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grimdarling69 · 1 month ago

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Another Deaged Dan and Ellie or otherwise known as Crack pt7

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6

Diana of Themyscura had met many evil men, but few had reached the evil of Lex Luthor. He had kidnaped batmans son, tortured him in numerous ways, and forced him to create a portal? They weren't completely sure about the specifics of the machine. It was obviously a portal, but to where?

Batman had called them in after taking heavy fire when they marched on Luthor previously, and the Justice League founders were currently investigating the area.

Superman especially. He's currently in the medbay recovering from emergency surgery. His sons were sticking near him after the very near death from Luthors' new powers. Last she heard, Lois had arrived on base to support him as well.

"I already told you. They are as safe as they can be." Luthor repeated under her lassos effect. He was tied up on the floor because it was the only thing that was able to stop him from using his powers.

Zatanna and her contact were currently working on a cell for him based on the mystics. Hopefully it was soon.

"Fine. Let's try another question. How do we work the portal?" She tightened to ropes.

"I don't know. My... little badger did most of the...work."

"Don't you dare call him that!" The Red Hood stomped over, picking him up by the lapels on his suit.

"You have no right to call him anything after what you've done. You're so goaddamned lucky I ain't running this mission cause if I was, I'd have ground you to dust underneath my feet and served your head to him." He growled green reflected weirdly in Luthors eyes.

"Red Hood. Back down." Jason growled but roughly dropped him hard enough he heaved as he hit the ground and curled over.

"Never thought you'd be such a killjoy, Wayne." They didn't freeze they were all much to good to freeze, but she could tell it was a near thing.

"That's right. He told me about all of you. He was more than happy enough to tell me everything." Luthor baited them. Batman growled and approached him with a furious snarl.

"Don't let yourself be led astray by anger." Diana advised him. She received the alert that the cell was ready and loaded him up to bring him to the closest zeta. Batman watched her all the while a contrast from everyone else that avoided even looking in her direction.

-----‐----------

"Fuck that hurts." His son complained but didn't shy away from them. Damians never complained before. The giant yeti stood by assorted through what he can only guess as their medical supplies before finding greenish tinted bandages in strange container. He angled his body infront of Damian shielding him from whatever that was soaked in.

"What is that?" He questioned hesitantly."It's fine, Richard, it's just ecto-aids." Damian answered with full confidence. He couldn't take it any longer and pulled the last stitch through gently before rising and starting to pace erratically

"Damian. I promised myself I would take this slow, but I can't. I have no-no! idea where we are, who anyone even is, and why the fuck you're almost a completely different person." He waved his hands around erratically ignoring the yeti placing the 'ecto-aids' on the counter snd leaving.

"We-are in the Far Frozen, in the Infinate Realms where all afterlives exist together. It's the very foundation of the mulitverse."

"What the fuck are even talking about?" His jead was hurting s d he barely restrained him self from screaming in frustration.

" I am...a reincarnation of the High King Phantom, my-his real name was Danny Fenton. He was a superhero."

"I don't-no I don't understand...what- how?"

" I think i should start from the beginning. Maybe you should sit..?" His son asked his voice gentler and almost fragile. Damian wasn't fragile. He'd seen him take out mountains of goons 4 times his size, but for the first time in years, he truly looked all his fourteen years of life. He sat down beside him and bumped his shoulder a silent show of support hopefully.

"In that life my parents were scientists who studied..." For hours he listened as Damian recounted his previous life occasionally telling his own short tales to make him feel better.

"So Lex Luthor is your godfather from another life?"

"Yes, but he prefers Vlad. He doesn't mind, Mr. Luthor, but he hates Lex." Damian winced.

"Well, this is going to take a lot of adjustment. My whole view on life has been fundamentaly been altered." That is a severe understatement. He's met people who've had past lives, but knowing his own son had one was a...adjustment.

"I...understand if you want me to leave."

"What? Damian-"

"It's fine. I understand if you think I'm to..to different..."

"Damian, you are right that you're different, but we're all a little different. The whole family is batshit crazy you know. We would never kick you out."

"But I was difficult before, and now I'll be even worse. I can't even go one day without getting into fights. I'm...wrong-."

"You are perfectly fine just the way you are." He took Damian face between his hands.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I am so proud of you. You have come so far in just the short few years I've known you. You overcame your past and you can overcome this to."

"I'm scared. What if-father doesnt-...want me?" His lip wobbled, and his eyes glistened in the warm light.

"Bruce loves you. You're his son. And even if somehow Bruce doesn't, I'll be right here because you're my son too. My Robin. It's okay to be scared. Courage is not the absence of fear -"

"But the triumph over it. Do you know how many times you've told me that? I couldn't count it even if I kept a journal. I would never admit to being afraid to anyone but you." His son finished his quote.

"Then why did you run from me?" He could admit that the question had laid heavily on his mind. There wasn't anybody he trusted more than Damian, and he thought he shared the sentiment.

"I knew that if stayed I'd put them in danger." Damian tried to escape his hold on his head to look away but Dick refused to let him go.

"Who, Dami?"

"My-my...children."

"What? How? You're a-"

"It's more like incubation for ghosts. Dan and ellie, the siblings I told you about. Their bodies were injured and discorpolated to the point they had to retreat to their cores. Because of their pasts, they wouldn't have enough strength to heal, so I am hosting them." Many people have hosted...things before and he's sure ghosts are different, but he's heard of spirits and parasites before.

"Oh. That's a lot but it's not...hurting you is it?"

"Not..typically."

"What do mean?" Please don't make me lose you again.

"I needed to get to Frostbite to check if there are any complications, but because of circumstances, it's complicated." He admitted looking anywhere but his eyes.

"What circumstances? What complications?" He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice but he fears he only made himself sound frustrated.

"The Lazurus Pits. I believe they are corrupted ectoplasm. Frostbite would know more about this than i do. I believe that after I got more pure ecto, the corruption was flushed out, but I need to make sure." He makes a note to ask Frostbite about Jason later.

He opens his mouth to ask again, but Frostbite came back. "Is everything all right? Some of my people heard yelling in here?" Dick goes to speak but is interrupted before he can. Damian shakes his hands off and scoots away from him on the table.

"Everything is fine. We were just about to use the ecto-aids." Damian lied convincingly. The yeti sighed, obviously not believing his less than convincing act.

"You requested a check-up? On the young cores, am I correct?" He questioned, moving on from the subject. Dick didn't remember Damian saying anything about the cores, and he had carried him all the way here. He turned to Damian in question.

"We're ghosts, or I'm a halfa, but we do a lot of emotional speaking and sensing auras. Every core has a special ecto-signal, and most can see ecto-bonds aseell. He's obviously put the dots together. It's not hard." Damian explained. The more he learns, the more concerning it gets. He gives Damian an unimpressed look.

"Quite right. It's a special bond that traverses lifetimes that you two have!"

He turned to damian questioningly but he seemed just as lost.

"I sensed the small ecto-signal that I used to sense from your older sister. I thought you already knew?"

"No, no, I don't sense anything. Everything is diluted. I didn't even sense vlad until he was right in front of me before."

"Hmm, let's come back to this later and get you checked out first to make sure there aren't any immediate problems. I may just be mistaken. Jasmine was always a liminal. She never even reached ecto-contamination levels of a halfa." He pondered.

"Wouldn't i atleadt recognize some things if I was her? Dejavu?"

"I doubt it. You might have the soul of her, but without the ecto, you might never regain the memories."

"And we are not contaminated him just to test a theory. No experiments." Damian said with distant eyes.

"Of course, great one. It was merely a thought." And with that the conversation was over and the examination begun.

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

Stephanie rubbed her eyes with expensive lotion tissues she'd called pointless, but Alfred always kept in stock. The tissue box was blue, and there was another green one beside it. The universe sure had a way of being funny.

"Care for a snack Miss Stephanie?" Alfred asked her with red rimmed eyes, he carried a plate with fancy cheeses and crackers with funny shapes.

"Thanks, Alfie." "Of course,miss." She sighed and ate the lightest cheese with an almost cat-looking shape.

"Do you want one Cass?" Cass was laying on the med bay bed with several bandages crisscrossed on her upper body. She had a heavily wrapped foot and her hair was secured with numerous brightly colored pins to keep it away from the healing scars.

She shakes her head slightly. Steph sighs and stands from the spare bed and takes the tray with her. She spares one last glance to her mourning and benched best friend.

Duke is dressed as signal sans mask bent over the batcomputer. His stance reminds her of Bruce and she can't help but smile. Duke nods his head at her.

"How is she?" He asks, typing and reading several reports. "Sad." She sets the tray on a nearby counter close enough for Duke to snack. He sighs and finally sits down in the chairs.

"Green Lanturn visited the island yesterday. He says it isn't alien."

"Which one?"

"Guy Gardner." She hums thoughtfully. She's met the guy only once before. He seemed a bit hot-headed, but she's heard of good work from him before. Jason's bike sounded out from behind them. He ripped his helmet off and slammed it down on the counter. The tray shakes, and the cheese mixes with the crackers in a pile.

"Amy leads?" She asked him ignoring his anger. He was getting better and now this.

"Do i look it panned out, blondie?" She sighed and pulled herself onto the counter.

"Zatanna had a contact look at the portal. They said it 'reeked' of death. Refused it to get any closer. Deadman is going to check it out today." Duke interupted them.

"What about Constantine?" She took the subject change.

"Still missing. Zatanna found his house yesterday. There was a note of a poker meeting in hell for a piece of his soul. Bruce thinks he lost and pissed of a demon he couldn't escape."

"You've got to be kidding me. How many people are going to go missing?" Jason started ripping off his armor and disappeared into the changing rooms. Hopefully, for a shower, he reeks.

"The Titans went back to the island today."

"How was that?"

"Raven ran into Zatanna and offered to look for Costantine in hell."

"Seriously? That's the worst idea ever."

"Batman said that to. She's probably going to go through with it still, though."

"Obviously."

"Hows your mom?"

"Good. She's worried about me. I keep telling her it's okay, but everyone knows about the cover story kidnappings by now."

" I still think the cover is bad. I'm surprised they even bought it."

"The press will buy anything that makes cops look bad. After that shootout at the mall last week, not a single person got hurt apart from some bruising, but everyone is dumping on the pigs now. Bruce is pissed."

"True. It was just some desperate kids trying to get quick cash anyway. They didn't even have bullets. Now all i get from Bruce is that I should have stopped them from pistal whipping that security guard."

"No shit?" The zeta tube rang out suddenly.

"Spoiler. Signal. Gather the others. We have a lead.

Fucking finally.

