opinion, what establishment didn’t have those kinds of rumors? In their line of work, where anything was possible, he wouldn’t be surprised if the place actually was. It didn’t bother Hal in the slightest, he enjoyed scaring the others with made up ghost stories. It was fun giving the tower a bit of a mythos, especially when a certain speedster got so spooked. He reached the door leading to the monitor room, tapped in his code and the door slid silently open. The room was dark, darker than normal, the florescent lights unable to penetrate it. A set of glowing, hazy, green eyes stared back at him, no pupil, no white, only green. Its unfocused body leaned over the hunched figure who sat in front of the monitors, its wispy arms wrapped around the figure’s neck. Hal felt his heart sink into his stomach, felt like the oppressive darkness would swallow him, felt the tinge of something, other, stain him. “You’re late.” The sitting figure turned toward him, voice like thunder, white eyes too bright. Hal let out a very unmanly scream, his focus on the horned monster in front of him. Green eyes forgotten. The monster stood, stalking toward him. The paleness of his muzzle left him shaking, did he smell blood in the room? Without much thought he surrounded himself in a spherical green shield, his body ready to bolt. No, he should fight, running sounded better. The hair on his body stood on end, his bladder ready to let go. The figure let out a grunt, one of disapproval, familiar. “What’s wrong with you?” Batman said, grumpily. Right, he was in the Watch Tower, he was here to relieve Spooky. This was Batman, not some monster, just some human, well he claimed to be human. He let the sphere dissipate and clutched at his chest trying to get his breath back. He looked around the room, it was well lit, the monitors doing their monitoring and Spooky was just standing there in all his broad shouldered, thin waisted, menacing demeanor. Yeah, there was nothing strange here, except for the bat themed furry. “Nothing.” Hal said, clearing his throat. Batman stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. Hal did his best to look nonchalant, the cold sweat at his back slowly drying, trying to control his slight trembling. No way in hell would he give Spooky the pleasure of knowing he got scared of him, no surprised, he got surprised. Batman grunted and walked passed him. Hal shivered, he could swear he heard something laugh, could feel cold fingers touch his cheek in passing and see a dark tendril trailing behind the black clad man. It was probably just his cape. Yeah, he must have been more tired than he thought, imagining things, jet lagged from his trip to Oa…the one he took three weeks ago. He texted Barry, asking him to join him at the tower, he didn’t want to be bored during his shift. That’s all it was, not the possible darkness coming to life. Hal didn’t get spooked easily.

Let me know what you think. I get super excited seeing comments, a bit nervous too, but it brings me joy.

I really enjoyed typing up Gotham possess so hopefully this one is just as fun!

FYI: I'll start adding the chapter in the title to my posts to make it easier to find.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if I could request a Batfam x Male reader who is Bruce's son (adopted or biological your choice) while out on patrol he gets either attcked by a strangely large dog or some villain injects him with some weird serum? He ends up with a super high fever as his body makes adjustments/changes (example his senses suddenly and painfully heightening) he's becoming a werewolf. Once reader is past the fever/beginning of the curse and are going back to normal life things are drastically different they feel more agitated, aggressive, stronger, restless and oh god the fear what has happened to them? What if they hurt someone they love? (You can decide if their eyes, teeth, claws change with moods)

I can and I will. Oh, this felt so amazing to write. And also a different gif for this oneshot. Maybe I will even write a part 2, who knows?

Summary: (Y/N) didn't believe in vampires and werewolves, but with from a bite of a big dog, he is forced to think about it.

Warnings: Mentions of rabies, blood, (Y/N) being sick and in pain, Bruce being in pain too, shifting, Bruce being scared for his son, medical inaccuracies, swearing

(Y/N) huffed as he watched over the city. Jason and him were perched over the roof, simply resting and eating the snacks from their pockets.

" What is the huffing for? " Jason asked his younger brother. He could tell that something was bothering (Y/N).

" I'm just worried about school, that's all. "

" School is a pretty wide term, you need to narrow it down. "

(Y/N) looked away for a moment, then blushed.

" There is someone then, " Jason said with a teasing tone, patting (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" If I tell you, you can't tell anyone else. If you do, sleep with one eye open. " (Y/N) threatened Jason.

" My lips are sealed. "

" Pinky promise? " (Y/N) asked, knowing that Jason was weak on that promise. He extended his pinky to Jason, who curled his pinky with (Y/N)'s.

" Pinky promise. " (Y/N) nodded and then they let go.

" Okay, so there is this guy... I'm sure he is straight, but he is so nice to me. And he didn't become my friend because I'm Bruce Wayne's son. "

Jason nodded. (Y/N) was good at reading people and their intentions. He was just a natural at it, didn't need much pointers.

" So the problem is that you think he is straight? "

" Yes. But I'm not sure. There is no evidence that he has been with guys. Just girls. And it makes me feel frustrated. "

" I think that we are all allergic to this, but how about talking? " Jason proposed the idea, making (Y/N) roll his eyes.

" Okay, normal conversation is out of the question. "

" And since when you are the one to talk about communication? "

" Since you are the most normal one. We all have high hopes for you. " Jason responded, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

(Y/N) crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

" Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with this family. I truly do. "

Jason cackled. (Y/N) huffed and looked down once he heard sounds of struggle down there.

" You got it little bat? "

" Yup. " (Y/N) responded, jumping down, making his landing softer with his cape.

The alley was dark and he couldn't really see into it. He froze once he heard growling. What the hell? He didn't even had the time to blink before a big dog jumped at him. He fell down with the dog, who was biting his arm. He could hear his gauntlet breaking. He tried to push the dog, but he grunted once he felt the sharp teeth breaking his skin. He managed to kick the dog away and the animal ran.

(Y/N) was breathing heavily from the excitement and the adrenaline running through him. He shakily brought his uninjured arm to his ear.

" B? "

" (Y/N) what's wrong? "

" I just got bit by a dog... He broke my gauntlet. "

" Shit. Hang on, I have your location. I will call Alfred. Stay put okay? "

" Okay... "

Jason landed next to (Y/N), freaked out of his mind.

" A dog bit you?! "

(Y/N) nodded, feeling slightly dizzy. Does he has rabies? Is he going to die by rabies? He has heard about the symptoms of the this disease and it was fatal. There were rare cases when somebody made it out alive from rabies.

" Okay, lean on the wall, you don't look steady. "

" Hood, what if I have rabies? "

" Don't think like that, be more positive. "

(Y/N) laughed. Jason was slightly worried about (Y/N). More precisely, he was worried about (Y/N)'s sanity. Laughing in this situations was not really normal.

" Thank God you are here old man. Get him tested for rabies immediately. "

" Will do. I will call Superman to help you with patrol. "

Jason nodded, watching with worry as Bruce picked up his son, knowing that (Y/N) will be to unstable to walk. He put him in the car, before turning to Jason.

" Tell your brothers the plan. "

" Let me know how the test turns out. "

Batman nodded and got into the Batmobile. (Y/N) had managed to stop the bleeding, but it was hurting. There was no adrenaline going through his veins right now and the pain was still taking it toll on him. He didn't even pay attention to what Bruce was saying. At the moment, he could care less. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to ignore the pain, but it wasn't successful.

" Hang on tight (Y/N). We are almost at the manor. "

" Bruce, before I die, I want you to know that I love you. And tell my brothers the same. "

" You won't die. Calm down. We will test you and give you the proper treatment. "

(Y/N) readjusted his arm, hissing in pain. Bruce stopped the car and he stepped out to help (Y/N). Alfred was there to help him too.

" Okay master (Y/N), just relax. We will patch you up in no time. "

(Y/N) was laying on a bed as Alfred was patching him up. There was 10 million pounds lifted of his shoulders once he didn't have rabies. But the wound was still throbbing and it was still bothering him. He was feeling weird.

" And we are done. The scarring should be minimal. "

(Y/N) just nodded. He was far too tired at this point. Without a word, he dragged his ass up the stairs. Bruce watched with Alfred.

" What is wrong master Bruce? "

" Something is wrong with (Y/N). And it's not about the bite. He usually shakes this type of thing off. "

" Maybe it was the fear of rabies. That fear kept him awake and excited and once the test was negative his body relaxed. "

" It may be, but I'm still worried. " Bruce admitted to Alfred.

" (Y/N) is going to be okay, he just needs to rest. "

(Y/N) is not okay. He was feeling as if something was stabbing him all over his body. On top of that, he was shivering from the called. What in the actual fuck is happening to him?

He whimpered in pain as he turned around. Why does this hurt so much? He needs to get Bruce, but he doesn't think that he will be able to even stand up, let alone walk.

Across the hall, Bruce opened his eyes. Something was wrong. He kicked the covers off and went to check on (Y/N). The others were getting back now.

Bruce opened the door to (Y/N)'s room and his heart sank once he saw his son in pain. He didn't see (Y/N)'s face, but he could guess from the body position and from the twitching of his limbs.

" (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, going over to check on his son.

He was shocked by the mere paleness of (Y/N)'s skin. He looked like death warmed over. Bruce put his hand over (Y/N)'s forehead. Bruce removed his hand, shocked by how high it was. He called Alfred who was going upstairs.

" (Y/N) has a fever, a high one. Should we give him an ice bath? " Bruce asked quickly.

" Let me check. "

After checking, Alfred ordered an ice bath for (Y/N). They need to bring this fever down now. Jason stopped by, confused as to what was going on.

