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teecupangel · 8 months

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*Jumps through the window with a tea in hand* OK.. ok ok! I just read Desmond as Talia brother and now..... Desmond and Bruce! That's it! You will not tell me that Bruce looked at our crazy assassin and didn't have some sort of awakening! That's it! *puts the tea on the table and leaves through the sealing*

Here’s the Desmond is Talia’s twin brother idea for those curious.

Oh man, this could totally be part of the Desmond is Talia’s twin brother AU and Desmond is Bruce’s bisexual awakening. Hell, he might even try to shake it off and keep pushing the idea that he isn’t attracted to Desmond, he’s attracted to Talia and Desmond looks like Talia (it would be super funny if they were twins but Desmond still looks like Desmond and does not look that similar to Talia at all).

Talia noticed it, of course, and it’s just one more rivalry she has with her brother (which she’s winning!). Desmond isn’t blind, of course. He noticed that Bruce likes ‘like’ him but he ignores it because what else was he supposed to do in this situation? He has no interest in Bruce other than to see just how he would ‘grow up’ under the tutelage of the League of Assassins.

Until…

He became Batman.

And Desmond wasn’t going to lie. He found Batman hot in so many ways that really just showed just how fucked up the way he was raised… twice.

But Batman also annoys the hell out of him, most especially because of his no killing code so…

Desmond’s relationship with Bruce: Desmond is the kindest of the League members Bruce trained with and they have some kind of friendship.

Desmond’s relationship with Batman: Strained af. Reluctant allies most of the time but Batman spend most of his time trying to stop Desmond from killing a criminal. This usually ends in some kind of debate between them about just how much suffering and death a person needs to do for Batman to finally see they’re beyond saving and it even goes as far as Batman challenging the three tenets of Desmond’s Creed (which is slowly making its way to the League). Jokes on him because he still has the Bleeds’ memories of questioning the Creed and its tenets so Desmond doesn’t mind.

Of course, this does turn into some sort of weird love… tripod with Bruce in the middle and Talia, Desmond and Catwoman.

You know what would be funny? If Desmond doesn’t want to be part of any romantic entanglement and he knows his attraction to both Bruce (emotional) and Batman (physical) is dangerous but being Talia’s brother means he has the obligation not to suppport their relationship so he could annoy Talia so he goes “I ship Batman with Catwoman” even when he doesn’t really care.

Catwoman, on the other hand, finds Batman’s ‘romantic’ entanglement with the twins funny and ships Batman with Desmond because Desmond is nice to her (as one of the few rogue galleries that aren’t exactly in need of being assassinated. Plus,, she sees Desmond’s magpie tendencies as a kind of kinship with him).

Talia ships herself with Batman, of course, and the fact that there seemed to be some attraction between Batman and her brother is… more or less giving her complicated feelings.

Among the BatFamily, Jason is absolutely shipping Desmond with Bruce/Batman. Damien is torn between wanting his parents to find some common ground (and maybe more) and by the fact that he wants his uncle to be happy. The others want no part of it and just want to see the drama unfold while being worried about the damage it’ll have on Bruce if it does unfold.

Cass is raised by Desmond in this one so she may or may not be part of the Batfamily. Regardless, she would want her baba to be happy but… does it really have to be Batman?

#desmond al ghul au #ra’s just watching in the background #he ain’t getting in the middle of his children’s fighting #no good would ever come from that #he’d be like “good luck batman i’m out!”#desmond doesn’t want to be part of any entanglement #thank you #harley quinn thinks that stems from his own issues #damien be like “if they marry do i have to call uncle stepfather???”#assassin's creed #ask and answer #desmond miles #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot #bruce wayne #talia al ghul #fic idea: batman #fic idea: crossover #batman

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bruciemilf · 2 months

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I’m on the second episode of My Adventures With Superman and I KNOW I know, this deserves to be Clark’s show, BUT HEAR ME OUT A SECOND.

Imagine the Waynes didn’t die and Thomas is trying DESPERATELY to buy the Daily Planet from White, but to absolutely no avail.

“For the last time, Wayne, you can have this company when the Gotham Knights win a Stanley Cup.”

“Y’all cheated last year and you KNOW it, White! Come on! We knew each other for 20 years—“

“Not true.”

“You gotta have ONE nice thing to say about me! You saw my charity records? My trip to the Amazon? I found a goddam dinosaur, for Pete’s sake!”

“And you sent it to the Gotham museum.”

“…Well yeah, it looked real pretty.”

“Look, Wayne. I can either give your ego the stroke of the century, or keep Lane and those two idiot interns in check, but I can’t do both. Now get out of here, or—“

Clark clearing his throat, holding two cups of coffee in his comically large hands, “Uh, the coffee machine broke, so I had to run to the store. Is this a bad time?”

Thomas whistling, because what the FUCK. “Christ, boy, how tall are you? How tall is he, White? You a security guard? You WANNA be a security guard?”

“Uh, Clark Kent. Idiot intern,” Clark introduced himself politely despite Perry’s grumbling.

Needless to say, Thomas Wayne is…Intimidating.

“I’ve heard about your research on metahuman physics, Mr. Wayne. It’s brilliant.”

“Oh, that? That was all my boy, really. He’s got all these ideas about reinventing the healthcare system for everybody or something like that. Hell, he wants to invent some bandaids for that Superman fella. “

“That,” Clark blinked, “Actually sounds amazing.”

“Right?. The other day he came to me like, ‘Can I have 30,000 for a research expedition?’ You should’ve seen him in his little lab coat, — cutest thing. Hold on, I have pictures.”

Clark expected a particularly eccentric 10 year not, not a — gorgeous— adult man in what looked to be a great amount of eyeliner and one hell of a scowl. “He’s…” gorgeous, “He seems interesting.”

“Ain’t he? You should meet him sometime. Hates talking to the press, but, I’m sure we can arrange something. “

“Good luck with that. I tried interviewing the kid alone for 10 minutes and Mr. Wayne here kept getting in the way. Probably because he has something to hide.”

“Bruce ain’t really made for the camera, so I had to step in, ya know how it is. He ain’t really the independent kind.” Thomas shrugs. “I know, I know, — you gotta leave em to fly sometimes, and while I bet he’d look cute tryin’,”

Thomas chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amusing. At all. “No bird leaves MY nest.”

—

Clark finds out why Perry can’t prove Thomas Wayne is Batman. It’s because he’s wrong. He’s listened to Batman’s heartbeat before. And Thomas doesn’t stutter.

Bruce Wayne does, thought.

#them ^^#maws #clark kent #my adventures with superman #dc #dc comics #battinson #superbat #thomas wayne #text post #text

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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What’s in a cape, but the hopes and dreams of the one who bears it?

What’s in a cape, but shelter and warmth for those that receive its protection?

What’s in a hero suit, but a person that’s determined to die in it?

——

Long before Danny Phantom died in his hazmat suit, Bruce Wayne donned his cowl to dive between Gotham and the bullets with faces engraved on them. His cape began to signify fear, for those that harmed Gotham knowingly. But for the rest, it became a sign of protection, of promised vengeance against the crime committed.

And for a select few, the cape was a shelter during cold and rainy patrols. For Tim Drake, the third Robin, it was a warmth he’d never experience past those moments.

When Danny Fenton became Danny Phantom, he’d had wanted to have a cape like the crusader.

Danny wasn’t sure if he wanted to shelter or be sheltered.

But eventually, as things escalated and Danny found himself with less time for normal, personal things, that wish shuddered to an ember. After all, Danny had learned that he doesn’t get the luxury of protection. Not anymore. Which meant he had to be the one doing the protecting. A thousand miles away, as Danny came to terms with it on a clear Amity night, Robin was huddled beneath Batman’s cape to shelter from the pelting rain that came often with Gotham’s gloom.

When Danny got pulled along, invisible and attached to Robin’s side as the vigilante got thrown into a prison, he witnessed Robin talk to his evil older Batman self.

He’s visible again before he knew it, startling the two versions of Robins. Ice slammed into the Robin that became Batman as memories rung through Danny’s head. Where Robin was, stood himself. Where the Evil Robin Batman laid on the floor, covered in glowing ice, was Dan.

Danny died, and became a hero. He just had the unfortunate luck to live to see himself become the villain.

He would never allow Robin to go through it alone, not when Danny had his family and friends to fall back on. Robin, in this cage, ripped away from his team and in the midst of an argument with Batman, was painfully so.

“I’m Phantom.” Danny introduced himself. “Looked like you were in a bit of a spot. I’m sorry for butting in, if you wanted to take care of him yourself.”

“Robin.” Robin was wary. That’s okay. “How are you here?”

“That one’s on you, actually.” Danny glanced around. “Let’s get out of here before edgy future you wakes up. The ice won’t melt, and it’ll be hard to break, but I honestly don’t want to stick around for him to wake up.”

“Can you move him?” Robin eyed their cell contemplatively.

“Sure.”

——

“That seemed personal, earlier.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Had the displeasure of meeting an alternate evil version of myself that lost everyone I loved. Kind of hit a sore spot there.”

“…right.”

“No worries, you’re good. My friends and family promised to stay away from explosive sauce.”

“That’s good. So… where do you live?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” Danny somersaulted in space next to Robin’s jerryrigged space ship. “Anyways, we’re friends now, so I’ll make sure you don’t live to see yourself become a villain.”

“See, that sounded like a threat.”

“It’s not! I don’t kill! And besides, if you were dead, you’d probably be a ghost, and you’d kick my ass for killing you!”

“Are you implying you’re dead?”

“Not an implication. I’m dead. Kind of. Half. I’m still breathing even if I kind of don’t need to. So, where are your friends?”

Danny will be damned before he let his new friends die in their suits, even if they make the job incredibly hard for him. After all, there’s only room for one dead hero on the team, and that’s him.

#dc x dp crossover #young justice #Tim Drake #I made myself sad #danny phantom #bruce wayne #danny fenton #nasty burger and their explosive sauce #new business idea: jokerized fries and the explosive sauce #I’m poking fun at joker #and Jason #kind of

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lizlazer · 2 years

Text

my girl

Possessive!Tangerine x fem!Reader

1.5k words

rated E, more fingering so nsfw, no minors~

thank you to local fandom legend @avocado-writing for reading this over!

for @northerngalxy who asked for:

"Tangerine x reader where a drunk guy is trying to kiss her…?"

i found a TikTok of a man who said a certain key phrase in this fic, and i had to write it coming out of Tangerine's mouth. enjoy!

-----

It’s a warm summer night, but a steady breeze makes it bearable. You’re out at a bar with Tangerine, who showed up without warning at your door a few hours ago.

“How long would it take you to get ready, if I wanted to take you out?” he asked, knowing the answer, but grinning mischievously.

“Maybe thirty minutes? What’s gotten into you? This can’t be the same Tang who left a week ago,” you said, heading into your bedroom to change.

He followed behind you, watching you undress. Leaning against the doorframe, he was wearing a striped button up shirt that was barely buttoned, dark jeans that fit him perfectly, and black leather loafers. Never without his gold jewelry, he removed his medallion and placed it gingerly around your neck. Aside from your underwear, it was the only thing you were wearing.

“I want you to wear this tonight,” he said, his hands sliding down your arms to thread his fingers through yours. “Make sure it’s visible.” He’d met your eyes in the mirror, and it had been so hard not to shove him down onto the bed and take him then and there.

Tangerine is in a rare fantastic mood, not an ounce of the usual grouch in him. After dining at the most decadent Italian restaurant, you’ve decided on a night cap at your favorite local spot. The inside of the bar was packed, so you grab a table on the patio. The tables and chairs are black wrought iron, with an outdoor bar off to the left. They’ve strung lights between the brick walls of the buildings enclosing the space, and they give everything a soft, romantic glow.

Tangerine is telling you what he can about where he’s been, about Lemon, and the books he read on the journey there and back, joking often and laughing loudly. His good cheer is contagious, and you find yourself smiling so much your cheeks hurt. Every time your drink gets low he’s dutifully heading over to the bar to replace it. After you’ve had a few, you can feel the warmth of the alcohol radiating through you. You ask him to get you a glass of water, and he carefully collects your empty glasses and gets up.

Tangerine is only gone for a few seconds before a stranger comes over to your table. You didn’t notice him at first, busy reaching for your phone in your bag, but the scrape of metal against concrete causes you to jerk your head up. He’s pulling out a chair and sitting down next to you, way too close.