------‐---

Dick Grayson was no stranger to restless nights. Being a circus act turned vigilante, he'd been used to working well through midnight. Then he became a cop then Bruce 'died', and he quit. Then he came back and he had to say bye to his son and took a gymnastics training job. Much more flexible hours but just as exhausting. Classes, people, and training all day. It challenged even his extroverted attitude.

The coffee in this dimension wasn't anything like his own. It had an almondy taste to it, and he'd assume it was poisoned if he hadn't already drunken 2 cups a day since he got here.

It never got cold even if he left it out all day in the biting storms outside. It would be a little watery but still hot. He very much enjoyed that. He could drink room temperature coffee, but he still hated it.

They'd been staying at a log cabin in the Far Frozen since they got here four and half weeks ago. He'd questioned just about every yeti and random ghost about raising ghostlings, and hes pretty sure they run in terror when they see him coming by now. He sighed and set down his empty mug.

He spends just about everything day questioning ghosts, Frostbite visits, and spending time with Damian. Rinse and repeat. Don't get him wrong, he loves spending time with damian it was just hard. It's obvious they're running out of time. Bruce will get the portal fixed one way or another and come get them, and damian is scared out of his mind.

His nightmares haven't been this bad in years. It's gotten to the point that Damian starts out the night in his bed. Damian didn't talk in his sleep before it was mainly mumbled. Now it's all he hears.

(Please...I'm alive-im alive-im a real...person)

He gets his own nightmares as well. He sees Danny on the table. Strapped down, his hair, a white dewy halo. His green eyes glow, unseeing. A mix of red and green blood surrounding them. He's struggling with the wounds. Pushing the organs back in. Taking out the rib stretcher. Pushing them back in. Stapling his skin. His hands are covered in blood, both green and red. He thinks they might be a mix of Jazzs memories and his own imagination.

The toaster popping up pulls him from his thoughts. He picks up the burning bread. Swearing loudly and tossing the bread from one hand to the other all the way to the plate. Why didn't he just grab the plate? God he's fucking dumb.

The oven timer beeps, and he grabs his much needed mitt. He pulls out the golden brown biscuits. Alfred would be proud. He's not a bad cook, no matter what the others say. He's just a distracted and experimental one. Alfred often banned him from his experiments growing up trying to cook his parents' meals from memory. Alfred had, of course, pulled up recipes and even made calls. It just didn't taste right it was missing something he'd argue. Now that he was older, he thought maybe the circus was missing things and his parents substituting it the best they could.

He grabs the butter from the fridge and pulls back the wrapping to use the end of the stick on the biscuits. Damian hates when he does it 'unsanitary and gross', but come on, he has to do it as quickly as he can. They're also the only ones who have to eat here! Damians ghostly friends have been bringing back food from the real world for then to eat. He's trying not to wonder where their getting the food.

He grabs the honey jar and uses the fancy stick he can't remember the name of to spread the honey everywhere. He even puts some on his toast. He flips the last few pieces of suspicious looking fake bacon onto the resting plate. The Lunch Lady Ghost had brought for them saying he had to get protein somewhere, but if you ask him, it looks...iffy. He made extra biscuits just in case.

He loads the biscuits and toast on one plate and another for the fakon. He balances two cups of orange juice in one hand and holds the plate with his stomach and forearms. He nudges the slightly open door with his foot. The ghost dog 'Cujo' nips at his ankle and hopps around his feet excitedly.

"Down boy." He jokes half-heartedly. The dog takes his command very seriously and lays on the ground tongue halfway out his mouth. His wagging tail is undeterred by the wood intangiblely sweeping through in wide arcs. Damian is asleep under the covers his body to used to his footsteps to register as a danger anymore. He's trying his best to treat this as a vacation instead of getting used to it, but he can't help but admit he'd love to do this every morning. Making breakfast for them every morning, coming home or driving to pick him up every afternoon, no longer making do with calls and canceled weekends.

"Dami... wakey wakes, eggs, and bakey..." he sings, rubbing his shoulder. He sets the orange juice and plates on their one nightstand next to the baby 101 book they probably all read in Robin training already. He grabs his toast and a biscuit off the plate.

"Five more minutes..."No can do, baby. We've got a busy day today." Dami groans and rubs his face. His hair is much longer than three and a half months ago, no longer under Alfred's tutelage or gels, and now free to curl. He can't resist the temptation and runs his hand through the wild curls. Damian swats his hand away without any real heat, and he jumps on the bed, crawling over Damian and informing his squawk of protest to his side of their bed.

Damian sits up and snatches a biscuit and the baby name book underneath the other book. He pushes the book across the bed without a word.

"Did you find what you wanted? I thought you were going with Dan and Ellie. Like before." He notices a paper sticking out of the book, and he opens to that page. A small paper with Damis fancy scribbling is sticking out.

Dante Jasmine

Eleanor Richard

He sucks in a harsh breath.

"I-I had a rough time deciding on either Dante or Jordan. But I thought he'd like Dante more, you know. Do-do you like it? The names? Is it... okay?" Damian places a hand on his stomach where their cores are resting. They're growing stronger by day. Damian had let him hold his hand there just last night and feel them kicking? Pulsing? It was hard to tell, but Frostbite assured them it was normal and that any day now, they'd phase out. Frostbite had said that ghosts barely incubated for more than a month it only took so long because both the cores and Damian were weaker.

"It would be an honor. To have her named after me. And if Frostbite was right, both of them." Damian smiles and takes a bit of the biscuit. He barely manages to keep the happy tears in.

"I wanted to talk to you about something else as well."

"What Dames?" The last word sounded more like 'duhs' after he started eating his biscuit.

"Tucker stopped by when you were out interagating the yetis yesterday." He blushed and stuffed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. "He said Constantine was asking around at big leagues poker last week. They invite Tuck all the time, probably to suck up to the Big Guy in charge, you know.

"Since he's been looking after the throne for you?"Yeah, he's been doing a pretty good job. we'll probably revisit it when I'm older, but he said that he was looking for a pair of lost heroes."

"He described us?"

"Yeah, Tucker said it was pretty accurate, too. Even called in some favors. Tucker thinks he suspects something with the dimensions."

"Is he suspicious?"

" I don't think so, but Tuck said he pissed off some demons."

"Enough to go after him?"

"It's John Constantine. What do you think?" Damian said, folding his arms and squinting as if to say 'really?'.

"Fine. You're right. Should we help?"

"I'm sure the league will go after him if anything happens. I'll put some ghosts on the trail. Some cute blob ones, maybe." The league...Bruce.

"We should talk about Bruce." Damian looked away.

"What's there to talk about?" Dick scooted closer, catching a glance at the dog curled below damian on a pillow.

"Bruce loves you damian."

"You already said. God, you're starting to sound like a broke record. Did you know that?" Anger. It's easier to be angrier than admit you're scared. He'd know that well.

"It's true. I know you're worrying about it."

"Do you really think Father will undersrand? Understand them? Leave it alone?"

"You're his son, of course he can!"

"Am i? Am I his son? Or am I just another obligation? A reminder of his mistakes." Uncommon tears threaton to fall from Damians face. Reflecting in the early morning light.

"That's not true. He loves you." God, he was broken record.

"But does he like me? Does he really trust me?" Damian turned to him, fully letting him see the falling tears.

"Of course he likes you. You're his Robin and his son." He reached out a hand to wipe the tears from his face. His heart aches for his son.

Damian threw himself into his arms. His head made his way onto his neck and shoulder. Clutching and gripping his clothes. Dick grabs him and does his best tonadjust him into a healthier position to not hurt either one of them. There's a damp spot on his shoulder, but he ignores it.

"I'm your Robin too..."

"He's your dad, dami." He mutters into his hair. He uses his fingers to soothe the knots in his hair out as gently as he can.

"I wish-wish you were my real dad... not Bruce." Please don't say that. Please, you don't mean it. Damian starts sobbing and shudders against him. Shaking the both of them. He tries to soothe him. Rocking them back and forth.

"Dont say that. Don't do this to me -" He tries his best to get rid of the thoughts. Of them being actual father and son. Of him being able to take Damian home. Of not having to worry about Bruce's reminders that they're brothers. That he's Damians father, not him.

"You're his son." A reminder to himself just as much to Damian that he's Bruce's, not his. Damian just sobs louder. His heart breaks into pieces, and he tries to comfort him, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades. He turns his head and kisses his Baby Bats forehead. This angle allows him to see his face. It was soaked and reddened from the tears. Damian tries to bury himself closer to him.

"No-no..." Damians sobs into his arms. His jacket is drenched.

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revelboo · 11 days ago

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Rev's been inactive for 15 whole minutes, everyone panic! Call the honor guard! The navy! Superman even!

/LH /J

Pffft

I’m just hiding out over here writing TF stuff because the Twitter writing community seems to be actively on fire right now and I don’t have the energy to deal with it

Broken Arrow Pt 10

TFP Megatron x Reader

• Curling an arm around you when you go limp against him, it’s almost impossible to let go of your wrist and shatter that connection tethering him to you, but he finally manages to let go, feels your fingers slide through his spark, the pull as he loses contact urging him to curl himself tighter around you. Instead closing the plating protecting his spark, his servos unsteady as he stares down at you where you’re slumped against him, cheek against his shoulder. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, though he’s not entirely sure what he was thinking. Only that he’d wanted to feel someone touch him, he’d wanted to feel warm fingers stroking over his spark, holding and seeing him. All of him.

• Gripping your chin in his claws, he tips your head back. Your eyes are still closed and your pulse is slow when he strokes along the line of your throat, shifting your leash. Thinking about how you’d felt tangled in him, feeling you still, the connection new and fragile. Frightening. It’s not too late to end it, servos curling loosely about your throat even while knowing he won’t. He can’t when you’re all he really has that’s real, not plotting against him or scheming. That reminds him that he hadn’t always been the ruthless gladiator that had been born in that pit from pain and spilled energon. Staring up at the autocracy gambling on lives because everyone else had mattered so very little to them. Hating them and learning to be so much worse than they were just to survive. To throw them down.

• There’s a warmth coiled inside you, the thrum of something achingly familiar under your cheek and an arm curled around you, servos in your hair. That feeling is safety and home. Eyes opening at the soft clicking of a claw sliding back and forth over the length of your leash in Megatron’s fist, you try to figure out why you feel so exhausted. And then remember his servos gripping your wrist too hard, forcing you into contact with his spark, optics flickering that fitful purple from that crap he keeps taking. Everything after that kind of gets confusing as you flex your fingers and he looks down at you. Aware that he’s cradling you in his lap like a lover and of that scowl he’s aiming down at you. “Get off,” you mutter, trying to push against his chest and almost pitching backwards when he lets you. Scrambling out of his lap on unsteady feet, because it’s not just exhaustion, you feel off balance. “You jerk.” Because whatever’s wrong must be his fault. “What did you do?”