" What's going on? "

(Y/N) winced from the sound of Jason's voice. Why is his hearing so sensitive? Why is everything so damn sensitive?

" (Y/N) has a high fever. We need to bring it down. Can you bring the ice? "

Jason nodded, quickly running to get the ice.

" Can you hear me (Y/N)? " Bruce asked, moving some of the sweaty strands of hair away from (Y/N)'s face.

(Y/N) nodded, trying to comprehend what was happening. He heard the word bath and he could an idea what that would entail. He muttered a soft no, shaking his head softly. A bath would entail the cold.

" I know you aren't a fan of cold, but we need to bring your fever down. "

(Y/N) let out a noise of protest.

" I have the ice. Tim help me out. " Jason said, taking a glance at (Y/N)'s pale face. He looked dead. Tim was also unsettled by the state of his younger brother. Bruce heard the water running and he gently removed the pajamas of off his son, leaving him in his boxers. (Y/N) was mumbling something incoherent and Bruce was sure that that was the noise of protest.

" I know, but we need to drop your fever. "

Jason peaked his head from the bathroom, telling Bruce that it was ready. Damian and Dick also came into the room.

" What is happening? " Dick asked.

(Y/N) felt that his ears were bleeding. Can everyone stop talking?

There were way to many voices in the room. And far too many people. (Y/N) just wanted to die... He was startled when Bruce picked him up and carried him to the bathroom. (Y/N) groaned when the far to bright light hit his eyes.

" Brace yourself son. "

(Y/N) hissed at the cold water. He tried to get out, but Bruce was having none of it. He gently pushed (Y/N) back to sit.

" Lean down, dunk your head. "

Bruce helped him out, gently lowering his son's head down. (Y/N) closed his eyes as his head was dunked. He gripped the edge of the tub with all of his might. He was shivering and chattering. Bruce sat down next to the tub watching his son.

" You boys can go back to your rooms. He is going to be fine. "

" Call us if you need anything. " Dick said as he ushered the others out.

Now it was just Bruce and (Y/N). Bruce watched with worry as watched his son. (Y/N) never had such serious fever. Everyone gets sick every once in a while, but this one tops the cake.

" What made you so sick? " Bruce murmured, gently removing some of wet strands from (Y/N)'s face.

(Y/N) was in a daze, feeling dead. He leaned his head towards Bruce, enjoying the contact. Bruce didn't know what to think about all of this. First there was fear that he would lose his son, but now there was worry. This is not normal.

The stayed there for 10 to 15 minutes and Bruce was then helping him out of the bath. He brought (Y/N) some clean clothes. (Y/N) had managed to change with shaky hands. He barley opened the door as he collapsed into Bruce's arms.

" Okay, come on, lets get you into bed. "

He tucked his son in, making sure he was warm. Bruce glanced at the alarm clock. It was 4 am. Bruce sighed before laying down next to (Y/N). He wouldn't be able to go to his room and sleep peacefully knowing his son was so sick that he couldn't even think straight.

He closed his eyes as his son was sleeping already, clearly exhausted.

(Y/N) was doing slightly better. The fever was still there, but it wasn't as bad as it was few days ago. He was still in pain, but it wasn't as bad. And they tested him again for rabies. Negative.

But (Y/N) felt differently. His vision was good before, but now it seemed to be even better. But what bothered him, was his hearing. He doesn't remember it being this good.

And there was something about his sense of smell that bothered him. What the actual fuck? He was eating fruit that he got from Bruce and Alfred, but the smell was way to intense. He scrunched his nose, but ate the fruit anyway. It's the only thing he could eat without feeling nauseous.

His brothers were popping in from time to time, making sure that he was okay. Although, they weren't going to admit it, they were scared for their youngest brother that night. First it was the dog bite and the fear of rabies and the fever on top of that? Jesus Christ.

He coughed while taking his laptop. He was in the mood for some Golden Girls. He needs something fun to lift him up.

After 2 more days he was healthy. 100% healthy. But he didn't feel like it. Everything was enhanced. He now knew that his hearing was better, alongside his eyesight. But the smell freaked him out more then anything.

His stomach way turning all the time from the intense smells. Sometimes he couldn't stand Bruce's cologne. And Jason's cologne too. What the fuck? He never remembers it being so strong.

And that wasn't the only thing. He got way more restless. He had to workout in the gym longer then usual just to feel slightly tired. Just slightly. Usually when he worked out he was tired and aching, but now it didn't feel like anything, it was just... Nothing. And it made him afraid.

He had to investigate what the hell bit him. That was not a normal dog. It was bigger than any of the breeds he has seen. He was brought back from his train of thoughts when he heard somebody in front of his room. Judging by the footsteps, it was Jason. Woah... There was a knock and Jason peaked his head in once he got the permission.

" Do you want to spar with us? "

" Sure, give me a minute. "

Jason nodded and left the room. (Y/N) sighed. He should have said no, but he didn't want to be restless anymore. He changed his shirt and went to their gym. Everyone was there too. This is not good.

" Come on (Y/N). " Jason said, moving towards the mat.

(Y/N) wrapped his knuckles to protect them. He moved on the mat too, getting ready. Bruce whistled and Jason and (Y/N) went at it. (Y/N) was quick and far more aggressive then usual. Bruce tilted his head while he was watching. Something got into (Y/N). What? He doesn't know, but he will figure it out.

Everything was going fine, until he kicked Jason too hard and there was a crack. Jason gasped for air as he gripped his ribs. (Y/N) watched his hands with wide eyes. Everyone circled Jason, worried about him. (Y/N) couldn't move. What? Oh God what is happening to him?

His vision went blurry as he ran from the room, his father shouting his name. He ran out of the manor, stopping at the edge of the yard where the woods started. Something was wrong with him.

" (Y/N)! Wha- " Bruce stopped once he saw (Y/N)'s eyes. They weren't (E/C) anymore, they were blood red. His eyes widened at the sight of his son in that state. He needs to call Zatanna or Doctor Fate. Maybe both of them.

Bruce froze once he heard the bones breaking and (Y/N) turning. (Y/N) cried from the pain he was going through. Bruce felt his mouth drop as a big gray wolf replaced the place of his son. (Y/N) looked down to look at his paws, whining and crying. Bruce tried to approach his son, but (Y/N) ran. Bruce cursed. He wasn't going to catch up with him. Fuck.

(Y/N) ran for a long time. He stopped by a small lake, moving to drink some water. It got dark and he was exhausted. He laid down on the ground after drinking the water, ready to go to sleep. He will think about his return in the morning.

He looked down at his front paws. So a dog that bit him was a werewolf. But a bigger question is, how is he going turn back into a human? How? His ear twitched when he heard rustling. His lifted his head up, before quickly standing up. He tensed at the thought of somebody hunting him. But there were no hunters here in this forest.

He sniffed the air, smelling nothing. He felt something prick him at his right side. His eyes widened once he saw a dart. A tranquilizer dart. He was afraid. He felt dizzy, falling to his side. He whined before he lost consciousness.

Bruce sighed as he lowered the gun, walking towards his son. Zatanna and Doctor Fate approached the wolf. Zatanna knelt down next to the wolf's head.

" And he had a high fever before this? " Zatanna asked Bruce.

" He did. Why are you asking? "

" That means that his body was preparing him for turning. Well, shifting. And I have to say, he was lucky. He was bit by a werewolf that can control his shifting. "

" So (Y/N) can shift whenever he wants? "

" Yes, but the shift is tied to his emotions too. Werewolves learn to control their emotions too, so they don't shift based on their emotions. "

Bruce nodded. He gently petted (Y/N)'s wolf head, feeling the soft fur under his hand.

" But he will be able to have a some what normal life? " Bruce asked, trying to control his voice.

" Yes. " Doctor Fate answered, observing the wolf.

Bruce sighed in relief.

" Lets get him back. He needs to shift. We know a person that can help him learn all he needs to know. " Doctor Fate added.

Bruce picked the wolf up, walking with Zatanna and Doctor Fate back. He was somewhat relieved that (Y/N) will be able to leave normally. For now, they need to learn how to deal with this.

[antebunny]

There’s something wrong with Jason. 

Early autumn of Cass’s first full year as Bruce Wayne’s daughter. Trees droop, browned and unbearably brittle, onto the cracked sidewalks. Children skip and slouch and trudge their way back into classrooms for another dull year of learning. The exception is Cass, happily at home with Barbara and Bruce, Tim and Steph and Dick and all the new members of her new family. None of them know quite how old Cass is, and resolutely refuse to have anything to do with Lady Shiva or David Cain, the only people who could tell them. But Barbara went to bat for Cass, arguing that the American education system was not beneficial for all American children, much less Cass, who was still adjusting, as Barbara put it. Learning to come out of her shell. So there’ll be no school for Cass this autumn or any autumn. Only apple cider and hot cocoa, safely tucked away by the fifth fake fireplace of Wayne Manor, curling up in window frames just to listen to the psithurism before the rain, and a flood of scarves and mittens and boots as every member of her family tries to prepare her for the incoming Gotham winter. 

