deadset headcanon that bonkai happened after the end of tvd
or: bonnie ended up alone and that is just not okay.
note: i didn't watch the originals and idgaf. their plot is probably stupid anyway.
ok so kai is in the prison world, yes, and bonnie is traveling the world, and elena and damon are being humans and shit and caroline is being pregnant and stefan is dead (god bless). so where is the drama? bonnie while traveling in... africa hooks up with a lot of people and learns a lot of shit, runs into some near death experiences but gets her voodoo witchy magic out of it. she eventually starts being mad about enzo's death because she should be and she's also realizing that she can't find another love because she hasn't gotten over it. then it's been like 5 yrs or something and bonnie gets the news that elena is pregnant perfect time to head back.
so they've kept in contact, done some visits but bonnie's mainly been traveling because when you can magic shmagic cold hard cash into thin air you can kind of do whatever you want. damon and elena are doing good, they live in a white picket fence house with a dog and two cats, not in mystic falls but still in virginia. damon makes jokes about eating the neighbors and elena talks a lot about how stefan's probably watching over them. that kind of stuff. bonnie stays over for a baby shower and elena has a heart to heart where she's like... girl u know you can have kids too right? bonnie admits that she wouldn't feel right dating someone who's not supernatural based on her experiences hooking up with random people. bonnie reveals she knows the gender of the baby already but elena plugs her ears so she can't hear it. the cat scratches at the door and elena shooes it away and bonnie waves her hand, the cat falls silent. elena looks at her friend with a kind of fear, forgetting how much power witches have. bonnie reminds her that she is not just a witch, but the most powerful witch.
(this is gonna be long but hang in with me here)
so fast forward to the baby shower, mystic falls gang comes down from the salvatore boarding school cause elena is kind of scared of going to mystic falls (we're gonna ignore the compulsion plot holes from the story idgaf). klaus sends his farewells yadda yadda easter eggs but bonnie just gets really sad and jealous and it just so happens that caroline wants someone to live near her to take care of her kids. caroline and bonnie haven't been that close just cause they kinda drifted, but they instantly reconnect and bonnie loves caroline's kids.
caroline and alaric are married, and a) bonnie is like, he was ur teacher are u freaking kidding me and b) there are photos of stefan on the wall and bonnie realizes that she really detests stefan for killing enzo right in front of her face. caroline belittles enzo and they argue about caroline invalidating her feelings and bonnie accuses her of being racist, blah blah blah it ends up in a blowout and bonnie wanders into the woods to find the ghost of enzo talking to her. (i don't really remember the rules of tvd). enzo tells her the move tf on and bonnie has a thought: what if she was never really that much in love in the first place? it's terrifying and she refuses to accept it, simply lying to enzo (even though he's dead) and being distracted because two vampire dudes try to murder her and she snaps their necks
so she traces back to her first love, but jeremy's also in the middle of a freaking battle thing so first she has this entire arc where she has to help him commit genocide and then finally they have a heart to heart where she convinces him to teach at caroline's school and jeremy says that they were young love. then they hook up and bonnie realizes she doesn't really have any feelings for jeremy anymore, not after he cheated on her with his dead girlfriend :(
maybe, she missed a person in between...
this is all to say kai is desiccating in the prison world, because he's alive- oh, did i mention he's alive? the plot moves to caroline's boarding school, the hollow's bullshit, oh no hayley marshall dies, and elena's kids are reaching double digits. but bonnie is MIA. how?
one day, bonnie exits the prison would with kai behind her. and i'm telling you, this is crazy. but how? because bonnie bennett is absolutely done.
it's a string of things.
fighting with elena and elena insisting that she wants a magic free environment, that she read all the parenting books and her kids will go off and become vampires themselves if she doesn't try to prevent them. the salvatores move to like europe or something and try to live a normal life. damon and caroline still keep in touch, but damon and elena are the only humans in the entire gang and life is kind of different when you know you're gonna die someday.
getting a call from a call and meeting a little witch named davina, a cute girl named hope, and a whole shitload of problems that she thought she left behind her. she takes the hollow upon herself and tears her apart physically and mentally, and only after she threatens to destroy the entirety of los angeles (as a joke!! haha....unless....) do the mikaelson siblings take accountability. klaus mentions how different she is from her friends, and bonnie comments on the fact that it's probably because she lost her two best friends to humanity and didn't realize how crazy their lives had become.
