#CODENAME: PHOTO

[mmxstrangers]

hey big guy who looks like a loud mouth we know, have a cup of vanilla extract

A soft growling noise rises from the back of PHOTO's throat, leading up to him speaking in response.

"I've never eaten anything like this 'vanilla extract' you're talking about. What does it taste like?"

Another set of footsteps approach PHOTO and the anonymous asker.

"Let me try it."

Theta proceeds to take the offered cup of vanilla extract, takes a quick closer look at it, and then downs it in one gulp, smacking his lips a tiny bit.

"... Why does it smell so nice and have the gall to taste like that?! EW!"

Theta flings the cup away from himself, practically yeeting it like it offended him. PHOTO silently stares at Theta, thankful that he didn't have to experience that himself.

[eljeebee]

Three vampires, hidden away. When is this? Where? Who are they?

[venusuxchxn]

Codename: Sailor Moon Scrapped Anime & Manga Photos (names included-see alt text)

Hope this was useful ❤️

[Day: 8]

[midnight-the-goth-artist]

“I won’t say it but…”

“I…miss…you”

[scotticus]

[jrueships]

THEY MATCHINN they bestiesss 🥰🥰🥰!!!

[obbystars]

Encounter Nihilism

Synopsis: “Just because they don’t have any eyes doesn’t mean they don’t have other senses. Come on, you should know that by now.” Z-13 (Sebastian Solace)

Notes: Not exactly a Sebastian Solace x Reader fic but you can read it as such / read When Light Fades before reading this / Reader deaths, nothing too angsty though / Sebastian being an asshole (and we love him for it) / Experimental deaths + cutting off limbs / Brief angst at the end / may be a tad bit shorter than my usual (it bothers me)

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(Is it obvious this is self indulgent? I really love When Light Fades, super proud of it. I haven’t decided if I’m gonna take this concept and use it for an OC yet, but oh boy, it’s getting strong. Anyway, this fic’s meant to explore more on the reader featured in When Light Fades while also continuing to experiment with Sebastian’s character.)

As you swam to the next door, you hear strange noises coming from the other side. It’s not the Good People, they can’t come into the flooded rooms. It doesn’t sound like an angler either. You continued forward and the next door slid open. Your eyes widened at the sight of the creature on the other side as it looked at you.

Panicked, you try to climb into a locker. You don’t make it in time as you feel its tentacles wrap around your head to crush your diving mask, but that isn’t what kills you. The creature manages to trick the operator behind the PDG by attempting to remove it, causing immediate detonation.

You woke up with a gasp in an all too familiar room.

“I heard that,” Sebastian leans on his hand as his lure flickers on, “What’d you run into this time… Ah,”

You looked down as he slides over the document. An image of the creature you encountered is shown and beside it was another photo that was redacted. Maybe in another death you’ll see what that other photo is.

Nihilism was the codename Urbanshade had given it. A lot of the text within the first page was left redacted, and only a few lines were on the second page were visible.

“If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.”

That was the only line you were able to read. Sebastian begins to tap his finger against the desk. You sit back and he takes that as the signal you’re done, but it’s not like you read much anyway.

He sighs as he closes the document, “Think of if as Red Light, Green Light. Surely you’ve played that game before,”

“Ugh, this feels worse than Pandemonium…” you groaned, leaning on the table.

“Pretend you’re a corpse floating in the water. That should be pretty easy for you, yeah? I mean, you have died quite a lot,”

“Screw you…”

Upon your next life, you find yourself in the trench tunnels about 20 doors in. It was an area in Hadal Blacksite you despised since it showed you that the anglers can attack from the front. You stepped out of the locker once the angler passed by and turned on your flashlight. There’s no squiddles in this room so you decided to look through the drawers for anything useful.

In the corner of your eye, you swear you saw something moving in the dark water. It wasn’t the Eyefestation as you didn’t see a green glow. Instead, it was Z-8. You freeze once you finally realized it, and you clicked your flashlight off. They looked like they were just passing by, but they suddenly turned to look at your general direction. Did they somehow sense you turning it off?

“Are you alive?”

You actually freeze up this time. It was a voice inside your head, but it wasn’t like Eyefestation where it tried to mimic the voice of the person in the PA. This was its own voice.

“I can sense you there,”

You start taking shallow breaths, almost resorting to holding it.

“Don’t worry. I can’t reach you. But when I do, it’s not personal,” it continues, “We’re both fighting for what we want, right? Freedom from this place?”

You try to not listen, thinking it’s only try to persuade you into meeting up with it. Maybe even striking up some sort of deal.

“I wish this wasn’t how we met, but I owe Sebastian. This is my favor to him,” its tone suddenly changes, “We can’t let you get that crystal,”

“…they owe Sebastian?” You whispered to yourself.