• Standing slowly to tower over you, he catches your upper arm when your legs almost fold under you and you slump against him. It’s not a full bond, not exactly. He can feel it in the way his spark is aching, wanting to reconnect. Needing more than a one sided bond, because he can feel the jarring wrongness of it. Knows that a spark bond is meant to unite, to twine two halves together. Meant to be between two willing sparks, not this mess he’s made. Your little hands are pushing at him again, trying to break away and he wonders what it feels like to you. Does it hurt you like it hurts him, a shard wedged in his spark?

• “Stop fighting me, pet.” That command isn’t his usual demanding tone or his teasing, it’s almost tired and very bitter as his arms press you closer despite your attempts to get away. Because the warmth and feel of him against you is suddenly too much, you’re overwhelmed with him. Needing him to back off, because you can’t think beyond the urge to be closer. Claws on your chin, forcing your head up to meet his optics again. Demanding your attention as he stares down at you, optics narrowing. “Primus.”

#transformers x reader #megatron x reader #tfp megatron

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scarybabe · 3 months ago

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Thank you so much for being open about your strong fat journey!! It looks amazing on you!!

Would you be open to sharing a sample week workout write up, or some other reference tips to create a routine? As a fellow gainer girl it would be great to have a reference that works for my body type, and I love your results!

Forgive me if you’ve already shared this, or stated that you don’t want to (if that’s the case just delete the ask)

You’re a wonderful voice in the community, thank you so much for doing all you do!!

Ahh thank you!! I do have a weightlifting coach, she makes my workout plans every day but I can share my nutrition plans + my usual mobility stretches - this makes a huge difference since I was starting from being a couch potato 💕

Nutrition- 3 meals with at least 30-40g of protein each meal and minimum 2,700 calories but more is good! I like the chocolate mutant mass protein powder and put unflavored collagen peptides in everything. At least 100oz of water every day

Mobility stretches (look these up) - 12 reps of Cat Cow, Superman Arm Sweeps. 10 reps of Dynamic Thread the Needle (on each side), Kneeling Hip CARS (each side), 90/90 Hip Shifts ** my mobility stretches change slightly depending on what area I’m working out

At the gym - 4 x 6-10 reps deadlift on smith machine, 3 x 6-12 dumbbell hammer curls, 3 x 8-12 dumbbell Romanian deadlifts (RDLs), 3 x 6-12 cable machine lat pulldown, 2 x 15 each side mini band standing glute hyperextension (one foot on a riser while the other leg extends), 2 x 20 hip abductions (usually there’s a machine for these)

If you’re new to lifting the first number is the number of sets - take a minute to rest between sets or even a bit longer if needed. Second number is the range of reps you do. When researching these I would look up the right tempo for eccentric/concentric muscle contractions because that can really maximize the efficacy. I usually do a practice set with as little weight as possible before the actual set of each new exercise to make sure my form is good, bad form can cause sprains, imbalances or soreness.

