#batty scribbles

[bloody-hugs]

OOO-EEE-OO-AH-AH-TANG-TANG-WALLA-WALLA-BING-BANG~!!

[babybatxxx]

I forgot to give Jeff pants so just pretend he has pants

[baihujun]

HAL MARO is @battybat604′s fault

[vermillioncrown]

actual height difference between the two as they both judge your batfam standard operating procedures

edit: included height

edit 2: verm bf walked by and saw "oh who are you drawing? man, they look so disappointed..."

[bodybaggage]

Ghostly Heir or Batty Custody?

DP X DC

———

The Justice League Watchtower was an advanced piece of technology, housing the world’s greatest heroes. But even in a place dedicated to protecting the Earth, some things were simply unavoidable—like gossip.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often do. Superman, having just returned from Gotham, was discussing the latest developments in the Batcave with Wonder Woman over a cup of coffee. The conversation was meant to be private, but when you have people like the Flash who can be in and out of a room before anyone notices, privacy is a relative term.

“So, Batman has another kid?” Superman had said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Are we running a daycare now?”

Superman shrugged. “Not sure. But he’s different from the others. White hair, glows a little. Bruce is being… secretive.”

“Bruce is always secretive,” Wonder Woman pointed out.

“Yeah, but this one seems—” Superman’s words were cut off as the Flash zoomed by, pretending to be busy with something else. The two superhumans exchanged a glance but said nothing more, knowing that once the speedster got wind of something, the whole League would know within the hour.

And they did.

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne—better known as Batman—was oblivious to the brewing storm. He sat in the Batcave, going over the latest reports on Gotham’s criminal activity with his usual intensity. Beside him, a ghostly figure floated lazily, occasionally glancing at the screens with mild interest.

Danny Fenton—known to most as Danny Phantom—had been in Gotham for a few weeks now, lying low while he figured out how to deal with some supernatural issues back in Amity Park. Clockwork had suggested Gotham as a good place to lay low, citing the city’s reputation for attracting all sorts of weirdos. Besides, Clockwork had argued, Batman wouldn’t care as long as Danny didn’t cause trouble.

And for the most part, Danny hadn’t. He’d stayed out of Gotham’s wayward criminal elements, kept his ghostly powers under wraps, and only occasionally wandered the streets at night to stretch his legs (or float, as it were).

Of course, he hadn’t counted on the Bat Family.

Damian had challenged him to a duel within minutes of their first meeting, insisting that he prove himself worthy of staying in the Batcave. Danny had countered by turning intangible and letting Damian tire himself out, which only seemed to frustrate the young Robin more.

Tim had interrogated him about the nature of ectoplasm and ghost powers, scribbling notes furiously as Danny tried his best to explain without giving too much away.

Jason had simply grunted, muttering something about “another brat” before disappearing on his motorcycle, while Dick had been the only one to offer a somewhat normal welcome.

“You’re like, what, the seventh kid Bruce has taken in?” Dick had said, clapping Danny on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not staying here permanently,” Danny had replied, but Dick had just laughed, as if Danny’s words were the punchline to a joke only he understood.

Things had been relatively quiet since then—until now.

It started as a low hum, a barely noticeable vibration in the air. Alfred, the ever-watchful butler, was the first to notice something amiss.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said calmly, setting down the tray of tea he’d just brought in. “We appear to have… company.”

Bruce looked up from the Batcomputer, his eyes narrowing as the hum grew louder, evolving into a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Batcave. Danny, who had been floating upside down, lazily spinning in midair, suddenly snapped to attention.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Danny muttered, his expression turning from bored to annoyed in seconds.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Alfred replied, his tone as even as ever, despite the growing disturbance.

The rumble turned into a roar, and suddenly, with a burst of green light, a swirling portal opened up in the middle of the Batcave. The vortex crackled with energy, and from it stepped a towering figure clad in ghostly armor, a crown of ectoplasmic fire atop his head.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King, had arrived.

“BATMAN!” Pariah’s voice boomed through the cave, rattling the glass cases that held the old Robin suits. “I, Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realms, have come to challenge you for the custody of my heir!”

There was a moment of silence as the words hung in the air. Danny facepalmed, groaning audibly. “This is not happening.”

Bruce, for his part, remained as stoic as ever, though his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Your heir?”

“Yes, my heir!” Pariah bellowed, his eyes glowing with ectoplasmic energy. “The boy you have taken into your care! I will not allow this—this mortal to usurp my claim!”

Bruce’s gaze flicked to Danny, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

“Oh, come on!” Danny threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t what it looks like! I’m not his heir, and I’m definitely not up for custody!”

Pariah seemed undeterred by Danny’s protests. “You defeated me in battle, boy. By the laws of the Infinite Realms, that makes you my heir! And now this Bat-creature seeks to claim you as his own! I will not stand for it!”

Bruce’s expression remained impassive. “I’m not trying to claim him.”

“See?” Danny gestured to Bruce. “Totally not trying to claim me. So you can just go back to the Ghost Zone, Pariah. No custody battle needed.”

Pariah’s eyes narrowed, his fiery crown flaring. “The only way to resolve this is through combat! Batman, I challenge you to a duel for the boy!”

Bruce glanced at the portal, calculating the odds. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take the boy by force!” Pariah declared, raising his massive sword, which seemed to materialize out of thin air, crackling with ectoplasmic energy.

Danny floated down between the two, trying to keep the peace. “Guys, let’s just calm down. No need for a duel. I’m fine. No one’s taking anyone by force.”

Pariah looked down at Danny, his expression a mix of paternal concern and royal indignation. “Do not worry, my heir. I will defend your honor.”

Danny groaned again. “I don’t need my honor defended. I need you to stop making this weird.”

Before Danny could protest further, Bruce stepped forward, his voice as calm as ever. “Very well. A duel, then.”

“Seriously?” Danny looked at Bruce, incredulous. “You’re just going to agree to this?”

“If it ends the situation quickly, yes,” Bruce replied, his tone as dry as ever. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with an overprotective guardian.”

Pariah raised his sword, clearly satisfied with the outcome. “Prepare yourself, mortal! I will not hold back!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Danny zipped between them again, clearly exasperated. “We don’t need to do this! Pariah, go back to the Ghost Zone. Batman, you don’t have to fight him.”

Pariah looked genuinely perplexed. “But… the honor of the Infinite Realms demands it.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Danny insisted. “The Infinite Realms don’t care about some weird custody battle! Besides, I’m not a kid, and I’m not staying here permanently! I’m just crashing for a bit!”

Pariah frowned, lowering his sword slightly. “You… are not staying?”

