#Bruce Plante

[tomorrowusa]

The question remains: What exactly was Donald Trump going to do with all those classified documents, including nuclear secrets, strewn all over his garish mansion?

Trump Judge Aileen Cannon doesn't want anybody to find out – at least before the November election.

Judge Aileen Cannon Will Entertain Any Excuse to Delay Trump’s Trial

Federal judges like Aileen Cannon are appointed for life. Imagine another four years (or more) of Trump sycophants being appointed to the federal bench. 😱

Convicted felon and adjudicated sex offender Donald Trump had truckloads of classified materials intentionally transported to Mar-a-Lago. It's not that Trump enjoys reading that much. Agents who gave him intelligence briefings during his presidency had to create diagrams and other graphics so he could understand their reports.

Not all of the missing classified papers which went missing during the Trump administration have been recovered.

The mystery of the missing binder: How a collection of raw Russian intelligence disappeared under Trump

Trump is a danger to US national security and should be treated as such.

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Jason is terrified of Damian al Ghul-Wayne.

Talia dipped him in the Pit, fed him lies, put him through the worst kinds of pain possible for the sake of training and turned him into a monster that went to heel when called. A monster even Ra’s was wary of.

He’s terrified of Damian, because if his mother managed to manipulate and play him like a fiddle, then she must have taught the same to her son.

Damian, who only has memories of a catatonic Jason cooing at him, cuddling him and protecting him, is becoming progressively more distressed by Jason’s perpetual cold shoulder and skittish behavior whenever Jason sees him.

[shrugsinchinese]

Day 5 of Billy Batson week, this one is dedicated to all the 12 year old Dad Billy AU’s out there, especially when Kon’s the one being adopted

Part 2 here

Also I really want to know what the salary of a justice leaguer would be, is it a 401k? Can it support one person or a family? Or is it just above minimum wage? Do they even get dental?

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 329

Bruce was admittedly suspicious when Talia requests a meeting, and is admittedly still upset with the entire hiding Damian’s existence from him for literal years. But he also admits that he just… has to take a moment. 

“Run that by me again please?” He had to have misheard, right? Or gotten drugged by something maybe. 

Talia sighs, sounding just as tired as he felt. “Father’s tea supplier has moved to Gotham after an argument, and he wishes to discuss the agreement of him not entering the city- to speak with said vendor.” 

[betterthanbatman1]

HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THIS BEFORE

[bruciemilf]

Bruce texting " I'm writing my will. Would anyone like anything specifically?" In the group chat. With no expectations of his kids ripping the door of his office open. With Clark in toe. Well. Should've thought twice

[satoshy12]

Plant Boy Danny

As Danny gets plant powers and was seen by his parents. Jack and Maddie had the only a normal reaction! They kidnapped Poison Ivy to teach their son!

And as they broke Arkham, Being the nice and law-binding citizen they are, they fixed and upgraded Arkham to a the very top.

The guards and therapists of Arkham had no idea what to say. But hey! Arkham is now even more secure than Fort Knox. So after 2 months of no criminal being able to escape, the Guards and Staff just covered it up that the Fenton's Kidnapped Ivy from Batman. With the support of the city.

Ivy had no idea what just happened.

One moment she was in Arkham, and next she was in an RV. Being taken from one city in the country to a new city many 1000 KM away.

Well, she knew why she was here as she saw the young Plant boy, who was playing with his new powers. Danny's skin was green, with pointy elf ears and standing on Tendrils that were all around the House and block.

After a time living with the Fentons, Ivy asked the question she had in her mind.

Ivy: "You could have just asked me to teach Danny." Maddie:" A mother has to make sure. If you said no, " Jack;" Yeah. This way, it's easier."

+

Gotham

It's been two months since Ivy was kidnapped.

Gotham was never that peaceful for so long.

Bruce had no idea what was happening. Where are his villains, and what plan do they have?

Gordon covered it up; he liked the new security system in Arkham. No criminal was able to even escape their cells.

Well, the villain hates it! Being struck in a tiny cell like animals! They want to escape! But no one really cares for it.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Tucker gets hired by the JL to work on the Watchtower’s cybersecurity... He might have a few friends visit. 

Batman looked over the application for visitors presented to him by Dr. Foley, who was nervously wringing his hands but seemed excited to talk about his two close associates, and it appeared that everything was in order for the pair to be allotted a short visitation time slot. 

The paperwork was established by Batman himself after all, needing a way to permit non-members (His Children) to visit him at his office in the watchtower. Looking over Dr. Foley’s application, the invites to Dr. D. Fenton and Dr. S. Manson seemed to be somewhat warranted.

Dr. Fenton is a well known astrophysicist and Dr. Foley had been upping the security to reflect more complex physics models as the ‘lock’ mechanism for access to Watchtower servers. Dr. Manson was a more controversial figure in social justice but a biochemist to rival Dr. Pamela Isley, not to mention she was someone Bruce Wayne had met a number of times and not completely hated (though he was sure she hated him and everyone else in the gala). She was a fan favorite guest by his children and a great advocate for animal and human rights. 

Batman approves the application, allowing their visitation for a few hours at a time once a week until the completion of Dr. Foley’s project. 

He doesn’t hear much from it, nor from Dr. Foley, but things start to come down the rumor grapevine that the two guests were more than they seemed. Red Robin was the first to comment on it to him, and as practical and efficient Tim could be, there was a look of chaos in his smile as he discussed the two additional PhDs. He was stingy on details and that always meant something bad for Bruce’s mental health. A few others asked a few questions as to who exactly the pair were visiting, and Cyborg commented that they weren’t really doing too much to assist Dr. Foley. 

Batman decides to intervene and meet these two for himself when he hears Constantine complain (not that the man wasn’t always complaining about something) about the two new magic users being way too OP for normal humans. 

This is how the JL gets to become allied with Ghost King Phantom and Thorn (not Poison Ivy pt.2 as Robin insisted). Turns out they weren’t sure if the JL could be trusted with interdimensional politics, so Tucker spent the last two years gaining their trust to let Danny and Sam up here to ‘check the place out’ before they committed to becoming members. 

Batman doesn’t even get to raise alarms at the espionage of it all because Red Robin has already programed their new badges and welcomed them on with open arms and a project to take down the LOA’s Lazarus Pits “safely”.