“Hi,” he starts, clearly a little drunk but not totally inebriated. “I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you all night.” Everything about him looks expensive, from his suit to his haircut. There’s something predatory in the way he’s watching you that immediately puts you off.

“I’m here with someone,” you tell him flatly, pulling out and unlocking your phone. You’re hoping he’ll take the hint and leave you be, but no such luck.

He reaches over, putting his hand over the screen. “Give me a chance. I promise I’m a better time than that pretty boy,” he says with a smirk, cocking his head toward Tangerine at the bar. “Let me get your insta, at least.”

“Careful, your jealousy is showing,” you tell the creep, pulling your phone away and replacing it in your bag. “Kindly fuck off and let me enjoy my evening, thanks.”

He only smiles, and it puts you in the mind of a snake. “I could have you begging for me,” he says, clearly trying some kind of bedroom voice. To you, it sounds like a bad Batman impression.

Before you can respond, two massive hands come down on his shoulders, squeezing hard.

“I don’t think I quite caught that. D’you wanna repeat that for the class?” Tangerine asks, trying to rein in his own fury. The veins in his hands stand out prominently, reaching up his arms.

The man tries to twist out of his grasp, stand up, something, but Tangerine forces him back into the chair.

“No no, none of that. Listen to me,” Tangerine says, leaning down next to the creep’s ear. Voice low and full of venom, he tells the man, “You’re trying to get into her DMs, yeah? But you see my necklace around her throat? ‘Cause at night she’s sucking the rings off of my fingers.”

“Jesus, Tangerine,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, desperately trying to fight a grin.

He gives you a quick wink before getting deadly serious again. Jerking the chair back, the man puts his hands up defensively, cowering.

“Look, man, it was just a joke,” the creep says, looking like he wants to collapse in on himself.

Tangerine steps in front of him, pulling him to his feet by the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Look, man, I can’t see the humor,” Tangerine mocks him, shoving him into the table of men who were laughing a minute ago. He rolls ass-over-teakettle across the surface, finally hitting the ground with a thud.

“Any of you wanna say something?” Tangerine challenges, cracking his knuckles, but they all look away quickly. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

He comes over to you, holding out his hand. “Let’s go, love.”

Without a word, you place your hand in his, and he leads you through the bar and back outside, now on the street. His skin is hot against yours, and you know he was hoping for a brawl. The man loves a good old fashioned fistfight.

After a few blocks of walking in semi-stunned silence, you stop, pulling him towards you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you bring him into a kiss. His lips press hard against yours, and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. Groaning, his hands go to your hips, pressing your bodies together.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“Careful, ‘cause I will fuck you on the street,” he tells you, catching his breath.

“Maybe I want you to,” you tease, pressing your lips to his again. His kiss is eager, yearning, his tongue parting your lips. One of your hands threads through his hair, messing up the carefully combed curls. Your nails drag against his skull and he moans into your mouth. Without stopping the kiss, he drags you both over to the side of a short brick building, and pushes you up against a wall. You’re thankfully on a residential side street that happens to be deserted, because neither of you bother to check if anyone’s around. One of his legs pries yours apart, and he lifts up the skirt of your dress. His fingers rub against the soft fabric of your panties, teasing around your clit but not touching it directly.

“Can I have you right here, love?” he asks, his hot breath on your lips. You smile.

“I nearly jumped your bones at the bar, in front of god and everyone. All that to say yes, absolutely,” you tell him, laughing. His mouth moves along your jaw, kissing and licking his way up to your earlobe. Just as he gives it a sharp bite, his fingers push inside of you. Unable to stop the loud moan that escapes you, you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He starts off slow, letting you get used to one and then two digits.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well,” he says, looking at you with so much pride it hurts. “Telling other men to fuck off,” he laughs. His thumb finally starts circling your aching clit. The pressure alternates as his fingers pump in and out of you. A bead of sweat rolls down his throat, and your tongue darts out to catch it. He picks up speed until you’ve got his hair in a death grip with one hand, digging your nails into his rock hard forearm with the other. The orgasm hits you quick, your thighs capturing his wrist in a vice, pushing your body down his fingers, trying to get him as deep as possible. You bite into his shoulder, moaning his name and -yes oh fuck yes- into the fabric of his shirt.

Letting you recover against him, he slowly withdraws his hand from you, replacing your panties and righting your skirt. Dazed, the thought of what he said earlier comes crashing back to you. You take his slick hand, bringing it up to your lips. Drawing his index finger into your mouth, you taste yourself as you drag your tongue down the length of it. Your lips tighten around the onyx signet ring and you suck on it. It comes loose easily, lubricated by your own arousal. Releasing his finger with a pop, you spit the ring into your hand, never breaking eye contact with Tangerine. His expression is something between stunned and painfully aroused.

“Was this your plan all along?” you ask him, dropping the ring into his shirt pocket.

“I’m not that clever,” he shrugs, giving you a wolfish smile. His hands slide up your back, pulling you off the wall and flush against his body. He kisses you tenderly, tasting you. “Now let’s get out of here.”

#tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine #bullet train #fanfic #fanfiction #requests #requests open #northerngalxy #tangerine bullet train

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your-regular-toast-enjoyer · 1 year

Text

Headcanons: Yandere Damian Wayne x Reader : Reader escapes him.

Damian Wayne x reader. Yandere!Damian Wayne x reader/ Yandere Damian Wayne x Reader

Word count: 1460 words

TW: GN reader, Yandere, kidnapping, adult Damian Wayne (inspired and mostly based off of Damian in Batman beyond & Injustice 2: Gods among us), toxic family relations, obsession. Also, I have a friend that informed me that at the end of the Bruce and Grayson chapters the last sentence is cut off for phone users, I've tried to fix it by just rewriting the cut-off part below the original sentence.

First of all, it would have to be by some incredible stroke of luck that you managed to escape his grip. I imagine that if Damian turns yandere, he’ll indulge more in his “evil” side, so to speak. By that, I mean that he would probably return to his grandfather’s side and retake his place as the heir to the demon’s head, as the Al Ghuls’ less strict moral codes allow him to better keep you to himself. But let’s say that you somehow managed to sneak out without his knowledge, (likely with the help from Bruce and his brothers). Damian would stop at nothing to get you back.

Does anyone remember that glimpse we got of Damian as Batman in Batman #666? Yeah…That is how I imagine Damian would be if his beloved ever escaped. He would see you being away from him as an attempt on your life. He’s your protector…At least in his mind. To take you away from your protector is a not-so-hidden attempt to endanger you, right? Well no…But Damian certainly thinks so. So, if you got help from anyone… Good luck to them. Because Damian would blame them for your escape, and he has never been known for being superbly generous to his enemies. They’ll suffer. He’ll make sure of it.

But let’s say that the person helping you escape is one of his brothers or his father. How would he react? Well… It depends on who:

If Bruce is the one helping you, Damian realises that he has a relatively low chance of winning a hand-to-hand combat with his father. That doesn’t mean he’ll give up on you, though. Damian would at first try to negotiate with his father. Explain the reasoning behind his actions. He would attempt to invoke his father’s sympathy. As pathetic as Damian finds the entire thing, he is willing to put down his pride momentarily if it means he’ll get you back.

If Bruce cooperates and Damian gets you back, you might gain more freedom. Damian would feel indebted to his father for giving him another chance, and he’d attempt to pay his father back by trying to treat you more like a normal lover would.

If his father refuses to give you back to Damian, despite his downright begging, Damian would go ballistic. I’m pretty sure he’d either ask his mother for help, (unsuccessfully since his mother is borderline yandere for his father and doesn’t want him to hate her for aiding in their son’s unhealthy attachment). When that doesn’t work. He’d simply kill his father using underhanded tricks, (probably use one of his brothers as bait to lure his father into a death trap). He won’t like it. No. He’ll despise himself for having done it for the rest of his near-eternal life, but it’ll be worth all the self-loathing as long as he can have you back in his arms. That’s not to mention Talia, who will forever blame you for Bruce’s death. She may or may not attempt to kill you... as retribution for her one true love's death ...

(death ... ) - (for phone users)

If it’s Grayson who helps you, which is probably the most likely as I can imagine Damian informing his oldest brother of where he, (and subsequently you), is, in case he wants to visit. So if Grayson takes you. Damian still rages, but he’ll be more inclined to listen to reason than he would have been otherwise.

Damian has never hidden the fact that Grayson is his favourite brother, probably his favourite family member, (except you). He can’t bring himself to kill him. But…That doesn’t mean that he won’t extort him. Yeah… He’ll kidnap Barbara, (or Koriand’r, if you’re a Starfire fan), and propose a tradeoff with Richard. If his brother doesn’t bite, he’ll just up the gamble. He’ll kidnap Tim as well, maybe even the rest of Grayson’s old Teen Titan’s/Young Justice team. With all of his friends’ lives in danger, it’s unlikely that Richard will keep protecting you. Even if he does, Damian will fight him. Not to the point of lethality, but hard enough so his brother doesn’t become suspicious. While Grayson is distracted, Damian will have one of the assassins bring you back to the league.

(bring you back to the league.) (For phone users)

If Jason is the one who took you from Damian. Damian would downright cut his brother’s legs off. He really likes Todd, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. Damian doesn’t want him dead, even if Jason took you away from him. He won’t go to the same lengths as with Grayson to keep from killing, but he’ll sooner incapacitate Jason than end his life. I see the whole thing going a little like this:

Jason takes you from the league. (He knows Talia well, and I can see Jason convincing her to let him take you with him. She probably never thought you were quite good enough for her son. It’s nothing personal. She doesn’t dislike you more than anyone else. She just doesn’t think that anyone could ever be worthy of her son).

When you’re back in Gotham, Jason will hide you in one of his many safehouses while waiting for Damian in another. He couldn’t lead his younger brother straight to you by staying with you, so you’ll have to sit tight.

Damian finds Jason. He already knows that you won’t be with his brother. Damian knows Jason isn’t stupid despite having the same muscle mass as Batcow.

The two of them fight, but Damian doesn’t play fair. He probably brought a crowbar or enlisted the help of the Joker, (as stupid of a move as that might seem. Damian knows that the clown is only craving chaos. So chaos is what he’ll get. Joker has no interest in you. He wants to torment Batman, and what better way to do that than to work with Batman’s youngest son to kidnap someone). Jason takes one look at either the crowbar or the Joker, and he feels himself fall back into the memory of the warehouse. He’s horrified, and no matter how hard he tries to push it all away, it’s too much.

Jason is weakened by Damian’s tricks, and the younger Wayne promptly breaks his brother’s legs beyond repair. Thus making sure that he won’t be a future problem. He’ll interrogate Jason about your whereabouts, but Jason doesn’t break.

In the end, one of Damian’s assassins finds you and brings you to him. Jason is devastated. He failed you, and all he can do is yell profanities at Damian as you’re carried away, out of his sight.

If it’s Tim who tried to save you… Oh, dear… Damian won’t care about what happens to the “replacement”. Damian will find Tim and if you’re with him, Damian will simply take you, kill Tim and go back to the League of Assassins’ base. If you’re not with Tim, Damian grows furious. Not only did his most “useless” brother take you away from him, but he also let you out of his sight. You could’ve hurt yourself! Damian’s ire only grows as Tim prepares to fight him. For Damian, this is not just a question of Tim taking you from him. It’s also a fight to prove whether Tim was really ever worthy of his position next to Bruce, his position as the former Robin and his current position as Red Robin. With Damian’s rage and his lack of morals, he easily wins the fight. Perhaps Tim let his brother win to show Damian that he actually follows Bruce’s rules and would never kill, as opposed to Damian, thus mocking the green-eyed warrior one last time. Damian draws Tim’s final moments out. An assassin has already found you. You were hiding nearby, having followed Tim’s instructions, which turned out to be faulty due to Damian arriving sooner than expected. A last “Demon spawn” leaves Tim’s bloodied lips as Damian slowly drags his katana out of Tim’s chest, cleaning it with an old handkerchief, which is left stained red.

No matter whether you escaped on your own or with the help of someone else. Damian will lock you in your shared bedroom whenever he isn’t available, putting twice as many guards near you at all times. He might even have you sit next to him or on his lap while he commands the League by his mother and grandfather’s side, (if he isn’t already the head of the league at this point). He won’t punish you too harshly, but he might smack you to the ground once when you get home. That’s only if you escaped on your own, though. If someone else helped you, he’d delusionally think that they simply kidnapped you against your will and that you honestly love being with him.