Personally, Cass doesn’t get why introverts are always encouraged to become more extroverted. She thinks extroverts should be told to shut the hell up more often. Perhaps it is an American thing, she muses, but then, she loves her new family for their relentless positivity and inability to shut the hell up. From Steph, who drags her on girl’s night after girl’s night with Barbara, Harley, and all the other crazy girls of Gotham who want to paint their toenails neon purple with little stars and crack skulls open just to feel something. (Whenever Harley robs a department store she always sends Cass a dress she thinks she’ll like in the mail. Bruce always gives her a look, sends it back, then buys ten variations of the same dress). To Tim, who is hard at work learning ASL so they can communicate better and shares all of his embarrassing interests with her. Niche anime, questionable manga, decrepit video games, card games, board games, and a stash of Batman and Robin photos he swears her to secrecy over. To Dick, who remains upbeat and cheerful in the face of all her silences and stony stares. He always makes time to take her (and usually some of his other little siblings) to a pizza parlor, or an ice cream parlor, or an abandoned parking lot perfect for doing donuts. Dick Grayson is a busy man who gained most of his current family after turning eighteen and losing most of them beforehand. Yet his heart opens, bottomless and sincere, for every new orphan that shows up on Bruce’s doorstep. When he drops by Cass’s ballet studio, exhaustion crinkling in every forehead line and eye wrinkle, how can she not love him back? 

So she takes it personally when Jason continues to avoid them. Perhaps she could ignore it if it was clear that he wanted nothing to do with them, no matter how much the others missed him. But everytime they run into Jason it is clear to Cass that he misses them fiercely. She may not be an expert on the standard personality and behavioral ticks of Jason Todd, but she is an expert on body language, and everything about Jason screams bad, wrong, liar, liar, LIAR–

Cass goes to Barbara. 

These days Barbara spend the vast majority of her time in the Clocktower. Ever since the Joker, Cass has been told, and hung up the Batgirl cape. She rotates between the library and the tower, retreating from regular life while her law degree collects dust. And even though Dick gets sad whenever he see her, and Barbara feels guilty and helplessly furious, he never says anything. The two of them dance around in silent conversations–I love you, I know, I’m sorry–that start all over again the next time they see each other. As if Cass can’t tell.

“Cass! So good to see you.” Barbara smiles and wheels herself over to the window when Cass drops in unannounced. She’s in pain.

Cass is not a vigilante but she was trained to kill them. When she takes to the rooftops of Gotham, she wears a nondescript black mask. She shucks this mask off now so that Barbara can see her face and plods over to her dearest friend and surrogate mother. Steph tells her the term is “mom friend” and not to get weird about it, but Cass believes she’s well beyond the point of being considered weird. 

“Jason,” Cass announces. 

She leans down awkwardly to hug Barbara, so she misses everything that is said in response. By the time she straightens, Barbara’s face worries, deep emotional lines of someone whose loved ones spend 80% of their time in mortal peril, and her body twitches backwards, itching for the long row of computers and tech equipment on the far wall. Barbara is concerned about Jason, but she believes the trouble lies in whatever Jason’s doing right now. That she’ll know what to do with just a little cyberstalking. But Cass’s concern is more long-term than that. 

“Is there something wrong with Jason?” Barbara’s cadence indicates that this is not the first time she’s spoken. Oops. Cass missed her out-loud words because she was so busy paying attention to what Barbara was actually saying.

Cass points at the computers. She doesn’t know how to explain it with words.

Barbara takes the hint and wheels back over to her computer lab, where she pulls up all the surveillance footage she can of Jason’s usual haunts until she finds him disappearing up the fire escape of an old brick apartment building in the very edge of Burnley. Any further south and he’ll be in Gotham’s Upper East Side, and Jason can’t stand that neighborhood. 

As Robin, Jason had to be bullied into the Diamond District and the Upper West Side, but Bruce dragged him into Chinatown to practice his Cantonese and Jason went to Old Gotham willingly for the vibe. A lot of gargoyles, Cass has been told. Worn bricks, gothic spires, flying buttresses, and properly intimidating gargoyles for brooding. There is so much that Cass knows about Jason from other people. The reverse cannot be said, because Jason doesn’t really talk to them anymore. 

Barbara boots up a drone from the Bat-hideout closest to Jason’s apartment and flies it over. It’s a lovely little three-room apartment on the third floor of an old brick apartment building. One bedroom and one bathroom, which Barbara does not attempt to enter, and a kitchen/living room area. All the furniture in the living room looks new. A comfy armchair, two bookcases overflowing with newly-purchased novels, shiny new wood cabinets and a marble finish to the kitchen island. Three wooden stools, two of them as sturdy as the day they were bought. 

Remotely, she and Cass peer through the window as Jason makes his guns disappear before he reaches his kitchen island. Stripped down to a form-fitting black shirt and brown pants, Jason washes his hands, preheats the oven, and sets about making lemon and herb salmon.

“This looks pretty normal to me,” says Barbara.

Jason slides into one of the wooden stools around his marble kitchen island counter. He drums his fingers on the marble. He checks the time on his phone. The salmon, now covered in garlic, thyme, and rosemary and such, is still baking in the oven. 

“He’s just making himself dinner,” Barbara observes. She won’t call Cass a liar, but this isn’t worthy of the label “trouble.” 

She doesn’t see it. Cass is at a loss. If Barbara cannot see what is in front of her eyes, how can Cass possibly explain it? 

“Look,” Cass insists. 

After checking the time on his phone again, Jason gets up and paces. At over six feet tall, he makes his cozy apartment seems small. He picks a book out of his shelf, seemingly at random. He examines the cover. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. He puts the book back and resumes pacing the perimeter of his small home. 

Barbara sighs. “I don’t understand.”

She wants Cass to be able to just spit it out, but won’t say so because she knows Cass cannot. They’ve reached a stalemate. 

Here is what Cass cannot articulate: Jason Todd is lonely. Loneliness is built into Jason’s bones. It gathers in his bed at night like a soldier returning from war. It lashes at the confines of his self-imposed cage. When the loneliness threatens to break him, it explodes in the form of rage at anyone who dares to be near him. Ah, but what a liar that rage makes of him. Claiming he loves nothing and no one when all Jason has ever done is love. Raging against the state of his beloved city, fury at the father he will not forgive, and hate–blackened love–for those he once called family. A cruel, self-perpetuated cycle. The lonely drives him to rage which in self-delusion to hide his shame he lies about until everyone learns to stay away. Thus creating more loneliness for Jason to feast in until he inevitably withers away from eating nothing but emptiness. 

And Cass fears she is the only one who sees it. But Jason is a fool for thinking no one else understands. Is Cass not the unwanted daughter of a world-class assassin and the wanted weapon of a monster? Her first months in Gotham she did nothing but drive people away because she didn’t know any better. The only reason she has good people around her now is because there is something so irrefutably good about the Bats. Barbara never withdrew her hand even when Cass bit her literally and metaphorically. Bruce took her in without a second thought for her background. Tim tries his hardest to be a good brother to her even when he’s hurting. Steph and Dick didn’t blink twice at the half-feral, non-verbal, former assassin addition to their family. They bring their good cheer out for Cass even when she can tell it’s fake, and she can always tell. 

So why does Jason, who is hurting and so lonely that it hurts Cass to look at him, insist on pushing them away? 

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part eight

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

hope is a dangerous thing.

a/n: it’s heeeeeeeeere. full disclosure - it might be a few days until part 9 goes up; as far as I know, tonight’s ep shows some flashbacks which means I might have to do a bit of revamping! plus I really don’t wanna burn myself out with this one, there’s still so much ground to cover!!

word count: 4.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, yearning, nightmares, mentions/allusions to sex, if I missed something let me know.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨

The days bleed into months, and before you know it, the snow comes. Winter.

You haven’t left the mall. Or, haven’t been allowed to leave the mall. Every time you cross paths with Cowan, it’s the same conversation.

“Let me through the gate.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You’re nothing if not persistent, but you try your best to make yourself useful. You and Deanna have formed some kind of friendship, and you help her out as much as you can. At first, you don’t know much about treating injuries besides the bit you remember from an old first aid course, so you pay close attention to her movements, handing her supplies when she needs it, taking her orders in stride.

She was an army nurse, you learn, and lost her husband long before the outbreak. “Just as well,” she told you, a sad smile on her face. “He barely came back to me after Vietnam. I don’t think he could have survived this.”

They never had kids, but she tells you her niece and nephew may as well have been her own. “They live in Cape Cod, on the coast.” Her face went dark. “Lived.” Then she looked at you. “You remind me of my niece, you know. Fierce little thing.”

She teaches you how to dress wounds and clean them, when something needs stitches and when glue will do, how to stretch the materials you have left as far as possible. When injured soldiers show up after the first snow, she puts you to work.

Cowan’s among them, a ricochet bullet in his shoulder. Deanna hasn’t shown you anything like that yet, and you balk a little as he pulls off his gear, blood pouring down his arm. “Wait here.”

You sprint across the floor to where Deanna is literally elbow-deep in another soldier who clearly hadn’t been as lucky as Cowan. “What d’you need, kid?”

“Nothing,” you say quickly, spying a pair of forceps on the table nearby and grabbing them. “Just these. I’ll come help you after—”

“You go take care of Nicky,” she orders, her voice almost stern. “You don’t leave his side until you know he’s all right, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You sprint back to Cowan, finding him hunched over, hand pressed to his arm, blood staining his knuckles. You grab a pair of scissors from the tray beside you, hooking your arm under his shoulder and getting him upright. “Fuck!” he shouts, and you grit your teeth.

“Sorry.” You cut away his t-shirt, pulling the fabric from where it’s wedged between his fingers, and his other hand curls into a fist on the table. “What happened?”