The Eyefestation suddenly emerges from the dark, and Z-8 swims out of her way as her eyes turned red. A new voice cried inside your head, pleading for you to look into its eyes. The next thing you knew, you were back in the room with Sebastian who stifled a laugh as he slides over the document to you. You had questions concerning what Z-8 had said, but maybe now’s not the right time to ask.

“For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.”

Sebastian closes the document, still trying to keep himself from laughing, “A tag-team! Who would’ve thought, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t believe that’s how I died,”

“Like a deer in headlights,” he smirks as he leans closer, “Happens to all of us, but man, I thought you’d be used to seeing that shark considering the amount of times you looked at her,”

“She just startled me! I’d love to look at her if she wasn’t able to kill me just by making me look at her,” you shrugged, “She is a beautiful shark,”

Sebastian gives you an odd look and groans, “Get out of here already,”

“Fair enough,”

The next few deaths to Z-8 were more of trial and error. In your most recent death, you learned the hard way that Z-8 does not like the flash beacon and did not hesitate to detonate your PDG. You felt like it was a strange reaction considering it took them a moment to even react when you used any other light source.

“Got grabbed again, did ya?” Sebastian laughed.

He then slides the document to you, now revealing the entire document with some text still left redacted. Some documents contained those, such as his own, and you learned to stop caring about it. At least it wasn’t like the Multi-Monster. Previously redacted photo was now uncovered. A person whose face was obscured.

Z-8 - Codename: Nihilism. Real name: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇

In early 2011, five LR-Ps were selected to be a part of an experiment to achieve immortality. Out of the five selected, only Z-8 survived the first round of tests. Z-9, Z-10, Z-11, and Z-12 all succumbed to different effects as each subject was given a different dosage. Although Z-8 survived, they were not immune to the effects their dosage brought. As a result, the experiment was left on hold until researchers found a better source to reach the desired goal.

By 2013, the experiment resumed using the immortal jellyfish as originally planned along with the mimic octopus, the ▇▇▇, and ▇▇▇▇. Z-8 was used again for the next test and hasn’t experienced any side effects on the first day. Two days later, a guardsman escorting Z-8 noticed they have been stumbling and bumping into the walls. On the seventh day, Z-8 had gone completely blind. However, it has been noted that Z-8 is capable of sensing where there is light and where someone is even if they are not moving.

Z-8 soon began to struggle walking and can’t seem to have a tight grip. It didn’t take very long for them to lose all feeling in their arms and legs. They were still able to move their torso as well as their head. They were still capable of speech, but Z-8 has been refusing to talk.

Z-8 was meant to be executed due to the state they were in, but thirty minutes after their heart seemingly stopped, it soon started to beat again. They wake up an hour later as if they had just taken a nap with all of their memories still intact, but Z-8 still cannot see and still cannot walk or move their arms. This resulted in having to move Z-8’s location into a more suitable cell for testing.

Z-8 has endured 5 deaths before changes in their body started becoming clear. Shortly after, testing and studying the regenerative properties Z-8 should have began. Due to poor execution during the procedures, Z-8 ended up enduring 7 more deaths. By the 4th death, a new side effect to Z-8’s resurrection was noted. Upon death, coral (polyps) begins to form on their body.

Their body soon takes the form of a humanoid jellyfish, leading to having to relocate them again. Z-8 no longer turns to others when they are near until they shine a light. The behavior they show gives the impression they like the light and often try to follow it, sometimes moving their head or even their entire body.

Z-8 will then be used to study the regenerative properties further until it can be refined in a way that is desirable.

Before the lockdown was in effect, Z-8 was going to be sold at The Anomalous Auctions as Z-8 had been deemed of no monetary value, nor can be used for work. 5 hours into the lockdown, camera footage caught Z-13 transporting Z-8 to an unknown location.

If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.

DO NOT move as Z-8 can sense you nearby, but they can’t differentiate between a corpse and a living person until you move.

Turn off any and all light sources in your possession as Z-8 can sense it and become curios. Your window to turn it off is narrow, but it’s still wide enough to not raise their suspicion.

There is a chance where operatives may find Z-8 roaming in a dark flooded room with S-Q. If the room prior has lights on, Z-8 will go into that room. It is safe to move in the dark room as Z-8 cannot tell the difference between you and the S-Q.

For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.

Unlike Z-13, operatives are instructed to contain Z-8 as it is impossible for the subject to stay dead.

You’re not exactly sure what to say to all of this. Sebastian is being much quieter than usual too, not even closing the document when you sat back. You look up at him, building up the courage to speak.

“So that’s what they meant when they said they owe you…”

“They don’t owe me anything,” his voice lowered into a growl, “It was their choice to stay much like that shark,”

You look down at the document again and sighed, “Kinda feels like there’s much more than that,”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

You sighed again as you stood up to leave. Sebastian watches you go and looks back down at the document, then closes it without another word.