[violent138]

I love the idea that Bruce takes the Batfam on hikes outside of Gotham, and puts up with the arguing over who goes in what car, packs everyone's favourite snacks, will race with the other car if enough passengers in his egg him on. Bruce generally stays ridicuously quiet while the kids jabber enough to alert everything living in the woods near them but will weigh in once the kids debate who's strong enough to wrestle a bear, chime in on unsolved hiker cases, build fires, and carry anyone that gets tired, all while sneaking awful pictures of them.

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 4

Sorry this took so long. In the hospital still. Out of the hospital now!

For @unadulteratedsoulsweets

——

It had been early in the morning when she’d stepped foot in the manor. It was closer to noon, now, that found the reincarnation attentively sitting in one of the (if she remembered correctly from the blue prints) three massive kitchens located in Wayne manor.

She sat atop one of the island stools Damian had ushered her into, spaced a comfortable distance from the man that was her biological father in this life. Her mask dangled at her hip, a comfort she indulged in after unpacking her things. In truth, she’s had cookies before, but it had been so long since she’s tasted it that she might as well have never tried it before. Damian and Alfred Pennyworth worked with maximum efficiency, measuring out flour and sugar and chocolate like there were no tasks more important than this.

Alfred Pennyworth also avoided a specific cabinet that smelled slightly of metal polish and gun powder. It was kept away from the perishables.

Perhaps the manor was smaller and much more homely than the palace, but the reincarnate could see the sense in and approved of the various well-hidden caches of weapons around. Meant for non-lethal take downs, of course, but anything can be lethal if you tried hard enough. Or, considering the vigilante filled manor she had agreed to vacation in, anything could be lethal if one did not try hard enough to keep it non lethal.

The scrape of a spoon drew her attention back to Damian, waving away the off topic musings her mind had wandered into now that a large portion of her brain power was freed from the duty of fear.

She tracked how Damian existed within this space he had so clearly made for himself. He was… happier. Kinder. More. More at ease, more settled into his skin instead of where he stretched it to fit the cast of the Demon’s Heir. Simply, more. He was more Damian than he had been in the league.

When Damian was locked within the walls of the palace, his shoulders were always held straight. There’d been a- not quite darkness- cruelty in his eyes and gait that their grandfather had eagerly nurtured. His chin had remained lifted, his actions closed and callous. She’d feared, for while, that Damian would follow their grandfather’s footsteps. Until the day she saw him sneak a bird into his room to heal, her heart had trembled and grieved to see someone she loved imitate the worst parts of her abuser. It didn’t change the fact that she loved him, but it changed how she taught him.

But experience is a better teacher than she will ever be, and Damian had little chance to experience true kindness in the pits of the league.

Here, Damian is light. Perhaps less aware than he normally would have been, on the look out for fatal attacks as she had trained him to be within the league, but here he is free and safe and relaxed. It feels like she’s sitting in a haze, the chirps of birds and the clouded noon sun casting everything into an unreal light.

“Ukhti, assistance is requested.” Her brother holds out a bowl of dough. Her heart hurt with how happy it was. She squished the dough between her fingers like a child rediscovering her childhood. In some ways, she was.

——

As she watched Damian, in turn the others observed her. Bruce sat beside her, cataloguing every minuscule expression of his child, the first and the eldest, in an attempt to make up for lost time. And truly, it was minuscule. For all Bruce trained in micro-expressions and movements, his eldest- god, he had another daughter, the eldest- daughter remained a mystery from which he gleaned little of. Her face never lifted from that trained neutrality, having resettled back into it after first bite of b’stilla. He cradled the mug of coffee in his hands, the tang of grief and guilt roiling in his stomach as his daughter hesitantly but skillfully rolled a ball of dough.

“Pennyworth has divulged his secrets to me.” Damian plucked the ball from his sister’s hand, who allowed it with traces of… bemusement, perhaps? His eldest daughter flicked her eyes up in question, perhaps mildly amused. Even if she had more than two decades worth of training, Bruce was frustrated that he could not read her. She was his daughter.

Already he fails her. For too long, he had failed her.

“He chills the dough for a chewier cookie. I, and some of the others with adequate taste, prefer this texture. But which would you find adequate?”

His daughter flickered through that sign language again, the one he had no knowledge of. Considering he knew multiple from each continent, that was saying a lot. He was catching a few repeated signs, but nothing concrete.

Alfred waited patiently as they had their conversation, paying sharp attention to their motions. Bruce… felt like he was sitting next to Cassandra. He supposed they were the same, except his eldest daughter hadn’t gotten free.

“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.” Damian grumbled, resting his hands on the counter, making sure to keep it away from his meticulously clean clothes. “We’ll cook them immediately.”

Bruce, in a fit of inspired parenting, offered a compromise.

“We could do two batches. One for right now and save a batch for later.”

Unspoken were the words ‘so she can try the cookies now.’ Despite the silent nature of his intent, Bruce thought that Alfred and Damian understood anyways.

“A fine suggestion, Master Bruce.”

“Thanks, Alfred.”

——

She sensed them before she saw them. Her father had slipped out after his suggestion, no doubt intercepting his flock of traumatized orphans before they could pile in.

Perhaps she had inherited something from Bruce Wayne after, considering how many of them she’d taken under her wing. She rolled the ball of dough between oiled fingers in a haze. Faint memories, impressions of a life long faded, guided her hands as she smooshed the cookies to her preference.

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Al-Ghul?”Alfred Pennyworth asked her.

‘A Pennyworth for my thoughts?’ She swapped sign language, eyes slyly watching for Damian’s reaction.

Damian, right on cue, clicked his tongue, looking defeated. Alfred, on the other hand, smiled wider.

“A Pennyworth for your thoughts indeed.”

Her humor faded into something softer. Longing. Melancholy.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve made dessert for myself.’

She glanced at Damian, who was trying his best to pretend like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation lest he caught another stray pun. ‘Or used it to inoculate poisons.’

“I see.” The butler patted his hands dry onto a towel, a sharp eye on Damian’s efforts at covering the dough meant for freezing. “I assure you that these cookies will remain poison free, have no worries about that. Now, would you like some tea?”