“Bunch of runners,” he breathes out, and you yank his hand away from the wound quickly, replacing it with a thick scrap of towel, pressing your hand into his shoulder. He winces, tipping his head back. “Came right up over the fence.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “I told you that chain link wouldn’t hold forever.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should run the world.” He meets your gaze, holds it. “You ask me to let you through the gate again, and I swear to god—”

“I wasn’t going to,” you say quickly. It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “But I want to help, if I can.”

The towel has already soaked through with his blood, and it makes your gut twist. “Help?”

“Teach me to shoot,” you say. You’re trying to distract him, and grab his hand, pressing it against the towel. “Hold this.”

“Bat’s not enough for you?”

“No, but the rifle I found in the sporting goods shop upstairs will definitely help,” you reply, grabbing the forceps and wiping them down with a bit of antiseptic. “Especially once I get out of here.”

Cowan stares at you, that hard gaze he’s become famous for. “Why d’you wanna get out of here so bad? You’re—”

“If you tell me I’m safe here, Corporal, I’m leaving that bullet in your shoulder.”

He actually laughs. “God, you are something else, you know that?” 

You freeze, for a moment. Suddenly, you’re standing in your kitchen, in Austin. Joel Miller is handing you a bouquet of daisies and telling you you’re beautiful and kissing your cheek. The memory catches you off-guard, and you only come back down to earth when Cowan squeezes your wrist, peering at you.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply instantly, shaking your head. “We need to get that bullet out.”

You hold up the forceps, bracing your hand on his collar. “This isn’t gonna feel great, is it?”

“Well, it sure as hell won’t tickle,” you admit. “Is this the first time you’ve taken a bullet?”

“No. Second.”

“Pull this away, when I say,” you instruct, tapping the back of his hand. “I gotta be quick.”

“Have you done this before?”

You lift a shoulder, a nervous little laugh falling out of your mouth. “I watched Deanna do it a couple weeks back. It was in the guy’s gut though, not his shoulder.”

“Did he live?”

You go quiet. “Move your hand.” He hesitates. “Now, Cowan.”

He moves his hand, pulling the towel away, and you push the forceps in. The air seems to go completely still as you fish for the bullet. Cowan’s face is screwed up in pain, both hands curled around the edge of the cot, white-knuckled. “Did the guy live?”

“No,” you admit finally, feeling the soft clink of metal hitting metal. Bingo. “But we found a bite on his leg after, so the internal bleeding was probably the better way to go.” You twist the forceps, and he hisses in pain. “Tell me about the first time you got shot.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?” you quip, and he actually smiles.

“It was basic training,” he starts, and you nod, focusing on his shoulder. The forceps pinch around the bullet, and you pull ever so slightly. “My buddy and I were just fucking around. He didn’t know the thing was loaded.”

“He shot you on purpose?” you ask, brows raised. You pull a little more, making sure the grip holds.

“Not on purpose,” Cowan replies, and you can feel his eyes on your face. “We were just kids, then. Just screwing around, trying to fill the time. And now…”

“He still around?” you ask, prompting him further. “Your buddy.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “He moved to California, after we finished basic. I really hope he—motherfucker!”

You pull the bullet all the way out with a flourish, dropping the forceps onto the tray and grabbing a fresh piece of gauze. He hisses again when you press the new gauze to his shoulder, and you scoff. “Baby.”

“You just pulled a bullet out of me.”

“I’m aware,” you throw back, pressing a little harder. “I still think you’re a baby.”

He gives you the signature Stare before glancing down at his shoulder, taking over the pressure you’re holding, and you step away to get an actual roll of gauze. “Meet me at the south entrance tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.” You turn back, your brows raised. “To shoot, I mean. Bring the rifle. You have ammo?”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Yeah, managed to find a few boxes.”

“Good.”

You nod, unable to hide the grin that pulls your lips. “Good.”

+

They’re somewhere near Nashville. He thinks; Tommy’s been navigating, Joel’s just been following his brother. The weather has held up mostly, but now they’re holed up in some shack Tommy found in the woods, hiding from the rain. It’s been constant, nearly three days now, and Joel can’t fucking sleep.

He hasn’t slept well since they left Austin, not that he expected to. The few beds they’ve found have been heaven, but every time he closes his eyes, the dreams come, and he’s reliving that night all over again. Doesn’t matter how many days go by, and he knows it doesn’t matter at all how much time passes. He’s never gonna forget.

He took first watch, told Tommy to get some shuteye and parked himself on the front porch, watching the rain slide of the metal roof, pooling in front of the shack, running downhill like a river. There’s mud caked on his boots, and he feels dirty down to his bones. It’s been a few days since they had real shelter, though, and he revels in the silence, being away from the main roads.

But the silence lets his mind wander, and when that happens, it lands on you, more often than not. Sarah is always there, in the back of his head, the sound of her voice forcing him further, but when he gets a moment alone — a rarity now — he lets himself remember you.

Your last conversation still haunts him. The fear in your voice, the way you’d sounded so out of it when you first picked up, and he’d brought you back down, focused you. Patch yourself up. Take what you can and go. Get the hell out of Boston.

I’ll find you, baby.

Sometimes, the hope invades his heart like a disease, branching through his limbs and making his chest ache with it. He has to hope that you made it out, that you’re alive somewhere, that your paths are leading straight towards each other. Every time they come over a hill or turn a corner, he feels that tug in his gut, a quiet promise that this time, you’ll be heading straight towards him, a big smile on your face.

But Joel knows that hope is a dangerous thing to let in, to nurture. As hard as he wishes you alive, he knows the opposite is more than likely. He sees it when he does manage to get some sleep, nightmares infiltrating his brain until he wakes up panting, the phantom feeling of his daughter’s blood on his skin melting away far too slowly.

Right now, he’s forcing himself to remember the good.

That last week, before you’d left for Boston. He took you to that open field every night, almost, held you in his arms, kept you close and never let your mouth get too far from his. He’d buried his face in your neck and memorized the smell of you, the feel of you, the taste.

You pulled on his hand, led him away from the truck and into the open field. You laid down in the grass side by side, the sound of crickets and the soft wind the only thing you could hear. He’d leaned over you, cupped your cheek in his palm, rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip. You kissed his fingers, giggling when he rolled himself on top of you a moment later, his mouth chasing yours.

He planted his hands either side of your head and you reached for his belt, dragging your hands down his chest. He could feel your heartbeat, when he pressed himself against you, the twitch of your knees along his ribs as you held him closer. That’s how it always was between you two, who could get the other closer, how much could you pull until the space between no longer existed?

Joel still remembers the noise you made when he pushed into you, right there in the grass. The way you’d dug your nails into his back so fucking hard it made him moan louder, the sound echoing through the night. The blissful smile on your face as the pleasure ripped through you, and Joel felt it, the tightness of your body, the way he could taste it on your tongue.

God, he loved you so goddamned much.

A clap of thunder yanks him out of his head, and he flinches hard, the gun in his lap sliding onto the wooden porch. He’s on his feet in a moment, shoving both hands through his hair, and without another thought, he steps out from under the shelter of the roof. The rain pelts him instantly, soaking through his clothes, making goosebumps rise on his arms.

It feels good. He tilts his face towards the sky, feels the water drip down his arms.

He hears your voice, in his head. What you said that night, under the stars, laid out on his chest, your eyes glassy. “I won’t ever stop thinking about you, Joel Miller. Not for a million years.”

He never should have let you leave Austin. Not in a million years.

+

Cowan stays true to his word. He teaches you to shoot, not just the rifle you’d stolen from the mall, but other guns, too. Shows you some tricks with the hunting knife you’d found in Dean’s bag, even teaches you how to build a fire. You stop asking him to let you through the gate, and he stops giving you the Stare. After a few lessons, he starts bringing you along on patrols. You carry the rifle and the bat, the hunting knife strapped to your thigh. The temperature is dropping, the snow sticking consistently, and the UPS jacket you’d stolen months back comes in handy, keeping you warmer than you expect.

There’s not much conversation to be had between you two, and when you do talk, it’s light shit. You avoid the subject of families, partners and the like. You mostly talk about music, and you laugh the hardest you have in a long time when Cowan admits to you that he’s seen the Backstreet Boys in concert three separate times. You’re bent in half with laughter, tears in your eyes, and he starts laughing along with you.

The laughter stops, however, when you circle back to the mall. There are four trucks outside, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up when you see Deanna step through the doors. Everyone else who’d been inside, faces you recognize, people you’ve met, they’re all coming out of the mall. Deanna has blood on her scrubs, a strange look in her eye.

“McCoy!” Cowan calls once you’re close enough, and a soldier turns. “What’s going on?”

Both the soldiers step to the side, and you make a bee-line for Deanna, swinging your rifle onto your back. “What happened?”

The older woman looks shaken, and she grabs you once you’re close enough, her hands digging into the sleeves of your coat. “T-Tim,” she stutters, and your brow hardens. You know who she’s talking about;  Tim, his wife Marcy, their two kids. Their cots weren’t far from yours in the department store. You’d helped their youngest son, Henry, when he’d cracked his forehead on the tile, tripped on his own feet chasing his little sister, Emily, around the mall. Hell, you’d had dinner with them just the night prior, you and Tim had made the kids giggle slurping your noodles. “He just…” Deanna trails off, and fear twists your stomach in an iron vice.

“Are the kids okay?”

She nods furiously, still holding onto you tightly. “But…but Marcy, she…he just…” She looks back towards the mall, gestures for a moment before clapping her hand over her mouth. “I’d never seen one up close before.”