“No!” Danny said, exasperated. “I’m not staying! I’m not your heir! I’m just Danny, okay?”

The Ghost King looked around, as if trying to process this information. “But… you are under his care. It was reported by reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources?” Danny echoed. “Who told you that?”

Pariah seemed to hesitate for the first time. “A rather talkative sorcerer in a trench coat. He mentioned it while muttering about ‘bloody bats’ and ‘undead nuisances.’”

Danny blinked, realization dawning. “Constantine. Of course.”

Bruce’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a faint glimmer of irritation in his eyes. “This… Constantine has been spreading rumors?”

Danny sighed heavily, feeling more tired by the minute. “Look, can we just forget this whole thing happened? Pariah, you go back to ruling the Ghost Zone. I’ll handle Constantine. And Batman, you can go back to doing… whatever it is you do.”

Pariah Dark seemed to mull this over for a moment before finally lowering his sword completely. “Very well. But know this, boy—if ever you require my assistance, you have but to call.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last, dramatic sweep of his cape, Pariah Dark stepped back into the swirling green portal, which closed behind him with a final, ominous crackle.

For a moment, the Batcave was silent. Then Danny turned to Bruce, looking both sheepish and annoyed. “So… I guess I should have warned you about that.”

Bruce simply nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Next time, try to keep your interdimensional family disputes to a minimum.”

“I’ll do my best,” Danny promised, floating back toward the Batcomputer. “But with my luck, that’s not gonna be easy.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bruce replied dryly, already turning back to his work. “And tell Constantine to keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he floated back to his usual spot, thinking about the supernatural messes that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As the Batcave returned to its usual state of brooding silence, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Gotham wasn’t the best place to lay low after all. But with the alternative being another encounter with Pariah, he figured the Batcave wasn’t so bad—at least, not until the next interdimensional incident.

[missamyrisa2]

got caught off guard listening to asmr bc they started tapping their nails and scribbling on a notebook and i got so squirmy thinking about how that would feel on meeee . needless to say it didnt help me sleep

ASMR has neeeeever made me sleeepy~! I can never understand how it makes anyone sleepy actually~ it makes me tingly squrimy madlyyy~ I mean, it's fingers doing things and lips making sounds? It's basically likeeee~ ambient tickle sounds! I have a friend who does asmr videos who is also into tickling and I've told her someday we totally need to do a tickle session that is nothing but the asmr stuff driving me absolutely batty~!

[bunglescraps]

Artfight Link

Characters & Owners:

Batty Baroque - Battysoda

El- Elzzebells

Bump - 4kids

Scribbly - ScribblyDraws7

[danpuff-ao3]

The Making of: Orange Blossoms

HP Flowers, Spring Round, 2022. A prompt event with weekly prompt choices inspired by the language of flowers. Of course, I was intrigued! After all: I really love Harry Potter. And I really love flowers. And symbolism. Not to mention this would take place in May, my birth month!! This fandom event seemed tailor made just for me!

Sadly, when I get excited, I get really excited.

And this was all happening in a time period when I was busy. And thus: stressed. And I do not work well under stress.

May 2022 was not only HP Flowers, but also Snarry-a-Thon. Leading up to May, I was pulling out my hair to finish my Snarry-a-Thon fic, Contempt. Not only was I bound and determined to participate in Thon at least once, brilliant me decided it was the perfect time to write the story of my soul. But that's another story (which you can read about here.)

I so had my heart set on writing for HP Flowers. Not just a story in May for HP Flowers, but I had my heart set on posting a Snarry fic for Flowers on my birthday. Which is earlier in the month (the 8th, to be exact.) I was losing hope I'd be able to finish Thon and pop out another fic in time for my birthday. Thon was driving me batty as it was! Surely when I was done I would need a nice, long break from writing.

Fun fact, but I did sneak some of the HP Flowers prompts into Contempt. Week 1, option 4 gave:

4. Ivy- Fidelity or Attachment

If paired with: >> Dahlia- honours a long-lasting relationship OR >> Hellebore- says nothing will ever come between you and your partner

Which directly inspired:

Harry doesn't know exactly where Snape's quarters are, but Snape's name on the map leads him down to the dungeons and a door with no handle. Engravings in the stone, of serpents entwined with ivy and dahlias. No lilies, Harry is pleased to note. A speech bubble appears on the map, helpfully suggesting "hellebore" as a password.

If I couldn't properly write for HP Flowers, I thought that would have to be good enough!

But you're not here to listen to me babble about Contempt yet again. You're here for Orange Blossoms.

Well, I finished and submitted Contempt and there was time left before my birthday. I kept a notebook where I scribbled various ideas. There was plenty I wanted to write for HP Flowers. I had the whole month's prompts written down, going over various combinations and ships and ideas. Above all else, I needed a Snarry, and I needed to write it for May 8.

For Snarry, I was mostly drawn to the Week 1 prompts, though my birthday fell at the start of Week 2. The "ivy" prompt drew me in more than anything, though I dabbled with others. What to do, what to do. I had too many options and too many paths available to me. Few concrete plans.

It was frustrating, not to be swarmed with actual ideas. I'm forever plagued by story ideas, but having to form ideas on command, to fit within a framework? Not my usual style. Only for love of Snarry + flowers was I wracking my brain for any workable idea. C'mon, brain, you can do it! You do this all the time, popping out story ideas!!

It's hard to really lay out a step by step of how it all came together. I made list after list. Threw down Merlin knows how many random thoughts. I stared at the prompt lists. I did Google Image searches for all the flowers. And bit by bit it came together.

It was the language of flowers, after all. How perfectly that lends itself to courtship! And the Week 1 prompt list had an option for: "Use all of the flowers/plants listed above to either celebrate Beltane or to incorporate them in a magical garden." Beltane was too tempting not to include, but it also gave me the idea of looking to the other sabbats, and how to entwine paganism with the Wizarding World.

That birthed The Old Ways; an idea that various pagan traditions began with magical folk, and is part of Wizarding history. And how history and traditions can be sources of structure and comfort. Wartime drove people to marry. (Bill and Fleur, Arthur and Molly; Molly's comments about people eloping "left, right, and center.")

How would it feel to be away from your family, living at school while war rages on outside? A strange sense of safety (being at Hogwarts) while aware of how dark and dangerous the real world (outside of Hogwarts) is. Think of how hard it would be on children and teenagers. Think of how people turn to faith in difficult times; or even find faith in difficult times.

All of this sort of inspired the trend at Hogwarts, of learning about and following The Old Ways.

All of that was background, of course, and my very convenient excuse for love confessions via flowers.