[yannawayne]

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well

[j-onedrabbles]

skz secret dating where they find creative ways to post about you without actually admitting that it's You because you guys are a ~secret.

✧   PAIRING: ot8 x reader, seperatley ✧   CW: none ✧  WC: 0.2k ✧   NOTE:

𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏

♡ makes you take all his Instagram photos 

♡ will purposefully pose in front of windows so you can kind of see your reflection 

♡ genuinely surprised when no one catches on

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑲𝒏𝒐𝒘

♡ puts you in the background somewhere 

♡ honestly, might just post a photo with no explanation 

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒊𝒏

♡ gym selfies

♡ takes them while you are working out behind him or near him

𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒏

♡ posts a painting of you guys

♡ stay thinks it like all his others and thinks nothing of it

♡ some think the guy in the painting looks eerily similar to him 

𝑯𝒂𝒏

♡ writes you a song

♡ sends a lil clip on bubble 

♡ laugh together when Stay thinks it's about lino

𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙

♡ part of him just really really wants to tell stay honestly but secrets 😔

♡ he’s extra goofy on lives if you’re in the same room as him

♡ stay thinks it cute but he’ll also give a weird codename to you when he wants to secretly mention you, the members know it but Stay is so confused

𝑺𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏

♡ like lee know; sticks you in the background somewhere.

♡ takes a couple of photos with you doing something weird in the background and tells you he’s gonna post those ones 

𝑰.𝑵

♡ smiles more in photos your taking off him

♡ would never say anything honestly

M. LIST ✧ TIP JAR

T A G S ✧ @soulphoenix1618 @hanniemylovelyquokka @hyuneline @scarletbedlam @lillithathecat @cosniffee @caravm @queen-in-the-shadows @moonlight-the-writer @skzhoes @ultimatestayandminoronce @watermelon2319 @poody1608 @iadorethemskz @goblinracha @weakforskz @scallywag1299 @2mins-world @iloveksmohsomuch @stickycrusadecollective @lacie220900 @your-platonic-gay-lover @lvlnijiro @smally97 @lynlyndoll @bbokari711 @liknws @nicora04 @hrskt @lookitsjess @5starlee @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @mini-mews @red-airhead @minhwa @soupbinlily @caitlyn98s @alex--awesome--22 @emyferra08 @yeetmehome @hyunjinswifeee @greyyeti @beautifulcolorgarden @ylixbok @tinyelfperson @mixtape-racha @lovesunshinefelix @princelingperfect @slay-and-gay @the-sweetest-rose

© 2023 jonedrabbles. Please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[millportisntreal]

Socmed AU: Cats edition!! Still cannot believe that Sir and King are ec cannon but godbless because I could live off of domestic!andreil please and thank you. Also fun fact that photo is my friend’s cat Westley and I crocheted that little hat for him when I was cat sitting!!

Oops forgot to tag the socmed homies on my first posting!! @sapphoherselz @codename-adler @kevinsdsy

Check out more of my socmed au here <3

[mmxstrangers]

Starter for @goodoldstrength​​

Sweet relief.

Among rocks and rubble laid the being, freshly labeled a Maverick and sought after by the Hunters after his unfortunate outburst earlier. He couldn’t remember too many clear details - the faces he saw were blurry, and the bright lights blinded him. All the “Maverick” could recall was a single, overpowering desire that drove him deep into these tunnels in the first place.

After somehow managing to evade the Maverick Hunters, he ran straight into the less-maintained part of town. There was an intimidatingly tall overpass located over the dilapidated buildings and failed projects. It was practically a breeding ground for unsavory activities, so irregulars were often sighted in the area. The being’s intentions were anything but malicious; the moment he saw stairs leading underground, he practically jumped down and charged through it.

He ran as fast as his legs would allow. He wanted to get away from the pain as much as possible - anything to escape the torture of the surface. Still overwhelmed and firing off on all cylinders, the Maverick kept driving himself deeper into the abandoned subway system. In his panic he refused to stop, only doing so when he suddenly collapsed and couldn’t move anymore.

His systems were overheating. Internal readings were screaming at him and threatening to involuntarily shut down. Vents needed to breathe and cycle out the thermal energy he produced. There would be no more running for now.

Thankfully, the oppressive strength of the daylight could not reach him here. The cool ground provided a wonderful heat sink for him, and he could catch his breath knowing that he was probably hidden from the Hunters. The being slowly came down from his overstimulation, deep breaths of cold air helping to stabilize faster. Eventually, he could sit up and look around himself.

Despite his sensitivity to brightness, he was not built with night vision. A glow illuminated from his head-fins and eyes, which helped with discerning surfaces, but he couldn’t see beyond his immediate vicinity. While he wasn’t complaining in any capacity, unease was starting to set back in.