Deanna collapses into your arms, and you hug her tightly, half worried she’s passed out, but the worry passes when you feel her hands fist in the back of your jacket. Over her shoulder, you see a soldier leading Henry and Emily outside. Henry still has a bandaid on his forehead, and Emily is clutching his hand, tear tracks on her face. Your heart aches.

“I’m gonna go with them,” Deanna tells you, pulling away after a moment, and you just nod. She jogs after the kids, and you turn back to where Cowan and McCoy are still talking. Cowan has a hard look on his face, and his jaw tightens as you approach.

“What the hell is going on?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re supposed to be safe in the mall, Corporal. That’s what you said. I could have been halfway to Texas by now. Hell, I could have been in Texas by now.”

“I know what I said,” he bites back before heaving a sigh. “We got an update, from FEDRA HQ.”

You lift a brow. “And?”

He glances at the stream of people still filing out of the mall. “The fungus, the thing that’s causing this, it’s in the food. We need to check everything that was in the mall, everything that was handed out. Production dates, expiry dates, it’ll give us an idea of what needs to be destroyed, but—”

“But there’s a chance everyone in there ate something contaminated,” you finish, swallowing back the bile that rises in your mouth. “There’s a chance we’re all already infected.”

Cowan’s throat bobs. “Yes.”

“What do we do now, then?” you ask, jutting your chin towards the people filling the street outside the mall. “Where do we go? Standing around here like this, it’s just gonna attract them.”

“There are buildings that have been deemed safe,” McCoy tells you, and Cowan just nods. “The quarantine zone has been marked off. We take everyone there, separate you for now, keep an eye out for anyone changing.”

Cowan nods. “Check everyone for bites, again.” He meets your eyes for a moment before calling for two other soldiers. He starts barking orders, and you turn to McCoy.

“I thought the city was the quarantine zone.”

He shakes his head. “Too much space. FEDRA gave us the borders, showed us where to go. The walls’ll go up soon, and we’ll be that much safer.”

You balk. “More chain link bullshit?”

McCoy shakes his head again. “No, ma’am. Bricks. Guard towers, barbed wire. The whole kit and caboodle.”

You swallow hard. Shit.

+

The chain link stays up. The walls of the quarantine zone press deeper into the city, and as promised, you’re shuffled into apartment buildings. There’s still blood everywhere you look, damaged ceilings, broken windows. It’s not perfect by any stretch, but the building itself is intact, and that’s apparently good enough for FEDRA.

They put you in separate units, the number of survivors taking up less than half the building. You stay with Deanna and the kids. Emily clings to your side, her arms wrapped around your leg more often than not. She hasn’t said a word since you left the mall.

The soldiers patrol the streets and the hallways, and after a week, six more people turn. They’re put down without a second thought, their bodies carried out of the building. The food supplies are carted from the mall to a warehouse within the new zone limits, and everything that was given to you is taken back for inspection. It’s a lot of waiting, of pacing the floor of your new home, of trying to come up with ways to distract the kids from what’s happening.

Shortly after you’d been evacuated from the mall, they’d brought out Tim and Marcy’s bodies, and your hands had started to shake violently when you saw the blood on Tim’s face, the deep gouge in his wife’s throat. Bullets in both their skulls. It had all happened so fast.

And you’d been eating the same things they had.

The worry gnaws at your stomach. You’d protested, at first, when Deanna insisted you come with them. You couldn’t explain it, couldn’t bear to see the pain on the older woman’s face deepen when you admitted you feared the worst. She still managed to pull it out of you, later that night, after you’d put the kids to sleep in the only bedroom, the pair of you sitting at the kitchen table.

“If it happens, it happens, kid,” she said, gripping your hand tightly. “And we deal with it. That’s all we can do.” You’d nodded, and she’d reached into her bad, producing a bottle of gin. “Something to take the edge off.” You nodded again.

A week passed, the six were put down, and you were safe. Your mind started to wander. Trucks filled with construction material arrived at the edges of the quarantine zone every day; you could see them from the apartment. More FEDRA soldiers, some venturing into the city to find usable materials. Soon enough, the wall was starting to take shape.

And if the wall went all the way up, that meant you were never getting out of Boston. Never getting the opportunity to find your family, or Joel.

But, the wall has only just begun, which means there are still holes in the boundary, and with more soldiers assigned to the quarantine zone itself, that means the chain link is left unguarded, for the most part.

They announce curfew hours and the consequences for breaking those hours, and you start planning. Collecting things, weapons and food that won’t spoil, refilling your first aid kit. You take what ammo you can find, nicking a few boxes from the FEDRA tents when no one’s paying attention. You still have the maps from the bookstore, your hastily-drawn path still marked on the pages.

You wait for nightfall, and you run.

You leave Deanna a note, tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’ll try to send a message that you’re safe, once you are. The kids are fast asleep, and you kiss their heads before you go.

Your path through the city leads you right past your apartment, and your heart nearly stops. The entire front of the building has been exploded inward, no doubt a result of the bombings. If you look hard, you can see the edge of your living room, behind the twisted rebar and broken bricks. You want to linger, but you don’t, the shout of an Infected pushing you forward, gripping the bat tightly.

The construction of the wall left a lot of tools laying around, and it was all too easy to find a pair of large wire cutters. You found a piece of chain link in an alley within the quarantine zone, and tested it out. Sure enough, a clean cut.

There are still patrols along the chain link, but they’re more sporadic. The guard posts have been dismantled, dragged further inwards, set up again along the new walls. You see a soldier pass by the spot you’re aiming for, and wait until he’s completely out of sight before bolting across the pavement to the fence, pulling out the wire cutters.

You have one foot through when you hear a familiar voice.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Cowan’s kept his distance, since you moved into the building. It bothers you and doesn’t at the same time. But in a way, you got what you wanted from him; you’re more confident that you could make it beyond the fence now. Especially with the rifle strapped to your back.

Your head drops, and you pull your leg back out, straightening and turning on your heel towards him. “You really thought I wouldn’t try it?”

“I really didn’t think you were this stupid,” he shoots back, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. You will die out there, why don’t you get that?”

You grip the chain link, the metal rattling beneath your shaking fingers. “I can’t just sit around here for the rest of my life, Cowan.”

“So you’d rather waste it, out there?” He gestures towards the fence with his rifle, to what lays beyond. “What good will that do? You’re smart, you know there’s a good chance your family is dead.”

“But until I know—” you start, and your voice betrays you, cracking on the word. You swallow hard. “Why can’t you just let me go? What difference does it make?”

His strange dark eyes narrow at you. They’re blue, you’ve come to learn, but a dark shade that sometimes looks black. “Come with me. There’s something I want you to see.” You open your mouth to protest, and he lifts a hand. “Come with me first; if you still want to leave afterward, then I’ll take you through myself.”

You stare at him for a long moment before slinging your bag from your shoulders, pulling out a length of rope. You thread it through the split fence, yanking the metal back into place and tying it off. Once you’re done, you get back to your feet, and when Cowan turns to leave, you follow.

He takes you back to the quarantine zone. A few soldiers shoot you looks, since you’re out past curfew, but Cowan waves them all off. “She’s with me.”

You keep following him, heart hammering in your throat as he leads you into one of the buildings they’ve cleared out. Down a long hallway, a few more soldiers giving you looks, before Cowan ducks through a doorway, waving at you to follow.

“What is this?”

There are tables everywhere, cords spilling out of boxes, hooked along the walls. On the walls, all sorts of maps and notices, FEDRA orders staring back at you. A soldier sits in the middle of it all, headphones hooked over her ears, twisting the knobs on a gigantic radio, adjusting the antenna. When she sees you and Cowan standing there, she pulls off the headphones, a grin on her face. “Hey, Nick.”

“Melissa,” he nods, and juts his thumb towards you. “Can you set it for the Austin base? And give us a sec?”

She just nods, her face falling slightly, and twists more of the knobs. Her brow furrows a bit until she gets the right frequency, and then she gets up out of her chair, holds the headphones towards you. “Hit the red button to talk, and let go once you’re done, or else they can’t talk back.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the headset from her. You look at Cowan. “What is…?”

“It’ll connect you with the FEDRA base in Austin. You can give them the names, of the people you’re looking for. They’ll be able to tell you if they’re in the shelters there. If they’re not there, there’s no telling if they’re alive or dead, but at least you’ll know if they’re safe or not.”

Your brow furrows. ��Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“I can’t reassure you,” Cowan says bluntly, and as you sink into the chair, he perches on the desk beside you. “No one can. The world is a fucking minefield, and while yes, I’ll admit you’re a good shot and you clearly know what you’re doing with that bat, you will die out there. If your family isn’t still in Austin, I can almost guarantee you, they are dead.”

You rip your eyes from his face, turning your gaze to the radio, the little flashing lights and the knobs. “You don’t know that.”

There’s a hand under your chin a second later, and Cowan turns your face towards him again, drags your eyes back to his. “I meant what I said. If you still want to leave, I will take you through the gate myself, no more bullshit. But talk to the base first. Find out if they’re still there before you throw your life away on hope.”

PREV | NEXT

[gojo-mochi]

Hey Softy!💙 For your Small Halloween Event: I want to give Law a treat. He deserves it. 🍬🍙🍬 Thank you for this event!

OMG HIIIIII <3

I hope you enjoy the treat!!!

“But Captain!”

“It’s Halloween!”

“Let’s go Trick and Treating!”