#yandere damian wayne #yandere x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere dc

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penny-anna · 8 months

Note

for the one word prompt game: friendship. (and for the characters if you want: Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman)

HELLO i am extremely late but here u go!!

(on ao3!)

“Can I tell you something?”

He goes on pulling broken glass out of his leg, not looking at her. “We’re not having this conversation.”

He hears a breath out. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Her voice is fainter than usual. Strained. But in spite of everything, she sounds a little amused.

“Whatever you want to say –” Grimacing, he tugs out a larger shard. “It can wait until we aren’t trapped under a building.”

She has the good manners not to say but what if it can’t?

They have a very little bit of light, filtering in through the layers of rubble. They have air. They have no way of alerting the world outside to their location. He’s not confident anyone will be looking for them. Anybody who saw what happened will have assumed he died in the collapsed, and she can free herself. There’ll be other survivors of the quake in need of more urgent help. They aren’t a priority.

They are not going to die there.

“It’s good to have a friend here.”

He yanks on another sliver of glass. “I’m not your friend.”

“Oh, really?” She doesn’t sound hurt – not that he’d meant to hurt her. “What are we then, if not friends?”

He’s assessed his own injuries and concluded that they’re minor. His ankle is probably broken. Otherwise he has scrapes and bruises. The glass in his leg hasn’t cut deep enough to puncture any arteries. The situation at large is more of a threat to his safety. The air smells like smoke and fumes. He doesn’t like to think what he’s breathing in – he doesn’t have his respirator. A building this age may well have asbestos. He doesn’t know if Diana is susceptible to asbestosis. Probably not.

It probably doesn’t matter. She has more pressing concerns. The force of the building’s collapse had been considerable. Her legs are pinned and most likely broken. She’s bleeding steadily from where her abdomen is pierced by a jagged broken length of pipe. An ordinary person would have died. She’s holding grimly on.

On a certain level it’s absurd, to see her brought low by something trivial. On another level – honestly, what else could kill her, other than the earth itself coming apart?

He can only attribute his own survival to sheer dumb luck.

“Colleagues,” he suggests, at which she huffs. “Professional contacts.”

“Comrades in arms?” she offers, and bizarrely, her voice is teasing.

“We don’t have to put a label on it,” he says, dryly. The next piece of broken glass is deep enough to sting and he grunts, grimacing.

“Batman.” Fingers brush his sleeve. She grips his wrist, stilling his hand. “Bruce.”

He shoots her a hard look.

“We can rest for a while,” she say. “Someone will find us. And if they do not, we’ll be together.”

“I have no intention of dying under this building,” he says.

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” she answers, very calmly. “For once in your life, will you just relax?”

He looks at her – he’s been trying not to look at her. Blood is pooling dark and sticky in the dust beneath them. He’d done his best to stop the bleeding, with what supplies he had. It hadn’t been enough.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be a relief mission – they’d come in to help retrieve survivors. It was the kind of work that, in a grim sense, he looked forward to. It was uncomplicated. It wasn’t life-threatening.

The second quake had taken everyone by surprise.

“I haven’t relaxed since I was twelve years old and I’m not about to start now,” he tells her.

Her lips twist into a smile. She squeezes his wrist and against his better judgement, he lets her take his hand. “You’re younger than you think you are,” she says. “You know that?”

“What’s your point?”

Her gaze drifts back up to the roof of fallen masonry above them. “I don’t intend to die here either,” she says. “Unless Lord Poseidon has decided it’s my time.”

It takes him a moment, stretching his mind back, to make the connection. “Ah,” he says. “God of earthquakes.”

Her fingers mesh with his. There’s blood on her hand. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m here.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he says. “You may be delirious.”

“Stop dodging,” she says, squeezing his hand. “We did good work today.”

He gives way, just a little. “We did. Didn’t we?”

What light they have is fading. The sky outside darkening, maybe. It’s hard to be sure how long they’ve been trapped. Hours, probably. Days, unlikely. Irrationally it feels like days.

When he feels the wreckage around them shift, for a hideous second he thinks it’s another quake and beside him Diana tenses, face for the first time twisting in pain. Her hand grips his tighter and for the first time he squeezes back, as the shakes around them grow more intense, as dust swirls and metal rattles and brick cracks.

There’s a last grinding rumble, and then light streams down on their faces. He blinks, vision adjusted to the darkness of the wreckage, holding up a hand to shield his eyes, trying to focus. Standing over them, the sun at his back, a car-sized chunk of broken concrete raised above his head as if it weighs nothing at all, is –

“Superman,” Diana breathes.

“Good morning!” He’s outlined by golden sunlight, glowing with it. His cape flaps vibrantly red against the blue of the sky. His smile is the brightest thing Bruce has ever seen. “Been looking for you guys.” He nonchalantly tosses aside the concrete and dusts off his hands. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Bruce. “Diana’s hurt.”

Superman’s eyes go to her, assessing the damage. Nodding he calls over his shoulder for help. Then, crunching across the rubble, he steps closer. “Everyone else is just fine,” he says, answering a question they hadn’t asked. “Here.” He offers Bruce his hand.

Slowly, stiff bones protesting the movement, Bruce accepts it; and with a firm, unyielding tug, Superman pulls him up into the sunlight.

#my dc fic #dcu #justice league #batman #batfamily #wonder woman

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starsonthewalls · 7 days

Text

(never) a question of trust | Batman

"Do you trust me?" Always, Jason doesn’t say. I never stopped, Jason doesn’t say. I want to, but I’m scared and I don’t know how even you can fix this, Jason doesn’t say.

Part of my Writing Wheel Challenge; this was a fill for Whumptober 2021 Day 4: Trust Fall that I... haven't really touched since, until today.

Tags: Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Self-Sacrifice, Stab Wound, So Much Medical Inaccuracy (for maximum angst), Ambiguous Ending

- • - • -

Bats were notorious for planning. They did their best to cover every eventuality, to make contingencies for every situation gone awry. A Bat-led operation was an operational thing of beauty, with layers upon layers of back-up plans with their own back-up plans. While no plan survives first contact with the enemy, or so the saying went, the Bats’ collective skill and talent for strategy and tactics meant that more often than not, even when things went wrong, they were ready for it.

But there were always exceptions. It was just Jason’s luck the latest exception fell on his latest op.

He’d been so careful too, and so uncharacteristically cooperative– or so he’d thought, at least. And look at what his latest attempt at working with the Bats had gotten him: a brand-new stab wound in his side, a concussion, several other minor wounds, and backup scattered across the city chasing after red herrings.

The next time Dick or Tim ran after him babbling about teamwork and trust and other stupid things, Jason was going to stab them and see how they liked it.

“Please don’t make plans to stab your brothers in front of me.”

Oh and of course, the cherry on top of the cake–

(Wait. That felt like the wrong metaphor…)

“Do you mean cherry on top of the sundae, or icing on the cake?”

Both? Both were good. Or either.

Batman snorted– because that was the icing on top of this particular cake of catastrophes, that of all the Bats that could have come to his aid like he’d planned, the only one who actually managed to make it was Bruce.

Bruce, who tensed and ducked moments before a barrage of bullets flew through the space they’d been just moments before. Jason was grateful not to be a pincushion, don’t get him wrong– it was just hard to express that gratitude when his side lit on fire and it hurthurthurt–

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry chum, just give me a moment.”

Jason’s pretty sure he blacked out for a few moments, because the next thing he knew, Bruce was laying him against a cold, hard surface and pressing against his gut. Jason writhed, clenching his jaw to avoid screaming, because ouch–

It felt like an eternity of pain, each second stretching into infinity, though Jason knew it was probably a lot shorter than that. But eventually, Bruce leaned back on his haunches, a terrible look in his eyes. Jason took one look at his eyes and knew.

He chuckled wetly. “That bad, huh, old man? Time to cut your losses.”

“Jason–”

“No, look,” Jason swallowed. “I– we had– have– our differences, but the others still need you. So you need to get out of here, B.”

“Jason–”

“I know what a fatal wound feels like, B,” Jason snapped, a little sharper. His heart was racing a little faster already, and he hatedhatedhated it, because things had just started to get good. Sure, he and B still weren’t on the best of terms, but he’d mended bridges with Tim and Dick, and he had bonding-sparring sessions with Damian, and Babs let him join her and the girls for movie nights in the Clocktower, and he had tea-time with Alfred every Thursday.

It sucked, because he’d just started to be happy again.

“Jason!”

“What?!”

It was kind of funny, Jason thought hysterically, how even while whispering and avoiding detection they somehow managed to end up (whisper) screaming at each other. Kind of went to show how good his chances were of ever getting back on good terms with B–

"Do you trust me?"

Everything stops.

It’s a loaded question. There’s a million scenes flashing behind Jason’s eyes, from Befores and Afters: the Pit, the Tower, Bruce’s Death, Jason’s reconciliation with the family, all of them stretching out before him and flashing out within the space of a second and–

Always, Jason doesn’t say. I never stopped, Jason doesn’t say. I want to, but I’m scared and I don’t know how even you can fix this, Jason doesn’t say.

“I thought we weren’t asking stupid questions,” he says instead, voice hoarse. There’s the slightest twitch in the corner of Batman’s- no, Bruce’s- lips as he completely breaks character, shoulder slumping ever-so-slightly as he runs a hand over Jason’s hair. Jason’s breath catches in his throat- both from the tenderness and vulnerability in Bruce’s eyes and the pulsing of the gunshot wound in his side.

“You’ll be alright, son,” Bruce says softly, clipping a small emergency beacon to Jason’s vest.And then he stands, and Jason watches, speechless with horror as the Batman- the world’s greatest detective, one of the best strategists and fighters alive, his father- walks outside the room and deliberately yells for attention before leading their pursuers away. - • - • -

A/N: You know that scene in Kung Fu Panda 2 where Po's mom leaves him in the turnip box and then leads the wolves away. That's this scene :DDDD

#batfam fanfiction #batfamily #jason todd #bruce wayne #m's writing wheel challenge #no beta just vibes and an hour of writing before i force myself to post whatever i can

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nomsfaultau · 7 months

Text

13) “Give me your hands” and 22) Survivior’s guilt.

Disclaimer: this blurb is set in the SCP SBI AU I have called Fault, and dances over the timeline so good luck. Explanation of AU; tldr.

“Give me your hands.” The stranger’s voice was gruff and demanding, and Tommy complied at once. It wasn’t that he was intimidated! Sure the random demon he’d summoned was massively tall, extremely strong, and just killed a lot of people, but Tommy was an alpha male! And anyway, the bloke technically saved his life in the barest sense of the word, so he had to be a good guy. Nevermind that Tommy watched people be reduced to smears running down the walls. They were villains. That was what they deserved. Right?

Tommy held a little stiller than he preferred, acutely aware of how easily the boar hero’s fists crunched skulls in. But the enormous hooves were surprisingly gentle as they held Tommy’s hands, prodding in their examination. His hero adjusted his dorky glasses and peered closer, curiously studying the strange crimson color curling around Tommy’s fingers. Blood mixed into the ruby power dancing across Tommy’s palms, indistinguishable.

The Blade hadn’t been the only one killing the villains.

“...huh. I’m guessing this red stuff is what summoned me?”

“I think so? Do you know what it is?”

His hero grunted. “I was hoping you’d know that.”

“Nah, it only showed up a few minutes before you did.” Tommy studied his own hands just as intensely. With great concentration, he tried to get the swirling scarlet liquid to grow. Then, to disappear. It ignored him, and he frowned, not sure how the power worked. Wait. “WAIT! I have superpowers now?!”

The Blade squinted at the boy. “Uhhhhhh. Suuuuure?” Tommy pumped his fist in the air rather excitedly. He had to admit it was kinda cute even if he wasn’t a kid person. “Probably don’t tell anyone, alright?” he hazarded, suddenly a little worried the twerp was going to get himself nabbed immediately. This kid needed to shift away from Marvel to X-Men fast if he was going to survive.

“Yes! Like a secret identity! So you’re a superhero, right?” Tommy peered up hopefully. The crimson hitched upwards. “Right? Those guys were villains because they tried to murder me. That’s why you killed them, right?” There was almost a note of desperation to the question.