She shook her head. ‘I’ll make it myself later. Thank you.’

“Very well, Miss-”

“Hi, Alfred. Making cookies?”

Her hands continued to work on her tray, placing cookie dough on the tray with military precision. Damian remained relaxed, though watchful of her reaction.

“That’s correct, Master Tim.”

Tim shuffled over to her, and she turned. Ah, her partial benefactor.

“Little photographer.” She smiled, slightly. Her eyes, however, were warm. Alfred stilled for a brief second at her voice.

“Hi. It’s been a while.” Tim plopped down on the seat next to her. His whole body screamed of nostalgia. It’s odd to see the little scrawny Bristol boy grow into a full fledged vigilante. It seemed like yesterday she was keeping him from slipping on Gotham’s manifestations of its rot and plummeting down on its stone heart.

She hummed. ‘Not too long.’

“What is that supposed to mean? When had you met Drake, recently?”

She glanced at the little- not so little- photographer.

“She helped me bring B back.” Tim lied. She didn’t like how easily he lied to Damian… but on account of her fondness for him, she let it slide.

“Did you, Miss Al-Ghul?” Alfred wiped his hands on the hand towel he carried. “Then I suppose we owe you our sincere thanks.”

She blinked slowly.

‘I didn’t do much. I kept him alive just the once.’

“That is a harder task than one might think, Miss Al-Ghul. Master Tim has, arguably, the worst self preservation instincts out of the life risking vigilantes I have known.” And he has known many, Alfred seemed to imply.

She tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“Hey! What is this? Gang up on Tim day?”

“I would participate in that even if it wasn’t,” Damian stated, packing the frozen cookies away in the corner. “Come and help, Drake. My ukht is about to have her first cookies and we will bake it to perfection. Bring the tray.”

Tim scoffed but slid the tray away from her, Alfred seamlessly dropping a napkin for her to wipe off the dough from her fingertips.

“Thanks, by the way. For saving Z and Owens.”

‘They were my assassins. Even if you did manage to sway them to your cause.’ She tapped the marble island, before opening her mouth. “Thank you. For destroying his pit options. It helped me kill Ra’s.”

In her peripherals, Damian settled back, disgruntled but willing to rest his curiosity as gratitude towards Tim’s part in her freedom overrode his need for answers.

Tim stilled. “…What are friends for, right?”

‘Of course, little photographer.’ She relaxed as her, arguably first, friend and now brother popped the tray into the oven.

“Anyways, they sent me in here to see if you’re ready to meet the rest of them.”

“And they said that?” Damian scoffed, coming around the island to stand beside her as she slipped off the stool.

“Nah, they actually wanted me to subtly vibe check her, but it’s not like she wouldn’t catch me doing it.”

“Ukhti’s ‘vibes’ are perfectly fine,” Damian said crabbily, crossing his arms defensively. She tapped the back of Damian’s neck and he relaxed.

‘Thank you for the… assessment of my character and general disposition.’ She signed dryly.

“Ugh, I should’ve made the connection. Your syntax is exactly like Damian’s.” Tim joked, dodging the punch Damian aimed at his nonexistent spleen.

The reincarnation huffed. ‘I spoke perhaps three words to you.’

“And how many people use disposition on a regular basis?”

“I do, Drake!”

“I know, Damian. That was the point, you little walking thesaurus.”

——

They left Alfred in the kitchen, the man all but shooing them away so he could get working on lunch, and made their way to a sitting room. The floor was covered in a plush blue carpet, a fact that made itself vividly present to the reincarnation when she placed her foot on it, the fabric brushing the back of her heels. She was too trained to allow the slip to visible, but for a microsecond, the memories of kneeling and choking clawed their way past her defenses. She made note of the trigger and moved on, compartmentalizing that fact for later.

“It’s you,” Nightwing breathed out, tensing. The others behind him freeze, even more alert than their regular state. Bruce whipped his head towards him, sharp and searching.

“Nightwing.” She greeted. She felt a kinship with this vigilante turned brother. She watched him soar and fall alongside the little photographer. She watched him grow new wings and watched them get tainted with blood and fear and grim hope. She lived vicariously through him, he who flew when she was chained. In some ways, she had ended up watching his back for a long time, both in yearning for the ease he was allowed at her father’s side and to protect the vulnerable back that knew not of its openness. Bruce inhaled deeply at her voice.

Dick stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. She does not disembowel him for it. Instead, she allowed the giant octopus hug her new oldest little brother gave her. There was no aggression in his countenance. Only relief and gratitude.

“You know Dick?” The little, ah, no, she doesn’t want to sound like Ra’s, Tim asked. Dick tensed, clearly unwilling to speak about it. She stepped in.

“I met him once. Eliminated a spider for him on a rooftop. I did not think he would remember.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on knowing who ukhti was?” Damian demanded, scowling. She immediately freed an arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Damian ducked away with a rather petulant scowl. "Not because of my safety but because she crushed an arachnid for you?"

Dick nodded at him before looking up at her. “I really hated that spider. It was super scary. Thank you for getting rid of it.”

In lieu of an answer, she gently hugged him back.

“I get the feeling.” She said solemnly, voice coming out soft and borne of an implicit understanding. ‘Talk later,’ she signed to him.

“I was not aware you were afraid of spiders, ukht,” Damian muttered. “Though, Richard, I would believe.”

“Hey!”

Dick detached himself and pasted on a mostly genuine smile. “Oh! You should meet the others!”

He turned to the rest of Bruce Wayne’s wards and children to cheerfully point them out.

“This is Duke! He’s Alfred’s favorite grandkid, because he hasn’t burnt down the kitchen yet and reports when he’s injured.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you.” Duke Thomas raised a hand, smiling. “The bar was literally on the floor with you people. ‘Sides, Jason did just fine.”

The reincarnate nodded. Yes, she knew of him, though her memories were hazy. It had been over two decades, after all.

Dick steamrolled onwards. “This is Stephanie-”

“But you can call me Steph!” Stephanie Brown interjected, bouncing in her seat. Despite her bubbly demeanor, her gaze was sharp. Seeing. She liked that sharpness. It was tempered by the same rough and tumble kindness she’d seen in Grave- ah, Jason.