“First off, It’s Trick or Treat, not ‘and’. Secondly, it's just another day to me, and thirdly, no, I’m not going out today, there’s way too much work for me to do.” Law shooed off the three as he finished his last word. Focusing back on his paperwork, not leaving room for any argument. Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi all groaned in unison. Shuffling out of Law’s office with their head hanging low. You ran into them as they were leaving to go on the small island that the crew practically had to beg Law to stop at so that people could go have some holiday fun. 

“Y/N! Happy Halloween!”

The trio all bounced up to you, sporting their own handmade costume. Bepo dressed as a ‘boring human’, wearing a business suit with a suitcase and a paper mask depicting a bald man face. Penguin went as a vampire in a black/white theme coloring, and instead of a bat perched on his shoulder, he sewed on a small emperor penguin plush on it. Lastly, Shachi was wearing a krill onesie, the black beady eyes on top staring deep in your soul. 

You giggled at them, as they complained about Law and how he didn’t want to go trick and treating with them. They asked if you wanted to come but you denied as well; “Someone has to go look after Mr.Grumpy Pants.” You said, they gave you an understanding look and went off, leaving you alone. You walk up to the door of Law’s office, tugging at your cape behind you. You've been working on this Sora, Warrior of the Sea, cosplay for months now. Penguin helped with the sewing and a lot of the details, you were grateful for your crew. Now, if only Law could see and feel how his crew also loved him.

But that's why you were here, were you not? Steeling your resolve, you ventured into the cold and dreary den that was Law’s office. Paperwork strewn about, the light dimly lit up above, the air in here seemingly colder than it was in the hallway. Law didn’t even spare you a glance as you walked in, thinking that you were the trouble trio coming back to try to drag him out again. Even clearing your throat didn’t get his attention, so you mustered up some courage and pushed down any embarrassment you had and struck a pose. 

“Greeting Civilian! It is I! Sora! Warrior of the Sea!” 

You held the pose as you shouted out the lines. Silence, nothing said, the scribbling of pen on paper stopped and you could cut the tension with a knife. You swear you were about to combust from embarrassment until Law’s voice finally rang out in the quiet; “His right hand is the one on his hip, not the left one.” He was correcting your posture?! You gave him a deadpan look, Law surrendered, a small smile on his lips as he stared at you. His voice came out softer this time; “Did you really wear that for me?” 

From where you were standing you could see the eyebags and the way his shoulder droops slightly, Law was working so hard to keep everything in check for his crew. You walk over to him, he turns his chair to you as you saunter up, arms outstretched as you gently climb into his lap. Resting his head on your chest, your hand caressing his dark locks. Law rests his eyes, enjoying your warmth and taking in your scent, his shoulders letting go of some tension. “Why didn’t you go with the others? Shouldn’t Sora be out there saving some people right now?” He mumbled against your neck as he shifted his head up.

You snorted at his comment; “I think you’re the one that needs the most saving here…” Law tilts his head back to look at you directly. “Oh yeah, and how do you plan on saving me…” His golden eyes flicker down to your lips, a passion igniting in them. You giggled, reaching in your pocket for a chocolate, unwrapping it and popping it in your mouth, holding it in place. “Well, I can start by distracting you from all this work and doing something more fun and tasty..” You meld your lips with his, letting his tongue invade your mouth easily, the chocolate fastly melting in the fiery tango that soon happened. Soft pants of moan filled the quiet office now, you cup Law’s cheek as you two parts ways to catch air. “I have a bunch more candies in my pocket that I need help ‘eating’, so, I hope you’re ready for a long night.” Law chuckled as he nipped at your bottom lips, “Anything for my favorite hero.”

[godblooded]

@gothamvengeance (x)

“ i hate you. ”

the cat’s hands make a tight fist in material of the bat’s shirt and hold onto her like a lifeline. it’s what’s rooting her where she’s standing, and it’s the only thing. she favors her good leg, but leans her weight enough that she distributes balance to lean on bryce. princess is a lot more solid than the thief is— selina’s not made of solidity or size, has never been immovable. she’s evasive. her talents lie primarily in a god-given ability to escape from any situation. she doesn’t think she wants to run away from this one. she doesn’t think she has the strength to.

bryce is always so fucking good at finding the parts of her people swear don’t exist; the places she hates in herself that make her some kind of thing. she’s like a tree struck by lightning, growing wrong and gnarled and out of shape. she’s warped; the way the knots are deep and buried in the bark, horribly twisted. she can’t stop constantly feeling like she’s going to be sick, but the cape’s safe, the cape’s always safe. she can’t be hurt in the cape. it’s a silly little rule in her head. her cheeks feel uncomfortably warm, and the cigarette burn dead center at the back of her neck stings. it’s a scar from days she no longer truly remembers but is forced to revisit. she tugs it tighter and tucks her head on the bat’s shoulder. she blinks when the irritating tears start to cloud her vision. they demand to be attended to, and they spill over as she breathes, presses her nose into dark hair meekly when her whisper comes so quiet it’s almost sudden,

“ does it ever stop? does it ever fucking stop? does it ever fucking stop? ”

[allfandomstan]

After Dark~(Batman x Vigilante Reader), Chapter 3.

Read chapters 1 and 2! Find it on my ‘posts’

Genre: Mystery

Setting: A café from ‘The Batman’ 2022.. Let’s just call it Gotham Café 😫

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of adult themes.

Word count: 3k

Author Notes: Hey, it’s me!! Back with chapter 3 of this series.. This one came out relatively quick compared to the last chap as I was quick to come up with ideas for this one😄. Anyways, this is also a chill chap and it basically gives you slight background info on the reader, a.k.a Red. Hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what y’all think!😉

P.S There also might be slight ‘tension’ between Bruce and reader😳. It all depends on your perspective..👀👀

You walked through the dark city streets of Gotham to reach your final destination for the night- your apartment. Nothing too fancy, or special but just enough to serve the purpose. You walked and walked.. your legs ached from the uncomfortable heels you wore for the night, for your little trip to the Iceberg Lounge to meet up with Batman. You were all dolled up before, but now your mascara was running and your foundation fading from the heavy rain that hit. Despite all these years living in Gotham, and experiencing the heavy torrential rain that often fell without warning, you never learned what the importance of having an umbrella was in this city. Well at least now you did. “Fuck”, you groaned and kept walking. You made sure to stay in the shadows of the sidewalk and not attract any unwanted attention to you. Who knows what’d happen if some creep sees a young woman walking all alone in the middle of the night? Not that you were scared or anything, but you just didn’t feel like fighting anyone right now..

****

You opened your apartment door and it made of loud-ass creaking noise. “Stupid door” you mumbled irritated. It did that all the time and you particularly hated it, especially when you arrived home late at night after your tiring shifts at Falcone’s. You darn well hoped that it didn’t wake the neighbours.

You got inside and threw your fur coat on the couch. You were absolutely wrecked..Well, mostly from the rain and walking back in fucking high-heels..

You sat down, letting out a huge sigh and slumped onto the couch, resting your head on a pillow. You really needed a break. From all this. You needed a break from yourself and from this city. They were both wearing you out, but you knew you couldn’t because of this Godamn psychopath that has been running around and hunting down the Mayor for Christ’s sake. And you new he wasn’t done just yet. He had more victims in mind and he was going to strike again, soon..Very soon. The city is going to drown if someone doesn’t save it from this monster and you weren’t going to just sit around and let that happen. Even though you were pretty sure your contribution to the saving of Gotham was a bare minimum, you still had to try. The ratio between good people and bad people in Gotham was pretty uneven, so whatever you did was worth it in the end. Or so in your eyes…

It would take you years to be as influential as the Bat, but you weren’t gonna give up just yet. Besides you only had limited money and technology when Batman possessed both in vast amounts. Oh yeah, the guy had to be rich. You had some theories In mind of who the caped crusader could be, but you weren’t able to come to a conclusion just yet. Maybe you’re going to have to see of yourself later.. And you assured yourself you will. After all the cryptic riddles and enigmas have been cracked.

****

You once again found yourself walking on the cold city streets of Gotham. It was early as 6 in the morning and the cold morning air stung you. It was drizzling lightly and you were sure that it would only get worse, so you opened up the umbrella you actually bothered to bring, and held it up over you. You were walking to your workplace, this time not as infuriating and intense as the nightclub you did your nightshifts in, instead it was a cute little corner Café in Gotham Square. You were delighted to have this job, even though it meant working two jobs. You just loved the peaceful aura of the place, despite sometimes facing grumpy customers who weren’t the slightest bit nice at all…

When you finally reached the small building, you closed up your umbrella and stepped inside only to be met with the familiar face of a smiley barista waving at you.

“Hey, Red!”, she whisper-shouted and motioned for you to come over.

“Sam!” You smile, and go over to her.

“Girl, I haven’t seen you in ages.. Where have you been?”

You take off your raincoat and hang it on the coat hanger. You let out a defeated sigh and look up at her.

“I’ve been busy.. with things”. You look down to avoid eye contact.

Upon hearing your confession a look of concern finds its way across her face. She stays quiet for a moment.

“Red.. you-“, she stops mid sentence as she caught sight of your eyes once again.

“I know what your going to say, Sam”.

The barista takes a deep breath in before speaking again:

“You can’t keep doing this. It’ll take a toll on you, one way or another!”. Your childhood friend was genuinely worried for you and you didn’t complain. Instead your eyes found its way to the floor once again.