At some point, I had to decide who would be courting who via flowers. If Severus sent them, Harry would need an outsider source (probably Hermione) to point out that "hey, flowers have meaning!" If Harry sent them, well, I can see Severus having floriography knowledge, but Harry would need a valid excuse to start it in the first place (hence the trend.)

There was also a need for secrecy, I think, if Harry was going to do this. He's our bold Gryffindor, remember? In ideal circumstances, he would make his move in other ways. (Though, in fairness, getting through Severus' thick skull is no easy task, whichever way you go.) And isn't it fun for a student/teacher romance, exchanging intimate confessions in whatever method possible? And this is the language of flowers. No letters to be found and studied and traced back to the sender.

I always love a good student/teacher, I won't lie. And there's something quite sweet about Severus being courted. And by a student, no less!

And I do love Severus. And he deserves nice things. Let the man be wooed, dang it!

So, the jumbled mess in my head more or less sorted itself out along the way. "Floriography...courtship...who courts who?...what reason would each have for sending flowers?...Beltane, the Old Ways, traditions and trends...wartime, student/teacher..." At last, I was getting there!

Elsewhere in my notes, I'd had vague ideas of handfasting at Beltane.

And looking at my more solid plan, it occurred to me. The taboo nature of their love, the darkness of the war around them...but the light of their love, and the sweetness in the method...

I often rely on sex to get Snarry together. There is so much explosive passion between them, and so much baggage, so much of who they are as individuals, how others see them, and their complicated and antagonistic history...It takes a lot, I think, for them to see their connection for what it is. To accept it in themselves, let alone revealing it to the other. All of that aggression and intensity unleashing itself in a physical manner. And all of my headcanons about each of them, and their loneliness, and their trauma, and the desire for affection and physical touch. And how much easier it is to communicate via touch. How difficult words can be, how difficult thoughts can be. All this to say, there is a reason for it.

But here, I had a perfectly constructed a scenario excluding touch almost altogether. A time of war, a time of desperation. People being driven by fear, and clinging to what they can. Two men who found love in the most unlikely of places, in an unfortunate time.

It seemed wasteful to bring sex into a situation where it wasn't needed.

So: it's rated T. And I indulged in my more romantic side for this. It's still easier for these two to communicate without actual words, but instead of physical touch, I relied on gift giving. It was a fun change of pace. And I leaned into the language of flowers a lot. I used the HP Flowers prompts, yes, but I also went outside of it, too.

A whole courtship without sex, and hardly talking at all. A whole courtship under the noses of all of Hogwarts. A secret they dared not breathe aloud, even to each other.

I have a lot of feelings about Snarry as a ship. The incredible power of their connection, and their love. How it bleeds into everything. And being able to express that in a whole new way was such a beautiful experience.

So with my plan more or less in place, I began. I used two prompts: Hawthorn (hope) and Ivy (fidelity.) So I opened with flowers.

1. Hawthorn- Hope

If paired with: >> Orange blossom- shows hope that the recipient will return your affection

When I began, I was content to have any Snarry + flowers story. I figured I'd get a drabble out of it, if nothing else. I didn't expect a love story that would bring me to tears. I ended up with a story that was so dear to me. The best birthday gift I could have given myself, truly!

[lordfreg]

scribble bc im losing my mind

@hypocriticaltypwriter

i'm going insane, perhaps wacky, one might even say crazy, i'm losing my mind, my marbles, my bananas, i'm falling off my rocker so to speak.

the scimbo (batty) and sqeekem (karai) have taken over my mind. i am unable to think because of them. in this fic batty’s 17 and karai is 16 (i was working under the assumption that since batty was born in october that they were only a few months apart)

they make my brain to to really angsty stuff so now you have to suffer with me.

have to put a TW because there’s some heavy stuff; gore, swearing, implied abuse, gaslighting. (fic starts under the cut because im nice and i love you, also drink water and eat food; not while reading this)

enjoy (:

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

THE STENCH OR ROTTING FLESH burned his nose. He should have been used to this now. He’s been to a recently invaded Krang site before; but this one was different.

It was his home.

Was his home.

They kicked him out, they abandoned him, they left him to rot in a harsh and unforgiving world.

And yet, Patrick felt bad. He let the stench of half-eaten corpses get to him. He flinched at the sight; destroyed building, tentacles everywhere. Mutant Silverfish eating the corpse of some person.

He shuttered at the sight, the insides of people on a vulgar display. The sight was only matched by the stench. He watched the Krang tentacles slide across the ground, the eyes looking at him intently, perhaps wondering if he should be their next meal.

Patrick kicked them away pathetically, like they were some trash on the road in his way, and continued into the rubble.

He knew no one was in their, but Master Leonardo insisted on checking every new attack sight. The leader said “Your good ears could be useful for finding people,” but the only thing Patrick found with his ears were trouble.

The Oozsquitoes still roamed the skies, turning people into mutants, that’s how Patrick turned into one, anyway. 

Apparently, his appearance looked that of a human modified by the Krang. That’s how he got abandoned by the humans who ran the camp he was being raised in. Where his sibling died, where his mother was separated from him in the rush to escape New York, where his father looked on in horror as his one and only son was disgustingly mutated into a bat.

Thinking about hurt his back, it had been a pain to have giant bony wing rapidly sprout from your back. They ripped his skin, and exposed muscles, before quickly healing and making him cry out in pain.

All of it, was a painful process.

He shook off the feeling of disgust lingering on his back, and continued through the destroyed building, listening for anything, anything at all.

A sniffle, a cough, a whimper, anything.

A small, faint and quite frankly pathetic cry for help was heard. 

Patrick spun his head around towards the sound, running to it. He leaped over corpses and Krang tentacles to reach the person.

He skidded to a stop when he arrived in the destroyed room he heard the sound come from. He looked around desperately, trying not to smile because he finally found someone.

The room was empty, a flipped table, a knocked over refrigerator, a woman's dead body next to a giant hole in the wall. Was probably impaled from a Krang hand, he noted.

Other then that, the room was empty.

Patrick let out a heavy sigh, was he hearing voices again? Probably, he admitted to himself.

He bent over to the floor, noticing a fully intact cell phone on the ground, slightly behind the thrown over table. Picking it up, it turned on and showed a picture of a family; a black-haired woman with two kids, a 15-year-old and a 3-year-old. 

Patrick’s mouth wavered into a frown, he hated seeing kids get effected by this. They kid was probably dead by now, but still.

“H-Help...?” A scared voice asked from the other side of the flipped table.

Patrick didn’t even process it until he looked up from the phone and saw a small child, death gripping a stuffed rabbit. Mrs. Cuddles.