However, the silence was interrupted by the approaching sound of hydraulics and footsteps, making the Reploid turn his head.

[detectivebambam]

To Bee, from Andrew

inspired by @codename-adler

each figurine Andrew gives Bee has a little note attached. Andrew has never communicated well verbally, but he can say what he needs to say through music/writing (if you want my Songwriter Andrew AU stuff, say YES in the comments. anyway)

To Bee, from Drew: bat cat. thanks for dr suess. you are right, i would've liked it as a kid

To Bee, from Andrew: fat little mouse. the new cocoa was good, buy again?

To Bee, from Andrew: in case you didn't have enough Foxes already (bought after they won Championships)

To Bee, from Andrew: like you on Halloween, remember?

To Bee, from Andrew: not a figurine, but maybe you can hang it up somewhere. (it's in her office)

To Bee, from Andrew: sorry for yelling yesterday. peace offering ?

To Bee, from Andrew: he looks hungry. don't put him next to the mouse

To Bee, from Andrew: since you liked the last octopus so much

To Bee, from Andrew: you asked what i looked like as a kid. Aaron wouldn't lend me one of his photos, and obviously I don't have any of my own. best guess? this little guy:

To Bee, Love Andrew: everyone in the store thought he was scary, but i thought I'd give him a chance. thanks for doing the same. (bought after he graduated)

The OG post!!!!!

[felassan]

this post is under a cut in case anyone would consider it to be DA:D spoilers, as the things it mentions came from the leak a year ago (spoiler warning for link) that included screenshots and a gif of the game. (the things this post mentions are therefore not new information and this does not reference a new leak)

I'm just thinking again about Rook (which seems to be the PC's name or title) and the imagery conjured by the name. ◕‿◕ this post is just speculation and overanalyzing for fun. also this post is a now-finished draft from my draft section from a while back.

I think it would work as a surname (like "Hawke") or a codename (think Leliana's spies and contacts such as "Butler", "Farrier", "Butcher", "Charter", etc although these are all professions that end in "-er" or "or" iirc). it could also be a title (like Warden, Hero, Champion, Inquisitor, Herald) or a nickname - like maybe it's short for "Rookie", it's a Varric-assigned nickname and it references how the DA:D PC is the newest member of the team after he recruits them?

I think it sounds catchy, and cool - it's snappy and short, Hawke-like in this way. and it sounds like the kind of name a spy or secret agent might have in a fantasy, superhero or sci-fi-type setting.

a rook is a black bird, Corvus frugilegus, a member of the corvid family. rooks have been perceived as vermin and nuisances by people in the past, and persecuted due to this. they bear a resemblance to their crow and raven relatives, both birds which have a large cultural footprint and lots of symbolism in areas such as folklore and art. Hawke obviously also had a bird motif going on from their surname and associated art pieces. corvids also bring to mind the Antivan Crows (assassins, thieves, & spies), reminding of the stuff about how in this game the PC may be trying to operate under the radar, and the reporting on a previous iteration of DA:D which had the game concept as being focused on spies and heists. rook plumage is inky black, bringing to mind darkness and shadow.

from the bird angle, a "rook" sounds neat opposite a "wolf" imo. wolves are obviously another animal that have large footprints in culture, myth and folklore. in the natural world there is symbiosis sometimes between wolves and corvids when hunting/feeding. there are lots of photos of wolves and corvids together.

a colony of rooks is called a rookery. of course, the fortress of Skyhold has a rookery. it's from there that Inquisition Spymaster Leliana operates (operated) sending her black birds on missions with letters and messages to her many agents and spies throughout Thedas. what if Rook is one of Leliana's... "rooks"? a spy or agent of the remnants of the Inquisition.

A rook is also defined as "A cheat or swindler; someone who betrays" [noun], "mist, fog" [noun] and "to cheat or swindle" [verb]. it's also a type of trick-taking card game. these sorts of things bring to mind a rogueish, stealthy aspect, and the shady, shadowy dealings and card-game played in Minrathous Shadows.

a rook is also a chess piece. they're castle-like (since "rook" can also mean a castle or fortification) and usually have their top in the shape of a battlement. they can move in any direction along a rank or file on a chessboard on which they stand (horizontal/vertical, not diagonal). they can also do the "castling" move. in history, rooks have also been called towers, castles, rectors and marquesses. in chess, each player starts the game with two rooks at opposite ends of the first rank. chess itself is a game of strategy and tactics. "the chessmaster" as a trope is a character type who manipulates events, tugging on strings and moving 'pieces' into place on a metaphorical chessboard. [Solas' DA:I dialogue about his past, like the one he has with Sera about cells of spies/agents, hark to this]

in the castling move,

"Castling is a move in chess. It consists of moving the king two squares toward a rook on the same rank and then moving the rook to the square that the king passed over. Castling is permitted only if neither the king nor the rook has previously moved; the squares between the king and the rook are vacant; and the king does not leave, cross over, or finish on a square attacked by an enemy piece. Castling is the only move in chess in which two pieces are moved at once."