“Can we talk about this later?”

Sam gives you an incredulous look. She can’t believe you’re willing to put off an important matter at hand.

“No Red! I want to talk about this now and right now!”, Sam half-shouted and you gotta say you were lucky that no one else was around to hear her. It was a little early for customers too.

“Sam, please..”

You mentally facepalmed at the fact you told her you were ‘busy’. You figured you should have made up a suitable lie or something. But you just couldn’t. You found it impossible to lie to Sam, almost every time. Is it because she reminded you of your mother a bit? You didn’t know. Maybe it’s because you see her as your older sister. After all it was her who looked after you when you were put out on the streets, hungry and alone. It was her you grew up with after the death of your Father and the downfall of your family. She always looked out for you when you found yourself in trouble or situations you found almost impossible to get out of.. You couldn’t complain one bit because she cared for you and wanted the best for you. She obviously didn’t want to see you killed in some heroic act that’ll fade away with time. And that’s why she wasn’t very keen on your vigilante activities.

“I wanna know why my friend is sacrificing herself for this City, when all it did was take away what was most important to her, to us!”

“Sam, you wouldn’t understand I-“

“Red, you shouldn’t be so reckless! You have a future ahead of you and you should protect it instead of trying to protect this Godforsaken city!”

She was getting emotional, and you could see the tears that were threatening to spill. No matter how much you try to reason with her, she always sticks to her own perspective and refuses to see yours. And it was frustrating as hell..

“Sam, stop it!”, you yell.

She comes to an abrupt stop and stares at you. You look at her for a moment before rushing over to her side to envelope her in a big hug.

“Sam, I know you care but its my life! I can’t just sit around while more lives are snatched and taken. I need to be there to serve justice to those whose lives have been destroyed”. You stroke her back gently to calm her down. You could hear the light sniffles that were coming out of her. You back away and look at her, cupping her face gently. “Sam, it’s okay I promise you”. and with that you hug her one more time before letting go.

Sam around turns to wipe her tears and regain her composure.

“C’mon, we got a Café to run!” you chirp with as much enthusiasm as possible just so you can lighten the mood a little. You give her one last smile before going to change into your barista uniform. ****

An hour and a half passes and it was 8 in the morning. Some customers started arriving to get their morning coffee to start the day. You and Sam haven’t really talked much, apart from the occasional small talk you both had. The light drizzle from earlier had now turned to full on rain and it splattered on the window panes harshly. The sound of rain splatter accompanied both of you as you worked. It was kind of soothing, in a way..

“You must’ve heard about the Mayor”.

You were suddenly snapped out of your thoughts and brought back to reality. It took you a while to make out what Sam had just said, so you stare at her point blank for a minute or so.

“Oh yeah, yeah I did”, you stutter. Sam takes a minute to read you and raises an eyebrow at you in question.

“Do you know anything about this?”.

Wow, what a suitable question to ask.. Just great!

You send her a hesitant glare. You really didn’t want to let her know about all of this and especially about the Bat. But you found yourself struggling to lie and you soon realised you couldn’t lie, just not to her of all people.

“I think I have an idea, yeah. It was clearly a political terrorist attack. Whoever did this has a grudge against Gotham’s constitution and men in power”.

Sam hums in acknowledgment as she keeps working. “Great input, I see”

“Thanks”.. “You getting any help?”

You froze for a second.

“What?”

“I mean like, you have any work buddies or are you all on your own?”

You stopped what you were doing to look at her properly.

“Well obviously not, who can I possibly share this with and, and-“, you failed miserably in getting your words together.

Sam let out a worn out, low chuckle. You really could never lie to her..

“C’mon Red, you can tell me”, she said rolling her eyes at your pathetic attempt at lying.

You groaned internally. Why did things always have to go against plan?

You let out a tired sigh, and face her again.

“Well if you absolutely must know..” You say with a sarcastic tone and roll your eyes at her.

Sam smiles, amused.

“Go on”, she says as a smirk forms on her lips.

You send her a hard, steely glare before giving up and answering her question:

“Believe me or not but.. I may have ran into Batman”.

A moment or so goes by without any reaction from your friend. Then you see it..

Her pupils dilate into huge dark circles, enveloping the leaf green of her irises. “You’re joking”

“Well you’re the one that asked”, you shrug.

“Seriously?”, the look of concern was back again on her features.

“Yes”.

“Red.. Vengeance? Are you serious?”

You groan loudly and hold the bridge of your nose.

“You know, I knew it’d be a pain explaining all this to you, I should really get better at lying”..

Sam scoffs at your snarky remark.

“Well, I gotta say I am impressed.. You’re only one year into this and you’ve already made some interesting ‘friends’”.

You roll your eyes again… You really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. You really didn’t want to have it, ever.

“Well ‘surprisingly’ I’m not as dumb as I look.. I know how to get my way when it comes to certain things, y’know. A smirk forms on your lips. You hoped she got your little hint.

“Certain things like men”, she smiles back, a mischievous grin forming.

“Working at Falcone’s really did do you good eh? Hope the pay’s good”

“Yeah, but not fucking enough”, you let out a sardonic chuckle.

“I thought Falcone would be giving you extra tips since y’know, you’ve been a long-time employee”..

“Extra tips my ass”, you scoff and start pouring some water into the kettle for coffee.

Sam lets out a silent ‘Oh’ and looks down at the floor.

“Then why do you even bother working there?”.

You put the kettle on to boil, then turn around to look at her.

“The pay’s shit but better than anything else in Gotham.. At least it puts a roof over my head”.

You knew that was far from the truth. You had to lie to her just this once. What you told your friend was far from the reason you were working at Falcone’s… Let’s just say you had some set ‘intentions’ and there was no way you’d leave it undone..

Just as Sam was about to speak, the front door to the Café opened with a little ‘ting’ of the bell that chimed in response…

There stood a tall man wearing a raincoat and holding up a small umbrella over his form. The darn umbrella surely served him little to no use as he was already drenched by the rain. He had his hood up, so you weren’t able to make out his face just yet.. He walked over closer to the both of you, his steps slow and calculated. He really didn’t want to wet the floor from the raindrops that fell from his coat and boots. Hmm, how mannered and soo unlike most Gothamers.. You guessed he was a customer coming over to order his morning coffee or something..

The stranger lifted off his hood to reveal his face and speak:

“Hi, can I get an extra strong expresso for takeaway with no-“

Just as he was about to finish his sentence, he caught sight of you and paused.. And you came to recognise him.

Shit, it was Bruce Wanye..

What the hell is the prince of Gotham doing here?

You let out a silent gasp and stared at him. And he stared back.. There was silence. Noticing the tension between you two, Sam cleared her throat and greeted the billionaire with a warm smile.

“Oh Hi Mr.Wayne, it’s nice to see you again!”

But Sam’s greeting didn’t stop Bruce from staring. His eyes were glued on you..

How strange.

Wanting to subdue the awkwardness, Sam nudged you in the ribs lightly, snapping you out of your thoughts immediately.

“Oh”, you say and start making the coffee Bruce requested.

“Oh and did you say anything about not adding sugar?”, Sam asked the man.

As if realisation struck him hard, Bruce instantly snapped him eyes off you and turned to look at your friend instead. “Oh sorry, yes. Yes I did”.. Much to your surprise his voice came out softer and quieter than expected.

Sam nods at you to add no sugar, and then walks over to the till to bill Wayne’s coffee.

While you were preparing the drink, your mind was occupied with thoughts.

‘Why is he here all of a sudden?’ He’s only out and about in public once in a millennium and why would he wanna come to this boring little coffee shop?’ And most importantly why was he staring at you like that? Like he’d seen you somewhere before? ‘Could this be of any significance to you?’

Through the corner of your eye, you could see the man turn his head slightly to look at you once more. It seemed as though he was curious.. But why?

All your thinking got you to mess up his coffee before you even realised.

“Oh shit, I accidentally added sugar”, you whisper to your friend in a panicked tone.

“Red!”, Sam scolded you.

“It’s alright, I’ll take it..”, Bruce’s low yet soft voice made both of you jump. He was listening in.

“Oh no, it’s alright we’ll make you another one!”, Sam instantly responded, guilty that you got the billionaire’s order wrong.

“It’s okay, I’m in a bit of a hurry anyway”. His low, mellow voice was ringing in your ears. There was an undeniable familiarity in it..

“Oh well, it’s on the house then!” Sam said, faking a smile.

“No, really its okay”, he said adamant not to make her feel bad.

Just as you were done making his expresso, you took a marker out of your apron pocket and wrote ‘Bruce’ on the plastic cup to give his messed up order a final touch. You might as well do at least that little kind gesture to apologise..

You then turned around, and held the cup in your hand to give it to him. As you turned to face him, you caught his gaze on you once again and instantly he looked away. But shit, you caught him red handed.

Putting on a cheerful facade, you handed him the coffee with a big smile plastered on your face.

“Here you go, Mr.Wayne”..

Your eyes met his once again and you froze. There was something very familiar about them.. Dangerously so.

Quickly, snapping you out of your trance, Bruce whispers you a quick and quite “thank you”, before grabbing the expresso from your hands and them going over to Sam to hand her the money for the coffee.

He waists no time and reaches for the door.

“Have a nice day, Mr.Way-“, and Sam was cut off by the door which closed behind him. And there he was, out the door in no time..

Sam let out a heavy sigh, and turned to look at you.

“Well, What’d you think?.. He left just as fast as he came”.