Patrick’s face turned into an expression of pure ‘What the Hell?’. It was the kid from the photo! That means, that woman is his mother. Where was his sister?

Patrick cleared the questions from his mind and looked tenderly at the child.

“Hey, buddy.” He said quietly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m here to help, I’m with the Resistance.” He showed the child his wristband with the Mad Dog logo on it.

The child quivered before scooting over to him, and touching the engraved symbol.

“See? I don’t bite.” Patrick whispered softly, “I’m here to take you to safety.”

“Okay.” The child said, standing up with Patrick. “Do you know where sissy is?” He asked, completely trustingly.

“No, we only just got here. We don’t live here.” Patrick said flatly, looking at the child with concern.

“I wish sissy was here. She said that Stuffie would keep me safe. I don’t feel safe.” The child said, making the Mrs.Cuddles clone dance a little before dropping it to his tummy.

Patrick felt a lump in his throat. He’d been through this same thing, except he saw what happened to his sibling.

“Hey,” Patrick spoke, getting the child’s attention, “What do you say we go back to my house and try to find your sister with the help of some people who are really good at stuff like this?”

“Like, tracker?” The child said, looking up at Patrick with complete admiration.

“Yeah, I guess you could call them that.” Pat shrugged, “But they mostly fight bad guys.”

“Really?” The child turned to the bat mutant and signaled ‘up’ with his tiny, still-basically-an-infant hands.

“Yeah,” Pat said, picking the boy up, “They do that all the time.”

“So they beat the evil aliens?”

“Yeah.”

“So cool.”

“I know, right?”

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

Patrick returned to the Resistance base, having talked to the child and finding out his name is Jago. But his friends called him Go-Go.

“Hmm. Cute, I like that.” Pat said, landing at the front entrance for the base. He banged on the door to wake up Cosmo, because Heaven forbid they actually do their job. 

“Hey! Dork! Open the door!” Patrick shouted. “It’s your best friend and I have a child.”

“WHAT?” A voice through the intercom said.

“Just open the door, loser.”

“FINE.” 

The door opened with a hiss as it slid back to reveal stairs leading underground.

“Why were so mean to that lady?” Go-Go asked.

“They’re my friend.” Patrick smiled.

He held the child in his arm as he held the rail that led down, skipping a step every so often. Once he got to the bottom he was greeted by people walking every witch way to gear up for patrol, rescue missions, daily tasks and so on.

He wrapped Go-Go in his side-cape as not to draw attention to himself, or the kid, having come back from a traumatic experience like that. The last thing the kid needed was people in his face asking him what happened.

Pat held G-Go to his chest as he maneuvered around people, soon finding Cassandra gearing up for another Krang assault.

“Cassidy,” Patrick asking importantly, “Do you know where Tam is?”

“In the Nursery, as usual.” She answered, “And it’s ‘Cass’, fucker!” Cassandra yelled after as she threw a empty tin can at him.

He chuckled and continued to make his way through the crowd and into the Nursery. He led into a hallway, dim but light enough for people to see. He rushed to the room with the sky blue door and carefully crept to the front and opened it slightly, looking in.

He saw Tamsin sitting in a chair, singing her daughter Maggie to sleep, with other napping kids around her. She was humming a song he knew too well. “Blackbird” by the Beatles. It gave him a bittersweet feeling when the melody stung his ears like a sour candy.

“Pssst! Tamsin!” Batty whispered, “I have something for you!”

“Oh! Hello, dear!” She smiled, urging Batty in. “And you don’t have to whisper, the kids sleep like logs once they’re down.”

“Okay, good.” Patrick stood up, and unraveled his side-coat, making a small, fat face with big blue eyes and black hair appear. “I found him at the Krang site.”

Tamsin gasped slightly and put a hand on Batty’s shoulder, “He’s adorable.” She gushed.

“Yeah, he’s a cute kid.” Batty smiled down at the child, who clung protectively to Batty’s sleeveless turtle neck, “But he needs someone to take care of him until I come back from another water run.”

“And you’re doing this with Leo’s permission, right?” Tamsin asked, looking at him like a mother interrogating her child.

“Would you be mad if I said no?” Batty smiled nervously.

“Yes! I would be angry because what if you got hurt? Nobody would know where you are or where to find you!”

“If I got hurt, I’d simply ping my location.” Patrick witted back.

“That takes a lot of power, power we don’t have.”

“Good thing I found this then.” Patrick smiled widely with lazy eyes as he pulled out the perfectly intact phone.

Tamsin eyes lit up, taking the phone from him. “Wow, you really are a master scout.”

“No, I just got lucky cause of Go-Go.” He said, petting the small child who was still gripping his stuffed rabbit.

“Go-Go? Is that his name?”

“No, it’s actually Jago, but everyone calls him Go-Go.”

“I miss my sissy.” Jago pouted, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, darling.” Tamsin said sympathetically, reaching out for the child. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m sure we’ll find her.” She said to the child in a sweet embrace.

Batty could only stare on in concern, what if they never found his sister? What would we tell him?

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

Batty returned for the second time this day, it now being night and now being greeted by his adoring girlfriend.

She joyfully hopped over to him, wrapping her arms around him and placing a kiss on his snout.

Patrick puffed up in response, “I gotta get used to that.”

“Yes, you have to, since I’m going to be doing it a lot when we’re married.” Karai hummed.

“Mhmm.” Batty melted into her embrace as he wanted nothing more then to be held by his love. Patrick snaked his arms around Karai’s waist, bringing her in for a tight hug before letting go angin.

Karai looked at him confused, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just have to talk with Go-Go.”

“You seem tired, darling. You should rest.” Karai had put her hands to his face, caressing his cheek and making the adorable ‘you-can’t-say-no-to-me’ pouty lip.

“I don’t need rest, I need answers.”

Just then, Go-Go and Niccolo had wobbled up to Patricks leg and where now tugging on it.

“Pat! Pat! Come look what me and Niccy made!” Go-Go said proudly.

“Adorable. They already have nicknames.” Batty said, still half lulled by Karai’s gesture.

“Yeah, they’ve spent the last few hours getting acquainted.” Karai said softly, “I think your son wants you to look at something.”

“Please, don’t call him my son. I might get attached.” Patrick said, pulling way from Karai and following Go-Go and Niccolo down the hall and into the Nursery.

Niccolo pointed to a small table, with drawing things spread out all over them, in the center was portrait of Batty, with Karai, holding her hand with the caption; ‘Mom + Dad’.

Patrick felt like crying. He was conflicted; does he accept the gift and accept his role as Go-Go’s father, or does he reassure the poor child that his father is most likely alive and looking for him?