davina (and kol) want to see bonnie's prison world, and bonnie is fosure its for some kinky bullshit reason, but it's been so long she doesn't gaf anyways. she's the kind of insane that she might go to a psychiatric hospital soon, and near her 40th she went so crazy she mind controlled someone to be in love with her. the reason she's never linked in particular with any male witches is because she gets a strange sort of irritation to them, and one of them realized that she played a part in klaus' blood triangle so he tried to kill her and then she killed him and that really hurt her. but really, when kol and davina are with her, she decides to wake kai up.
talking to kai is awful, and it takes, 1, 2, 3, times too much- and the force of their fight is so catastrophic that it creates a prison world inside a prison world, but it's a limbo- it's two rooms, one her childhood bedroom and the other his and it goes on forever and ever. they fight, but neither of them really get an upper hand- yes, kai is more powerful but it's bonnie's world technically. kai wants to talk but bonnie just wants to beat someone up and suddenly, davina falls into the world, crying. she tells bonnie that kol touched something weird and disappeared, and bonnie says that she enchanted some things to help her be able to leave that only work once, and that she forgot about it. davina entered the world through kai's chains.
kai holds davina hostage with knives that he hid under his bed and bonnie conceeds to talking with him. and by talking, i mean like actually coming to the same conclusion that everyone else should've came to.
in the end, kai and bonnie have an awfully rocky relationship that first involves bonnie stealing part of kai's heart so that he's like half-vegetable (long story, trust me there's some way it can happen) and then, in his partially mentally deformed mindset he brings up taking the hollow. this is at the point where they live in some random hill in romania in a hightop castle and kai offers to take the hollow and kill himself with it.
bonnie removes the curse from his heart and reveals she actually forcibly impregnated herself because she wanted him to die at the hand of his own child, the leader of the gemini coven, and kai's like how i thought i was a vampire and also the gemini is dead and bonnie says idk i marlene king came up with this, actually in the limbo world i got another dose of the cure and then i'm giving it to you and by reverse psychology now the gemini coven is back alive.
i have to stop myself from writing really graphic shit because this can get really bad really fast, but in the end i do think they fall in love blah blah blah and they reinstate the gemini coven which eventually makes the bennett coven more powerful. witches have always been corrupt and selfish and a convenient plot device to bring up in the writer's room when you want a promotion so i really don't care. if you can write all this bullshit about stefan and still make him the good guy, kai can be dug out of his grave too. bonnie invented space and time and magic. silas who?
their kids are ultra powerful and bonnie and kai cut everyone off cuz they're all haters. except for caroline (ironic), and their kids are too cool to be involved in hope mikaelson drama bullshit. they say aye dad isnt it a good day to commit mass genocide, i heard cousin lizzy is struggling with her psychotic tendencies back in the americas!! kai says no son let's go play catch and watch my favorite episodes of glee while your mom cooks some lasagna with frog legs and unicorn hair sprinkles on the side. then in the afternoon i'm gonna show you some of my evil plans for world domination and we can practice your leaping spells.
xoxo
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Pt. 3
Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.
——
Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.
He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.
A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.
At least this time, the conception was consensual.
Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.
How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?
It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.
His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.
He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…
How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.
The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.
“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”
“Go to sleep, Bruce.”
“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.
“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”
Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.
Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.
…Nevermind.
He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”
“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”
Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.
“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”
“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”
“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”
Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.
Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”
“Please. Always.”
Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”
“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”
“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-
“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’
“But…”
“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”
“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”
“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”
“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.
“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.
“Thank you, Alfred.”
“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.
——
Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.
She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.
“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.
“You as well, my beloved daughter.”
‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’
Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”
The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.
——
A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.
She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.
“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.
The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.
She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.
She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.
“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.
“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.
(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)
“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.
(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)
“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”
She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’
“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.
‘No, you were smarter.’
And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.
“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”
Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.
On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.
“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”
She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.
She offered him a short nod.
——
“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.
The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.
But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.
No.
It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.
It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.
Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.
It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.
From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.
Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.
Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.
“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”
She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.
“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”
‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.
Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.
“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.
Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.
“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”
Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.
“I will bring your bags up to your room.”
She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.
‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’
“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.
“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”
Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.
Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.
Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)
“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”
Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.
Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.
Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.
——
She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.
“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”
Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.
“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.
She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.
(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)
‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.
“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”
Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.
No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.
‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’
“….you do?”
‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.
Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”
She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.
“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”
She waited.
“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”
‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’
Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.
“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.
——
She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.
‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.
It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.
Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.
She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.
——
“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.
‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.
“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”
His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.
An implicit challenge.
“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.
“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”
Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.