castling rules often cause confusion, even occasionally among high-level players. historically the move has its roots in the "king's leap", of which there were two forms and which arose in part it seems due to increasing importance of king safety as other pieces were given increased powers through time as the game developed. "the king would move once like a knight, or the king would move two squares on its first move. The knight move might be used early in the game to get the king to safety or later in the game to escape a threat." basically it moves the king away to safety and the rook to a more active position. there is also kingside castling and queenside castling. I wonder, symbolically.. is Rook more the king's rook, or the queen's rook? (reminds me of the Left Hand and Right Hands of the Divine hh). who or what is the king in this hypothetical analogy? the World of Thedas itself? as a castle or fortress.. Rook is the bulwark against what's to come? [over-thinking ik ik, tis just for fun hh].

by now we're all familiar with the chess game Solas plays in banter dialogue with Iron Bull during DA:I. in the in-world chess game, rooks are called towers. Solas moves his right-hand tower once. at a later point in the game, Iron Bull's "Arishok" piece takes Solas' left-hand tower, getting a check and leaving him feeling triumphant. Bull asks Solas wth he is doing as Bull takes Solas' remaining tower. "Your last tower, by the way". Bull, a spy and liar himself, bears down on Solas' pieces "with his full army", thinking a win is in sight. Undeterred, Solas executes a few moves in a sneaky plan and entraps Bull in a checkmate, winning the game after sacrificing various pieces to enact his plan.

rook also brings to mind the Tower tarot card and its meanings. it's associated with sudden, disruptive revelation and potentially destructive change. it connotes danger, crisis, sudden change, destruction, higher learning, and liberation, as well as adversity, calamity, deception, ruin and unforeseen catastrophe. reversed, it connotes things such as negligence, carelessness, apathy and vanity (vanity.. pride). in this depiction of the Tower tarot, lightning strikes from the sky, striking a crown (hubris) off the top of a tower and setting it alight as people fall from the tower to their doom. this imagery and the upright meanings of the card bring to mind the sudden massive change Solas seeks to bring about (destroying the Veil), the revelations and liberation for some that it might bring, his identity as Fen'Harel Lord of Tricksters (deception) as well as the destruction he seems to think the Veil destroying action will cause ("as the world burns in the raw chaos"...). the 'Tower scene' has also already played out once before in Thedosian history, when Solas created the Veil and sealed the Evanuris away, leading to the fall of Arlathan and its wonders. in modern Thedas, Morrigan and Flemeth (as well as possibly some side 'prophecy' type things) both allude to a big change coming to the world.

in DA:I, the Tower tarot card is ofc none other than Solas' ending card, if he is not romanced. in the DA:I version of the card, we see Solas, cloaked in a dark robe and holding a mage staff under a half-moon or eclipse. darkness seeps from his shadow, stark against the orange sky, and blends with the giant black Dread Wolf, looming ominously and open-mouthed above him with its many eyes. (the Tower tarot card Solas scene is later referenced in DA:D promotional art and DA:D-era in-world murals). it makes sense to have assigned this to Solas given the above discussed meanings of the Tower tarot card, but it's a verrry inchresting choice imo to then give "Rook" as a name/title for the DA:D PC.

and most inchrestingly, there's the symbol from the front of Mark Darrah's mysterious Red Book. this mysterious red book shows "a flaming rook" on the cover. the book was an internal guide for developer and publisher eyes only that summarized the vision for DA:D, in its Joplin iteration. we know that the Joplin project has since been revised to an extent that it was the newly codenamed Morrison instead, but the red book is known to still contain plenty of ideas likely to appear in DA:D. most pages of the book remain highly classified. it's the symbol on the front that's of most interest to us though for the purposes of this post. there is a castle, tower, or rook, like a fortress or the chess piece. above the tower, a fire burns, reminding us of the burning tower from the Tower tarot card imagery and what that symbolizes, as well as Solas' "world burning in the raw chaos" line from Trespasser. inside the fire is a wolf, the Dread Wolf, in a now very-familiar and repeated motif in DA:D art, merch, murals, teasers etc. whatever else "rook" may connote, it feels like it's not an accident at all that the PC's name is apparently "Rook", given this depiction of a fiery rook and the Dread Wolf together.

what do you think? ^^

[livlaughloveluke]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠- 𝐣.𝐜

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you waking up in jack’s arms makes him realize he needs to do something soon

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a lil kiss 💋, just fluff mainly