You were there, staring at the door like an idiot.

“Why the hell was Bruce fucking Wayne here?”

“He comes here sometimes..”

You turn to face your friend.

“What?”

“Yeah, but it’s just since you’re part-time you never see him”.

And why the fuck didn’t she tell you that?

“And you never told me that Bruce Wayne comes here!”

Sam gave you a look of nonchalance and shrugs.

“What, it’s not like he’s some kind of extraterrestrial creature or something.. I didn’t think it’d interest you”. She gave you a sly grin afterwards. She knew she was playing with you.

“Ughh, Sam!”, you groan and roll your eyes.

Sam shrugs again and gets back to work.

****

It was 12 noon, almost time for you to finish work. Over the past few hours all you could think about was the man who showed up earlier..

All you could think about was ‘Bruce Wayne’.

‘Why did he look at you like that?’ Like he was suddenly captured by your eyes, and frozen in place by them.

Did he recognise you from somewhere?

Well you sure as hell haven’t seen him anywhere before..

Or have you?

****

[wolfverse-stories]

Falling in Reverse

(Reverse robins)

Chapter 10

     Wally wished he hadn't said anything about joint-training sessions. He forgot how hard Damian was on the people he was training.

     "Come on move faster" Damian snapped turning up the power on the super-speed treadmill, which was too fast even for Bart. Poor Jason was on his ten thousandth chin up.

     "Come on big bird lighten up" Wally laid a hand on his shoulder.

     "Do you want to be stabbed again?" Wally quickly removed his hand.

     "Mr.Scary guy can we please take a break?" The younger speedster pleaded.

     "Fine, we'll go to the cave and do some tech training" Everyone gave a huge sigh of relief.

Time skip

     "So this is the bat cave" Bart zoomed around the cave "This is so Crash!"

     "Where is your suit?" Damian asked Jason pointing over to the empty case.

     "My suit's a little small so Alfred is adjusting it," he said. Damian looked over to the older suits 'Too small that's a first'

    "Ugh, I think he made this a little too big" Tim walked out in his new Robin suit, which was ten sizes too big.

     "Seriously Drake?" Damian started to laugh "You are way too small, I've seen bunnies more intimidating than you"

     "Hey the outfit doesn't help why on earth did you choose such bright colors," Tim said wrapping himself in his cape.

     "No one said you had to copy my old suit design" he pointed out.

     "Batman needs a Robin besides I couldn't just completely change the costume" Tim argued "After all you are the reason I became Robin"

     "Whatever little wing" Damian smiled ruffling Tim's hair.

     "Greetings young masters" Alfred greeted the boys with a tray of cookies.

     "Hey Al" Jason waved. Alfred set the tray of cookies on the table. Jason grabbed a cookie and handed it to Bart.

     "You're giving me your food?" The young speedster looked curiously at Jason.

     "Sure that's what friends do," Jason said taking a bite of a cookie.

     "Crash! You're the first friend I ever made" Bart pulled Jason into a bear hug.

     "Wait? What? I did not agree to this!" Jason squirmed trying to get out of the hug.

     "I swear you two act so much alike" Wally laughed.

     "No by now I would have stabbed you" Damian let a small smile cross his lips.

Flashback

     "This is my son Damian" Bruce introduced Damian to Clark and Barry.

     "Wow, the Big Bad Bat has a kid" Clark stared in shock "Does he drink blood?"

     "No" Bruce rolled his eyes "you do realize I am not a vampire"

     "Well isn't he a cute little fellow" Barry smiled "My nephew is in the cafeteria why don't you go make friends?"

     "I am the grandson of the demon's head and the future leader League of Assassins" Damian crossed his arms "I do not make friends"

     "Yeah he's like that most of the time" Bruce sighed "Damian go to the cafeteria"

     "Fine" Damian grumbled walking to the cafeteria. He quickly got his lunch and sat down. Five seconds later a kid around his age appeared in the chair next to him.

     "Hey, my name is Wally" The young speedster smiled.

     "Get away from me" Damian growled taking a bite of his chicken nugget.

     "Awe comes on I just wanted to talk" the redhead smiled.

     "I said go away" Damian threw a knife at the young speedster's leg.

     "You just stabbed me!" Wally looked at him in shock.

     "So what you have speed healing" Damian shrugged taking another bite.

     "Is this how you treat all of your friends?" Wally asked.

     "I don't have friends" Wally's eyes widened.

     "Well, congratulations I'm now your best friend" Wally hugged Damian.

     "You have point five seconds to stop touching me or you can say goodbye to your kneecaps" Damian growled.

     Damian wondered how things would have turned out if he had never met Wally. 'I'd probably have rejoined the League of Assassins never met Star and killed Tim the first time I saw him'

     "Earth to Damian" Wally waved his hand in front of Damian.

     "Get your hand out of my face" he pushed Wally's hand away.

     "Just checking, you zoned out for a little bit there" Wally smiled. Damian rolled his eyes.

     "I swear you're are such an idiot" He couldn't help but smile as he thought 'I do owe a lot to this idiot and I really do care about our friendship but I will never let anyone know'

Prev. / Next

[dairy-farmer]

I need POVs of other people in that Dick is emotionally manipulative by slitting ask. Like, I need to see people realizing far too late that they let Tim down once again. I need people to be horrified. Maybe they're only clued in on it when Damian comes back and starts acting like Damian is his child and Tim is Damian's mother. At first, they thought Dick was joking but then they're seeing less and less of Tim. Even Damian has brought up some concerns. He likes how Tim is treating him nicely but there's something wrong about the way Dick is going about it. What if it was a civilian who tries to talk to Tim first about this? Like Bernard or Ives? Oddly enough, They moved out of Gotham soon after never to be seen again. But Damian or Tim swears he once woke up in the middle of the night and saw Dick covered in blood

dick in that severe emotional manipulation au would absolutely have tim wrapped around his finger following his perceived suicide attempt. the rest of the family and his friends would also similarly fall in line because they knew dick had been struggling but they hadn't thought, they'd never considered he'd do this!!! they start paying close attention, keeping dick company, doing the same as tim essentially because while tim is traumatized from being the one to find him the others are equally as concerned.

and this is here people notice the cracks. where they notice how...things don't quite line up. there are oddities, discrepancies in dick's story, in how he acts afterward, in the things he says.

his friends are in other cities and can't be there so they message and call him and get worried when he doesn't reply but are satisfied when others in the family tell them dick is fine. but the gotham capes, the other bats in the family...they're detectives and they're picking up on something, something that their guts tell them is... not quite right.

now... you can't just....accuse someone of faking taking their own life. that is a VERY serious accusation with very serious repercussions and if that's what you suspect you sure as shit better be right.

they don't feel...good about the suspicions but they can't help them. dick doesn't quite ACT like how people who have survived suicide attempts do. granted, not everyone fits into the same box, but dick? dick's behavior afterward is just...odd.

he doesn't want to be committed. even though he just attempted to take his own life, he refuses evaluation or help from a professional even though it's something that NEEDS to happen because...because then maybe things wouldn't have gotten this bad. dick refuses. even when someone is brought in he just clams up. refuses to speak, refuses to look at the person.

shame isn't unexpected following an attempt. anger, despair, regret. dick would likely be feeling a whole cacophony of emotions.

but then tim is brought in. and then dick is soft and pitiful, then he's emotional with his eyes filling with tears, he's reaching for tim and crying, sobbing, asking tim to stay with him and hold him while trembling like a beaten dog. and the shift from calm to that is just...strange.

dick clinging to one person would be understandable...but there's just something...not right.

the family can't help it. they can't help the oddness of how they feel.

and they're not the only ones. tim's civilian friends pick up on it too- on the rare occasions they go to visit tim at the manor because tim very rarely leaves the manor, always too concerned about dick. they all know tim's older brother isn't fully...stable. they read in the paper about it, the tabloids had gushed about it and the 'drama!' of it all.

sometimes they see tim's brother. he's in an armchair usually in the same room as them wearing soft flannel pajamas and a thick quilt over his lap and staring into space. they want to ask if he's on medications or something because he always looks so vacant and empty but it seems rude to ask. and tim always looks so haggard and stressed and tired so they keep quiet and just ask how he's been.

their visits aren't frequent and ives completely stops visiting, only calling, because one time he'd been leaving the manor. tim had been walking him to the door but then he'd realized he's left behind his hat and so he'd told tim he'd be back in a minute and then jogged back to the room where dick had remained quietly seated.

ives never told tim about what happened in that room. and...he'd hesitated to tell bernard but then bernard had told him about the 'weird vibe' dick gave off whenever he visited tim and so ives had confided in him. he told him about how he'd walked back to the room and spotted his hat on a couch cushion of the sitting room where he and tim had spent the entire afternoon talking with dick silent and staring off into space nearby. there'd been a large wall of windows that peeked into the garden behind the couch. it was nighttime when ives had left and his back had been to dick as he bent over for his hat. when he'd looked up, he'd caught sight of their reflections in the windows and felt a chill go up his spine when he saw dick turned fully to face him, face twisted in hatred and glaring at ives. when he'd turned around dick had been back to normal and staring off into space but the encounter had freaked ives up enough that he hadn't gone back.

when damian returns through some set of miracles he also picks up on the oddness of dick and tim and the way dick behaves.

no one can quite put their finger on it. they're not sure what it is. but...they know its not normal. they think, they believe, they know- whatever had happened on that night where everything changed...it was no accident.