I finish my weightlifting with some cooldown stretches - today it’s 60 secof wide leg oblique stretching, 60 sec childs pose lat stretch, 60 sec prone cross over leg glute stretch

~~~~~

Monday - Friday I rotate through different muscle groups so I just shared my Monday routine (pull day!) and my coach tailors it to my personal goals as well. There’s a lot of good weightlifting programs online for free! I don’t do an ounce of cardio either, only strength training.

Thank you for your kind words, I hope this sparks interest in anyone else who may wanna try getting strong. I have a membership to a cheap 24/7 local gym because when I first started I was kinda shy to be watched as I figured out my form and all that 🤣 places like that are good for beginners

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twilight-orchid · 10 months ago

Text

You’re Going To Be A Grand….Bat

Part 2 to Shower Suprise Part 3

Jason Todd x gn pregnant reader

Word count 2,303

You bounced your foot impatiently as you and Jason sat in the gynecologist’s purposefully pastel waiting room. He watched you look anxiously around the space, your eyes never settling on any one thing and your head perking to every name called. You fiddled with your new engagement ring, a small smile curling into his lip upon seeing it. He held your right hand gently but firmly, his thumb rubbing circles along your soft skin. He slipped his grip up to your wrist, pressing just enough to feel your wild heartbeat racing.

“Hey, look at me doll.” He said lowly. You turned to look at him, your eyes possessing a frantic look and your pretty face twisted with worry. He let go of your hand to cup your cheek.

“It’ll be alright sweetheart. Either way it goes, it’ll be alright. You just gotta stay calm and breathe. Can you breathe for me?” You closed your eyes as you sucked in a shuddered breath, but you matched his in and exhales. You were both 99% sure you were pregnant, that’s not what you were nervous about.

After further deliberation, the two of you had decided to keep the baby. Jason felt nervous, excited, stressed, ecstatic, and terrified all at the same time. He’d spent the whole night reading about the first trimester of pregnancy and researched what you would learn at the first ultrasound. That was why you were nervous.

They’d go over basics: how far along you are, the baby’s measurements, listen to the heartbeat, etc. However, they’d also possibly hear some bad news: Ectopic pregnancy, developmental screenings, and genetic abnormality screenings are what had you stressing. Of course, chances were everything would be fine, but the couple was still understandably scared.

“Y/l/n?” A nurse called from the now open door. Jason squeezed your hand then stood, grabbing your bag and following you into the office. She confirmed your identity, took your height and weight, then led you into a small room. She had you sit on the cold blue exam table, the paper crinkling as Jason helped you up. He took his place at the chair by your side then once again grabbed your hand. You met his eyes and smiled nervously.

“Alright, I understand we’re doing an ultrasound today?” You nodded and she smiled warmly at you both. She took your basic intake info then had you lay down.

“Now I’m just an exam tech. The doctor will be in after to go over the results with you, okay? Pull your shirt up to your bust and relax. Oh, and sorry in advance, this will be cold.” Once you were settled, she squeezed a clear gel onto your bare belly making you shudder.

“Jesus fuck. That is cold.” Jason chuckled. Between the two of you his kid would be cursing like a sailor by 2.

You both watched the technicians face closely for any sign of what she was seeing as she waved the wand along your belly, but she had an impeccable poker face. And, as someone raised to analyze facial expressions, he couldn’t get a read of her at all. Impressive.

The exam thankfully only took a few minutes and the technician quickly departed to share the results with the doctor. Jason grabbed a couple of the cheap, rough paper towels and brought them over. You thanked him with a smile then moved the wipe the slick gel off. He tossed them for you as soon as you were done.

“You okay doll?” He asked. You still looked beyond anxious.

“I’m fine, just impatient.”

“Well that much I know.” He teased. You smiled and smacked his arm. He pretended to be hurt as if Superman himself had slugged him.

“Oh shut up, drama queen.” You laughed. There was a knock at the door before he could respond.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Hall and I’ll be going over your results with you today. I can see you’re both waiting anxiously, so I’ll cut to the chase: you’re 8 weeks pregnant.” The two now confirmed new parents looked at each other with excitement growing on their faces. He squeezed your hand tight.

“Wait, I didn’t finish.” The doctor interjected. The two froze and looked at her nervously. Oh no, was something wrong? She didn’t look like it was bad news though. A slight smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re pregnant with twins.” She said simply. If there were a window in the room, Jason would swear there’d be a bird suspended in air outside the way the world froze around him. You were the first to break the stunned silence.

“No, I’m not.” You denied, disbelief painting your tone. The doctor laughed.

“Yes, you are.” She grabbed a folder from the counter behind her and handed you a black and gray photo. Not just any photo, your ultrasound. The shock of twins dissipated when you saw the two little blobs that would be your babies.

“They’re not very visually developed at this stage, but you can see their little heads right here and this is their body. They’re about the size of raspberries right now. They’re both perfectly healthy so far as we can tell, but you’ll need to come in monthly for checkups.” Neither responded, their eyes glued to the paper. It suddenly felt very real for Jason. Pregnant wasn’t just a word and parenthood wasn’t just an idea; he already had two kids on the way. He had a whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

Twins. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, he thought. He heard you sniffle then turned to you to see tears rolling down your cheeks. He was worried for a moment before you wiped them away with a small laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.” The doctor smiled and handed you a tissue.

“It’s alright! Totally normal reaction with your hormones. Congratulations!” Jason still hadn’t said anything. He heard the conversation going on around him, but he felt like he was in a trance.

Twins. Two cribs, two car seats, two beds, twice the diapers, twice the bottles, twice the spit up, and more than likely half their sleep for the next couple years.

“I take it you’re the father?” She asked. Something clicked in his mind, and he looked up to meet your eyes. His head was still spinning, but he knew with you at his side everything would be okay. His signature handsome smile began growing on his face.

“Yeah, I’m the dad.”

You left with a copy of the ultrasound and your 12-week checkup scheduled. Once in the car the two of you made your way home.

“Jay, can I address the elephant in the room?” You asked from the passenger side.

“I mean sure but, we’re in the car and I don’t see an elephant anywhere.” He remarked making you scoff.

“Don’t be a smartass.” You chided. He let out a sigh.

“I know we need to tell Bruce.”

“He’s gonna find out sooner or later, and if you hide it for too long, he’s gonna get his feelings hurt.” Jason barked a laugh.

“You know we’re talking about Batman, right?”

“He’s human, Jay. And he’s really making an effort with you. If you don’t tell him he’s going to think you don’t trust him, it’ll hurt his feelings, and he’ll express it in anger or coldness. Better?” He groaned.

“Fine.” He made the turn that takes you out of the city to the suburbs where the manor was located.

“Wait we’re going right now?”

“I know he’s home right now, and most of my siblings aren’t. It’s as good a time as any.” You didn’t say anything, just squeezed the hand he had resting on your thigh.

“Can you let Al know we’re on the way?”

Telling Bruce had been an issue dancing around his mind just as much as the pregnancy itself. He didn’t expect B to be mad, but he doubted he’d be happy about it. For someone who had a small army of kids himself, B had been very clear about how dangerous it is to bring kids into their world. Plus, Jason had always said Bruce should give criminals the safe sex talks he and his siblings had received. The awkwardness alone would probably set them on a better path.

The manor was only about 20 minutes away from the hospital, so you reached your destination quickly. Which was good, because Jason’s nerves were already shot by the time you arrived. Alfred had clearly been waiting for you as the door was open by the time they were on the stairs.

“Master Todd, y/n, it’s good to see you both.” Alfred greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Al. Where’s B?” Alfred scoffed.

“Where he always is.” The trio made their way through the manor, into the study, then descended into the cave. Being that it was only 11am, they found Bruce in his street clothes typing away at the Bat-computer, his back to the entrance.

“Hey, B.” Jason greeted as they got closer. Bruce looked up from his research and turned to them with his universe famous resting bitch face.

“Jason, y/n.” He acknowledged with a nod before going back to his case. The couple looked anxiously at each other before Jason cleared his throat.

“B, we uh… we actually need to talk to you.” Jason said tentatively. That got Bruce’s attention.

He fully turned away from the computer to face you. You stared at the floor, your hands fiddling anxiously with the hem of your shirt. Jason looked him in the eye, but his face was controlled, intentional. He gripped a folder in his hand with white knuckled strength.

You were both nervous as hell.

He noticed the new ring on your finger, but you weren’t here to announce your engagement. This was something else. Something important that affected you both, that clearly involved Bruce, and that you were anxious about.

“Excuse me.” Alfred said with a small bow, dismissing himself.

“Actually Al, you should stay.” Jason added. Bruce and Alfred both raised a brow to that. There were several potential options mulling around Bruce’s mind, but one stood out as a prominent possibility.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” He said, still painfully deadpan. You both froze, head snapping up like deer in headlights. Shit, you were pregnant.

“Are you serious?” He asked, his voice sterner than he meant it to be but he didn’t bother correcting himself. Jason approached and handed him the folder, then took a step back to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your hip. Bruce flipped it open with Alfred peering over his shoulder.

Bruce had never been there for the pregnancy of any of his kids and had never really been around pregnant people for any extended periods of time, but he knew what a sonogram looked like. And he also knew there weren’t typically two fetuses in the picture either.

“My god, you’re having twins?” Alfred exclaimed. The couple both nodded silently. Bruce sighed.

“After all the talks I had with you boys…” He muttered.

“We used a condom!” Jason defended.

“And birth control.” You added. Bruce groaned and ran a hand over his face.

He looked at Jason, his son. His son that had been through hell and seen the world at its worst. His son who died and was brought back angry and crazed. Bruce’s greatest failure. His son who went on a killing spree, following his own vengeful sense of justice. His son who, after everything, was trying to be a better man. He was a better man. A man who controlled his anger, who was denying vengeance for justice, who had settled in with a partner and really began building a life for himself. Bruce wasn’t the sort to load praise, he found words useless and pretty, so he preferred actions. However, he was proud of Jason in a way unique to his children. And now his son, whom he once thought lost, was having two kids of his own. Bruce sighed again.

“I’m not even 50 and you’re making me a grandpa?” He asked, the slightest quirk at the corner of his lip. The couple paused; a loading screen might as well have been floating above their heads.

“So you’re…” you began.

“Not pissed?” Jason finished. Bruce scoffed.

“No. You’re adults, you can make your own decisions.” He said plainly but paused.

“And, for the record, I think you’ll be great parents.” With that he turned back to the computer and set to work again.

“Oh, and congratulations on the engagement.” He yelled over his shoulder. You furrowed your brows.

“How did he- oh, right. World's greatest detective, I forgot.” Bruce snorted to himself at that last part.

“My congratulations to the both of you. How far along?” Alfred said as he approached the new parents to be.

“8 weeks.” You answered smiling brightly, your hand moving to your currently unchanged belly. Something warm lit in Jason’s chest.

“Well, I wish you luck informing the rest of the family, I’m rather thankful we don’t have neighbors. They’re sure to cause quite the ruckus in their excitement.”

“You think they’ll be excited?” You asked anxiously. Jason knew you were worried about your place in his massive and chaotic super family.

“Oh, babe, they’re gonna be through the roof. Two babies? You kidding? There’s gonna be a war from day 1 to be the favorite aunt or uncle.” You smiled, your nerves dying down.

“Everyone will be together for dinner tonight, perhaps you could join us then? I’m making tortellini.” Alfred tempted. Jason suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas.

“Oh, babe, we have to do it. You’ve never had Al’s homemade tortellini, absolutely killer.” You laughed.

“I guess we’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

Note: I know, I knoooow the twin trope is overdone but the image of Jason trying to juggle two toddlers is just too good. I have one more piece drafted then I may write the whole family reveal, but I’m anxious to write that many characters at once. Also I know I have a pretty nice Bruce, but I don't feel like Batman as a character needs to be an absuive ass to his kids to be himself. And again, I'm a new writer so I'm sorry if it's bad lol. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

#jason todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x pregnant reader #jason todd x pregnant!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #Jason Todd #red hood #dcu #dc comics #dc #batfam #batman