“Um. No.” The Blade pretty much murdered them because he was suddenly teleported into a hostile situation and was immediately attacked. Self-defense, baby.

The ruby power spiked then, the scent of fear sharpening. But then bull-headed determination flashed in his eyes. “A vigilante then, that makes sense. Like Batman. Hey! And now I can join you and save people too! You can be my sidekick.”

“Wait hold on, no, you’re MY sidekick, not the other way around,” The Blade argued before realizing that meant he inadvertently supported Tommy’s absurd notion. He was a survivor, he didn’t have time to be a savior. If the kid wanted to read any morality into his actions that was their problem.

“Ok. I’ll train under you until I’m too powerful and surpass you completely, and THEN you’ll be my sidekick.” For some reason, the voices didn’t feel threatened by his open intention to usurp him. Weird. For once in his life The Blade was getting zero intrusive thoughts about brutally murdering the dude he was talking to. It was kinda relaxing actually.

Tommy held out a fist, and after belated realizing it wasn’t a (very wimpy) attack The Blade completed the fist bump. Tommy beamed at The Blade. “Thanks for saving me.”

It was…strange. No one had ever thanked him for something like that before. And sure he’d really only incidentally saved the boy through a combination of weird coincidences, otherworldly machinations beyond their comprehension, and the fact something about Tommy’s power literally prevented him from even contemplating attacking him, but The Blade did have to admit it felt pretty nice.

Nice, but not the reason his tail was wagging. Nope, not at all. That was all post-bloodlust high. Definitely.

“Give me your hands.” Mum smiled as she said it, but it made trepidation build in Tommy’s gut.

Tommy fixed his smile, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, you’re so clingy. I’m not a kid anymore!”

“You’re fifteen—”

“Only for a few more weeks! I’m practically an ad-” Deviously, she lunged for his hands and he jerked back sharply. “Don’t,” he yelped a little too desperately. Tommy gulped, trying to swallow his panic. “Don’t do that I have a- have a reputation to maintain Mum, can’t be doing cheesy girly stuff like hand holding haha.”

“Tommy-” her tone was far, far too serious as he retreated.

“I’ll get a hold of it eventually, just give me some time. We’re working on it.” Tommy was a little frustrated he hadn’t figured out how to control his powers yet, but all the other guys said it took a while so that was okay. At least it didn’t work on The Blade or Philza. The same couldn’t be said for Wilbur, which was really bad. It just made him bicker with the others, which, while funny, still meant he couldn’t control the Red. Tommy didn’t know what had made it so lethal in the villain encounter, but he needed to find out before he risked getting someone hurt.

He’d find a way to use it for good, though. One way or another, Tommy was going to be a hero.

“What does your power do?”

Tommy laughed nervously. “Sorry, that’s confidential hero stuff, Mum.”

Tommy refused to tell her what happened in that room. Her baby boy witnessed -enacted?- a massacre and that wasn’t something that would ever be undone. He went in normal and came out with blood permanently fresh on his hands. All she knew was a haunted look came across him in quiet moments, and she didn’t trust the new ‘friends’ he’d made in the aftermath, and he absolutely refused to touch anyone.

She reached up carefully to avoid his hands, craning his head down till their foreheads touched. For all that she had to rise to her tiptoes to meet him, Tommy was still her little boy. He’d grown a lot in the last year, and even more so on that dreadful day his powers showed up, but she’d never stop seeing that golden-haired child with his mischievous, gaptoothed smile and dirt staining the knees of his pants.

“Just talk to me when you’re ready, okay? And if those men try anything I’ll destroy them.”

Tommy’s laugh was far brighter this time. “Mum! You wouldn’t stand a chance! Besides, The Blade and his friends are nice.”

Scruffy was the word she would use. She’d vetted them, of course, she wasn’t going to just let her son lose with complete strangers and just trust he came home safe. The Blade was intimidating, but a dork. That Wilbur fellow was just a hopelessly broke musician as far as she could tell, though had a worrisome collection of scars. She respected Philza to some degree though, since he had an ounce of manners. Hopefully, he’d keep the others in line.

“Tommy. You’re spending hours with homeless people, I have every right to be concerned.” Still, they were the only ones with any idea of how to help Tommy explore the new aspects of his identity. Unfortunately, Tommy’s mother was the supportive type, and was trying to give him room to experiment despite her reservations.

“You’re always worried though.”

She pressed a kiss into his forehead. “With a brat like you, I have to be.” He pulled a face, feathers ruffled at the utter indignity of affection. But she let gravity seep into her tone. “I know it scares you. But I know you’ll do the right thing, you’re a good kid at heart. Okay? This isn’t going to change anything.”

But it did.

Tommy had been abducted and locked in a padded room for days now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. He wanted his mum. In Tommy’s books, that was a pathetic thought for a sixteen-year-old to have, but it was true, he wanted to see his parents so bad it hurt. He wanted his friends. Or even not his friends, random people at school, hell even people he didn’t get along with so long as it was a face he recognized. Or even one he didn’t. At this point, Tommy would settle for one of the freaky scientists or soldiers just so there would be someone to talk to. Or, more accurately, shout at and demand answers from. Like, were they villains, where the hell was he, what did they want, why did they kidnap him…

And then someone finally entered the room. Or, more aptly, the guns entered before the squad of soldiers, so Tommy actually found it suddenly easy to continue saying nothing at all. His hands shot up in the air in surrender, scarlet ribbons of liquid dancing around him.

“Cease the threat display,” a guard barked.

The power only poured out further. “It doesn’t- I don’t control it, it won’t-” he was ordered to be silent. Tommy had never been good at that, but he managed, biting down questions. Doctors circled like vultures, and he had the strangest premonition shivering down his spine. He felt like a lamb being inspected for imperfections before the slaughter.

“Give me your hands.” Gloves were dropped into his outstretched palms. Thick, sturdy, and frankly pretty ugly. Tommy had no idea how deeply he’d come to despise them. In fact, Tommy had very little idea of anything, head still caught in the little stories people liked to tell. Lies about powerful heroes rescuing civilians, or good triumphing over evil, or the world caring about people like him.

“Um. What are the gloves for?”

The guard grinned. “So you can’t fight back.”

The demon was tall and slender with bright white eyes and a literal beam of a smile. He seemed nice. That was the problem, the Foundation always sent Tommy to meet the nice ones so that he could fix that.

Tommy approached cautiously, carefully weighing threats between the D-Class prisoners behind him and the towering demon ahead. Anomalies were safe at first though, and Tommy knew exactly how to protect himself now. And if he were honest, Tommy didn’t want to get to know the D-Class before their imminent execution. It only made the nightmares worse.

“Hi!” the demon chirped. “I’m Halo! Wow, I haven’t seen someone new in…” he trailed off uncertainly, a faint furrow of his brow. But he shrugged quickly enough. “A couple years I guess. Sorry, they think I’m boring. No one really pays attention to me anymore. Not violent enough to be interesting I guess. They certainly tried, though.” Tommy caught the flash of horror flickering across glowing eyes. He knew that pressure intimately given how he’d broken beneath it. Still, Tommy perked a little, not expecting the hope. A sour consolation, but neglect had to be far better than cruel attention. Maybe one day he’d be left alone too.

“I’m…” he swallowed roughly. “I’m the Instigator, I guess. I’m the newest attempt.”

“Begin threat assessment test,” came a strict voice over a com system.

At Tommy’s wince, Halo gave him a reassuring smile and a snort. “Don’t worry about that. These muffin-heads have been trying to get me to murder people for years and I’ve yet to break.” Tommy…didn’t have that kind of strength. He didn’t know how Halo had endured it.

All he knew was that was finally ending today.

“Instigator, give it your hands,” ordered the overseeing worker. He could feel the eyes of observers for all that he couldn’t see them.

“Ignore them. What’s your story?” Halo asked. “I haven’t talked to anyone in ages, what’s it like? Are you a recent capture? Do you remember the outside still?”

Tommy glanced nervously at the observation window. But he was almost just as desperate for conversation. “I’ve been here a few weeks. And. And I miss trees. It’s weird, but I miss how tall they were. Like, because that meant there was space, not these cramped cells and hallways.”

“Yes! And the sky! Oh how I miss the freedom of the sky,” he sighed, dark wings flaring out.

“Stars,” Tommy added. “Just scattered out, millions of them. And people, everywhere, and you can just talk to them and they’re nice, not like here at all. I just want to m̵̮̙͗u̷̺̦̇̀f̷̟̀̄̈́f̶̯̯̈́̍̀i̸͕̭͎̅̌n̶͔̣̭̏ing talk to someone, you know?”

“Language,” the demon chided, barbed tail lashing. “But yes. Listen, this is important, did you know a guy called Skep-”

“Give it your hands,” the human demanded. “Or you’ll be wearing gloves the next three days.”

Tommy went sheet white, rigid to the point of breaking. Halo gave him an odd look, awkward but politely sympathetic if utterly confused. He looked to the observation window. “I’m, erm, guessing that’s some type of punishment?” Tommy nodded, relieved someone understood. But of course Halo would, hadn’t held out for years against the Foundation’s demands?

It was his kindness that betrayed him. Halo bent to his level, hand outstretched. “Well alright then. Don’t want that happening of course! It’s okay, just do what they say.” He didn’t understand what was about to happen. Tommy did, though. But Tommy had made this choice before. It was easier afterwards, took a little less coercion each time once you’d crossed that threshold. He knew he was selfish, prioritizing himself over other’s lives, but once you made that choice you made it again, and again, and again.

He swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat. “I’m sorry,” Tommy shoved it out fast like that was any type of salvation. Tentatively, he reached for Halo’s talons, grasping firmly.

The executor shook hands with his weapon. Crimson seeped from their joined grasp.

Halo’s friendly smile dropped. This close, Tommy could make out the sharp fangs hidden amidst white glow. The demon stalked past to the chained prisoners, sharp words ringing out. Condemnation hissed out, giving way to shouts, to anger, to violence.

Tommy was told that the D-Class deserved it. Death row inmates, the vilest of humanity. Tommy’s arms wrapped around himself, frenzied scarlet curling around, spreading, exacerbating. Halo’s snarls gurgled through thick viscera, visceral ripping noises rending the humans apart. The Foundation said they deserved it, just like they said Tommy deserved to wear gloves when he disobeyed or get hit whenever he wouldn’t stop talking, begging, screaming. He kept his back carefully to the unfolding slaughter, eyes squeezed shut. Pretending he couldn’t hear the ragged howls of agony.

Pretending he couldn’t hear the way Halo started to sob the moment the bloodlust faded.

The air was dusty as Tommy climbed into the abandoned hayloft, clambering over to where Tubbo perched. His nose wrinkled, still unused to all the various smells of the outside world. It was still startling how much world was in the world, overwhelming at times but exhilarating always.

Tommy scooted over to sit as close to Tubbo as he dared, distance carefully calculated to keep them safe. His legs swung back and forth over the edge of the loft, his friends scattered below, happy and free.

Tubbo waved at him, looking excited. There was a strange intentionality to the gesture, exaggerated. But Tommy couldn’t blame them for that. He wasn’t a stranger to pretending everything was normal. The escape was…rough, to put it mildly, let alone the horrors of the Foundation. It felt nice to laugh even if it was a tad forced at times. But it made the next one easier, so it had to be worth it.

“Give us your hands.”

Red spasmed along his arms. Tommy leaned away, unpleasant memories flickering in his head. Given the fact that Tubbo was unique (a word which here means ‘made out of hundreds of thousands of bees’), Red didn’t work traditionally. Mostly, it resulted in pure self-destruction. Tommy shuddered to remember the way Tubbos’ skin tore apart as frenzied insects slaughtered themselves. Not something he was in a hurry to repeat.

“No, it’ll explode your hands,” Tommy said, not knowing that was exactly what Tubbo wanted.

They gave him a sweet smile, half crooked. “It’ll be fine, Tommy. We won’t get Red’d, we just want to compare our hands. Our grandpa always said big hands meant you were going to grow up to be tall, kinda like puppy paws.”

Tommy scoffed. “Well I already know I’m going to be massive, and anyway it’s not worth the risk.”