Spoiler, her memories reminded her. It was a soothing distraction from the anxious memories of the league. She found herself collecting little hints and information about this family. Her family, even if it were tentatively so. She caught Bruce staring at them intently, visibly anxious about this meeting.

‘A pleasure to meet you.’

“So… what do we call you?” Steph tilted her head. Hm. A tell Ra’s would have beaten out of her, had Stephanie had the misfortune of being in his presence for more than a day.

“Al Ghul will be adequate.” Damian cut in. The glance he threw her promised a discussion upon the topic of her name. Later, it promised.

“Wow. That’s kind of impersonal though.”

“Steph!”

“What?! I’m not wrong.”

“Anyways!” Dick loudly said over the two bickering kids. “That’s actually it for now.”

“The rest aren’t here as of this moment, but they’ll be around for dinner.”

A white lie. She studied Bruce for a moment before acquiescing. He meant no harm. Despite his capability to inflict harm, his willingness to do so, she could not read a single instance of ill will in him. Not, at least, towards her. She allowed the lie to slide.

‘I wish to see the grounds.’ She put a hand on Damian’s shoulder. He knew what it meant for her to retreat to the wilderness. Nature, where most things were free and where one does not often find Ra’s after he’d had a taste for luxury.

“We will go to the gardens. Ukhti wishes to explore.” Despite the rather curt way he pronounced it, Damian had stepped closer to her side in a gesture of concern. The pit inside of her stomach eased.

“Sounds good! Let’s go!” Steph bounced out of her seat.

“We could tell you stories,” Tim offered from behind her.

“Yeah, like that one time Dick face planted onto one of Poison Ivy’s flower beds because he was distracted by an ice cream truck.” Duke grinned, eyes crinkling.

“Hey! That ice cream truck was full of Scarecrow thugs!”

“And they weren’t worth an Ivy-lecture. I’m surprised she didn’t skin you and make a pot out of your bones, Dick.” Tim yawned.

“Ooo, we should tell her about the time I hit you in the face with a brick!”

“Literally what more is there to that story, Steph?” Tim grumbled.

“I would like to hear this tale,” Damian said, beginning to tug his ukht towards the garden. The rest of the group followed.

“Actually, why don’t we tell her about the time you tried getting Batcow to the barn and he just sat down? Didn’t you bargain with her for an hour, Damian?”

“Tt!”

Duke leaned back and took in the chaos he unfolded with a twinkling grin and Bruce’s sigh bolstering him. And if their newest and oldest addition to the family relaxed in his chaos, well, that was between him and her.

——

Cassandra found her in the gardens, the both of them weaving in between the foliage like light footed cats. Her contingent of Bats were behind them, watching the two former assassins approach each other.

Cassandra had frozen, mirroring the reincarnator’s stillness.

“Ukhti.” The word was torn out of Cass’ throat, filled with tears and relief.

“Cassandra,” she called, fond and kind and loving. Damian’s eyes darted between his sisters. They knew each other. How? She called his ukht, ukhti. A title he had assumed only he could use.

Cassandra scrambled and launched herself at her, silent sobs shaking her frame.

“Hello, Cass,” she caught the flying vigilante, crushing her first little sister into a tight hug. “Freedom suits you, habibti.”

Cass trembles in her arms, hands clutching at the fabric on her shoulder blades like Damian’s. Her eyes softened, and she rested her chin on Cass’s head.

“You know Cassandra too, ukhti?”

She nodded.

“Ukhti named me.” Cass said, voice wobbly. ‘Cass. Cassandra.’ Cass did her name sign. The one she had taught the slip of a girl back when Cass was stuck in a senseless prison and she was only free in terms of movement.

‘First word too.’ She smiled, proud of Cass and how far she’s come. Cassandra reads the pride in her language, the safety and kindness that she’d never forgotten even after traversing the world for years before arriving home, and she burrowed deeper into the hug.

“Oh. I see.”

“Two ukhts.” She smiled at Damian.

Cass shook her head, but before Damian could settle into his hurt at her supposed rejection, Cass explained her confusion. “Ukhti is your name? I’m Cass.”

“Ukhti means older sister.” Damian informed her.

Cass blinked and looked back at the reincarnation. Her shoulders relaxed and drew back, eyes softening and body loosened from its confusion. She smiled, bright as the sun, and deftly clambered around to perch on her older sister’s back.

“Two.” She declared. And truly, the reincarnation was weak to her younger siblings because that was that. Cass declared it so, and it shall be so. Damian grumbled but seemed like they agreed.

“How did you two meet?” Bruce piped up, intent and surprisingly considerate.

“Saved me,” Cass sighed, resting her chin on her ukht’s head. ‘From father and the league. Taught me to speak, a little. My name. Cass. Taught me..’ Cass paused. “Taught me I am not a weapon.”

The former assassin carrying Cass on a piggy back ride hummed in agreement.

“Oh.” The rest of the family glanced at each other. Dick had his shiny teary eyes on, the ones he got when Jason initiated a hang out.

“Not a weapon,” Cass repeated, pressing firmly on her ukht’s head.

A less sure hum. Cass scowled.

“No. Bad,” Cass scolded. “Not a weapon.”

An acquiescing hum, full of fondness and exasperation.

Cassandra Cain will take that answer. For now.

“You named Cass?” Duke asked. Bruce looked at them with gentle eyes.

“After a heroine I knew.” She replied, shifting. Cass hugged her tighter, intently listening. “She was strong. Lethal if need be. But… kind. She had an inherently kind heart. Full of love. Like Cass.”

“Oh, that’s really.. that’s really sweet.”

Cass hugged her ukht closer, touched. She had never known why she had been given the name, but finding out that it was after a heroine her sister looked up to made the day that much brighter. Hopeful. Honored.

“You have not told me this story,” Damian said.

‘I will. One day.’

——

Jason found her at the lunch table. Along with the rest of the brood. Except for, jarringly, an alien named Jarro.

“He’s our alien brother!” Duke said. He smiled, and it was a smile of unassuming harmlessness. A well crafted mask that she knew better than to be fooled by.

She offered three long blinks that had Cassandra, stuck like a limpet on the reincarnator’s back, muffling a laugh.

“Telling truth,” Cass whispered, sentences punctuated by giggles.