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suzukiblu · 6 months ago

Text

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for ItsOleander behind the cut; a fake cryptid and a real romantic. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . ‘diamond’, the Batman repeats skeptically. Tim radiates embarrassment, then pulls a bright, shiny stone out of his hidden belt to show to it. The Batman tilts its head again.

It’s a diamond, yes. An unusually large one, shaped more like a heart than any traditional cut. And it’s new, too. There’s no history to it at all, just faint traces of determined perfectionism and something a little hesitantly hopeful, all burnt in fire and care and pressure. And not something stolen or reclaimed, like one from a Cat would be.

Though its new Robin tastes just a little bit like a Cat, doesn't he, it realizes.

Hm.

That’s different.

diamond, the Batman says, leaning down to inspect it more closely.

“He, uh, made it,” Tim says. “Like–for me? I mean, he thinks I’m–a bird, kind of, so he thought I’d like something, uh . . . shiny, you know? Like a magpie or crow or whatever, I guess. Or, um, possibly a penguin. Possibly he thinks I’m a penguin, given this is technically a rock. God, does he think I’m a penguin?”

hm, the Batman says, frowning consideringly while Tim keeps muttering to himself in concern about penguins, which is understandable, because Oswald Cobblepot isn’t the kind of role model a Robin should aspire after. It’s never had a Robin who could make diamonds, but supposes there's a first time for everything. Not every Robin can do a quadruple backflip or deduce its summoning ritual either.

. . . or jack tires off a car that doesn't even count as an actual physical “car”.

Or . . . draw.

The Batman–pauses. Frowns.

None of its Robins draw. Why did it just . . .

Its new Robin flies back up with Dick curled around his shoulders like a cape. Maybe he draws, the Batman thinks, flicking its approximation of eyes towards him. He made a diamond, after all, and cut it to shape. That’s . . . artistic, technically. The human kind of “artistic”, anyway.

Humans have very strange ideas of what counts as artistic, but the Batman supposes that’s just how humans are. “Just how humans are” has been a necessary thing to internalize, at this point in its existence.

. . . it still doesn’t know how Jason got the damn tires off, even now.

“Um, hi. Again. Sir/ma’am. Ma’am/sir?” its new Robin attempts as he lets Dick back down on the ledge, looking nervous. Tim was nervous to meet it too. Dick was too grief-stricken and angry for anything like that, though, and Jason just wasn’t afraid of it at all.

And . . .

And–it doesn’t know why it thought “and”, there. It hasn’t had another Robin. There was Batgirl and now there’s the Spoiler, but . . .

There’s no reason to think “and” there.

But it thought “and” anyway, didn’t it, it notes, and files that thought away in the place where its mind would go.

If it had one, obviously.

“Baaaaatman,” Tim hisses, Robin’s voice layered back over his own.

“Batman,” its new Robin repeats, then puffs himself up like he’s displaying plumage he’s not wearing–his colors are bright, at least, but not the right colors; not colors meant for flying. The Batman appreciates the instinct, at least. “Um–I’m Superboy! Hey! Nice to meet you!”

The Batman glowers. Dick, inexplicably, starts sniggering, and Tim makes a pained sound. Its new Robin–not Superboy–looks more nervous, hiding his hands behind his back. The Batman resists the urge to sweep off to go screech at Superman. Barely resists, but resists.

Its new Robin is just as new as the diamond he made, though, and clearly worried about its reaction. It doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

It’ll screech at Superman later, though.

meet, it says, leaning forward over the ledge and letting the shadows of its cape wrap underneath its new Robin’s legs, just in case. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to catch.

A net.

Obviously.

He’s still flying wrong, after all.

Its new Robin peers down at its trailing cape of a net curiously, looking interested, and then peers at it instead.

“Huh,” he says. “You’re way nicer than everybody said. Well. Everybody except Superman, anyway. He says you’re super-nice.”

Hm, the Batman thinks grudgingly. Alright. Maybe Superman isn’t trying to take its new Robin. Maybe he sent it its new Robin, after he woke up alive again and found him flying around Metropolis without a net. That, admittedly, would be more in line with Superman’s usual behavior. And general . . . “Superman”-ness.

The Batman really does not understand Superman. Superman is a thing of Metropolis skyscrapers and alien skies and rolling farmlands and blazing sunlight, though, which are all far beyond the Batman’s sphere of influence and comprehension, so that’s hardly a surprise.

It does make more sense if Superman sent it its new Robin, though, as opposed to trying to steal him, so the Batman is somewhat mollified by that. Even if its new Robin apparently doesn’t know his own name.

. . . ah, the Batman realizes, and tilts its head slowly.

Not “doesn’t know”.

Doesn’t have.

diamond, it says, and its new Robin immediately looks flustered.

“Oh, uh, I just thought Robin’d like something shiny for his nest, maybe?” he says, and the Batman–pauses.

‘nest’? it repeats carefully. Tim makes a mortified noise and hides his face in Robin’s wings again.

“Um–yeah?” Its new Robin looks embarrassed. “I mean, I kinda just assumed he had one, I haven’t, like, seen it or anything. Like, I’m not trying to go into his, uh, private space or–um! I’m not doing anything weird, I swear!”

The Batman tilts its head.

The Batman has never seen one of its Robins nest. But . . .

They grow, don't they, it's distantly reminded. Dick's grown into Nightwing, and Tim fits Robin's wings so differently than he first used to.

Jason grew too, a little. For what little time it had him, anyway. That hot-tempered, fearless stray fledgling who could do his workings with nothing but scraps from the streets and a length of cold iron became a bright grin and gleeful energy and bold Robin-wings.

But Jason only got to grow a little, so sometimes the Batman . . . forgets.

They all grow, though.

nest? the Batman asks again, looking to Tim. Tim doesn't lift his face out of Robin's wings.

“Priiiiivate!” Tim hisses, and the Batman can sense the mortification rolling off of him in waves. The Batman frowns, leaning down over him to assess him more closely. Robin's talons give off the impression of dry, cracked wood and awkward mistakes layered over Tim's hidden hands full of carefully-hunted information, and it thinks . . . oh. Tim actually tried to. Didn't manage it, but . . .

The Batman doesn't know how it feels about that. He's so young. Isn't he? Dick hasn't even nested yet; just courted and flirted and occasionally pined.

“ROBIN nesssssts, now?” Dick teases, popping up on Tim's other side. Tim makes a strangled noise again and huddles in smaller on himself. The Batman frowns in concern. He doesn't feel injured, but . . .

“Nooooot Nightwing's . . . busssssinesssss!” Tim hisses, snapping his teeth behind Robin's mask, then visibly sulks. “Stuuuuupid.”

The Batman frowns again.

#itsoleander #wip: a fake cryptid and a real romantic

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thevoidstaredback · 2 months ago

Text

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

I found Bruce, we’re on our way back now. ETA 2 days. Have the med-bay prepped.

***

Damian rushed to the Batcave as soon as the alert came through on his phone, he found Grayson doing the same. Everyone had likely gotten the message, but they were the only two close enough to actually get to the Cave and read what was sent. When they arrived, however, they both froze. In big, bold letters on the largest screen was the confirmation that he had been waiting a year for. Drake had found Father, and is bringing him home.

He felt an overwhelming something overcome him. Father’s alive. Father’s okay. Father’s coming back. Drake is bringing Father back.

“Damian!” Grayson shook his shoulders, “Are you okay?”

It took a few more seconds, but Damian nodded his head, “Yes, Richard, I’m fine.”

Richard froze for a second. “What did you..call me?”

“‘Richard’?” Damian raised his eyebrow. “That is your name, isn’t it?” When Richard didn’t answer, standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face, Damian went to the elevator, “I will inform Alfred of Drake’s status report. You should tell the others.” The doors closed behind him, cutting off his view of the Cave, and he found himself able to breathe again.

Father’s coming home.

He was quick to leave the office, making sure the grandfather clock closed behind him. Finding Alfred was easy, telling him about the message Drake just sent was not. He stood dumbly in the kitchen doorway, half in the dining room and half in the kitchen.

“Is there something I can help you with, young master Damian?”

Damian’s mouth felt dry and his eyes felt wet. “Um,” A stutter? Really?

“Young master Damian?” Alfred approached him, “Is everything alright?”

He swallowed. “Yes, Alfred, everything’s fine.”

“Good,” the panic Damian hadn’t noticed left the old man’s face, but there was still an expression of uncertainty. “Drake sent an emergency message: He’s found Father. They’ll be returning in two days. He requested that the medical bay be prepared, but he did not specify.”

Alfred lost some of the composure he so dutifully held. His shoulders slumped and relief fell off of his frame like a weight. He suddenly seemed much older than he ever acted. Between three blinks, he was back to his perfect butler self. “I will have everything ready for your brother’s and father’s return.” he nodded.

Damian nodded back and turned to leave the room. He was numb all the way to his bedroom, only stopping to pet Alfred the cat, but only for a few seconds.

He closed the door behind himself, locking it, before sliding down it to sit on the floor. Father was coming home. He knew that he couldn’t be dead! He knew he wouldn’t have stayed dead! He curled his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, buried his face in his knees, and cried.

They heard the Batplane before they saw it only because the doors opening to let it land let in a rush of wind.

Only Damian, Alfred, and Richard were in the Cave to receive Father and Drake. Todd hadn’t answered Richard or Alfred in nearly nine months, and the only way they knew he was alive was because Red Hood was still ruling Crime Alley. Gordon had been elated to hear of their return, but was currently otherwise occupied. Cain and Brown were still in Hong Kong, but they had promised to be back as soon as they could.

The next people Richard had contacted had been Superman and Wonder Woman. He alerted them that something had come up and that Batman and Robin would not make it to the meeting on the Watchtower the next day. In a very Batman fashion, he didn’t elaborate and hung up on them.

Damian had to wonder, though, through the preparations of getting everything ready for Father’s and Drake’s return, what would Father think about how everything fell apart after he went missing? Things hadn’t been perfect before, but they had held together. Now, they’d all fallen away from each other, despite Richard’s best efforts. Even then, he’d stopped after four months of almost nothing but rejection and static.

The second the drophatch was fully down, Alfred and Richard were on the plane, loading Father onto a gurney so they could wheel him to the med-bay. It was hardly a fight, with Father being as out of it as he was, so it was a quick process. Soon, Alfred, Richard, and Father were in the medical bay, leaving Damian and Drake together.

It was a quiet few moments, the two watching the three older men from across the Cave until they disappeared behind the door. Finally, Damian turned to Drake. “Thank you,” he said, “for bringing him back.”

Drake scoffed. “It’s not like you ever believed me that he was alive.”

“I did,” he ducked his head down, “but I did not help you, nor did I try to convince the others. For that I-” He’s been working on this part, actually, since Drake sent the notice of return. “-I apologize.”

“You,” Drake asked, his tone full of disbelief, “are apologizing to me?”

He nodded. “I recognize that I have been…uncouth towards you, and I would like to rectify our relationship going forward.” He inwardly scolded himself for sounding so stilted and awkward. Speaking to people had always been Danyal’s area of expertise. “I understand, however, if you would prefer to not have anything to do with me. In which case, I will do my best to stay away.”

Drake was quiet for a few minutes, not moving or speaking. Soon, though, Damian figured his older…brother wanted nothing to do with him, so he started to walk away. He didn’t let his disappointment show, though. He had no business feeling that way. It was his own fault after all, his own actions that pushed Drake away. He pushed everyone away, actually.

“Wait-!” Drake called. Damian turned slightly to face him. “I, uh, do you mean it?”

“Do I mean what, Drake?”

“Wanting to be…friendlier? You really mean it?”

Turning back fully. “Yes,” he didn’t meet his eyes, “When I was with Mother, she taught me to take what should be mine by force and or of elimination. Grandfather, when I saw him, taught me that my weaknesses should be quashed and that the weaknesses of my enemies should be exploited for all they would give. While you have been searching for Father, the Manor has felt empty, cold. It’s not at all what it was when I first arrived and I cannot help but feel as though a part of that is my own fault for pushing everyone away, even before Father went missing. Todd hasn’t communicated with any of us for nearly nine months, Gordon has been busy with her day job and her father, Cain and Brown have been in Hong Kong with low contact, you’ve been MIA for almost a year-!” He hated how tears welled up in his eyes. “Richard has been trying to keep everything together by being someone he was never meant to be, and the one person I was ever allowed to rely on probably hates me!” He hated the sob that escaped him. He hated that he was breaking down.

Drake sighed quietly. “You really are just a kid, huh.” Slowly, he approached Damian and put his hand on his shoulder. “Is this alright?” After a second, there was a nod. He pulled him into a hug, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders to hold his head to his chest. “What about this?” Another nod.

Damian wrapped his arms around Timothy’s waist, burying his face into the older boy’s chest, staining the material with his tears. He hated that he was showing weakness, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care at the moment. “I just want the Manor to be warm again.” he whispered.