“We’ll be careful. But if you think ours are that much bigger, that’s fair. You still only have kid hands after all~”

“No! I’m basically an adult! Just…hold still, I guess…” Tommy approached cautiously, still conflicted but splaying ruby fingers out to match their own hand. The fingers shook a little from the tension poured through them, little curls of Red unfurling off the back of his hand like sprouts poking through topsoil. Tubbo slipped their own close, lining up the newly finished digits to match the angle of his. Tommy’s fingers were longer than their own, stockier, his palms broader. They hovered closer and closer, shrinking the gap. “Hah! See! I told you. Um, that’s close enough, I think.”

“We can see from a bunch more angles than you can, Tommy. We’ll know if it's too close.” He flashed a nervous smile, but trusted Tubbo. Still, it felt wrong to tempt himself like this. It took just about everything he had to not lace their fingers together and pull his best friend into a tight hug. Just…hold Tubbo, feel the buzzing warmth of life and the purr of bees working within their hollow body.

A quiet cage around his heart forbade him from ever reaching out. Tommy couldn’t touch almost anyone in the entire world. It felt near suffocating at times to yearn for something regardless of how disastrous Tommy knew the consequences would be.

It didn’t occur to Tommy that some people welcomed disaster.

Tommy’s fingers curled in slightly, unconsciously wanting to close around Tubbos’. Closer, closer, till they were almost touching…

“I’ve done some really, really awful things, Phil.” But it didn’t stop Philza’s arm from wrapping around his back and drawing Tommy in. If he were honest, he didn’t want it to. Tommy melted into the embrace for all that he didn’t deserve it.

“I know,” Philza murmured, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “That doesn’t mean you’re evil. The world isn’t heroes and villains, Tommy.”

“Okay then I’m a bad guy.” Philza rolled his eyes. “I mean with a power like this what else could I be? I’m a baddie. A wrongun. A ‘malignant, misbegotton ne’re-do-well of a knave’–” Tommy sang, rattling off the old man insults Philza sometimes fell into when he got angry and forgot what century it was.

“Stop deflecting and give me your hands,” Philza interjected. Tommy griped at him for being rude, but relented easily. Philza cupped Tommy’s hands in his own, reverent almost.

“If you’re going to try to say there isn’t really blood on my hands don’t even m̷͙̞̈͋ư̵͍̬̒͝ͅf̶̡͉̽f̶͇̬͌í̵̻͇̺n̵̛̛̠ing try it. We both know that’s a lie.” Red spasmed, tendrils looping around Philza’s talons.

“But your hands aren’t evil. They are simply hands. Red is the exact same. Power doesn’t possess its own morality, that’s up to the weilder. Your power isn’t evil, and neither are-”

“For you, maybe. Anyone else and it’s just brainwashing bloodlust.” He’d been stupid for ever thinking he could save anyone.

“You can have precautions without having terror.”

“I can’t control it. I’ve tried so, so hard, and I just can’t. All it’s done is ruin my life.”

“The Foundation did that, not the Red, and most certainly not you. Surviving doesn’t make you evil.” Philza lifted Tommy’s hand, brushing a kiss against his knuckles. “I hope one day you can find love for every part of yourself.”

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thesandsofelsweyr · 1 year

Text

Good Boys Should Know Better

Also on AO3 (comments & kudos there are much appreciated!)

cw: implied/referenced torture, blood and injury

“Please sir, I’m sorry,” Jason’s voice cracked, his throat raw from screaming. He tried to push his broken body deeper into his corner, his bare feet slipping against the blood-splattered photos that littered the floor, hundreds of photos of Batman and his new Robin. “I’m sorry for everything,” he cried. “Please don’t punish me again. I’ve been a good boy like you asked. Please sir, please.”

He should’ve learned months ago that begging was useless. Joker just kept on humming his happy little tune as he strolled closer, his hands clasped behind his back, a twisted red grin stretched across his bleached white face. Jason struggled against his bonds, tugging with every ounce of his dwindling strength at the rope and barbed wire wrapped around his forearms as terror descended upon him again. That tune... that goddamned tune... clawed against the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard. He was so frightened of what was about to happen that he would’ve puked if he had anything in his stomach.

Two Arkham orderlies with their stone cold faces took their places by the door, looking bored while they waited for their employer to have his fun. When Joker finally stopped in front of him, Jason ceased his pointless struggling. He slumped against the wall, softly whimpering as he submitted like a whipped dog with his tail tucked between his legs. It was easier to just surrender, to obey.

Joker grabbed a handful of matted black hair and yanked him forward, dragging his skinned knees through the sea of photos.

“Why?” he cried, as Joker dropped him in the center of the room. “Why, why?” he begged as the pair of orderlies took hold of him. “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong sir. I’ve tried to be good, I swear.” He was too weak to fight the orderlies as they strung him up on the hook hanging from the ceiling. He dangled helplessly like a slab of raw meat awaiting the butcher. “Oh God, not again,” he sobbed, his entire body shaking with panic. “Please not again.”

Joker had his back to Jason as he leaned over a workbench, fingering through the dozens of implements that were neatly arranged on its wooden top. Jason knew most of the implements—knives, saws, hammers, pliers, crowbars—and the memory of their touch made his heart leap in his chest, into his throat. The fear strangled him, and he began to cough, tears streaming down his battered cheeks as he gasped for breath.

“We’ve had this conversation before, remember kid?” Joker said without turning. “Tsk, tsk. Bats really lucked out when I snatched you up and gave him an excuse to replace you and that thick skull of yours.” A few harrowing seconds later, Joker returned to Jason, concealing his chosen weapon in a gloved hand behind his back. “What was he thinking, taking a loser like you under his wing? I say he owes me a big thank you, wouldn’t you agree my boy?”

Joker’s words cut deeper than any of the knives on that that table. It was easy to forget the lessons he’d learned in this room when that old boy, the scrappy street kid who fought alongside Batman, was always waiting on the edge of his consciousness, ready to creep in and try to take over. But that boy was a miserable failure, such a disappointment to his “father” that he was abruptly replaced and forgotten. He had to remember that he was nobody now, just a discarded plaything left to rot in this house of horrors; and the only person in the entire world who cared for him was standing before him. Jason desperately needed—no, wanted—to please him.

“Yes sir,” he answered softly, his tear-filled voice barely more than a whisper. He hung his head in shame at the sniveling coward he’d become.

“Why am I punishing you, you ask?” Jason winced as Joker took his chin in hand and lifted his head. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost tender, but there was no mistaking his twisted intentions when Jason looked into those bloodshot green eyes of his. “Let’s review this one last time, shall we? And do try to pay attention. You know how your Uncle J hates to repeat himself.”

Joker grabbed the filthy bandage that was wrapped around Jason’s head and tore it off. Jason shrieked in pain as chunks of skin and clumps of hair that clung to the bandage were ripped away from his scalp. Blood and pus dribbled down the side of his face from the infected wound where the bullet had grazed his skull. Joker stabbed a long, boney finger into the hole in Jason’s head. “Because good boys know when they’re supposed to die.”

#sands writes #jason todd #joker #robin #arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd angst #jason todd whump #jason todd fanfiction #arkham knight fanfiction #dcu #whump #angst

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piedpiperart · 10 months

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Marked for Death pt 12

Chapter 11

After last night’s fiasco, Jason almost called his next patrol of. Much to his exasperation, Conan made a vehement argument against it. The kid had even threatened to make a powerpoint presentation on unstable hierarchies in gang-like communities, and Jason agreed to save himself the three hour lecture.

“Oh, I saw her a few times,”Conan added. They were eating fried rice on the couch, laptop with the results from the fingerprints queued up. Despite Jason’s insistence that they don’t work on cases during dinner, new information came to light right when they’d sat down to eat. Marcus had an impressive setup in one of Jason’s safe houses, which he used for any forensic work. Jason had provided him the supplies, but they’d rarely needed it. At most they used it to make and distribute Fear toxin antidote to the people in Crime Alley.

“Her?” Jason pointed, staring at the girl’s license photo and information on the screen. Her name was Sierra Rivers, 21 years old going to Gotham University. She had a little brother that lived with her parents in New York.

“Yeh, I saw her on the streets sometimes, going to the bus stop in the morning,”Conan frowned. “I didn’t know her name though.”

“Considering she went missing in the middle of the day, it’s safe to assume she was grabbed somewhere around the college,”Jason said. Which meant it wasn’t Killer Croc, since Waylon was never holed up in areas close to a lot of people and generally didn’t attack without provocation.

Conan put down his food and started typing on the laptop, bringing up missing persons reports and enrollments on campus. “Since she was a student at Gotham U, and went missing around the area, there could be more students that have gone missing.”

Jason hummed, keeping hold of Conan’s bowl so it didn’t fall off the couch. It reminded Jason that they needed to go back to the hospital for a regular checkup this time, because he was sure Conan was underweight. Conan pulled up students who had recently missed classes or had been reported missing, which pulled up two other students, both female.

“We might have a serial killer,”Conan commented, but before he could search more, Jason handed him his bowl.

“Eat first, search later,”Jason said, ignoring Conan’s disgruntled look. “But you did a good job.”

Conan didn’t respond to the compliment, but Jason smirked when he saw the tips of Conan’s ears turn red. “I uh, it just made sense.”

“You’re good at seeing patterns and connection,”Jason added, then something pinged in his head. “Is that how you knew I was robin before?”

Conan tilted his head,”I mean, yeah. I know everything,”Conan grinned, and Jason shoved him lightly. “Uh, well I actually figured out Batman’s Identity too, and you know, when you figure out one you can figure out all of them,”Conan stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I may have.. Hacked the batcomputer a few times..” Conan mumbled and Jason let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“You hacked the batcomputer?”Jason repeated bewilderedly. He wondered abruptly just how smart his kid is. Either way, he’d support him in anything he wanted to do in life. Within reason, Jason amended, thinking of the robin suit.

“I covered my tracks!”Conan protested, and Jason ruffled his hair.

“I’m not worried, kiddo, just surprised,”Jason told him. He gathered their empty bowls to put into the sink. “Now, you wanna watch a movie before I have to go on patrol, or do you want computer time.”

Jason was not surprised in the least when the kid chose computer time. He sighed, thinking about his run in with the bats, and how he’d much rather watch a movie with his kid. Jason really didn’t want to get Conan involved with them, but he knew that Bruce wouldn’t let it go. He’d even found four trackers on his suit on his way to the apartment, and that told him Bruce would continue to keep bothering him. Considering his luck, Dick wouldn’t be too far behind, especially now that they knew his identity.

Jason had just left for patrol, and Tim was in bed. Granted, he was also in bed with the laptop. And a panic button and a taser taped under his bed. Tim was pretty sure there were a few knives around the house too but he didn’t think Jason wanted him to touch them. Tim however, knew exactly where they were and how to get to them, he just wasn’t going to tell Jason that.

Over the past week, Tim had gotten used to living with Jason. He had a routine, and it was something Tim appreciated. Jason knew he was smarter than the average five year old, so Tim had a bit more leeway when it came to supervision. He was starting to think Jason might be right though, in that Tim needed to get out of the house more often. He was bored, and a little stir-crazy. Not even hacking or working on cases alleviated the feeling for long.

Tim figured that now that he didn’t have to try and find his own food or anything on the streets, he’d started to relax. Jason helped stave the boredom away by cooking with Tim, and he wouldn’t admit it but he did have fun with the legos and puzzles. School was the one thing Tim was very adamant about not doing. He didn’t want to spend time with kids all day. Hell, Tim had never interacted with a child for more than a few hours at a gala his parents dragged him to or briefly as Robin to make sure they were okay.

Suffice to say, Tim had no idea how to act like a kid, and especially no idea how to play with other kids. Plus, he was busy! There were so many cases for Tim to work on here, and now he had puzzles and legos when he got bored. He’d probably be able to convince Jason to take him to the park or something if he got restless. Tim wondered if he could still skateboard when he was this small, but shook his head. It was probably better to distance himself from any Tim-like things, just in case.

Looking online, Tim was still not surprised that no one reported him missing. Sure, he’d missed school, but that wasn’t exactly new due to missions and stuff. Even if the school tried to call his parents, it would go straight to Tim’s voicemail. Same with emails.

However, Tim couldn’t really tell if Bruce noticed yet. Steph might’ve, but there wasn’t a high chance she would tell Bruce about Tim not answering her messages and missing school. He figured since she was the last one to see him before he was poisoned meant that she’d tell Bruce if he asked her. Two weeks and counting, Tim muttered to himself.