Patrick swallowed back the lump in his throat, “Th-Thank’s Niccolo and Go-Go, you guys are the best.” he keeled down so they could hug him.

The two kids rushed to give their friend a hug, Niccolo’s tail wagging and Go-Go’s cheeks dusted with pink.

“Thank you boys, for the gift, but isn’t it past your bedtime?” Batty asked, picking both of them up.

“Oh!” Niccolo cried as he looked worried, he started to cry.

Go-Go saw this and reached over to hug Niccolo, petting his head and rocking him back and forth.

Patrick could only stare dumbfounded. Go-Go barely knew these kids, yet knew exactly what they needed. It was a little amazing, actually.

Niccolo stopped crying, but still had snot and tears on his cheeks. Go-Go continued to pet his head and rock him.

“Mama’s not going to be mad at you.” Go-Go said to Niccolo, “We should just go to bed.”

Niccolo nodded, instinctively turning around to be cleaned off. Batty sighed, knowing that he’s have to put Go-Go down.

After the boys were cleaned up and ready for bed, Tamsin came into the kid’s bathroom to check up on them.

“Wow, it usually takes me and hour just to get them ready.” Tam sighed, impressed with Patrick.

“Well, when you’re as tired as they are, you want to go to bed as quick as you can.” Patrick said.

“I’m not tired,” Go-Go commented. The new child looked over to Niccolo who yawned and reached up for his mother.

Tam bent down and picked up the tired boy, Niccolo snuggling into Tam’s chest and yawning a final time before nodding off to sleep.

“They really are tired,” Tam examined, “What did you do all day?”

“We played cars, and we played good guys and bad guys. And then Casey showed up after a while and told the red turtle a lot of important stuff and they left again.” Go-Go said nonchalantly, “And then we drew a picture for Karai and Pat when they get married.” Go-Go smiled up at the now blushing Patrick, ready to hear him confirm this.

“Yeah,” Pat said, rubbing the back of his neck, “They did do that.”

Tam laughed a little, “I’ve got to get Niccolo to bed. Patrick? Be a dear and help your mother-in-law and show your son the guest room.”

Patrick groaned at the names. He picked Go-Go up and carried him down the hall, past Karai’s room, Niccolo’s room, Jeremiah’s room and finally; they were at the guest kid’s room.

It was small, only fitting two beds and a bedside table. Batty placed Go-Go on one of the beds, then sat parallel to him.

“So? How does you mom put you to bed?” The bat asked. 

“Mommy doesn’t put us to bed; sissy does.” Go-Go said, once again making his little bunny dance.

“Then how does sissy put you to bed?”

“She would sing to me.”

“What would she sing?”

“I don’t know what it’s called but it goes like...” Go-Go hummed a few notes, making a melody.

The melody, was one that Patrick knew all too well.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night.~” Patrick sang, his voice shaky.

Go-Go yawned, and rubbed his eyes. The child looked at his rabbit as his eyes lit up.

“Oh! I have a gift for you!” He said, reaching for his stuffed animal. Go-Go unzipped the back and pulled out a little glass vile filled with glowing blue liquid. Patrick tired to mask his bewilderment, taking the test-tube looking thing and examined it.

“Mommy said that it helped turn people like you back into people like me.” Go-Go said, patting his belly. “Mommy says she’s been doing it since the spooky aliens invaded.”

“Huh,” Patrick put the glass tube into his pocket, “What else did your mother tell you?”

“She said she worked with a man named Foun. And he helped make it. And he got kicked out for being too mean to my sissy.”

Patrick could feel the world shatter around him. There it was. The truth. The thing he’s been searching for his entire life. In a few short sentences said by a polite 5-year-old.

Furious didn’t even begin to describe how angry he felt.

“Patty?” Go-Go broke the silence, “Can you sing to me?”

“Sure,” Patrick smiled.

Patrick sang Blackbird, every verse coming out bittersweet and poignant. After Go-Go was officially asleep, it was time to do business.

Karai was waiting outside of the guest room, arms crossed respectfully, “You have a beautiful singing voice,” She smiled.

“Thank you,” Patrick said, walking past her. Before quickly turning around, placing a kiss on her lips and whispering a small “Love you,” kindly.

Patrick marched down to the end of the hallway, the leader’s meeting room. He didn’t care that they were having a meeting right now, this was far too important, and far too lied about to wait until tomorrow.

Karai hesitantly followed him down the hallway, using her sick ninja stealth to spy on him.

Patrick slammed open the door, making it obvious to everyone in the room that he was there.

“Knock next time,” Master Donatello said, leaning back in his chair, “And what do you want? We’re in the middle of a meeting.”

“I understand that, Master.” Patrick said, letting himself in, “But this is far too important.”

Raph looked concerned, “What is it?”

Patrick took the glass tube out of his pocket and held it up for everyone at the table to see.

“Anti-mutagen.”

“What?” Master Leonardo asked, completely lost.

“ANTI. Mutagen.” Patrick slammed the tube onto the table, “And Mulch knew about it.”

“How could I have known?” Mulch became defensive, “You’re just going to barge in here and accuse me of lying?”

“Yes.” Patrick said flatly, “Jago told me you worked on this.” He rolled the tube over to Donatello, who caught it and examined it.

“You’re really going to trust a child?” Mulch spat, disappointed that his son would accuse him of such a thing.

“Yes, I am.” Patrick huffed harshly.

“Well, I am disappointed in you! For one, you interrupt our meeting, then you start accusing me of lying! Now you’re trusting what a 4-year-old child has to say about my past life? What have you come too? Back when this all first happened, I didn’t have a choice! I had to start the Scavengers to survive! I took you in when nobody else would have! You couldn’t have survived without me! You should be grateful-”

“STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!”

The room went quiet.

No one had heard Patrick yell. Only when he needed too, at least.

But this yell was different. I wasn’t flat and necessary, it was harsh, bold and filled with hate. It was so loud it shook the meeting room, probably the entire base.

This was the first time that anyone had heard Patrick curse, either.

Karai gasped before placing a hand over her mouth, she didn’t think he was capable of saying a bad word.

Mulch stared back at Batty from across the table, shocked and disgusted.

“Young man...” the Vulture started.

“Don’t. Save it for someone who cares. You’re not my father. You’re not my dad. I don’t even like you. You hit me, all the time. I’m sick of sitting there and taking it. I’m sick of you lying to me. Lying to them.” He pointed at the bewildered Twins and Red giant.

“You lied to an entire community. You lied to your family.” Patrick took a deep breath in, visibly restraining himself. 