Timothy pet his hair softly. “I know, kid. I think that can be arranged, but I don’t know how long that will take.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Damian sniffled and pulled away, wiping his tears as soon as Timothy’s hands dropped to his sides. “We will not speak of this.”

Timothy chuckled, “Alright.” His right hand moved to hold his bottom left ribs. “First step to taking care of that promise, though,” he wheezed, “is getting me some medical treatment.”

“You’re an idiot, Timothy.” Damian scolded with no heat behind his words. He carefully slid under Timothy’s left arm, lopping his right around his waist to hold him up. “You better not be hurt enough to be at risk of dying.”

“And break my new promise to you?” Timothy sounded offended, though he was smiling. “Never.”

“I will stab you in the spleen.”

“You’d injure me more, brat.”

“That would be the point, yes.”

“Did our heartfelt moment just now mean nothing to you?”

“Seeing as emotions are not labeled on a linear scale, therefore unable to be counted on a negative scale, yes. It meant nothing.”

“You hurt me, brat.”

“Good.”

Quiet covered the two for a moment. “Y’know, this doesn’t make up for the year’s worth of shit you put me through after you first got here, right?”

Damian nodded. “I know.”

“Good.” Timothy’s words were slurring now.

Damian shifted his grip to carry more of the older boy’s weight. “Rest, Timothy. Alfred will look over you when he is done with Father.”

Timothy shook his head. “No. I gotta- file miss’on ‘port.”

“You cannot even see straight, Timothy-”

“‘m bi.”

“...you cannot see gay right now, either. Sleep. You can file a mission report when Alfred clears you.”

“‘ou’re not gon’ let me go, are ya?” Timothy droned tiredly.

“That would be the correct assumption, yes.”

Timothy huffed. “Fine.” Then, he collapsed.

Had Damian not been ready, he would’ve dropped the older vigilante on the Cave’s floor. As it was, he’d already been holding most of his weight. While it was awkward to carry the taller boy the rest of the way across the Cave and into the med-bay, it was not hard.

He ignored the looks he got from Richard and Alfred as he laid Timothy down on an empty cot in the corner of the room furthest from the door. Without saying anything, he left them to go back to the Manor. He stopped by the Batcomputer, though, to see if any of the others had sent anything. There was one from Todd simply reading ‘The old man didn’t die? Tsk’. He left it on the screen and entered the elevator, taking it up to the Manor.

Father’s office was warmer now that the man was back home. The Manor itself seemed to be that much brighter, as though the building was aware of its master’s return. The constant hum of electricity in the walls seemed to have a cheerful not to it. Even the sky he could spy above Gotham City proper was showing dull blue through the smog!

Alfred the cat joined him as he walked up the stairs to his room. It was nestled in the corner a door down from Timothy’s, four doors down and across the hall from Todd’s, four doors down from Richards, two doors down and across the hall from Cain’s, and one door down and across the hall from Brown’s. The doors themselves seemed less imposing as before, ready to re-welcome whoever stayed behind them.

He hesitated in front of his own door, the slab of hardwood looming over him. Steeling himself took a moment too long, but he finally managed to open the door. “There’s nothing to be scared of; it’s just your room.”

Inside, nothing had been disturbed. The traps on the window and around the room lay ready to be set off, and none had been activated or disarmed. He found his attention drawn to his desk between the two windows, the silver chain around his neck feeling heavier by the second.

Danyal would want to know Father is safe and home.

Damian hasn’t even bothered to read Danyal’s last three letters.

Danyal would want to know that he’s okay.

Damian’s a coward.

One week after Father returned home, Richard made the official statement to the press. He told them that the Private Investigators they’d hired had found and brought him home. The kidnappers had all been incarcerated.

Father had yet to wake up.

Timothy had awoken three days later, completely cleared for civilian life and desk work. He wasn’t yet allowed to go out as Red Robin, but he did file his mission report. An entire year’s worth of adventures had only taken eighteen hours to log. Damian suspected things had been left out, but he didn’t mention it.

Todd hadn’t sent anything after his initial message, but he was now reading the messages sent to him by Richard.

Cain and Brown could not yet pull themselves from Hong Kong, but they were in near constant contact with Richard, Alfred, or Tim.

Gordon had managed to rejoin them as Oracle the day after Timothy awoke, jumping at the opportunity to talk to any of them.

Damian found a little part of him that was upset by everyone suddenly rushing back together, but he did not have a valid reason to be upset. Richard and Timothy had reason to be upset, and it was not up to Damian to be upset for them. So, he buried that little voice and went on with his routine.

He and Richard were still going out as Batman and Robin, but that would only last until Father was cleared for duty. Then, Father would retake the Batman Cowl, Damian would remain Robin, and Richard would go back to being Nightwing. Honestly, Damian had no idea how to feel about that. He ignored that voice, too. Instead, he focused on the WAR case he’d taken from Richard.

WAR; We Are Robin. A meta-human opened up the movement with his team, eight months ago. He seemed to have realized that Richard had takenFather’s place under the cowl and had acted accordingly. Or, this had always been a plan for him, but that was unlikely because the kid is fourteen and untrained. He acts during the day, leaving the night to the trained vigilanties, and he has a network that spans all of Gotham, probably already branching out into neighboring cities. As soon as he could, Robin reached out with intents to set up a meeting. The response was swift. Three days after Timothy woke up, Robin left the Batcave in the middle of the day to meet R.

He stood on the roof of Wayne Enterprise with Oracle in his ear, ready to call for backup if he needed it. He wouldn’t. After nearly five minutes of waiting, R landed on the rooftop in front of him, several feet of space between them.

The teen moved with all the grace of a sportsman, untrained in combat, but not wasting a single movement or breath. His suit was yellow and black, the visor of his helmet tinted white, and the Robin R sat proudly in the middle of his chest. The red stood out garishly against the bright yellow

“Robin,” the teen greeted.

“R,” Robin nodded back.

“I’m surprised,” R’s stance was casual, but ready to move at a moment's cue. “Last I heard, Batman was hunting down those of us involved in WAR. Then, he stops and I get a message from you a few months later. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Robin hoped that this child wasn’t nearly this insufferable as a civilian. He sniffed, still new to the whole negotiating aspect of vigilantism. “I wish to invite you to work with us.”

There was a beat. “Excuse me?”

Robin continued. “Batman has a rule of no meta’s in Gotham because the danger the city poses to you could potentially make you a threat to the citizens. You operating within city limits has upset him, naturally, but it has done the city good.”

R stared at him for a few seconds. “Does he know you’re here?”

“No, but he will if I need him to.”

Another few beats. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

Unfamiliar with the phrase, Robin ignored it. “In exchange for wearing the Bat Symbol on your chest, you will be under Batman’s protection, and, by extension, the protection and assistance of everyone who wears the symbol.”

“You don’t wear the bat,”

“It goes without saying that I work for and with Batman. I do not need the symbol when the title is enough.”

“If you say so, kid.”

“I do.”

“What will the big bad Bat think about you going off on your own like this?”

“He trusts my judgment,” Richard does, at least. Sometimes. “He will leave you alone as long as I can vouch for you. I will do so as long as you follow Batman’s rules to the best of your ability.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that as long as you are wearing the bat on your chest, you work for and with Batman and his allies. Courtesies extended to us will be extended to you, and vice versa. Once you are cleared, our identities will be shared between each other and your training will begin.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. Training? Revealing identities? Isn’t that a bit too far ahead to be thinking right now?”

“Not in the slightest, Thomas,” The older kid noticeably stiffened, his stance ready to flee rather than fight. “I know who you are. Batman will likely find out when I present this proposal to him. It is in your best interest to agree to work with us.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a threat, kid,”

Robin tilted his chin down. “I apologize, that was not my intention.” His nose scrunched up. “I have been working to better my ‘people skills’, as the others called it.”

R snorted, relaxing a bit, “Since you know who I am, do I get to know who you are?”

Robin shook his head. “Telling you my name would reveal the others. I have cleared you myself, but Batman will need to clear you before we tell you who we are.”

“Doesn’t that mean I have to wait to get the bat, then?”

“No. It means that you will have to wait before we can start your training.”

“Alright. So, when do I get the bat? Because, and no offense to you, but this red R totally throws off my whole vibe.”

A smile quirked at the corner of Robin’s lips. “I will have to for you tomorrow. Meet me back here at fifteen-hundred hours.”

“Can do, kid.”

With the clear farewell, Robin jumped off the roof of the building and grabbed a few streets away, feeling like he was flying. Then, once he landed, he used the entrance hidden in the back of the empty parking garage to get down to the cave systems under Gotham. From there, it was an easy hour walk to the Batcave.

Once again, Damian finds himself staring at the locked top drawer of his desk. The key was in his hand, the chain dangling from it. It felt heavy, warm to the touch, though that’s probably because he’s been holding it for three hours.

There was a knock on the door, but he didn’t answer. Someone said something on the other side, but he didn’t hear it. The drawer was taunting him; the key was mocking him. He was stuck in a limbo between opening the drawer and facing the music or leaving it be and risking his brother’s wrath.

“Damian?” Richard had come into the room and was now standing in front of him. “Is everything alright, bud?”

Damian set the key on the bed next to him before standing. “Yes, I am fine, Richard. What do you need?”

Richard eyed the key, but didn’t mention it. “B’s awake. I thought you’d like to go talk to him.”

“Very well,” he left his room, waiting for Richard in the hallway, “Let’s go.”

Richard looked very much like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He quietly led the way down to the Batcave, using the fireman's pole in the first floor closet instead of the elevator in Father’s office. Then, he took Damian to the med-bey.

There, sitting propped up on the bed, was Father, brushing off Alfred’s insistence for a check up. He looked up when the door opened, his face softening at the sight of his children. “Dick, Damian.”

“Hey, B,”

“Father,”

Father opened his arms and waited a second. Richard didn’t hesitate, rushing into the man’s hug. “You’re an idiot, Bruce!”

“I know,” Father cooed softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again, do you hear me? Never again!” Richard cried, “And you can’t die, either! If you do, I’ll kill you myself.”

Father chuckled, “Alright, alright. I promise.”

Richard pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his sleeve across his face. “Good, good.” He sniffled. “I should let everyone else know you’re awake.”

“How’s Tim?” Father asked.

“He’s fine,” Richard reported, “He woke up a little over a week ago.”

Father’s next question was, “How long was I gone?” followed closely by, “How long have I been back?”

Richard laughed wetly, humorlessly. “You were gone for a year. We told the press that you were kidnapped. Speaking of, I posted an official announcement of your return; you can look at it later. As for how long you’ve been back, well,”

“Timothy recovered you three weeks ago,” Damian cut in, “After two days, you both arrived in the Cave. You were unconscious upon arrival, Timothy passed out shortly thereafter. He woke up after three days and was cleared to go out six days later.”

A dark look crossed over Father’s face. “How’s Gotham?”

“Not totally destroyed,” Richard’s attempt at a joke fell flat. “I’ll, um, I’ll let you two talk.” He was swift to leave the room, leaving Father and Damian alone.

Damian stared at his Father, taking in his appearance and noting down every injury he could see. He seemed haggard, tired despite having only just woken up. He wanted to ask what happened, but he didn’t. “It’s good to see you, Father.”

“Damian,” Father’s arms twitched like he wanted another hug. Damian picked up on it and walked forward, wrapping his arms around his Father. Father embraced him, his grip tightening around him. “Damian, I’m so, so sorry I left you alone. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” he responded, “I do not hold it against you.”

“You should.”

“Will it happen again?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“That I will not blame you.” He hid his face in his Father’s shoulder, “Do not leave us again.”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry!”

He didn’t say anything, opting to hold his Father close. He had been scared, but so was everyone else, so was Father. Damian couldn’t begin to imagine what Father had gone through. Where had he been? Why had it taken so long to find him? Why didn’t he come back? Why couldn’t he come back? Timothy hadn’t been forthcoming with any answers, but that was okay. Damian could wait until either Father or Timothy shared.

After several long minutes, Father pulled away and Damian sat on the edge of the bed. “So, when were you planning on telling me about your brother?”

Damian stiffened. “What?”

“I got thrown into the Time Stream, I think. A kid who looks strangely like you, if only a little older, helped me when he could. So, either there’s a clone of you with access to Time Travel running around, or you have a sibling you haven’t told me about.”