Back to the issue at hand, though. Ever since Gin and Vodka’s appearance, the Black Organization went back underground. They clearly didn’t like the attention from Red Hood, and didn’t want to risk Batman, especially since they’d also killed a semi-well- known teenager. It only worked in their favor that no one realized Tim was missing yet, and no one could connect the Black Organization to Tim.

At this point, all the possible evidence in that alley would have disappeared by now. Tim was pretty sure no one would think to look there either, given that there were relatively no cameras out on that street, and Tim had been avoiding the main roads on his trek home. Which, Tim was frustrated that he couldn’t figure out the Black Organizations whereabouts, but he also was a bit glad that no one would figure out his identity anytime soon. Timothy Drake had to stay dead, just for a while longer. Then no one would realize the connection between Robin and Tim, and Tim would be able to covertly investigate the Organization.

Tim just didn’t know how long that would take. However, his other plan for while he was a toddler included trying to get Bruce and Jason to patch up their relationship. It would be easier for Tim to do if he was five, given Bruce’s soft spot for kids. Jason would be able to bond with Bruce over having a kid, and then they would forget about Tim Drake. Probably. Of course, he didn’t want to be stuck as a first grader, but he wasn’t seeing any other option. The Organization would take a while to crack, and for now Tim was pretty happy living with Jason. It was likely that Jason thought he was a meta with an intelligence power, but he knew he’d have to act more like a child if he ever went to school or met other people. Especially Bruce.

A creak in the house startled Tim from his thoughts. Jason wasn’t supposed to be home for another few hours, and Jason usually came in from the front door. Tim hadn’t heard the door shut, and hadn’t received a notification that Jason was coming back yet. A quick glance to part of his screen showed Jason still by the docks. He quickly closed his laptop, listening intently to the rest of the apartment. Tim froze when he heard footsteps, and scrambled as quietly as he could to the side of his bed when he heard the footsteps coming closer to him. Tim crawled under the bed, retrieving the taser from in between the mattress and the bed frame.

Tim quieted his breathing as much as he could, huddled under the bed with the taser ready. He could hear the footsteps getting closer, but whoever it was hadn’t tried to open Tim’s door yet. He took that as an opportunity to rustle through the pocket of his pajama pants for the panic button and pressed it twice.

Jason had gone over the codes with him before. Once for immediate danger, twice for intruders, and three times for non-immediate emergencies. Tim knew the drill, but cursed his small size anyways when he realized he wouldn’t be able to fight off whoever was in the house. The taser was his only option for now, and then run and hide if he was able to. Which he was doing right now, hiding. Because he was infuriatingly small.

Tim nearly stopped breathing when he heard the door inch open. Almost silent footsteps followed, and Tim could make out black boots in the dark. His heart pounded in its chest, nd while he knew, statistically, that there was no way the Black Organization knew where he was and who he was, he couldn’t convince the rest of his body to calm down. No, most likely this was some burglar or someone who’d made enemies with Red Hood.

The boots paused at the foot of the bed and Tim held his breath and tried to stay calm. He had a plan. Use the taser, run for the door, and hide. Ideally, he could make it to Jason’s room and hide in the weapons closet. He’d never used a grenade before but Tim had seen some in there before. Not that he wanted to blow someone up but it would be a great intimidation tactic that Tim had thought about doing a concerning amount of times.

Before Tim could blink, the boots in front of him suddenly shifted, and a familiar face peeked under the bed. Tim couldn’t get anything other than a squeak out before a bright light was shone in his face, so he covered his eyes with his hands, but made sure the taser was still pointing. Nightwing muttered something along the lines of ‘holy shit’, but Tim wasn’t really paying attention.

Tim was too busy debating whether or not he should tase Dick if he got too close. He didn’t think Dick would try to drag him out forcefully, but he also wasn’t sure about Dick’s relationship with Red Hood. Did he know Red Hood was Jason? His formerly dead brother? Tim didn’t know what Dick was doing here, but figured his best bet to keep his and Jason’s identities a secret was if he acted like a scared, shy kid. Tim could do that, he thought. He was already pretty rattled from thinking he was about to get murdered.

“Hey there,”Dick cooed softly. There was something along the lines of trepidation and regret in his voice, and the flashlight moved out of Tim’s face. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but I promise I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?”

“I’m Nightwing,”Dick continued, seemingly unperturbed by Tim’s lack of response. “I’m a friend of your dad, Jason.”

Oh, Tim thought. So Dick did know Jason was Hood. And alive. Unless he thought Jason was a different Jason like Tim did initially. Though, judging by Dick’s pinched expression, he knew the truth. Tim just narrowed his eyes at Nightwing. He didn’t know what Dick’s plan was here, but if he could stall for a bit longer, Jason would come back and… well, Tim hoped he wouldn’t shoot Dick, but maybe he’d save him from this awkward situation.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, but can you come out from under there?”Dick asked, and Tim shook his head. The motion disturbed the dust around him and Tim had to hold back a sneeze. “I promise I won’t touch you, I just want to make sure you’re okay. This is your room, right? What’s your name?”

Tim answered with a sneeze, and scowled when he caught sight of Dick cooing at him. Ugh, the woes of being so cute, Tim grumbled to himself. He looked down at the taser in his arms, debating if he should just tase Dick, but figured the guy would be able to dodge it. Unfortunately, it was getting harder to hold in his tiny hands given how weak his arms were and how heavy the taser was.

“Alright, that’s okay,”Dick reassured,”How long have you been in here?” He asked, and Tim wanted to roll his eyes. Leave it to Dick to think Jason was holding him captive. “Does anyone else live here with you?”

Tim shook his head, puzzled, and Dick deflated. “It’s just you? Have you seen another kid, black hair, blue eyes? He’s fifteen, so he’d be taller than you but shorter than Jason. I’ve been looking for him,”Dick pleaded and oh. He was looking for Tim, wasn’t he.

Tim shook his head, clutching the taser tighter, but making sure to keep the triggers away from his hands. Dick seemed to sigh, and then sat down criss-cross on the floor, angled at a way that was probably uncomfortable so he could see under the bed. “Okay, thats okay,”Dick said, still trying to be gentle to the toddler. “I just came here looking for him, and I didn’t mean to scare you, so I’m sorry about that.”

Before Tim could even think of responding, there was a crash sounding near the living room, making Tim jolt and bump his head on the bedframe. Dick in turn leapt to his feet, coming to a protective stance between the bed and his bedroom door.

Tim was a little worried about what would happen next. He’d heard a little bit about how Jason was angry at Bruce and Dick, but how angry was the question. Tim was 80% sure that Jason wouldn’t shoot Dick, especially not in Tim’s room or in front of Tim. And considering Dick was trying unnecessarily to protect Tim instead of holding a weapon to Tim was more points in Dick’s favor.

They could hear voices in the room over, and Tim was hit with the realization that Jason was out there with Batman. With Bruce. Why, he wasn’t too sure, but he could make guesses. Tim will have to modify his plan to get Jason and Bruce on better terms depending on how the next few hours go. Grimacing at the noise outside his door, Tim could guess that it wasn’t going well.

Chapter 13

#Marked for Death #mfd #tim drake #tim in disguise #dick doesn't know jason is red hood yet #bruce is kind of a butthead for not telling him #also he's worried about tim

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thequietmanno1 · 7 months

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TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 91, Replies Part 2

1) “Yeah, yesh, what a luck this was not like, some hyper regeneration, can you imagine how much that would’ve been a problem? luckily AfO didn’t had that developed yet. (: “- Hood’s High-end form has some similarities to the Venom Symbiote, especially in the way his body mass grows and propagates to replace damage, so I’m assuming his power worked on a similar principle, without being a genuine ‘full reset’ button like Hyper Regeneration was, which is what AFO would have wanted. Guy wouldn’t just have wanted to be healed, he’d have wanted the damage to basically never have occurred in the first place.

2) “Hum… So is plan B to hold him back so Rappa and Mirko can go outside and get backup? Terrible plan my man, the police is still in the middle of the picnic, and they haven’t even taken their nap! Don’t be this heartless! Also, what would the police even be helpful here. … They are gonna call All Might, aren’t they?”- When Superman gets a call from Gotham to resolve Batman’s problems for him…

3) “Hey guys, just an idea, but you might want to use those prop guns against her”- They never anticipated an escapee who could pull off the most tricky evasive method: Jump Good.

4) “MIRKO PLEASE WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SCREAM THAT, YOU GAVE AWAY YOUR PLAN YOU COULD’VE BEEN HIT WITH A PROP GUN BY ACCIDENT! “- I’m gonna assume that was the guards yelling out to Hood to stop her, rather than he announcing her successful escape…or she did that to distract Hood and let Rappa step into his blindspot.

5) “Oh wow what the fuck is this now that I think about it, not even the High-end could pull something this absurd”- Pretty sure this was Hood’s original Quirk, but when added with Muscular’s Muscle-growing power it was a synergy that really allowed him to expand the reach of his Quirk’s potential, and his own body mass as well.

6) “Wait what? You mean that rappa was here this whole time?! Amazing, I would have never guessed it!”-

Teleports Behind You. “It’s extremely personal.”

7) “And I think the bunny is out of the bag there. F’s on the chat for Hood, he didn’t got down with the sickness”- And now Dr Might will be in the house to bring him down.

8) “I have… an unspeakable and immeasurable rage boiling inside of my chest cavity… Not because the author resorted to pulling the All Might card to deal with a problem he didn’t knew how to solve but because in-universe this is exactly what would be expected. This is the most canon-compliant action the characters took this entire arc And that fills me anger”- Furuhashi; sticking to canon when it will most annoy you, specifically.

9) “GASP! A BUNNY! FLYING! RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PICNIC! WHAT AN ABSURD!”- Now, bears intruding on a pic-a-nic, that’s to be expected.

10) “YEAH GUYS, WHAT A STRANGE SIGHT. I WONDER HOW THE FUCK YOU DIDN’T SAW HER GOING IN, SINCE THERE’S ONLY ONE ENTRANCE APPARENTLY”- They were all on their smoke break, and the clouds of cigarette smoke hid her from view.

11) “Yeah. Seems like we’re also approaching the end of the arc. And All might’s gonna show up in a few seconds to save the day, but considering Hood shows up later, I can already assume someone’s gonna tail it from here the moment the muscles show up. And how that connects with the current conflict with Koichi back in the present day is… … “- This was a cool arc, and gave us some fun cameos and hints as to how Knuckles turned out the way he did, but with his exclusion from the present narrative, it does feel super-disconnected to the present-day events with Koichi, save how he’s now dealing with a warped vision of Knuckles’ past legacy.

@thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #bnha vigilantes #vigilantes 91

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ask-thedepressedkidatthetable · 1 year

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“That’s for always thinking you were so much better than us!” Dion swung, the bar connecting solidly with his temple. Even with the other henchmen holding the chair in place, he was nearly sent to the floor. You could always count on people’s hatred he supposed. It felt silly now, him and Dion had traded food from the vending machines and bitched about all the same people, but making just a dollar or two more with some imaginary authority really bred hatred. Funny.

Alex had to give them credit, while they were so fucking far off the mark, they were connecting dots. From what he’d taken out of their rambling, his story would have been this: That he’d left Wayne Enterprises, not without prospects, but because he’d been scouted. It kind of sounded like there was a step or two because Batman “hired” him, but it was kind of hard to pick up when your head was pounding hard enough to make you see black spots. Great. When did people start watching him so closely? He was nothing. A sad little nobody.

They hadn’t been watching him of course. It was just a bit of luck with the pulled feeds from street lights and their cameras in that part of town. Drop offs, safe houses, that sort of thing. Right place, right time. For them at least.

He was screwed. They’d put out some crappy ransom, thinking it meant something. Bruce wasn’t coming for him. It’d be idiotic if he did. He was self righteous, not stupid. Even though Alex hadn’t said a word about him, it’d make sense to assume he’d sold him out, trying to avoid torture. Blood had stained his shirt when the filmed the video. Now it went across his jeans and shoes, blending in with old blood stains.

Alex sighed. Well, whatever, right? It wasn’t how he wanted to go, but you had to deal with the fucking hand you were dealt. He’d handled the situation gracefully at least. It was a small comfort. Time went on, and he began drifting in and out of consciousness until he felt his body being hoisted from the chair. The lights overhead were on- when had that happened? It was bright. Really fucking bright. “Whoa.” Whoa. Alex stumbled, somehow managing it in the complete support of Bruce’s arms. ‘Coward.’ His thoughts supplied. ‘Weak.’ His hands shook and the boy choked out a laugh. He felt like total shit and that usually meant good things.