“You’re a lying bastard.”

Patrick turned around and left the room, more seething then he had every felt before, leaving the Turtles suspicious, confused and worried.

Leo chased after him, giving his twin a knowing nod.

Donatello and Raph both stood up, Donatello gabbing his Bo staff and Raphael cracking his fists.

“So, what’s all this about you hitting the kid?”

Leonardo chased after Patrick, who strutted fast.

“Kid! Kid!” Leo cried desperately, “What the hell did you just say back there?”

“Mulch is a fucking liar! He lied to me! He lied to you! He worked on an anit-mutagen and didn’t tell a fucking soul so he could sell it helpless mutants who wanted to be human again!”

Leonardo stood there stunned.

“But-...How-... How would you know?”

“Because I’ve watched it happen, Leonardo.”

His words were bitter and harsh, saying Leon’s name without the “master” part in front really made the reality hit him so much harder.

“But, why?” Leonardo asked, “Why did you stay quiet until now?”

“I didn’t have any proof. Proof that this was happening.”

“You didn’t need proof,” Leonardo pulled Patrick into an improvised hug, “We would have believed you.”

Patrick sniffed, before bursting into tears. It was too much. He couldn’t just talk about it without crying.

Karai rushed into the meeting room, “DAD! UNCLE! STOP!” She yelled, before they could touch him, knowing what they would do to Mulch.

They looked back at Donatello’s daughter, she had tears streaming down her face and a panicked look on her face.

Donatello’s anger turned into concern for his daughter, he put away his bo staff, turning it from a giant rocket back into a stick.

Donatello, ran to his daughter, bringing her into a hug as Raph grabbed Mulch by his collared scruff. 

“It’s okay, Karai. Shhh, it’s okay.” Donatello said quietly.

“I want mom,” she sobbed.

“Me too,” Donatello said, on the verge of tears.

Raph was freely letting tears fall from his eyes.

Batty and Leonardo came back to the meeting room, and Karai and Patrick embraced one another.

Patrick tenderly stoked Karai’s soft shell, trying to sooth her as she cried. They synchronized their breathing and ended up sleeping on the couch together, just holding each other.

Patrick’s grief was still heavy, but not as heavy anymore.

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

MAN am i tired, up till 3 finishing this because time is a social construct. but anyway, hope this made you tear up a little at least. and yeah, im keeping Go-Go. he’s my new baby :)

so yeah, hope you enjoyed the things making my brain rot.<33333333 might do something with this in the future, for now, just have fun reading is since it’s not cannon (to the idea i have in my head) and i just really wanted to write an angst

i am so tired-

[solong-and-thanksforallthefish]

.~❀❃Asters & Buttercups❃❀~.

 .❃

      “Why hello there darling~! What brings you to this neck of the woods stranger?”

      The first flower of this bouquet, Iris. She casually strolled up to this tall, mysterious man in the corner of the club. The silent stare compelled to the blaring music and chatter of everyone else was a welcome difference to her. He was tall, ominous, and to Iris that was the ultimate excitement to a born and raised rural girl like her. College was a time to explore, experience, and be bold! And that was exactly what she planned on doing. The other however, didn’t really know what to do with this bold person. Continuing to stare down at her, all the while she just continued to look back up with a warm and charming smile awaiting his answer.

      Sirius wasn’t too sure what to do with this human. Usually this would be this time where they would observe for a wasted person, before easily swaying them away for a fun night of fucking and devouring. This sudden and sober approach was new. The small blossom of a Sycamore. Sirius continued the silence for a moment before letting out an amused chuckle.

      “Hmm. Depends, what brings you… ‘to this neck of the woods’?” He retorted with a smirk. Iris couldn’t help but huff in response to him. 

      “Well I’M attempting to have a conversation with a tall, handsome, stranger~! But it seems like he’s being rather difficult, or is it you’re only fun with a couple of drinks in you?” Iris teased with a giggle, giving him a slight nudge. 

      “*scoff* I don’t need anything to be fun. I could sweep you off and no one would even notice…” His reply was cold now, the banter seeming to annoy him. However, Iris didn’t seem to take it as the threat it was, and rather sounded like a challenge.

      “Aww I bet you’re a real charmer then with that oh so scary stare hehe~! Well if you’re so sure, how about you start with dancing with me?” A perplexed look on Sirus’s face was apparent but before they could even begin to protest, the short yet strong woman practically dragged him on the dance floor.

 ❃.

       .⚘

      “Surprise honey~!” Iris stood at the cafe late at night, holding a caringly wrapped bouquet of camellias, roses, iris, and several flowers that spill nothing but affection and adoration.

      “What is this?” Sirius asks bluntly. Iris could only chuckle at him, she always did find all of his secrets, and cold personality charming. Only just made it more enjoyable to crack him open to see and find every part of him. Though it’s only been a month, and Sirius INSISTS he has better things to do, oddly he always meets her where and when she asks. Truthfully, the martian found her entertaining to a point, and was hard to crack herself, refusing any type of intimacy. And all of his literal truthful threats about consuming her, ripping her flesh apart with his own teeth, taking her for themselves, etc. never seemed to intimidate. For SOME frustrating reason Iris merely laughs it off, finds it enduring, and continues to interact with him even suggesting she could do the same! The nerve of this human!

      “Oh silly, I grew these myself! I want to be a botanist when I’m done with college. Just, something about how they can make Earth so beautiful, and so much meaning behind each one with every action towards them.” She beamed as she ranted about plants and flowers and many other uneedful things handing Sirius the bouquet. They couldn’t understand. How could someone set their entire life to one measly thing? Something that could so easily be destroyed, uncared for, and minute? As orange lilies slowly sprout on their shoulders.

      “Why are you obsessed with such trivial things? I could crush these in an instant. And you have more. Why do you focus on such insignificant things?” Sirius asked, snapping Iris away from her lecture of plants and her planned future.

      “Huh?” She looked at him confused for a moment. Then gave another warm smile, sitting down next to him.

      “Well, I like to take care of things. I enjoy seeing the smallest details, the beauty in everything. They may be insignificant to you or others, but aren’t we all? And I think everything deserves to be loved and cared for, no matter how flawed or insignificant…” Iris gently placed a hand on the other’s that laid on the table. She knew he wasn’t entirely safe. Small things that were constantly off to her, from his sharp smile, to things that would wriggle and move when it wasn’t supposed to. But it didn’t matter, what mattered was his company, and she would be there for her new person, whenever they were ready or not to tell.

   ❃.

       .⚘

 ❀.

      Freesias and Calla lilies bloom and surround the rustic bedroom of the grand farm house. 