“I-” he found himself unable to form the words. After a few false starts, he finally managed, “He disappeared when we were children.” Father tensed. “I have only come back into contact with him fairly recently, but that is because he reached out first.” Father relaxed, but Damian didn’t.

“You’re talking to him now?” Damian didn’t answer. “Are you talking to him still?”

He shook his head. “No. Too much has been happening since you went missing; I did not have the time.”

Father frowned. “Tell me what’s been going on, and then we’ll contact him together. How does that sound?”

Damian didn’t know how to feel about that. “That sounds good.”

The door to the med-bay opened and Timothy came in. “Bruce!”

“Tim,” the man smiled smally, “Thanks for finding me.”

Timothy snorted and leaned against the wall. “Someone had to, old man. Besides, those clues you left were way too vague for anyone else to figure out.”

Richard came back in after Timothy, choosing to sit in one of the chairs in the room. He didn’t say anything, but he did have a sad look on his face.

Father met the eyes of all three children. “Tell me exactly what’s happened in the year I’ve been gone.”

Timothy groaned. “Where do we even start?”

“You can start by telling me your cover story,” Father said, “And then you can tell me where everyone else is.”

Richard grimaced, his nose scrunching up as if the idea of explaining anything was appling. It was, actually, but Damian didn’t say anything. “Well, we told the press that you went missing.”

Father waited for him to continue. When he didn’t he prompted, “And the Justice League?”

“They, um, didn’t know?”

There were several long seconds where Father stared on in disbelief. “You didn’t tell the Justice League that I’d gone missing?”

“We did tell them!” Richard objected. “We told them that Bruce Wayne had gone missing-!”

“-and that Nightwing was doing undercover work, and that Red Robin was on a mission overseas.”

“And what about Batman?” Father asked, though it didn’t sound at all like a question.

Richard curled back slightly. “Batman and Robin were the ones to tell them…”

Father sighed long and hard. “Batman went missing, and Robin went after him.”

“Batman went missing, and Red Robin went after him.” Damian corrected, “Nightwing went undercover, Black Bat and Spoiler went to Hong Kong. Batman and Robin watched over Gotham with assistance from WAR.”

Father took a deep breath. “I’m…I’m sorry you had to do that, Dick.”

“It’s- Well, it’s not alright, but I can forgive you. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, Gotham needs Batman.”

“And Batman needs Robin,” Timothy added.

Suddenly, Father turned his gaze back to Damian. “You..?”

Damian nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry, boys,”

“So you keep saying,” Damian stated. “Father, I have been trained since birth to take over your mantle. Being Robin is just another step I must take. Timothy could not have gone after you as Robin without unwanted attention. Richard had no other choice than to become Batman because Gotham needs Batman. He will, however, be going back to Nightwing as soon as you’ve recovered enough to work, and after he’s had a break.”

“Baby bird-”

“You have been ripping apart at the seams, Richard,” Damian scolded, standing up to face him, “If you do not willingly take a break, I will knock you out and have Goliath watch over you.”

There was a moment of silence. “Um,” Timothy asked, “Who’s Goliath?”

“My dragon bat.” Damian answered as though it didn’t sound absolutely insane.

“You’re what?”

“You weren’t kidding, were ya, kid?” Thomas whistled.

Damian shook his head minutely. “I do not joke, especially not in uniform.”

Thomas sat on his new bed, taking in every inch of the room. “Yeah, but Wayne? How do you do it? The whole world thinks that there’s no way Bruce Wayne could be Batman, especially not after he went missing. How did you guys pull that off, by the way?”

“Simple,” Damian replied, “Father went missing, so Timothy went to look for him. I became Robin and Richard became Batman. Nightwing went undercover.”

“I-” he paused, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But what about the whole Bruce Wayne is Batman thing? How does he do it?”

“A trade secret,” was the answer, “You will learn eventually.”

“Damian! You can’t just leave me in the dark like that!”

Damian was by the door, so he turned the lights off. “Yes I can.” Then, he left. He could hear Thomas laugh for a few seconds before the older boy ran to match his pace.

“I thought you didn’t joke around?”

“I don’t.”

“But you just-”

“And no one will ever believe you.”

“No one will ever believe what?” Richard asked, coming out of his own room as they passed it.

Thomas blinked. “Damian made a joke.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Damian made a joke?”

The boy in question clicked his tongue. “Tt. Why would I make a joke, Thomas?”

“But you just-” Thomas spluttered, “-and the lights!”

“Lights?” Damian raised his eyebrow this time, “Lights are your thing, Thomas, in case you’ve forgotten.” He walked on, leaving the two behind him in the all.

“Hey!” Thomas whined, “Not funny, kid!”

He heard Richard laugh behind him, a smirk making its way across his face as he turned the corner. That was too easy. It will continue to be..fun, but only as long as Thomas plays along, willing or not.

Timothy joined him at the top of the staircase. “Did you really joke with Duke?”

Damian shook his head. “No,”

“Liar,” Timothy accused.

“I am not,” he denied.

Timothy shook his head with a sigh, following Damian down the stairs and to the dining room. Richard and Thomas joined them soon after. Father was absent, and so was Alfred. Todd had been leaving Richard on read still, which was better than not even looking at the messages. The girls were all missing, too, but they were otherwise engaged anyway. All that was missing, Damian thought as he looked around the table, was Danyal.

What would his family think about Danyal? Damian wondered. Father knew, but Damian wasn’t quite sure how, though he wasn’t too keen to ask because he didn’t want to answer. A part of him wanted to keep his twin brother a secret. A smaller part told him to tell everyone. The letters in his drawer agreed to being selfish and keeping him a secret. He wasn’t ready to share his brother with his family, even if Danyal had shared him with his.

“It’s good to have you back, B,” Richard said. When had Father arrived?

“It’s good to be back,” Father agreed with a nod, taking his place at the head of the table. The room felt warmer, more full than it had in a long time.

Timothy, who was a chair down from Damian, was typing on his phone, likely wording emails and trying to figure out the press. Now that he was back, that particular responsibility fell from Damian back to Timothy.

That was another thing Damian was slightly upset about, even though he felt he had no right to be. Everyone leaving had dumped all of their responsibilities onto him and Richard. Richard wouldn’t let him take some of the fall, so Damian had had to forcefully take some of the weight from his oldest brother, stressing himself out in the process.

“The press has been dying to get their hands on your story, B,” the seventeen year old stated, “Dick’s official announcement about you coming back has only made them more bloodthirsty.” He looked at Dick for a second before looking back down at his phone. “How did you deal with this?”

“That was my job, actually,” Damian said, “Richard was far too busy and stressed to be able to deal with the media properly, so I took it upon myself to do so.” He got looks from everyone at the table, though pity was the most prominent emotion.

“That explains why they weren’t hounding me as much as I thought they were,” Richardmuttered.

Thomas agreed, “That also explains your socials.”

“You follow my socials?”

“Everyone follows the Wayne socials, especially after Bruce went missing. Everyone wanted an update, and Damian was the only one to provide them via the family’s accounts and his personal ones.”

Timothy blinked, openly staring at Damian. “You don’t have any media training.”

“Not officially, no, but Grandfather praised me for learning in the moment; It prevented mistakes from happening again.”

A beat. “I’m gonna need to see all your posts in the last year from all the accounts you posted from, just to make sure we stick to the story you’ve created.” Timothy put down the phone he was holding and pulled another from his pocket. “Also, what’re the passwords to the family accounts? I’ll need those, too.”

“Good job, Damian,” Father said. Damian preened.

“Masters, if you’re quite through?” Alfred came into the room with the silver tray of mail that had been by the door. All new letters because the old ones had been sorted through and read shortly after Timothy woke up. “I will be back shortly with lunch.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Father nodded. He took the tray, sorting through the letters and handing them to their recipients. There was none for Damian. He tried not to let that hurt him as much as it did.

Part 5 Part 7

#Tales of Conquest. Warnings of Fools #Letters Between Brothers #part 6 #word count: 5.6k #my writing #ao3 #ao3 writer #fanfic #dc x dp #ghouls and gang writing event 2024 #dpxdcbang2024 #g&g24

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vinelark · 3 months ago

Note

Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics

i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️

chapter 4

a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”

“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.

Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”

“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”

In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”

two cut texting exchanges after the date:

Text message: Clark & Kon

[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]

Clark

Hey Kon—is everything all right?

I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.

Kon

no, all good

apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It

whatever that means in rich people speak

sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol

like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier

Clark

This isn’t your fault.

And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning

Kon

yeah that’s basically what tim said

Text message: Jon & Conner

[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]

Jon

Ok the live is gone now

Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him

I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back

I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(

oh i just heard your window open nvm !!

Conner

all good kiddo, thanks for looking out

in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:

“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.

Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”

tim’s instagram post originally had comments:

briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!

jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅

itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!

chapter 5

this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:

“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”

“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”

extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:

“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”

“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.

“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”

“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”

and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:

“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”

Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.

“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”

Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”

and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪

#i cut the last one because i didn’t want kon to get snagged on wondering about what tim knows here when the reveal was so close #plus i don’t think cadmus guy actually thought/cared about superboy’s feelings for tim beyond their utility to him #but i do think it would have been fun (bad) for tim to hear that 🥰#asks #my fic #i think i’ll do an outtakes/extras roundup after the fic is complete!

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ao3sbatfamily · 7 months ago

Note

OKAY I HAVE TWO RECS THIS TIME!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755261/chapters/57054907

This one was just kinda fluffy and made me happy :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54620467/chapters/138404701

And I dunno if you take Peter in Gotham fics but this one has the potential level to be the same as dark matter and Omwberbjwnwb

Also, drink some water. And maybe get a snack, and also remember that we (me) appreciate you <3

wheeze superman is single-handedly responsible for rumors about the bats.

'Alcatraz, But On Hardmode' by SunnyBlue

“Of course he’s my brother? We don’t try to hide that at all, guys.”

Assuming he’s gesturing at Jaime and La’gaan, Tim forces himself not to shrug and just lets his lip curl further. “I dunno, dude, I assumed it was common knowledge. We got the same… uh, same logo and everything?”

“I always thought you guys just had the same mentor, so you were like, rivals,” La’gaan says, and damn, it actually makes a lot of sense that he’d think that, knowing him and his tendency to compete with everyone.

Jaime speaks with a frown in his voice. “Uh… I always thought you had the same mentor and that made me think you were friends. Y’know?” And that makes sense, too, because Jaime calls his closest friends hermano, and he treats them like that, too.

“I knew you were brothers,” Bart says quickly, and that makes sense because that’s the way he does everything, “But I kinda cheated, y’know?”

I do take MarvelxDC crossovers. I just try to limit the amount. This one is friggen brilliant. 200,000 words, frequent long updates, 99% Peter giving bats a heart attack, a dream come true.

'Leap of Faith (Catch Me, If You Can)' by alighterwood and ErinWantsToWrite

One of the authors: @theonlyrealerin

“I’ll- I’ll shoot you if you don’t drop that.” He gestures to the other gun in Peter’s hand. The man with the broken wrist groans, hissing under his breath as he backs away from the counter.

“Damn kid broke my fucking wrist!”

You kinda deserved it.

“Then shoot me.”

A heavy silence follows, sitting in the air like a gunshot. The gunman’s breath shakes, licking his lips nervously as he brandishes the gun at Peter. “I’m being serious!”