She hummed, shifting to more securely carry Cass on her back. Damian sighed and dutifully carried Cassandra’s pack. She smiled at her little brother, who straightened. Adorable. All of her siblings were adorable. She would kill for them. Ah, right. They frown upon murder here. So had she, once. Before Ra’s broke that part of her heart and forced her hands to commit evils that grew gnarled vines through her very soul.

“Oh.” She blinked.

“Hm?”

“Killing is… a choice.” The conversations around them fell silent. Cass’ arms tightened around her shoulders.

“We don’t have to do it, anymore,” Damian agreed. Yes, he understood what it was like, to be raised to kill and suddenly having the option not to.

“Did you not want to kill, before?” Bruce asked, suddenly a bit closer. Her mind was slipping, she realized. It felt… safe, to slip.

‘If I did not,’ she admitted, like throwing stones off of a lock-laden bridge. ‘Damian would bear the consequences.’

She sounded… young. Afraid. Two things she had always been and were never allowed to be.

Bruce Wayne looked at her like his heart was breaking, like he wished he could shoulder her pain on top of the weight of the world he willingly carried since his parents died. This, she is reminded, was why she swore Damian to secrecy regarding her existence. She wondered if he had ever taken the burden of more grief than he could bear.

‘And I could not say no, regardless,” she told them, absent and tired.

She wondered if she would be the one to break him, should she allow him a glimpse of the scars on her back.

“I could have taken it.” Damian grabbed her arm, clutching at her sleeve once more.

“No,” she whispered, haunted. ‘Not while I drew breath, habibi.’

“You don’t have to kill here. We’re all very good with no murder.” Tim reminded her firmly.

“Unless it’s the Joker.” Steph chimed in, bubbly smile gentled into something kinder.

“Unless it’s him.” Duke agreed. His eyes were more serious now.

“No,” Bruce replied, tired. Heavier, in a way that made sour tang of guilt scratch the back of her tongue. She hadn’t meant to give him the weight of knowledge, but she had inadvertently done so with the things she had and hadn’t said. He wasn’t the world’s- she glanced at Tim, who quirked a smile at her- second best detective for no reason.

“Yes, but you’re not ready for that conversation.” Dick snapped, lightheartedly.

Ah. That’s what was off.

They’re kind. They choose to be and they inherently are kind.

It showed. And she wasn’t used to that.

“Lunch.” Cassandra reminded them. She was a solid, grounding presence at the reincarnator’s back.

“Oh, Jason said he’s on the way.” Duke commented, nodding when she quickly did a subtle thank you sign.

“Why does he text you and not me?” Dick whined.

“Wow, man. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of the emoji wall you send?”

“They’re nice! How else are you supposed to know what I’m feeling, right, Cass?”

Cass nodded and gave a thumbs up from her place on ukhti’s back.

“See?!”

“I love you Cass, but you also use a wall of understandable emojis. Dick just spams them.” Steph retorted.

The reincarnator turned to Damian, a silent question in her eyes. He sighed. “Yes, the imbeciles argue all of the time.”

She nodded and the group made their way to the green house for lunch, bickering all the while.

When they get there, Jason Todd, along with Alfred Pennyworth were already at the table.

“Grave.” She greeted as Cass slipped off her back.

“Ain’t no fucking way, Trainer?” Jason leapt to his feet. It was odd, seeing him in casual clothes. Ra’s had kept him in armor most of the time.

“You know each other?”

“At this point, who doesn’t ukht know would be an easier question.” Damian grumbled. She tapped him on the head twice, a light reprimand.

‘Grave was part of your guard,’ she told him. ‘He protected you well.’

“You’re the demon brat’s older sister? That makes so much fucking sense.”

She felt her eyes go cold, lifting to stare at Grave’s rapidly paling face. He visibly backtracks.

“Uh- I mean, you’re Damian’s older sister?”

She regarded him for a beat longer before blinking, ice melting away at the change. The nickname chafed at her neck, too close from a fate she gave everything to save Damian from.

Her head dipped into a small nod.

“Wild.” Jason sat back down. “So, uh, how are you handling the pit?”

‘I am not.’ She informed him, settling down in her seat. Damian claimed the spot next to her and Cass quickly took the other, much to Bruce’s chagrin. Tim plopped down to the seat next to Cass, eyes zeroing onto the chamomile tea Alfred had set out for him.

Duke smiled at Bruce before sitting next to Jason, Steph skipping over and sitting next Dick and Jason at the same time.

“Ukhti managed to get rid of the side effects,” Damian informed the table at large.

Her little bat had the worst ability to make sure attention focused on her, the reincarnation groused. She sighed.

“How?” Clearly, Grave had forgotten how much she beat him into the sparring mat because he leaned forward to glare at her. Well, she hadn’t wanted him too afraid of her.

‘Magic.’

His face fell at the assumed non answer, but Damian’s nod had the entire table once more expectant.

She sighed and began weaving her magic.

——

She stalked through the shadows of the manor, at ease. Bruce and the others had left on patrol, hours ago. She was clad in her sleeping clothes, one of her less favored clothes. Her hands would get dirty again tonight but she was long past the point of lingering on those regrets.

“Miss al-Ghul,” Alfred turned as she stepped towards him, having made sure she made adequate noise as a forewarning. “Having a good night?”

She tilted her head, eyes inquisitively peering at the spotless china display behind the butler.

“Ah, you must be curious about the fine ceramics we have currently displayed,” Alfred smiled. “Would you be so kind as to indulge an old butler on this topic?”

She had an idea about the kind of gift Alfred Pennyworth would appreciate.

——

“Uh, whatcha got there?”

She blinked, pulling bloodied hands away from her clothes where she had been inspecting them. The assassin that caused the damage on her clothes laid beneath her feet, still and lifeless. She blinked again.

Nightwing, Dick, stood in front of her, freshly showered from his patrol.

Some form of long forgotten instinct rose from the dry rotted fabric of her faded memories had her responding, ‘A smoothie.’

“…That’s… not a smoothie,” Dick said as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I’m pretty sure that’s an assassin?”

She shrugged. “He was after Damian. To force him into being the Demon’s head.” She paused. ‘I am tying up loose ends.’

Dick considered her. And the he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, okay. I’ll help you get rid of the evidence.”