      “I could rip you to pieces you know….” Sirius stated, looming above her. Iris gently took their spotted, clawed, monstrous hand, nuzzling her face into it looking up at them. Truly looking at them. “I know you could~.... I can handle… Are you alright though?” She asked, making sure her movements were predictable, comforting, and slow.       Sirius’s many eyes couldn’t help but glare at her, squinting, resenting her for how she’s messed with them severely over this year. “You’re an idiotic, dangerous human….��� Was all he could mutter. Iris giggled again, “mhm~.... And you’re cute when you get flustered~. The most beautiful thing I’ve seen~.” She slowly slithered her other hand up to their smooth and rubbery skin, careful to avoid poking their eyes.       “Shut up. This is stupid of you.” Sirus couldn’t understand. Why. Just why. After so much, even now why.       Iris caressed his chin, slowly guiding it down for her to give a soft kiss, “Hehehe, I guess that makes both of us~...”

❃.

        .⚘

  ❀.

˚ ꕥ

“I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS!!! I CAN’T CONTINUE THIS!!! I DESERVE, YOU DESERVE…… GRRRAAAAAAAH!!!!” Walls and garden machinery destroyed in an instant, the bloody corpse of poor ol Daisy the cow lay scattered among the blood-soaked hay. Burning tears and blood falling down each of their faces of frustration and the other in silent horror and helplessness of this display… buttercups and petunias crushed beneath stomping feet and choking them with their roots seeping in each other’s throats.

 ❃.

        .⚘

 ❀.   

        ˚ ꕥ

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- Some moons later on a clear night, beneath a starry sky. A knock was heard on the door… Iris stumbled from the dining table and rushed to open the door. But what laid at the feet of her door was a large odd looking egg, swaddled in a thick throw blanket…. And a small bouquet of butterfly weed. 

- - - - - - - 

EEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE I HAVE MADE A FIC!!! A FANFIC FOR @kudzupocalypse AND THEIR STORY “SHATTERED!EARTH”. This is the result of, “Peeps CAN be wholesome in this world fuk u” XD 

[babybatxxx]

Masterlist thingy!

My random notes - #Batty blurbs

My scribbles - #batty scribbles

My headcannons for characters - #battys hcs

Agere scenarios I wrote - #battys scenarios

Pjsk agere stuff - #battys pjsk

Stuff I post while regressed - #battys babbles

My stimboards - #battys stims

My moodboards - #battys boards

My edits - #battys edits

💗

[magenta-monarch]

(So yeah, basically I drew Tang)

[eldritch-bat]

Take moments of happiness where you find them. The world will take the rest.

Ameridan in pallet 3 from the pallet meme, suggested by  Herald of WHO?! at DAME.

I still suck at men, but I think this is a better one? This pallet thing is still good practice! ♥

[battyscribbles]

the sketch for my next project husband and wife, here to save the day while looking good.

want one of your own? commission me!

[fe-fictions]

Just seems like everything has been going wrong lately and I'm so down. Can you maybe do Niles caring for an over stressed and overworked pregnant corrin who refuses to take a break and then has a breakdown

(I've got you ;;; A ;;; )

He didn’t like seeing you so distressed, but what made it worse was you wouldn’t admit that something was wrong.

You were six months pregnant, and really starting to show. But the fact remained that the war was still ongoing, and since you couldn’t fight, you’d taken on the vast majority of clerical and administrative support roles that needed attention.

The Outrealm moved faster than the real world, so you were visited a lot more often than you liked. It seemed like every day there was another request, another stack of parchment needing review, and a load of other work that was starting to drive you batty.

However, any attempt to get you (his six months pregnant wife) to slow down was met with a stubborn huff and a shake of your head. You wouldn’t be persuaded so easily.

“I don’t need a break, Niles- I’ve been doing just fine this whole time. What’s one more set of papers?”

“It’s not just one more set, darling; never is.”

“Then I’ll keep going until the next set comes, and just carry on until it’s officially finished.”

“That would be until the war ends. You really think you can keep doing this until then? The war won’t be over before the baby’s born.”

“We can hope,” You shrugged, brushing off poor Niles’ attempts to slow you down. “Really, I’m fine! I can handle this all for the war effort. It’s the least I can do, now that I’m like this.”

“I’m partially to blame for this, you know.” He sighed, “We should’ve waited until after the war before I knocked you up.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t say it like that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Of course,” He grinned, coming around the desk and running his fingers over your shoulders. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“Much better.” You tilted your head back, leaning into his chest. He kissed the top of your head, the two of you lingering in a quiet moment. They were so very few and far between.

“...Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. If not for me, for the little one.” 

“I will try my best.” You assured him, though it didn’t do much for him in the way of easing his concerns.

Rather, the poor man only found the situation worsened over time.

 It would get to the point where he’d be getting to bed late and you’d still be up, hunched over your desk and looking utterly miserable as you tried to scribble out the last part of another approval or replying to your brother’s letters.

He tried to speak with them about reducing the workload, but you’d already circumvented that, somehow. They’d explain how they had already tried, seeing as you’re heavily pregnant, but you were insistent.

That, and he suspected you had some dirt on them that allowed you to bend their wills so easily. 

He was at a loss.

Niles didn’t consider himself the paternal type, not in the least. But it did hurt him to think that you were overworking yourself to the point that your aches were worse, your diet was worsening, and on top of all that, the ramifications that it was having on his unborn child.

He did his best to enforce a bedtime, or at the very least compromise and let you work from the bed until the candles were out. 

The whole time, he could see you getting more irritated, less patient and it was not going well. It was getting to be a point of concern for the staff, too. The longer it went on, the closer and closer you got to breaking.

When the moment did come, it happened quietly.

Niles had missed the courier on his way in, but he stepped into the kitchen to prepare some tea for himself and his wife (at the very least to force a nice, relaxing break on you against your will).

The courier looked rather pale as he passed, giving Niles a quick bow in acknowledgement of his station.

“Sir.”

“You look a little green, soldier.”

“Well…i-it’s… Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Spit it out. Don’t leave me in suspense.” Niles leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

It had been a while since he got to tease someone…you’d lost the patience for it a trimester ago.

“It’s the princess. I believe she’s in distress.”

“Corrin?”

He straightened up.

“What do you mean?”

“She looked pale when I brought the package in…and her hands were shaking. I-I tried to ask if she was alright, but she ordered me out.”

“I see.” Niles frowned deeply, seeing the courier out. It took about three steps before he was striding across the manor and down the corridor. It wasn’t like you to snap at anyone, let alone an innocent party like that.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Corrin?” He rapped his knuckles on the door to your office. The handle wasn’t locked, but you also weren’t answering him. “Hey, I’m coming in.”