“Shoot me.” Peter repeats. “…Unless you can’t.”

“I-I…” Lanky glances at his friend, boss, whatever the other is to him. “I-”

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nouearth · 1 year ago

Text

london fog.

pairing ; clark kent x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 1094. genre; fluff. rating ; pg. warnings ; awkward interactions incoming, male reader is embarrassing, clark is nervous and likes hot drinks on a hot summer day, didn't proof-read, sorry! my toes actually curled at how cringy reader was being, i'm so sorry.

“london fog for clark?” your voice is at ease and your motions even more so as you topped the hot latte with milk foam, capping the drink with a lid after. a smile that rivaled the sunny day has been brewing on your face since you took the familiar customer’s order and thankfully, things moved at a leisurely pace today, meaning you had a few more seconds than usual to spare with him.

“how come you still called my name even though there’s no one here?” his name is clark, often comes in before work or during lunch. but these days, he’s been doing both, which you couldn’t complain about. the man’s presence makes the opening shift worth it, even if you could only speak to him for a few seconds.

as usual, he’s in his work attire, sans the blazer that you often see him wearing in the morning, and he still looks at you with that friendly smile of his, black hair whipped back with tiny strands falling downwards as his hair wax has obviously loosened over the day. clark’s presence never failed to prepare you for the long day ahead or comfort you after an intense hour of appeasing patronizing customers. adding in his ability to look effortlessly handsome every day, his generosity in tipping, and his amiable personality, it didn’t take too long for clark to become your favorite customer.

“i just like saying your name! clark! i’ve never met anyone named clark before.” you pass the cup to him as you maintained eye contact. a gentle brush of his fingertips almost breaks your gaze, but you catch yourself, only breaking to fetch and occupy his hand with a bagged sandwich. “on the house.”

“oh- hey, i can’t! let me pay for this.” you confirm to yourself that pretty privilege was indeed real and you can’t believe you fell victim to it, but… it isn’t so bad when the culprit is a genuinely kind person.

after taking a sip, clark clumsily sets everything down on the counter to fumble for his wallet. the sound of pennies and quarters falling onto the marbled floor echoes and you could evidently see clark’s cheeks grow redder the more coins fall, but you stop him before he could empty his wallet out even further. he stares back at you wide-eyed and you couldn’t help but laugh at how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed, especially since he’s bigger and taller, a physique that you often associated with a bodyguard or some sort of superhero, and you don’t think those types of people tend to be flustered much… do they?

“it’s fine. we’re working on a new recipe, so consider yourself… a test rat!” you gather the fallen coins that managed to land on the counter into your palm before handing it back to him. a slight waste of time, only because clark slots them, along with a couple dollar bills, into the tip jar immediately after.

“well… uh… i’m happy to test anything if it means seeing more of you.” was he flirting? or was that a joke? maybe it was nothing?! your inexperience condemns you to overanalyzing his words, his tone, his body language, everything, and you’d figure you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight with these questions running rampant.

“oh- definitely! you won’t be disappointed, clark.” you’re flustered and that reflects in your voice. a voice that was once at ease not even a minute ago quickly becomes staggered. you stammer like a school boy confessing to his crush, and you could feel your eyes shutting for a moment in embarrassment when you realize how nervous you sound. “they work me like a dog so- i’m always here, hah!”

you snort in midst of the awkward laugh that you and clark both share and you want to hide in a hole somewhere. maybe not too deep since you still want to be alive and breathing to see clark again, but somewhere far, far, far away from this painful interaction.

a painful interaction that makes you all the more endearing, clarks thinks to himself.

“i-uh. yeah, well hopefully not too hard to the point where you faint at work or something.” clark adds onto the topic and god, you wish you could change subjects right now.

“haha, yeah! maybe i’ll signal for superman or something!” you don’t know why but you find yourself naturally stepping back as if there was a spotlight awaiting your tony-winning performance.

“help, help! superman! i’m gonna faint! catch me!”

and the recipient of the most embarrassing interaction goes to…

you’re red in the face, hot in the neck, clammy in the hands, and even clark’s wholesome laughter couldn’t save you from embarrassment. you force yourself to think he’s laughing with you (and he is), not at you, and that calms you down, just a tiny bit.

“great drinks and service, and now a show. i gotta come visit more often.” clark occupies his hands once again with his drink and sandwich, nodding you off. “thank you- again. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yea-“ the sound of a bell cuts you off and you look over to the source—another customer. “y-yes! tomorrow.”

clark’s voice is faint when he bids you goodbye, but you were already off to the other side of the cafe, tending to the customer, and eventually too focused to notice his exit when a line of customers quickly forms.

you work quickly within the next few minutes, knocking the orders down in an impressive personal record, and a huge weight lifts off your shoulders when you call out the last order of the line, until that bell chimes in again.

three more hours to go. you sighed, tired on your feet as you walk your way towards the ordering counter, greeting the customer.

“hello! welcome to-“

“i’m sorry, i lied. not tomorrow.”

you slow your approach, taking a moment to register what the familiar man was saying. “wha- clark? what do you mean?” usually you’d smile when you see him—clark—but he seems conflicted, disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual friendly demeanor, and so you could only muster a soft half-smile out of worry.

“can i see you tonight?”

clark stands tall, but not confident as he waits for your answer, nervously shifting his weight onto on his toes and heel, hands dug into his pockets.

“i-uh. yeah. i get off at five-“

“five…” clark ponders for a quick moment before nodding, gracing you with that comforting smile of his. you're at ease again, if you ignore the incredibly annoying swell in your chest.

“i’ll see you at five.”

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #clark kent fanfic #nou.fics

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uselesseaweedbrain · 27 days ago

Text

Supercorptober - 11. Emerald

***************************

Emerald. The core of her home planet, her energy supply and the last thing she ever saw of her dying world.

Until Lex Luthor found it and used it as a weapon against Kal, bringing Superman to his knees on national television.

The people closest to your heart are the ones most able to hurt you, Kara knew. But she didn’t know it applied to objects, too.

She didn’t know how everything she had ever loved could suddenly turn into a weapon against her - her planet’s core, a torturous poison, her baby cousin, a grown-up stranger, her lovely aunt, a world conqueror, her noble parents, genocidal criminals, her adoptive sister, slayer of Astra.

But for a while, things had settled and Kara had slipped into forgetful bliss.

And now- now Kara knew she was stupid to think the curse could have ever stopped.

***************************

“You’ve made Kryptonite?” No, not you, not you, too. Anyone but you.

“You will hand over the formula to the DEO, and destroy any remaining Kryptonite, and you will never make it again.”

Supergirl had overcome the Worldkillers, Lena had promised to tell her about any further Kryptonite synthesis, and the story had stopped there.

****************************

“J’onn? J’onn, this is Agent Danvers. I think we have a problem. Kara is not acting like herself. In the beginning, it was harmless, but she’s starting to scare me, and she won’t talk to me-“

“”

“Yes. Yes, okay, I’ll try to localise her and keep you posted.”

“”

“Thank you, J’onn.”

****************************

Kara landed on Lena’s L-Corp balcony late into the night, having ditched her comms and her usual suit to avoid Alex’s relentless tracking.

She was dressed in a black fitted suit inherited from her aunt, her blond curls sharp against the dark material, the glowing red vein in her neck starkly visible in the dusk’s feeble light.

Lena heard a knock on her balcony’s door and her heartbeat sped up.

Supergirl. Her first reflex was to snark, but the hero looked different, less polished, more angular and threatening than Lena had ever seen her - truer to herself, Lena thought.

So Lena opted for the safe approach, rising from her leather chair in a smooth motion and opening the balcony door.

“Supergirl. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I would like to talk to you, Ms. Luthor. Privately. There are things that you need to know, things that I want to tell you, but I am being watched as we speak. So, if you would allow me-“

“You want to fly me.”

The black-clad hero nodded, and Lena’s face hardened.

“I don’t trust you, Supergirl. You have never treated me fairly, and I do not feel comfortable putting myself in your hands.”

The blonde’s lips pulled into an appreciative smile, and Lena felt shivers run down her spine.

“Very well. Then I assume you have secluded and protected spaces at your disposal?”

Lena acquiesced slowly, obscuring the windows of her office with a command muttered under her breath. The balcony’s door closed automatically, and Lena led the blonde outside her office, stepping into the corridor and pressing her hand against the wall three times.

Green light pulsed under the CEO’s fingers and a portion of the wall pivoted open, revealing a sizeable, empty room, without windows or furniture, the walls blank to the naked eye.

The walls closed behind them and Kara’s X-Ray vision was obscured completely.

Lead.

“This space is safe, Supergirl. You can speak freely - whatever you would like to say.”

The hero hummed, facing the CEO and standing straight.

“Safe for whom?”, she wondered out loud, but Lena scoffed and Kara waved her hand dismissively.

“Forget it. I did not come here to fight.”

They were standing face to face, the lack of furniture depriving them the luxury of sitting down.

“Very well. The first thing you should know is that I was exposed to red Kryptonite.”

Lena’s eyes widened imperceptibly, her lips quickly pursing in distaste as her left eyebrow rose.

“So you came all this way to accuse me, is that it? Even for you, Supergirl, this seems extremely convoluted.”

The blonde chuckled. “This is not it, Ms. Luthor."

“Then, what is it? Has the DEO proved its incompetence again? Do you need a cure that they cannot provide?”

“Oh, no, I don’t need a cure. The symptoms are not physical - red Kryptonite affects brain chemistry and reduces inhibitions to a level close to zero. And I didn’t come to accuse you. I know exactly who the culprit is - a stupid man named Maxwell Lord.”

“Then, what did you come here for?”

“How interesting,” Kara mused, as she started slowly circling around the CEO.

“What is?” Lena inquired.

“You don’t seem afraid of me at all.”

“This version of you is actually easier to deal with than your usual self-righteous self.” Lena admitted, and Kara’s laugh rung out in the empty space.

“Tell that to my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Lena, Lena, Lena. Are we still playing this game?”

“What game?”

“The game where you pretend you don’t know who I am, and where I pretend you’re not smart enough to have already figured it out.”

“I- I don’t know what you are talking about, Supergirl.”

“Really, now? I don’t blame you for not wanting to see - I treated you horribly, after all, but I think we both deserve some honesty. So, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

Kara stopped in front of Lena, executing a bow reminiscent of medieval times, and raised her head as she spoke.

“I am Kara Zor-El, heir of the El family and last daughter of Krypton. On this planet, I am known as Kara Danvers or Supergirl - though both are but shallow facets of a role I was forced to play.”

Lena stood for a moment, her lips parted and her brow furrowed, her green eyes pensive and guarded.

“Why are you telling me this now? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop trying to protect Kara Danvers. I want you to stop being afraid around Supergirl. I want you to hold me accountable as both my selves. I want you to know me and I want you to have me.”

Lena shook her head. “This is the red Kryptonite talking. Supergirl would never say something like this, would never endanger or entrust her identity to a Luthor-“

“I am not them, nor am I simply the sum of the two. I don’t need to be protected - and I am done hiding from you.”

“How can I trust anything you’re saying? How can I trust that you’re not manipulating me again, telling me what I want to hear?”

“You can’t. You can't trust me, and, quite frankly, you shouldn't. But you can trust yourself. Trust your darkness, calling mine.”

Kara took one step closer. Lena didn’t move.

“Your instincts when they tell you I won’t hurt you.”

Kara took one more step, getting dangerously near.

“You can trust your gut when it feels more at ease with Kara Zor-El than it ever did with Supergirl.”

Kara raised one hand and caressed Lena’s cheek, swiping her thumb gently on Lena’s lower lip, leaving a trail of goosebumps and a galloping heart in her wake.

“Your lips when they beg for my touch.”

Her hand slid down on Lena’s hips.

“Your skin shivering under my fingers.”

Her movements halted and her voice became a murmur.

“You can trust how much you want this,” she whispered against Lena’s lips.

And Lena surrendered in a breath and a surge forward, her lips crashing against crimson steel, her hands roaming the leather clad shape with barely concealed hunger.

Red pulsed on Kara’s throat and Lena kissed it, following the ominous light up to the goddess’s jaw, nipping and biting at the invulnerable skin as Kara slowly sunk to her knees for her.

*********************************************

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