𝐚/𝐧: was half asleep while writing this so it might be rough

jack had his hands draped around waist, while you were laying on his chest. your head was snuggled in the crook of his neck, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

you were fast asleep, however he was definitely not. he was supposed to napping with you in his trailer, but he couldn’t sleep. he has something, or someone, on his mind. 

you and jack were filming Scream VI together and played love interests. it was fine at first, but as filming progressed, jacks feeling for you only grew. there was only one problem. you and jack were friends.

well, sorta. 

you did everything a normal couple would do, but just as buddies. hence why you were cuddled up together on the couch in his trailer. no one really knew why you weren’t officially together, for you would make such a good couple.

he wanted to call you his. it was silly, the only thing keeping you from formally dating was a label, and yet he craved it, more than anything.

he looked down at you, your glowed from the sunlight peeking through the windows. you looked angelic, and he wondered how a person could be this pretty. god, he hated himself for being so fearful of rejection. 

unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way. you wished you weren’t such a chicken, and could grow a pair and ask him out. how was it possible to want a person this bad?

you were a match made in heaven, as jenna liked to say. she was your costar, and your best friend. you told her all about your interactions with jack, the both of you giggling like little schoolgirls. you had given him the codename “strawberry,” so you could talk about him without others knowing his identity. 

jenna saw the spark in your eyes when you talked to him, and your pupils dilated in size every time you were around him. you were in love with a man you weren’t even dating. 

your body twisted and turned as you slowly woke up. you blink away the sleepiness and cautiously looked up at jack to see if he had waken up yet.  

“good morning, sleepyhead.” jack says. you smile at eachother, and you sat up, the shared blanket slipping off of your silky skin.

“how long have you been awake?” you asked, hoping you didn’t keep him glued in place while you were fast asleep. your sleepy voice made jack swoon, and he held back from doing anything he would later regret. 

“not long, i just woke up.” he lies straight through his teeth in order to make you feel okay. you just nod and pat around the cushions, searching for your phone. you find it smooshed in between two pillows, and you check the clock. it was two twenty three.

“what time do we need to be back on set by?” you curiously ask him.

“three pm, i think. but we need to go to hair and makeup at two thirty.”

you flash him the time, and hop out of bed. you and him take short walk to the costume department. there was two separate trailers, and all of the actors randomly assigned to one at the beginning of filming. you and jack got split up, which sucked, but the system was supposed to help with efficiency and speed. 

you part ways, and both get into full costume. your makeup artist was around your age, so you enjoyed chatting with her. after getting ready, you both meet up on set.

you and him weren’t in a lot of scenes today, so you mainly just played game pigeon together. the day was spent competing and laughing together, and you wouldn’t have changed anything.

however, the whole day jack had plastered on a fake smile. in reality, he was stressed to beyond compare. he was going to ask you out by the end of the day. 

seeing you all wrapped up in his arms this afternoon made him realize that he wants to start a future with you. so while his was alone, he called his buddy, romeo, and sent him to the store to get flowers. he made romeo send photos of every bouquet in the shop, so jack could pick out the perfect bundle for you. 

it was now dark out, and filming for today was over. you and him already had changed back into your normal clothes, and you both went back to your personal trailers to grab your keys. you separated and agreed to meet back up in the, now empty, parking lot. 

what you didn’t know was that romeo was waiting in jacks trailer, with the flowers that jack would use to ask you out. jacks heart raced as he rushed to the parking lot. he wanted to be there first, just to see your reaction when you saw him standing with a colorful section of gorgeous flowers in his hands.

he anxiously waited for you, nervously popping his fingers. he then saw you walking up to him, the moonlight illuminating your features. you approached him, getting closer and closer.

he handed you the flowers, and you smiled brighter than ever, wondering what they were for.

“y/n, i’ve loved spending countless hours with you over the past few months, and there is nothing i want more in this world than to be your boyfriend. will you please go out with me?” he lovingly asked.

you stood on your tiptoes and cupped his hand with your cheek, before connecting your lips together. you had been waiting for this moment since the day you met him, and it definitely lived up to its potential. he kissed you back, passion filling your bodies. 

you pulled apart, and looked at him with a huge grin. jack opened his mouth to ask a sarcastic question.

“so was that a yes?”

taglist: @nowitsmissing, @nikoschrissis, @hillesem, @lvndryyhoe, @ieattoesforbreakfqst, @sevenheavxns, @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome

(click here to join taglist)

[barelylivingscholar]

Arlecchino with a daughter prt. 2 tw: Dottore (mentioned), gore(?), torture.