She waved him off, clicking her fingers and looking over the room with critical eyes as the body and traces of the fight disappeared.

“Woah, handy.”

‘Very,’ she agreed. ‘Did you need something?’

He made a face. “That’s weird. It’s usually me asking that,” he muttered. “Uh, yeah. I just… wanted to thank you again. And uh, let you know that the others don’t know so if you could not tell them, that would be great?”

With a huff, she reached over and up to gently ruffle his hair. ‘Of course. Damian did not know either.’

“Right,” he breathed. “You get it.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Been avoiding thinking about it?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

She looked at him, silent. Offering a space to listen, and a quiet promise to offer no judgement.

“I don’t- it- I could have stopped her,” he told her, guilt and shame and the lingering whispering voice Catalina burrowing into his ears and heart.

And when he started, it seemed to him like he couldn’t stop. Dick told her of the things he felt as she got on top of him, of how numb and far away things were. How, if it rained, he couldn’t be in the quiet because it made him relive it.

“But… but you stopped her so I shouldn’t even be like this!”

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ She told him, the first thing she’s said since he’s started talking. ‘The only one at fault was her. You trusted her to stop. She did not. Her crimes were not yours to bear.’

She paused, taking in the refusal she could read on his face. “If someone beats another person, would you blame the person who was beaten?”

“No!”

‘Then you are kind. But you are so kind to others, why not yourself?’

Dick fell silent.

“I killed Ra’s,” she reminded him. “He allowed many others to partake in my body without my agreement.”

She leaned towards him, the admittance of something she had not even told Damian ringing painfully in her heart but made all the easier to say by the fact that one of her little brothers (the free, first Robin, the son who stood by Bruce’s side when she could not) needed her. “He himself partook in me. And yet,” she added, when Dick looked up. ‘It is difficult to forget. I am still afraid when I step onto the carpet on the sitting room.’

“The carpet? The rug? The fluffy one?” He asked, confused.

“It is like… your rain and silence,” she crossed her arms. ‘That and the sound of rustling silk reminds me of his chambers.’

“Oh.”

‘I killed him and it will not go away. Would you blame me for that?’

“No, that’s how healing is- oh.”

“Be kind, to yourself.”

His chin trembled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Ukhti.”

“Ukhti,” he parroted, aiming a watery and small smile her way.

She held out her arms and, with Dick’s tacit understanding, tucked him beneath her wings like she did with Damian. “Thank you for offering to get rid of the body, habibi. But I would not want you to get in trouble.”

“Eh, I’ve helped Jason deal with worse.”

‘Comforting.”

“I know, right?”

——

“Why the hell do you keep calling me Grave?” Jason asked her, grumbling as he tried to wire his new helmet after the last one got damaged.

She leaned back, basking in the sun on the new rugs. After their conversation, Dick had set fire to every fluffy rug in the house-

“What the hell, dude?!” Duke gaped as he watched Dick cheerfully toss an expensive rug into the impressive bonfire they had going on.

“Ukhti doesn’t like fluffy rugs,” Dick said with a straight face. Damian dragged another roll to the bonfire with a scowl. “Alfred Approved project, if you want to join~!”

Duke stared at him… and picked up a roll to toss into the fire.

- and bought new ones using Bruce’s credit cards.

“You got some of your memories back, in the league.” She hummed. “You liked reading. Poems.”

“What does that even have to do with Grave?”

“I remembered one. A line. Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep…”

Jason twisted around. “Are you kidding me?”

She continued. “Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.”

“But I did die.”

She shrugged. ‘People still remembered you. Gotham and Bruce cried at your loss. I saw it.’

She straightened and smiled a small smile at him. ‘Besides. You got better.’

Jason snorted. “You too, I guess.”

She hummed an agreement, eyes slipping closed in the warm light of the sun, relief after a long second life of cowering in the shadows of a man more like a demon than he was a grandfather.

[idrinkyouryouthquake]

how to style a sweater

[tomorrowusa]

NEXTA is a news aggregator staffed primarily by journalists from Belarus who are in exile because of the repressive pro-Putin régime in their native country.

In the tweet posted above they show how Putin’s bots are taking advantage of Elon Musk’s mismanagement of Twitter.

It’s doubtful that Musk cares about NEXTA’s problem, he has sporadically parroted the Kremlin’s line about the invasion of Ukraine. He probably is happy that Putin is able to squelch opposition voices.

Rather than wait in vain for Musk to do something (sorry NEXTA, he won’t), legit news organizations should form a consortium and launch a new microblogging platform which concentrates on news and current affairs and is bot resistant. Only member news organizations could post though visitors could repost on other platforms or forward stories to friends. This would effectively become a news feed to replace ones on Facebook and other platforms. 

Twitter will only continue to deteriorate under Musk. It’s time to work on something new before Twitter becomes totally unusable.

@nexta_tv – perhaps you should consider posting at Tumblr. 😎

[vala-dreams]

I feel like Danny should be followed around by an entourage of ghost blobs and ghost animals. I feel like he should be a fucked up little boy surrounded by death, forever stuck between worlds, frozen in time as life leaves him behind and death rejects him. As a treat.

[toulousewayne]

🌿🍃Toxic Lover: Pt: I

Nightwing X male!reader with a former team who had become Poison Ivy like meta-human.

Summary:Your a former Titan teammate, you and Dick have unresolved feelings and you become infected with the same toxins and chemicals that turned Poison Ivy into a meta-human.

————————

It was a simple mission. Get in and get out. It wasn’t supposed to go the way it had.

Y/n was a skilled fighter and vigilante, he trained with Black Canary, WildCat, Wonder Woman and the League of Assassins. He operated as solo vigilante since he could remember.

He worked with most of the league and helped them as much as he could. He helped Batman and Robin a lot since he did very similar missions to them. When Dick formed the Titans and went solo as Nightwing he asked Y/n to join him. Y/n worked well with Starfire and Raven, he had fun playing games with Cyborg and Best Boy. He often hung out with Dick and Donna and Wally would visit often too.

Y/n took some time from the team and did solo missions for a while before being called by Dick to help him,Wally and Donna with a rescue mission in Metropolis.

“We just need to find the data bank with the information containing Ivy’s records and research. Luthor was help to gather and stored it in his lab. We need to get the information and destroy any bioweapon schematics.” Dick instructed.