Batman- Bruce, no, couldn’t call him that anymore. He’d lost any privileges of familiarity for all the trouble he’d caused- seemed angry. Really angry. It kind of made Alex want to crawl out of his skin and hide in a dark hole for a few thousand years if he was honest. “Shit.” He was in so much trouble, wasn’t he? Oh- they were moving. He was moving. Kind of. If adding in a step of his own every fifteen or so could be counted. Where were they going?

Please not the hospital! Or Batman’s, honestly. He . . . He’d handle this himself. He was fine. Nothing- Right, choke down the nausea- nothing he wasn’t going to deal with his goddamn self. “Take me home.” Alex said, honestly having no idea how it came out. He’d dissociated from the situation ages ago and couldn’t seem to pull himself back. Why would he want to anyway? It’d just freak him out. “I’m going home.”

@fromxbeginningxtoxend

#alex&bruce #fromxbeginningxtoxend #tw dissociation #tw injury #tw blood #tw kidnapping #[hi hi! I hope you don't mind this]#[had it in my head since forever honestly!]#[just couldn't get it all out until now]

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cattatonically · 1 year

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Want You Bad - Day 3

This is part of a series for #sterekvalentineweek - I would suggest reading them in order.

What you can generally expect - hilarity, chaos, mishaps, slow burn, strong language, and vague descriptions of some minor criminal activity.

I hope you have as much fun on this adventure as I did!

Day 1 Day 2

If there was one thing that Stiles could say for himself, it was that he was a damn good friend. And damn good friends support their friends in need. Even when said need involved a hammer, nails, heavy lifting, and the egos of community theatre actors.

Erica, of course, was the exception. And because she was the exception, and Stiles had hit a brick wall on a case, he really couldn’t say no when she asked for his help getting the stage set up for opening night. (And if he got to sneakily ogle at Derek doing some heavy lifting of his own, well, that was his little secret.)

Stiles was well into hammering out the last few planks onto a set of prop stairs when the door at the back of the theatre burst open.

“Sorry, sorry!” the dude running down the aisle apologized loudly. “I got caught up!” When Stiles looked up, his eyes went wide.

“You!” he bellowed, catching the attention of everyone else on the stage, including Derek.

This was the guy he’d been looking for. He had been tasked with serving this asshat a court summons for months and months of child support back pay. Peter had brought the case to him personally. Stiles wasn’t about to let his payday go without a fight.

He dropped his hammer, and tried to make his way down the actual stage stairs to catch the guy, and sit him down so he could call Kira for the summons papers. However, his feet had other plans.

Just as Stiles hit the first stair, his foot got caught in a piece of rogue fabric. The fabric tangled, sending him sprawling down the stage steps, enveloping him in dark burgundy velvet. Stiles struggled to get the velvet off his face, only to be met with Erica’s amused smirk looking down at him.

“Wow, Stiles. Just. Wow.” Then Stiles spotted her phone in her hand.

“Erica, if you love me, and I know you do, you will not post or send that to anyone.”

“Too late, Batman!” Stiles felt his phone vibrate, and by Erica’s shit-eating grin, he knew she sent whatever she’d captured of his epic fail to the group chat.

“Well. Fuck.”

“Not even if you ask nicely, Boyd doesn’t like to share.”

With a groan, Stiles extricated himself from his velvet death trap. He spun around, hoping he wasn’t too late in catching the douchecanoe, only to spot Derek sitting on him in one of the audience seats. “Uh,” he said, eloquently.

“This was the guy you needed, right?” Derek asked, as if he didn’t already know. God, he looked good - even covered in dust and sweat.

“Uh. Yup. Yeah. Yes. Yes, that is the guy I need. No! Not need! Was looking for! Yeah. That one!” Stiles knew his face was turning various shades of red. He could hear Erica snickering at him, but that was a problem for Later Stiles. Right Now Stiles needed to deal with this.

“Right,” Derek said slowly. God, Stiles really wished the ground could open up right now and swallow him whole. “Well, you do what you need to do, and we’ll be right here while you do it. Trust me. He isn’t going anywhere without your say so.”

Instead of replying, and risk more unfortunate flailing word vomit, Stiles opted to nod. He turned to make his way back up the stage stairs so he could call Kira somewhere Erica wasn’t having an epic giggle fit.

And just his luck, Stiles’ foot caught the edge of the velvet fabric again, and sent him careening up the steps. “Why is this my life?” he asked the floor he was facing.

“Because you’re Stiles Stilinski, and no one else can be you but you.”

“It was a rhetorical question, Erica.”

“And you got a non-rhetorical answer. Now, stop trying to destroy our fabric! You have a job to do.”

“Yeah yeah, Catwoman, I’m on it.” It took ever ounce of self-control Stiles had not to look back. He really did not want to see the look on Derek’s face.

Lucky for him. Erica had managed to capture it on video, meaning everyone and their uncle (mainly Peter) would have opinions they were only too happy to share with Stiles.

God, why was this his life?

#sterekvalentineweek2023 #Teen Wolf #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Erica Reyes #Slow burn #sterek is endgame #Stiles is a bit of a disaster #Catt writes

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robinrites · 2 years

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It's Bats

Day One of Whumptober Let's Go!

Prompts: A Little Out of the Ordinary, "This Wasn't Supposed to Happen", Adverse Effects, Unconventional Restraints

Fandom/blurb: Batman (Red Hood specifically) Jason Todd has been kidnapped after a drug deal (that was supposed to be a sting operation) goes wrong. Left alone with no backup and little hope of rescue, Jason can only hope that he can escape before his time runs out.

PS: I'm also on AO3 (zthewriter108)

“Fuck!” Jason’s eyes flitter open in a daze as he hears someone cuss above him. He makes out hazy shapes before his eyes fall shut again. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Jason feels a tug on his arms, accompanied shortly by the feeling of being dragged across the floor. He shakes his head, trying to get out of the daze he’s in, only to be grabbed by sleep once more.

When Jason opens his eyes again, he can’t help but wince and quickly shut them. He cautiously reopens them, trying to ignore the shooting pain from the back of his head. Thankfully, the lights seem a little less bright, which allows him to fully take in his situation. Start from the head down, like B taught you, he mentally reminds himself, hoping that by the time he’s done taking stock of his situation, his captors will return to give him some answers.

“Okay,” He sighs, “Head is hurting. A lot, heh. Must’ve hit it on something when I was being dragged, or before that. Jaw feels like I’ve been punched,” He wiggles his jaw a bit and winces, “that’s also probably contributing to the headache. Arms are pretty sore, probably from being tied to a fucking radiator.” He glances over and notices how his wrists are awkwardly bound at the top of the radiator, despite the fact that he’s seated. He squints, looking at the bindings around his wrists, “Are those electrical cords?”

“Don’t worry they’re not plugged into anything.” A soft voice from the shadows interrupts, startling Jason-- though he’d never admit it. “Sorry, I mean you no harm.” A man emerges from the shadows, allowing Jason to finally get a good look at his captor. He’s wearing a ski mask, so no luck on what his face or hair looks like, but if Jason were to guess correctly, he’s about 5’10 and probably is in his mid 30s. “I just thought you might want some painkillers.” The man opens his hand to reveal two small white pills. Jason’s eyes dart from the pills, to the glass of water in the man’s other hand, to his eyes. No telltale signs of lying but you can never be too cautious in situations like these.

“No thank you.” The man closes his fist and furrows his brow.

“It’ll help you feel better.”

Jason tugs at his restraints in response, “Y’know I sure would feel a lot better if I wasn’t tied up right now, think you could help me there?”

The man looks uncomfortable under his mask from the implication, “Look, I know this isn’t ideal but you were snooping in my business and I didn’t mean to knock you out but I can’t have you going to the cops. I’m sure you’re a good kid, but my work is too important.”

Shit, he still thinks I’m a kid. Jason briefly winces before switching to a scared civilian face. He’d forgotten what had led him to this situation in the first place. As Red Hood he’d gotten word of a man who was breaking his rules, selling drugs to kids. Not any drugs though, some kind of hybrid that really messed them up, if the dosage didn’t kill them first. He’d had a hard time finding him as Red Hood, so Jason decided to switch up techniques. Pretend to be younger than he is and see if this guy would sell to him, place a tracker, then beat the shit out of him once he was back in costume. Only this guy had gotten the jump on him.

Jason zones back into what the man was saying, “-and that’s why I had to use the electrical cords.”

“I’m sorry I missed that.” Jason tries to add a hint of fear to his voice, “Y-you hit my head really hard.”

“I said I was using electrical cords because I wasn’t prepared for you to try to turn me over to that Red Hood son of a bitch. Didn’t have anything better to use, but hey it’ll hold you for now won’t it?” Jason never thought he would miss his utility belt, or the tiny knife hidden in his gloves, as much as he does now. Shame he stashed it at a warehouse a couple blocks from where he was taken, but he can’t help but hope one of his siblings will find it and realize something's off.

“Red Hood?” Jason tugs experimentally again, only to be reminded of how tightly the cords are tied. “You mean the vigilante?” He shakes his head, “I don’t know him, I swear!”

“Sure you don’t.” The man steps forward and pats Jason on the cheek. “Now, I need you to be a good boy and take your medicine. I don’t want to have to force you to take it.” Jason leans his head back until he hits a wall. “Why the sudden hesitance? You were so eager to buy some a couple hours ago.”

Panic rises in his voice, to the point where Jason’s not even sure if it’s acting. “It uh, it wasn’t for me.” He nervously laughs, “You don’t need to do this.”

He tightly shuts his mouth, only for the man to plug his nose, cutting off his air supply. Jason makes it a minute before he opens his mouth, gasping for air. The man takes this chance to shove the pills into Jason’s mouth, accompanied by water, then his hand firmly placed over it so he can’t spit it out.

“Swallow.”

Not even five minutes later, Jason feels instantly hit with exhaustion. He hears the man say something else to him, but the words come out fuzzy and he can’t understand them. He allows his head to lull to the side, but it moves faster than he thought it would, resulting in him hitting his head on the side of the radiator, dragging him to sleep faster than the pills would have.

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

“B, come in.” Dick calls over his radio, trying to ignore the fact that he’s holding the Red Hood’s mask.

“What do you have, Nightwing?” Bruce responds, his voice lacking in emotion, as it always does when he’s Batman.

Dick sets the helmet back down on the pile of clothes-- Jason’s costume-- and forces himself to look away. “I think something happened to Jay- I mean Red Hood.”

“Elaborate.”

“I was just finishing up my patrol, and I found his costume left unguarded. And it’s not in one of his usual spots.” Nightwing forces himself to look back at the pile for a moment. “Hell, I only stopped by here because I noticed signs of a fight a couple warehouses down. Seemed like there was a fight, then someone got dragged away. Didn’t look good. B what if-”

“I’ll be right there, sit tight, but don’t let your guard down.” Despite the situation, Dick smiles a bit, it’s always nice to hear Batman have some emotion when he talks. He seems more like Bruce when he does.

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

When Jason wakes up again, he’s alone. His head is fuzzy, his ears are ringing and his wrists are burning, but at least he’s alone. As he becomes more alert, the effects of the drugs wearing off, he tries to focus his energy on escaping his restraints. He tries to pull one of his wrists out, thinking that if his wrist can get out, if he dislocates his thumb he should be able to get his hand free. Unfortunately, he is unable to even get the base of his hand to where it would need to be for his plan to work. Jason sits himself up as much as he can, glancing at the top of the radiator. His eyes land on a screw that is thankfully not screwed in all the way. Now to just get my wrists closer to that. The door opens and Jason quickly slumps back down, falling back into his scared teenager demeanor.

“I should let you know my dad’s probably looking for me right now.” I really hope he is, he thinks to himself as a side note. “And probably my brothers too!”

“What are they cops?” The man sounds a little panicked when he asks this.

“Maybe.”

The man steps closer, Jason stops himself from rolling his eyes when he sees the ski mask is still on. “Well if they are cops, I might as well just kill ya, huh?” Jason panics, that was absolutely not where he had wanted this to go.

“You got me haha!” He forces a laugh, “They’re not cops, just badasses.”