I’ve been hearing from Pantalone, that I am being searched for. Interesting. I sipped on tea as Pantalone had given me updates in regarding the new “successor” that had replaced me. Lyney was his name. He has a twin sister, Lynette. I have not met them before. I fiddled with the fur of my cloak, as Pantalone then switches the topic about the Northland Bank… A few weeks had passed after my exit from the House of the Hearth. I have been working alongside Pantalone to establish plans and how to manage each branch. I have learned a lot from him in regards to Mora, and how to use it effectively. In one week, I learned how to negotiate, bargain, and put someone into debt… Then on the second week, I have learned how to use different torture methods to instill fear upon people who are unable to pay their debts… By the third week… I learned how to control people. By using Mora.  

So far, Pantalone has been nothing but more of a figure that I have learned to respect… Unlike “Knave”, Pantalone gives me time to explore places, areas that I have not seen before… I am free to do whatever I want to. There is no limit to what I cannot do while I am under his wing. Pantalone is more honest and straight to the point. He is not vague on wording things regarding any type of situation. He feels more familiar than the “Knave.” While I do not have any obligation or whatsoever to call him “Family”, I feel more connected to him rather than what I had with the “Knave”. Pantalone had given me permission to call him by his name, rather than his codename. I like to think that Pantalone grew on me as I grew on him too. He started little, he invites me for tea after finishing missions, gifts me things from other nations, and values my input rather than ignore it. Pantalone was never shy on telling me what life was like back then when he was once someone who had no Mora in his name…

Pantalone had told me stories about his coworker “The Doctor.” Stories that had my bone chilled even until now. He warns me to not wander off far from his radar. “Who knows what Zandik would do to you once he had set his eyes on you as another project of his” Pantalone remarked, as he shakes his head and switched topic. It seemed that he had noticed my discomfort about his coworker. Pantalone mentions that the “Knave” seemed very adamant on not believing that I was dead. My expression had hardened. Pantalone as always, caught onto it. He nods in understanding. “You’re in a better place now.” “Am I really?” “It depends on how you see it.” We then finished our tea and left to go back at his base. I encountered a few children from the House of the Hearth on the way back, their eyes widening as I walked alongside Pantalone. A child who I presumed to be Lyney, as Pantalone had described to me what the boy’s appearance was approached me. “Are you Blanche? The one who has been missing for weeks?” I stiffened at the mention of my former name, but regained my composure. “Surely you are mistaken. I am not Blanche.” I answered, staring at him curiously. Is this the person who is the “successor” of the House of the Heath? “You look exactly the same as the image “Father” had provided.” “I may look the same as the person in that photo but that isn’t me. That person is dead.” I say bluntly, scanning Lyney’s surprised expression. “But-“ I cut him off. “I am not the same person you are looking for. I am a disciple of “Regrator”. As you can see, we are busy. He is a busy man. If you’d excuse us…” I then walked away from Lyney. His twin who I assumed to be “Lynette” had come up to him and exchanged glances. I am not coming back from that place.

Pantalone surveys my expression. “You look pale.” I attempt to calm down, as I answered him in a tight voice, “I am fine.” Pantalone does not buy it. “Are you afraid that the “Knave” will take you back to the House of the Hearth?” He goes straight to the point. I then replied in a harsh tone. “She can try. But I’m not coming back. I’m never stepping foot in that place again.” I looked haunted. “If it helps, I do not intend on surrendering you to the “Knave.” You are now my disciple. Not her orphan anymore.” I attempt to at least smile a little at his attempt of comfort. “Correct. But people like her do not intend to give up easily. There will be consequences.” I sighed. “She has no other choice. I provide the funds for the Hearth. She cannot act rashly.” I then looked away from him, staring at the path ahead. “I know someday I will return to that place eventually, but in a different standing.” Pantalone nods. “You will. But as my disciple this time. You have been well informed of our upcoming schedule.” I stretched my limbs. “Duty is duty. I am bound to it. You have been accommodating enough to me that I see this more as a business opportunity rather than… Revisiting trauma.” I shakily sighed. “Whether I have any negative feelings of that place… It does not apply to the agenda. This is strictly business.” I attempt to convince myself that there is nothing more than that. But thoughts still continued to plague me on the way back to the base. We walked in silence. Pantalone does not further question me anymore.

I was left to my own devices by Pantalone to deal with an unsettled debt by an old man. I subdued the man into torture, as usual. The torture method used is to mark their skin with an iron stamp, as I cast the iron to the stamp and brand their skin with the Fatui logo, I enjoyed the screams of my victims. Before, I was afraid. Now, I am numb to it all. I left the chamber with a bloody bag of mora in hand. I report back to Pantalone that I had collected the debt, and left to write down a report for Pantalone. I then scrubbed the blood off the bag of mora. I tutted as the old man’s blood was spilled on the bag of coins. I hate filth. I hate who I was once. I am now cleared of the filth that I was once covered in. This is me now. Blanche is dead. “Disciple” is who I am now. I emerged out of the washroom as a new person. In a month, I will revisit the House of Hearth under the banner of “Regrator.” If there is anything that Pantalone had taught me best, it is the language of Mora. I am just as obsessed with Mora as well. For now, I must stay in Snezhnaya.