What greeted him when the heavy oak thing opened wrenched his heart in two. 

You covered your face with your arms, leaned over your desk while your shoulders shook. The papers that were so carefully stacked before had now been strewn about.

You were a mess from top to bottom.

Niles was at your side without a second’s hesitation.

He pulled your seat back so that you might turn to face him, which gave him a glimpse of tears streaming down your cheeks before you threw yourself into his arms.

He wrapped you up in warm embrace, hugging onto you as tight as possible. You were trembling.

“Hey, now…what’s going on?”

“Y-you…were right…” You sniffled pitifully, breath catching in your chest, “I-i-it’s too m-much.”

“Breathe,” His tone was soothing, which did not coexist well with the panic tightening his chest. “Try to calm down a little bit, so you can talk to me.”

“Yeah.” You sniffed again, nuzzling into him.

Niles held you for a long while. The baby bumped here and there between you, which Niles was relieved about; at least someone in his household still felt well.

Eventually your breathing evened out, and your tears slowed to a stop. When you managed to lean away from your husband’s chest, he still held on, cupping your face with his cheeks.

“Better?” He whispered, rubbing away the tracks that stained your skin. You nodded quietly, leaning into his palm. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“N-no, I…I was overwhelmed. That’s why I started crying. It’s silly, really.” You shook your head, prompting him to release you so you could wipe at your own eyes. “You tried to stop me so many times, but I thought I could still be useful to the army if I could take on more work until I was able to return to the battlefield.”

“The army won’t fall apart while you’re gone.” He reminded you gently, “Your family and friends are more than capable of keeping things running while you’re out.”

“But I shouldn’t be out in the first place.” You protested, “I just…i-it’s not that I don’t want the baby. I’m happy that we’re going to have a family together, truly. But I hate that I’m sidelined while everyone else is still working so hard.” 

“You want to do your share.” He nodded softly, “But that’s why there are protocols in place. You’re not the first to get pregnant on the campaign trail, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

“But I’m the one who’s supposed to be leading the charge in the first place, and now I’ve left it to everybody else.”

“They want to help, and they want you to be safe and healthy while you’re delivering a newborn baby.” He reminded you tenderly, taking your little hands into his. “They can survive without you for a few more months. You’ve given them a huge head start with all this work you took on as it is…so let them handle the rest. While you rest.”

You smiled when he emphasized the last few words. He wasn’t wrong after all. Maybe it’d be okay to let them be for a little while. If it was really an emergency, they’d come, wouldn’t they?

After careful deliberation (and Niles’ sweet kisses), you finally conceded his point.

“...All right. I’ll…I’ll slow down.”

“All the way?”

“To a stop.”

“Good girl.” He beamed at you, “Come on. Let’s go take a warm bath and relax a while before dinner. We can plan out what to do with our littl evacuation while we’ve got it.”

“What about all this?”

“We can clean it up and deal with it, later. If anything we’ll mail it right back. I’m sure your brothers will be pleased to know I’ve managed to defeat the unstoppable Corrin.”

“Don’t gloat too much.” You huffed, letting him help you up. His arm came firmly around your waist, the other still squeezing your hand as he led you to the master bath.

“I can’t help it. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long…getting to force you into bed and do whatever I want you to do.”

“Which in this case is…?” “Forcing the mother of my child to sleep at a decent hour, next to her loving husband.”

“What a torturous request…” You roll your eyes, earning a kiss and a laugh that was quickly reciprocated. 

Niles did love you, even if you caused such struggle in his heart.

It was an unusual feeling, to worry and care so deeply for someone besides himself…let alone a person he hadn’t even met yet!

But it made him beyond happy just the same, to know you were going to be safe and warm for the rest of the pregnancy.

It was only a little longer before the culprit behind all those punches and kicks on his palms was brought into the world; a little girl with bright red cheeks, her mother’s war cry and her father’s mysterious (mischievous) eyes.

A worthy wait, indeed.

[aceofshitposts]

Any pairing except jaytim and “Tell me a secret.”, please?

any pairing EXCEPT jaytim?? are you trying to kill my engagement?? [joke] for real though you didn't specify a fandom so i came THIS close to writing tuggoffelees just to throw you all for a loop but decided bruharley has me by the throat enough the they won out ;P

-

Harley plops herself against the wall with a loud, "oof," the moment it becomes apparent that the building isn't about to come down around them. Well. Any more than it already had.

Batman stands by the opposite wall, apparently finding the new architecture to be the highest form of entertainment. Rude, honestly. Harley tugs off her hood and begins the process of running her hands through her resulting hat hair.

"Well, this sucks major balls," she announces just as her hand becomes stuck on a particularly nasty knot. She really needed to remember to put her hair up in a bun or something to avoid this instead of just jamming her hood on in a rush.

Batman grunts.

Harley blows a raspberry against her palm. Two can play at the nondescript noises game. Batman turns to look at her, she gets the distinct impression he's raising an eyebrow at her.

"You gonna punch your way through?" Harley challenges, just for the chance of a response. Batman looks down at his fist like he's considering it. Jesus Christ.

"No, the others would have heard about the collapse. We'll just have to wait."

Not ideal, clearly, from the way Batman goes back to inspecting the space for weak spots. Harley tries to busy herself too, drawing scribbles into the dirt with her foot until the silence becomes a growing static in her brain.

"Tell me somethin'," Harley says impulsively, idea gaining form in her mind as she speaks, "yeah, tell me a secret."

"I'm not telling you my identity," Bats says with his arms crossed over his chest. Christ, so defensive.

"That can't be the only secret you have but sure, fine, go back to assessing how much damage you'd do to your arm if you tried punching the wall. You can't tell me that just standing there doing nothing isn't driving you batty. Pun fully intended." Harley even sticks her tongue out for good measure.

She's picking at a loose thread in her costume by her ankle, dreading how many times she was going to inevitably stab herself trying to patch the hole when there's a rustle of fabric and Batman plunks himself down beside her without a word.

"There's platforms in my boots," he says after a minute of terse silence where Harley had stared at him and he'd stared at a spot of wall on the opposite side of the room.

"What," Harley says flatly.

"And every couple years I'll adjust the height slightly just to confuse Green Lantern at Justice League meetings."

"Holy shit," Harley wheezes, hugging her knees tight to her chest as she laughs.

Ice broken, Batman appears to be quite chatty when he wants to be; relishing Harley in several stories of various pranks and other means of psychological warfare he and even his flock of birds have played against members of the Justice League.

He even cracks a smile at one of Harley's jokes.