Now it’s the man’s turn to roll his eyes, “Oh I’m so scared.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills, then shakes a couple into his hand.

“H-hey we don’t need to do this.” Jason stutters, afraid he’ll get hooked on whatever mystery drug the man keeps forcing him to take, “I’ll shut up I promise.”

“What’s your name kid?”

“Jason.” His eyes stay fixed on the hand with the pills, not willing to look away for even a second.

“And how old are you, Jason?”

“18.” Despite the fact that he’s 24, the man seems to believe his lie.

He steps closer, “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, I’d hate to have to kill you. That’s why I’m giving you these pills, they’re just to help you sleep so our time together goes by faster. Then you can go home to your dad and brother sooner.” He takes in the look of refusal on Jason’s face and groans. “How about this, you take your pills, and I’ll give you something to eat.” As if on cue, Jason’s stomach grumbles. Damnit. The man holds the pills out and looks at Jason expectantly. He closes his eyes, then opens his mouth. The pills go down, earning him a pat on the head.

“Good boy.” Jason suppresses a growl. “I’ll give you some food next time you wake up,” He notices Jason’s angry look and laughs, “What? It’s not like you’re not about to go to sleep or anything.” Jason’s eyelids start to droop as he fights to stay awake. “Good night.” The man turns on his heel, then walks out of the room, but Jason is asleep before he even reaches the door.

The next time the man returns, Jason finds himself struggling to fight off the haze. His eyes refuse to open more than halfway, and the strength he’d previously had to lift his head has vanished. The man smiles and kneels in front of Jason, grabbing his chin to examine his face.

“It’s taken fewer doses than I had anticipated.” He releases Jason’s head, which flops forward, then begins to quickly write in a notebook he has in his hand. Seconds later he lifts Jason’s head up again and leans it against the wall so he is forced to look at the man. “I made you a smoothie, as promised.” The man brings a glass with a pink drink inside it into Jason’s field of view. “I figured you wouldn’t be up for eating anything, but we’ve still got to get nutrients into you.” Upon noticing Jason’s concerned expression, he laughs again.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s just a strawberry banana smoothie, totally safe.” He sticks a straw into the cup, then puts the straw in Jason’s mouth, holding the cup for him. Jason tries to resist, but as soon as the smoothie hits his taste buds, he can’t help but greedily drink it until it is pulled away from him. Jason wants to protest, but his brain can’t seem to put together how to talk. “Can’t have you get an upset stomach now can we?” Jason sees him set the smoothie down before grabbing a second cup filled with water and that damned pill bottle. “Say ah.”

He swallows the pills without protest, slipping off into oblivion like the times before. As he sleeps, he dreams of Bruce coming to save him. Batman sweeps him up and takes him back to the cave. The man and his time here become a distant memory. He’ll stop being tired, when Bruce comes to save him. If Bruce comes to save him.

Jason wakes up again, but his eyes don’t open. The only way he even knows he’s awake is because he can feel the pain coming from his injuries. Minutes pass and he is eventually able to open his eyelids a slightest bit, sighing in relief when he sees the man isn’t there. He allows his eyes to close once more, focusing instead on his breathing.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of windows smashing. His eyes flitter open as he watches the man rush into the room and grab him. He feels a gun rest on his temple as the man holds him in front of him, like he’s a shield. His brain screams at him to fight, but his bound wrists and hazy mind keep him in place. If it was not for the man, Jason’s not even sure he would still be upright. Two figures dart into the room, one in all black, the other in dark blue. His mind tells him that he knows these people, but he can’t figure out how.

“Let him go.” The one in black demands, Jason can’t help but flinch a little bit.

“No!” The man shouts, pushing the gun further into Jason’s temple, “‘Cause then you’ll take me to prison. I have work to finish here, you can’t take me!” Jason hears the sound of something flying through the room, then the man screams and falls to the floor, dropping Jason.

“Keep your hands off of him.” A third voice in the room threatens, coming from almost behind him. The man in blue and the third one-- Damian, his brain supplies-- rush towards him. Jason fights to stay awake, feeling something cut his wrists free.

“Hey Jay,” The man in blue- Dick, whispers so the man can’t hear. Jason catches a glimpse of the man in black, Batman- no Bruce, his dad, as he cuffs the man and hauls him to his feet.

“Nightwing, Robin, I’m going to take this piece of shit to Arkham, will you two make sure the civilian gets the proper care he needs.”

The two nod in unison, waiting until Batman has taken the man from the room so they can talk to Jason without code names.

“You guys- you guys came.” Jason slurs, fighting to stay awake.

“Of course we did Todd.” Damian states, crossing his arms as a sign of affection.

Dick gently scoops Jason off the floor, “We’ll always come, that’s what family does.”

#batfamily #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd whump #whumptober 2022 #whumptober 2022 day one #violence #drug abuse #unconventional restraints #bruce wayne #whumpblr #whump writing #first time posting a fic on tumblr so pls be nice :)#no beta we die like Jason Todd

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mydetheturk · 2 years

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work in progress wendesday!

Hal opened his phone during a dead moment. He needed a quick breath from the sheer amount of civilians delighted to see Mrs. Kent and curious as to who he was.

He could only answer, “I’m a friend of Clark’s, I’m just helping out for the season,” before he’d go mad. Someone might have glared at him, and Hal wasn’t exactly sure – it was like watching Clark and Barry be polite at one another but into infinity.

Hal’d seen infinity, once while traveling space.

He still didn’t have words to describe the overwhelming sense of how small and insignificant he was compared to that endless expanse. He now understood intimately what people meant when they said something was “awe inspiring”. It was beautiful and horrible and Hal still had shivers down his spine when he thought of it and he’d been a Lantern for years now, was a Senior Lantern, by most accounts.

Chat: Original League Lantern 1.0 [10:23 am]: I need someone with super speed to bring me my lantern Fastest Man Alive [10:23 am]: where is it? Lantern 1.0 [10:24 am]: Southwest. Probably at carols, but its possible whichever one of you dickheads CLEARED OUT MY APARTMENT didn’t give it to her Intrepid Reporter [10:24 am]: In our defense, all 2.0 and 3.0 could give us on your status was “not dead but definitely missing” and “the bastard isn’t dead but that doesn’t mean I know where the hell he is” Intrepid Reporter [10:25 am]: I’m sure you can figure out who said what Lantern 1.0 [10:25 am]: I hate each and every single one of you Lantern 1.0 [10:25 am]: I am this close to asking spooky to do something drastic for my sake Lantern 1.0 [10:25 am]: he’d do it I’m sure Lantern 1.0 [10:26 am]: he may not like me but he sure as hell would enjoy having one up on me Fastest Man Alive [10:26 am]: GL buddy don’t do anything stupid Lantern 1.0 [10:27 am]: I WILL do something drastic I fucking swear Lantern 1.0 [10:27 am]: I got fucking GROUNDED don’t test me Intrepid Reporter [10:28 am]: … I’ll ask 3.0 if he knows where it’s at Lantern 1.0 [10:29 am]: yeah good luck I’m the only Lantern in the solar system right now

Direct Message: Lantern 3.0, aka johnny Intrepid Reporter [10:28 am]: john if you’re in a place where you can get messages from earth what on EARTH did you do with the contents of hal’s place? Intrepid Reporter [10:40 am]: hm. This is a little inconvenient. I’ll update you when you get back planetside?

Chat: Original League Lantern 1.0 [10:42 am]: what did I fucking say Intrepid Reporter [10:42 am]: aren’t there farm things for you to be doing right now? Lantern 1.0 [10:44 am]: jokes on you boy scout its farmer’s market day and your mom has me manning the booth’s stock Lantern 1.0 [10:46 am]: several people who know you from high school say hi by the way. At least one person has given me a dirty look for not being you. Lantern 1.0 [10:46 am]: rude The Batman [10:47 am]: The chat function is nominally for emergencies only. Green Lantern, your Lantern is with Tom Kalmaku. Someone will retrieve it for you. Intrepid Reporter [10:47 am]: aww tell them I say hi back Lantern 1.0 [10:48 am]: I can’t believe I’m saying this but thank you spooky. Choosing Tom over Carol is a good idea, but any of the other pilots or mechanics at that ferris airfield would have worked my status is a bit of an open secret there. The Batman [10:49 am]: How you have any sort of secret identity, I have no idea. Deep Sea King [10:50 am]: not all of us are as paranoid as you or have secret identities that are as secret as yours Fastest Man Alive [10:51 am]: oh! I can make the run over Fastest Man Alive [10:51 am]: I’m not on call todayso no crime scenes for me! :D The Batman [10:52 am]: I also do not know how you have any sort of secret identity.

#myde writes #dc #green lantern #hal jordan #myde does nanowrimo #chat log #wip wednesday

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hollandorks · 2 years

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Shelby bestie! It’s me your favorite 🦇 I have some head cannons to share with you.

I know that we discussed Bruce being a boob man, but I also think he’d enjoy thighs. He’d like touching them, spreading them apart, etc. I can just picture him being a fan of thighs.

Idk if you’ve mentioned it or not but the dude can eat 🐱 for days and not stop. I can see him being really into it.

Definitely likes picking her up and bringing her to the bed for sexy time. Like her wrapping her legs around him.

Bruce definitely has a favorite pair of socks.

Speaking of socks I have certain pairs of socks that I wear to work. I can see him having his Bruce socks and his Batman socks.

Definitely a big fan of savory foods. He takes everything in, savory foods fit that vibe.

That’s all for now

🦇

okay I lied. I do have a prediction—I saw a previous person ask if our funny riddle guy was going to do anything/target her. Maybe even be obsessed with her. My prediction is that he definitely has a dictation with her. She helped take down the former mayor, and the whole drugging women and killing them thing he had going on with other scum bags. He definitely looks up to her. Probably has a crush on her. He’s not leaving her cards because he knows she wouldn’t come across them. Or did. It’s tricky when you factor Bruce into the equation. I feel like he’ll think Bruce—with his wealth is corrupting her. On one hand Bruce is supporting her own Gotham Project (something the riddler is a fan of) but since Bruce is supporting it he might think it’s tainted with dirty money. Does that make sense? Idk if it does. What will he do to her? I’m not sure yet.

Fuck I want poptarts.

Also I may not be able to read the new chapter until Tuesday. I work one job Sunday and Monday night and I work early at my other job Monday and Tuesday morning. Oh life. If I do read it when it comes out I won’t have an essay.

Much love!

Also how have you been?

Love seeing your headcanons and predictions!! I'm gonna go ahead and say spoilers and ignore your predictions just in case, but I love seeing them!!

I agree, Bruce loves boobs best but thighs second. I imagine him reaching over for a squeeze of the thigh while he's driving. Maybe not even always in a sexy way--he just loves them.

And yeah I 100% think Bruce likes to eat 🐱 like....man is touch starved himself and he'd love just going to town and getting to explore yknow what I'm saying 👀 In my mind he's a very generous man.

And yes he definitely likes to pick her up and show off his strength! I feel like I've already included this a couple of times just because it feels so natural for him!

Love the idea of him having Batman socks. I bet they're like nice, expensive work socks that he researched so they don't get holes in them so he doesn't get blisters. Meanwhile his Bruce socks are all mismatched and have holes and then he has like, a couple sets of nice/ fancy dress socks Alfred got him to go with any suits he wears

Savory foods do seem to fit him. Like I bet he's big on comfort foods like soup or fresh bread (or in motn, omelets 😉)

Also oof I'm tired on your behalf!! Good luck! May your coffee be constantly refilled and fresh these next few days! 😂 Totally understand if you can't do an essay! Get some sleep!

Also I've been good! I'm officially on my second vacation (my job spoils me). My brother is flying into town tomorrow then Monday or Tuesday me, him, and my mom are joining my mom's whole side of the family for a huge beach trip! (Yes this is my second beach trip in two weeks. Again--spoiled)

Also today I went shopping and got a Nirvana shirt (we're doing a decades night where you dress in the decade you were born on this trip) so obviously I thought of our bat boy and decided to dress 90s grunge so I could get a Nirvana shirt 😎 Also got a few other things, finished a book, wrote a chapter of SITN, and started a book club book. So today's been great!

How've you been bestie?? How're both of your jobs? Do you feel like you're managing them pretty well?

#asks #anon #my favorite 🦇#🦇 anon #🦇

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