“Anything we should be aware of,”Y/n perked up from his seat in the jet. Donna adjusted her sliver lasso to her waist,”Is Ivy herself involved?”

“As far as Batman’s intel can confirm she’s been missing for the last three months.” He confirms.

“Great so no giant kale bushes to crush us, noted.” Wally quipped. Y/n chuckled as Donna and Dick rolled their eyes.

——-

The Quad split into pairs;Wally and Donna and Dick and Y/n. Donna and Wally took the research offices upstairs meanwhile, Dick and Y/n took the lower levels.

Dick sneak into some of the office while Y/n found a hidden lab. He took photos, and took a flash drive to take the data from the server. He found several vials, tubes and plants on a desk and took photos.

“Nightwing, I’m in this lab. It looks they’ve extracted some of Ivy’s original pheromones and try to weaponize them.”

“I’ll be there soon…kinda busy.” He heard a loud bang and a punch. Y/n turned around to see a scientist and three guards at the doorway.

“Sorry you found this, but unfortunately Mr. Luthor doesn’t what this getting out. Boys don’t let him leave.” The scientist quickly fled as the guards moved in.

“Sorry lapdogs,but I’m leaving with the drive.” Y/n sprang into action and started fighting.

“It’s a trap,you have to get out of that room.” Nightwing’s voice filed the hero’s ear. Y/n managed to take out two goons but the last one was the biggest and blocked the only exit. He rushed Y/n and managed to forcefully shove him into the computer and servers. Knocking Y/n off his balance and disorienting him. He had cuts on his faces and blood trickled from his lip.Then, while he was stunned he took him and threw him into the desk with vitals and pheromones.

The two guard got the their feet and assisted in beating him to a pulp. Y/n was loosing his consciousness and went in and out. “..Dick—help.” He winced.

The large goon took the remaining vitals and smashed them over the hero. He threw the plant cart on him too and took out a lighter.

“Mr. Luthor sends his regards.” He threw the lighter at the spilled chemical and engulfed the room in flames.

——

The fire spread through out the facility and Nightwing managed to find the source. Toria and Flash managed to get to him but the flames were to high.

“We need to save him!” Nightwing tried to go towards the labs but Toria stopped him.

“You can’t go in there you’ll die!” He tried to push her but she wasn’t budgeting. Tears streaming down his face he begged his friends.

“Please, we have to try, please.” Wally nodded.”Get him to the surface I’ll try to get to Y/n. Go now!” He barked. Toria grabbed Nightwing and sped out of the lower levels as Flash created tornados to clear up the flames.

—-

Dick set on the jet without his mask, tears, bruises, and soot. Donna stood guard watching as the building’s flames were put out by firefighters. Wally entered the vessel with a stretcher with a white sheet on top.The form on it was Y/n’s body. Dick didn’t say a word as more tears formed in his eyes.

“It’s all my fault.” He hissed. Donna placed a hand on his shoulder,”It’s not Dick, you can’t blame—“

“It is. I asked him to come, I asked both of you to come and it nearly killed you all. I—l..” Dick broke down in tears and shouted. He rocked hisself and sob and Donna comforted him. Wally placed a hand on his other shoulder and talked him through it.

——-

Dick sat in his seat at the cemetery in Gotham. The small crowd of heroes dressed in black one by one left the small private ceremony for Y/n. Dinah gave a worried look at Dick whose gaze hadn’t left the spot where Y/n’s casket had been lowered into the earth and covered with fresh soil.

Bruce stood next to her and they didn’t speak right away but Dinah broke the silence. “Diana told me what happened from Donna. He hasn’t been the same.” Bruce didn’t reply.

“Well he be okay?” She hummed. Bruce turned to his friend and looked back at his son.”They were in love Dinah, it was obvious to most of us but not them. I’m not sure he if knew he loved Y/n as more than a friend, but I know he won’t stop until he can give him justice.”

“You think he’ll kil-“

“I hope not but I can only help him through this, I’ve learned a long time ago to not try to pressure him into a decision.” He walked to Dick and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Let’s go son.”

——-

Y/n saw his life flash before his eyes during his attack. Between each rib being fractured, another punch to the back, or kick to the stomach he felt his favorite memories flood his eyes.

From training the younger members of Young Justice with Dick’s little brother the third Robin, game nights with the Titans, going to a concert with Dick he practically dragged him to.

That concert was the best night of his life he felt so carefree, not birdied with the responsibilities of being a more experienced hero. Not feeling like he couldn’t tell his best friend how he truly felt, and just watch from a distance as he went out dates with other girls or laughed with the guys at games nights.

Y/n knew he was in deep shit from the moment he met the Last Flying Grayson, and he didn’t care.

The band was one he like since he was in Middle school,and he begged Dick for weeks to go with him, eventually he agreed to go because he felt bad for missing so many plans to help his family with their own missions.

“I hope they aren’t a snooze fest because I could have stayed home and listened to Tim explain Quant-Time travel.” He joked as Y/n pulled on his hoodie he just purchased.

He shoved his shoulders,”Don’t even Grayson these guys are the best. You’re not gonna regret it. Plus, don’t act like you don’t love Timmy’s rambles.” Y/n fired back.

He held his hands in surrender. “Hey I had to think of something.” Y/n took Dick’s hand and dragged him into the arena just as the music blared through the speakers. Y/n was unaware of the crimson color that painted Dick’s face. And to busy to notice the stole glances Dick took through the night.

—-

The smell of smoke burned Y/n’s nostrils and he chocked on it. But the blood in his mouth took out some of the harsh smells. The flames were roaring in the room and shortly everything began to spin. Y/n barely regained consciousness before everything swiftly went to black.

Then it went Green.

The green light became paler and paler and the sound of a heartbeat echoed. Almost in slow motion. Most of the light became closer too. Became bright white and the sounds of Gotham City came hard and fast like a gunshot.

Y/n stood up in the middle of the street and he noticed something wasn’t right. The last thing he remembered was dying in Metropolis and now he’s in old Gotham. To his left was the build up of traffic and to his right was Gotham Cemetery. He tried to move but fell to the ground.