——
Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.
Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.
Alfred made a note to study some more magic.
“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”
“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”
“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.
Alfred made another note.
‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.
Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”
‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.
They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.
Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.
‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’
“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”
Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.
“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”
She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’
She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.
She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.
His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”
She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’
Alfred stiffened.
“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.
‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’
Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.
“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”
She nodded.
“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”
‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’
Alfred itched for his gun.
“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.
‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’
“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.
“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”
“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”
‘I have never tried it before.’
“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”
Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.
——
Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.
Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me
——
Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?
Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP
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Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.
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shakespeare and swooning
alhaitham x g/n reader
synopsis; you read one shakespeare play and now you want to impress your "buddy" alhaitham with your newfound knowledge !! what could go wrong?
fluff, g/n reader, TOTAL CRACKFIC, OOC alhaitham, SWEARING, kind of a modern au ???? i mention "ringing tighnari" but that could just be imagined as using the akasha terminal !!!! didnt write this with a modern au in mind
warning ‼️ PLEASE dont expect this to be accurate, if youre a big classic literature fan then dont attack me for not being a NERD ☹️ just imagine a poser using their fancy words (because they think its cool)
you know how libraries are supposed to be a place of study and tranquility? no the fuck you don't, or at least you don't care, because running through the house of daena with shakespeares, "romeo and juliet," in your hands is NOT very tranquil.
multiple poor akademiya students look at you, PISSED OFF because your shoes are going clu-clonk on the marble floors, which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't scurrying through the library.
is that kaveh ?? he's giving you the same look he gives alhaitham every day ..
... but this is IMPORTANT !! you're on a MISSION right now !! you just finished reading the first act of "romeo and juliet," and you're convinced your brain has expanded tenfold in size.
you're now rushing to your good pal haitham to share your knowledge! how kind and gracious!
you're stopped before his house, you've known him for long enough and gotten close enough for him to let you come in whenever. you know kaveh isn't home, and haitham would never purposefully work overtime, so you're certain you can get his attention and show off in peace.
why are you so adamant about showing off to alhaitham? is it REALLY showing off, or are you trying to, heehee, impress him?? its too late to be flustered at this thought because you already unlocked the door with the spare key kaveh leaves behind one of haithams ugly ass decorative plants and you've taken off your shoes and oh god hes right there and the sunlight from the door is lighting up his face in that way that only happens to him and hes looking at you with a suprised, slightly annoyed, but incredibly fond look and oh no what was your plan again?
"greetings, alhaitham! ☝️🤓" you say, finding a surge of confidence remembering the story you read.
"... hey. what are you doing here?" his response is quick but before you respond he continues, "did you just say greetings?"
"indubidibdibdly! hath you be surprised?" you pretentious hipster. you think youre SO cool, but unfortunately your little crush doesn't seem very impressed either.
"okay, what are you doing? you're being weird." he's not even looking at you, and he's back in his chair before you can rush over and sit on the couch. "is something wrong? should i get tighnari to give you a checkup?"
you'd be touched by the care of the suggestion if he wasn't so cheeky in his tone.
"wha, what, no?! no what the hell- stop ringing tighnari."
"are thou o'er wrought with admiration?" you grin, somehow still under the impression that you sound cool.
he gives an eyebrow raise to that. not bothering to mark his place in his book, he stands up.
"i lie testy in why you act so unpregnant, my dear."
"what"
HUH ? what did bro just say ? testy ???? unpregnant ?? MY DEAR ??? backtrack again, UN-WHAT ??
"be still my beating heart, thou hast taken mine with absolute cunning." is he making fun of you i genuinely can't tell ... its like hes speaking in moon runes right now.
"haitham, heheh, WHAT are you DOING ??" you can't help but laugh at his funny little words, magic man. even if you're clueless to what he just said to you.
"whatever doth thou mean?" he's totally making fun of you !! after ALL your effort to impress him too?
"well, usually i do all the ranting and you sit pretty and listen, so it's weird that you're talking so much, especially like THAT?" fym sit pretty ....
"when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." that sounds familiar, but you can't think about it longer before he continues, "shall i compare thee to a summers day?"
"ALRIGHT, i recognize that one, dummy." you laugh, "were you really not impressed by me?" you whisper, the rush of embarrassment you shouldve felt in that library is finally catching up with you.
he stares at you for a second. you just wish you could find out what hes thinking up there, if you could even understand it.
and then he lets you into his mind, with a simple "i love you." as if alhaitham, renowned scribe of the akademiya, top student, couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for you.
or maybe that was what he felt for you. he loved you.