Freminet had been searching for Blanche for a while now. She was a calm girl who only spoke a few words. “Father” had seemed to favor her over the many children of the Hearth, which led to many despising Blanche. All but Freminet. He never hated Blanche. She was the only girl who respects his boundaries and chooses to speak with him in a manner that is comforting. She indulges him in visiting “Penguin Town.” And had once gifted him a penguin plush that is still kept by him in his room. Although their interactions are limited, but he considers her as his only friend. Freminet believes that Blanche hadn’t died. Before her disappearance, he saw Blanche rushing out of the house, seemingly in a hurry. He paid no mind to it until he saw Father asking about Blanche’s whereabouts an hour later. He then went to search for Blanche. Only to come back with a frozen bloody pin. Blanche had disappeared. No one knew where she was.

Until, Lyney had come to him to inform him of Blanche’s reappearance. Freminet was stunned to know that Blanche had chosen to not come back to the House of the Hearth. Freminet believed she will be back after being found. The man she was with had something to do with it. “Regrator”, ninth of the Fatui… Father must know of this. Lyney had said to him. He then leaves Freminet to think about the news. Blanche should have no reason not to return, she was favored, loved by Father, why else would she not return? Surely, she had not been brainwashed by the man she was with. He vows to help Blanche come to her senses so she would return to House of the Hearth, to where she will spend time with Pers and him again. He just had to convince Father to let Blanche play with him. ̶S̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶a̶̶l̶̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶̶s̶ ̶u̶̶n̶̶a̶̶v̶̶a̶̶i̶̶l̶̶a̶̶b̶̶l̶̶e̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶p̶̶l̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶t̶̶h̶.

Lyney entered Father’s office. To where Father has been waiting for updates in regards to her beloved daughter.  ̶H̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶d̶̶a̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶o̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶a̶̶d̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶a̶̶r̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶l̶̶o̶̶v̶̶e̶̶d̶. She had loved them so much that she didn’t want any harm to come upon her daughter…  Her daughter had run away from her after what she said to her, to which Arlecchino had come to regret deeply… Perhaps she shouldn’t have said those words.  ̶M̶̶a̶̶y̶̶b̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶d̶̶a̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶'̶v̶̶e̶ ̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶ ̶b̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶b̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶n̶.

Her crossed eyes had seemed to have a dangerous glow at the mention that her daughter was with Pantalone. ̶H̶̶e̶ ̶s̶̶t̶̶o̶̶l̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶f̶̶r̶̶o̶̶m̶ ̶m̶̶e̶! Silence had engulfed the office… Before she finally spoke up. “Thank you for the report, Lyney. You may now leave…” After Lyney left, Arlecchino angrily digs her nails on her desk, leaving a claw mark. Mɏ đȺᵾǥħŧɇɍ... Ɨ wɨłł ǥɇŧ ɏøᵾ ƀȺȼꝁ...

An: Things will get more confusing once part three rolls out... There is more to it now that there's another pov... Especially "Father's." Feel free to interpret things as there will be more misunderstandings to come in the next following chapters...  

[thatstheproblemwithnapkinman]

A love letter to Haley Grayson

to honour her introduction into WFA canon, let me introduce you to my actual favourite DC character, the little three-legged pitbull (but i prefer her as a staffy) puppy...

Haley

god i could go on about bitewing so much but we'll give you the run down of her as she is iconic

so, haley was first introduced in Nightwing (2016) Issue 78, the first of Tom Taylor's run. she is being chased and tormented by some thugs in Blüdhaven and Dick saves her

he takes her home and tells babs he is taking her to the pound and babs is like "no you aren't" and she was right.

in issue 80, she makes her first journey to vigilante status by joining Tim as he goes to talk to the street kids

she then gets blessed with her codename by Tim in issue 81, giving us her two names, Haley and Bitewing

she mostly exists to be cute but hen in issue 87, she gets kidnapped!

who would be so cruel!

but dick and babs save her and we get a cute family photo

she's mostly just for cuteness for a while but she makes an appearance in issue 90, when dick's apartment is blown up and he goes to stay with wally. nothing important happens with her but i have to point it out

Then issue 98 happens

Nite-mite gives haley a cute matching outfit and she can talk!!!

so they go on an adventure and its super cute and haley saves the day of course

she makes a brief appearance in issue 100 but her next notable one is in issue 105, the wonderful first person issue

he appears again in 106 with gar and it is very cute

the other amazing haley moment is in the 2022 annual where we get this awesome dream sequence where haley is Bitewing again and she trashes the apartment. it's so good and so cute

TL;DR Haley is the best DC character and you cannot tell me otherwise