“The fuck.” His hoarse voice choked out. He noticed his arms were covered in slime of some kind and leaves. He saw a small puddle and took a glance at his reflection. His face was the same but more beautiful, sharper features, deep green iris, and fuller lips.

“Hey freak,get outta the way!” A voice shouted and honked his horned.

Y/n snapped his head up and grew easily frustrated,his head was still spinning and blaring horn was causing more pain.

“Ugh, can’t you be idiotic somewhere else.” With his hand on the ground it began to shake and large vines jumped through the concrete and began to crush the car. The driver managed to get out before it was crushed to pieces. Y/n slowly got to his feet and stumbled.

“That’s new.” Several other drivers fled their cars and screams. Two officers drew their weapons and order Y/n to freeze. Something in Y/n slowly turned and began to change in his feelings toward the police.

“Freeze Freak!” The older officer hisses,Y/n cocks his head to the side with smirk.

“Pathetic pigs, you never appreciate the things you take for granted. You worthless meat sacks.”

The two officers look at each other,”Meat-what?” It’s short lived as vines bursted through the growing and take them prisoner. Y/n strolls over to them. He chuckles.

“Mother Earth wouldn’t be to proud of you. Nature will always win.” He takes his nails and scratches both across the face and then plants begin to grow out their faces and they gag. More large vines rise and take Y/n underground.

—————

He re-emerges in the old Gotham Greenhouse in Robinson Park. More vines and flowers bloom in the old building giving it a new look. The old overgrown plants become green and flourish again with life.

“Men have ruined you, I don’t know what yet, I know can revive you. But I promise you will be avenged. I am Mother Nature’s new branch and I will take Gotham first then, we will cleanse the rest of this planet.” He laughs to himself before the sound of glass shatters.

He worlds around to see Nightwing.

“Y/n,what happened to you. You were dead.” Y/n felt conflicted. On one hand he wanted run to Dick and get his help, but on the other hand he wanted to crush him and turn him into mulch.

Nightwing drew closer, “This isn’t you N/N. I don’t know what happened in the last 72 hours but you aren’t yourself. I can help you but you have to let me.” His voice was strained like his had been yelling or not speaking. It didn’t go unnoticed but something in Y/n didn’t care and he was constantly fighting a battle within himself.

“Dick—what?”

“I can help you,Y/n you have to understand I care about you. But you have to stop.” Nightwing earpiece buzzed and Y/n could heard the voice of Robin from a nearby plant. The words: Cops. Killed. Poisoned. Y/n.

Nightwing turned to him with a blank expression and a tighter grip on his weapons.

“Y/n, let me take you get help. I promise I won’t let anyone harm you.” His voice wasn’t as raw as it was. It was stern yet cautious.

The switch in Y/n flipped and the smirk and sultry voice returned.

“Dick, join me,” he persuades, “Become my Adam and help me flourish this place into a new garden. Just for the two of use.”

Nightwing took a defensive stanch. “Can’t do that. I’m sorry.” The last part was a whisper but Y/n caught it.

“Well then I’m sorry too.” With the flick of his wrist and two large flowers sprouted. The plants around Nightwing were now healthily and quickly attacked him.

Y/n rose several feet in the air on a seat of large leaves and petals. Nightwing dodged the vines but is eventually became captured after miscalculating a step after trying to not harm Y/n.

He’s wrapped in vines and is unable to move. The vines bring him closer to Y/n who purrs.

He runs a thumb across Dick’s lips. “I never noticed.” He whispered.

“What?” Dick huffed. Y/n takes his face and brings it closer. He has a soft smile and Dick is conflicted.

“How much I wanted to do this.” He kisses Dick. He tries break free of his binds but after a few moments he stops and kisses back and soon the kiss deepens and Y/n has to stop. He places his forehead against Dick’s and sighs.

Dick’s eyes are glossed over and his blue eyes are a pale green.

“Dick?”

“Yes, my Love?” He says deadpans. Y/n sighs to himself and releases him.

The virus in Y/n grows stronger. And he laughs to himself.

“We have a few housewarming gifts to give out. Fetch them for me Darlin.” Nightwing mindless obeys and leaves Y/n who glances at his appearance in the water fountain for the first time noticing the torn up suit he was buried in.

“It’s time for a new Harvest.”

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 117

Clockwork didn’t have many regrets. It was his job to maintain the timelines. He had to do what he had.

Danny had to be with the fentons. Had to become a halfa.

Plasmius would still release the prior king. Pariah would have destroyed countless dimensions. Danny was the only one in the thousands of timelines he witnessed that could succeed.

Perhaps. He should at least inform Danny of his heritage.

That he was once an set. The oldest twin. He didn’t need to mention he tricked them into “sacrificing” the oldest son of their firstborn male twins for just for locations of some ectoplasm run offs.

Danny was never fit to be an Al ghul in the first place.

[dead-bouquet]

DP x DC thoughts

Every fanfic and prompt I read has danny either pretending to be older than he is or just outright telling people he is a child.

I’d love to see actual thousands of years old danny who lost his family and has been in his castle for so many years that he’s become a shell of himself. He’s super knowledgeable, super powerful, but he’s just  t i r e d. 

Not to mention he can change his form like clockwork if he wanted to but most of the time he stays in his 14 yr old form cuz that’s the most comfortable.

Now imagine the JL come in. They summon the Ghost King because they need help and omg that is a child on the throne with a dead eye stare but he’s super powerful and helps them for no fee and and bruce is already pulling out the adoption papers.

Dick gaining an older brother figure and learning not everything has to be on his shoulders.

Jason and Danny bonding over being forced to adapt to a world that’s mourned and moved on from them and the struggle to learn to fit in again (because jason is technologically illiterate with all the advancements he missed and you can pry that head cannon out of my cold dead hands).

Tim gaining an older brother who actually listens to his rants and pushes him towards new info cuz danny has lived for so long and duh he knows stuff.

Damian just being a language nerd with danny and learning some languages that have been lost to time (because now he can shit talk about drake without anyone knowing)

Duke just vibin with this bright ass creature but hey? at least there’s another meta in the fam.

Danny spoils the girls cuz they remind him of dani and jazz.

all the while danny slowly gains his spark back and becomes more and more like his old self.

Just... let me have millennia old danny being a shit disturber.