"... you called me unpregnant."
a/n; i read romeo and juliet like... 3 years ago.... so.. uam... 😇😇 totally accurate! hope this crackfic style of writing isnt too niche so this doesnt flop because EMBARRASSING....... do people even like al haitham anymore like guys lets go back to the good old days before the FRENCH came in..... (this is just me projecting cause i havent played genshin in a while and i still lovelove sumeru)
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In the League of Assassins, to return home to find one's personal quarters breached, door ajar, is a violation of the highest order - a threat, a declaration of war all rolled into one.
In Wayne Manor, it was WORSE.
Damian stood in the hallway, backpack clenched in one hand, glaring at his bedroom door with everything he had. In a just world, the door would have the decency to at least burst into flames. Alas, it did not and Damian came no closer to developing x-ray vision in the intervening moments.
He clicked his tongue and stalked forward, determined to spew vitriol of the highest caliber at the interloper.
Grayson and Todd had plans today - it was why Pennyworth had been the one to collect him from school. Brown and Cain were currently staying in the manor, but they usually only appeared around meals like the stray cats Damian fed behind the now defunct grilled cheese restaurant on the corner of Washington and 147th. Thomas and Drake usually returned later in the day - school and work respectively.
In short - Damian's room had either been breached by a stranger which was staggeringly unlikely, or there was a flaw in his information.
Throwing open the door, Damian's eyes met Drake's and every scathing insult died on his lips.
Because the older boy was sitting in Damian's desk chair with a pastel pink box on his lap. The same one that Damian had secreted away last night and hoped to return today with his older "brother" none the wiser.
"So, do you want to talk about this or..." Tim trailed off, seeming oddly relaxed.
"Get out of my room."
"Ok, because this Hello Kitty caboodle was a cherished gift from Stephanie and I was beside myself when I found out it was missing this morning."
Damian could see the bruising now, creeping up the side of Drake's neck where he'd turned to avoid taking a pipe to the throat.
"I decided to work from home," he explained unnecessarily, catching how Damian's eyes lingered on the too dark shadow around his collar. "Why did you take my makeup?"
Damian glared at him, lip curling in disgust.
"Ok," Drake said again. "At least tell me you didn't use my brushes and sponges. I don't want the cross contamination of your face germs."
"How dare you!" Damian hissed, clenching his free hand into a fist as well now. "To imply I'm unclean-"
"Oh my god, shut up. Everyone has weird face germs and whole ecosystems on their skin. People have mites in their eyelashes."
After a quick Google search, Damian determined that to be true and resolved to never think about it again.
"It's not sanitary to share," Drake concluded. Finally, he stood. Hopefully that meant that he was done with this whole mortifying ordeal. "But, Damian..."
"Leave," he ordered. Drake didn't. He just looked at Damian. It was- it was uncomfortable. Rude, even. And it certainly didn't make Damian sweat with the knowledge that a properly motivated Red Robin was nearly as observant as Batman himself.
"I'm going to make you an offer," Tim said, seemingly finding something in Damian's face or body language. "I'll take you out to a proper store for brushes and makeup - they'll be able to help with your shades and stuff better than I can - and as soon as we get home we'll never speak about it again."
Damian's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Arguably so you'll be better able to go undercover - Bruce had me posing as Caroline Hill when I was a little older than you are now. But also, maybe it's a gender thing."
"It's not."
"Okay," Drake agreed easily. "But I'm going out as a woman if we do go - I have a rapport with the workers at the Sephora in Burnley."
Drake had no pride as a man, that much was obvious. Internally, Damian could admit that wasn't... Bad.
"Do you... Prefer to be a woman?" he asked stiffly because he may think Drake was a consummate waste of air, but he wasn't a monster. He would use the right pronouns.
"I don't really care," he said. "I don't feel strongly one way or another."
Leave it to Drake to half ass the entire concept of his own gender.
"If you go as a woman, would I present a hindrance to your cover?" Damian asked before he remembered that leaving for a little makeup outing with Timothy Drake was one of the last things he wanted to do.
"I could swing it," he answered. "But I think you might have fun dressing up. Have you seen my collection of wigs?"
Without knowing how, exactly, Damian found himself sat down at a proper vanity in Drake's private bathroom, hair framing his face in gentle medium brown waves. As Drake struggled with an unopened tube of eyeliner in the background, he looked at himself in the mirror.
A face achingly reminiscent of his mother's peered back at him.
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