#crossover snippet

[nonsscrapheap]

Hello again same annon from the last ask! Loving the new chapter! Ahhh can’t wait for the next take your time!

I am here to ask a scenario that probably many thought of but probably too early for the story so far but! What if the original idw lost light meet DTFB!Hot Rod? Like a duplicate that accidentally got on the lost light type of story since you finished the comics already, there is stark contrast to the LL!Rodimus we know as in personality and abilities in consideration, LL!Rodimus flamethrower is a Mod while Roddy is a outlier ability I know the canon in DTFB is not restricted to one continuity but I love ideas of other continuities meeting a character that is drastically different from the one they know and Brainstorm probably freaking out about the breathing forms, and how it seems like it could be taught to about anyone that has the motivations and/or determination to learn it basically.

you have NO idea how much i've thought about it ever since- no even BEFORE i finished mtmte and LL. i want LL!roddy to meet DTFB!roddy, i want my roddy's shenanigans seen by the others.

i want my roddy to end up surprisingly envious over LL!roddy for [SOMETHING I CANNOT EXPLAIN YET] and also [MORE SOMETHING I CANNOT EXPLAIN YET]

[REDACTED, SO MUCH REDACTED BECAUSE WE'RE NOT THERE YET]

BUT- fuck it, snippet time!

===== Fire Bot on Lost Light =====

"What am I looking at Brainstorm?" Rodimus questioned dryly as he, Ultra Magnus, Megatron and Drift, stood in Perceptor and Brainstorm's shared lab on the Lost Light. The two scientist having called them over for something important.

"Behold, Simpatico presents; The AU Observer!" Brainstorm exclaimed with his usual flare. Perceptor had rolled his optics but was presenting it either way, a stark contrast to the way he acted towards Brainstorm at the start of Lost Light.

They all stood in the lab in front of the largest screen there, the words AU Observer were scrawled over the screen along with a loading screen and the words Scanning AU...

"With how we're jumping between universes now, I thought it prudent that we see which universe we are jumping into first. To avoid... well, to avoid another situation as last week." Perceptor replied and they all made faceplates at last week's universe jump.

A universe where alignments had all switched with the chivalrous Autobots becoming somehow even more terrible monsters than the old Decepticons? Yeah, they got out of that universe as soon as they could.

"We still cannot exactly choose which universe to go into, but we can at least get a forewarning and a general explanation of what is to come."

Both Ultra Magnus and Megatron seemed to approve of it while Rodimus peered at the screen, "Is it scanning the next universe already?"

"Indeed!" Brainstorm nodded, "Actually, we scanned it before hand but it was a small sample." He brought up a picture of... Rodimus? No, it wasn't Rodimus. It was Hot Rod. With green optics and some different detailing but it was definitely Hot Rod, Rodimus' old identity and frame. "Since you are our illustrious main captain of our duo-captain system, I thought it was only fair that we use your likeness to find the Rodimus in the next universe- Lo and behold, we found you! Somewhat."

"Huh, so what, in this universe I have green optics?" Rodimus couldn't help but ask, intrigued by his other self. Drift snorted, amused at the sight of the green optics yet couldn't help but find Hot Rod's optics... kind for some reason. The smile on his derma certainly helped.

"And you have yet to hold the Matrix, your frame hasn't been reformatted." Ultra Magnus noted, peering at the mech's green optics.

Megatron hummed, "How long until the scan is finished? What can we see?"

Perceptor tapped against his keyboard. "Not long, we're still locked on to Rodi- pardon, locked on to Hot Rod, so we shall soon see him in action at least."

"Speaking of which! It's done!" Brainstorm announced as suddenly the screen changed.

All their faceplates immediately turned grim as they found themselves seeing an area with grey bodies with torn chassis and spilled energon. There was a strange amount of mirrors around, floating in the air, and Hot Rod was in the middle of it.

Heaving, panting and hurt. Optics wide and searching as he tensely looked around his surroundings.

In his servos was a katana, similar yet different to the kind that Drift carried. The blade was interesting, a dark mixture of white, red and blue swirling along the metal, glowing like cracks on the sword's blade.

"What the frag?" Rodimus asked as Hot Rod kept stance.

"Give it up, you may have killed other demons but I can assure you. I am no demon you have ever faced." A voice reverberated from the mirrors, a dark shadowy figure in each mirror with haunting pale blue optics.

"Demons?" Drift repeated tensely, his own servo instinctively going to his swords at his sides.

"Perceptor! Brainstorm! Is this happening now?" Megatron barked as Hot Rod's optics narrowed, energon dripping from his intake as he kept his guard up.

"It is! It's-" Brainstorm quietened when the screen spoke once more.

"Those other demons were talentless brutes who were not worthy in becoming like me. You may have slain other demons but I... am far above them." A figure darted out of the mirror, faster than a normal mech's optic could process- Hot Rod had barely reacted in time, managing to change directions and block an incoming clawed servo with his sword with a grunt.

It revealed who he was fighting up against- "Is that a sparkeater!?" It looked very similar to a typical spark eater. Only it wasn't decaying or dilapidated. Their frame was polished, shiny, underneath the stain of energon. But those sharp metallic tail-like bladed tendrils were unmistakeable. "Why is it talking?!"

"And how did it get out of that mirror?" Ultra Magnus asked and pointed out at the same time.

Spark-eaters were mindless, and they certainly couldn't jump out of mirrors!

"I believe that is just how spark eaters are in that universe." Perceptor said with a tense and haunted look on his faceplate, no doubt remembering the time he and several others had been turned into sparkeaters.

Hot Rod struggled to keep against the spark-eaters strength but managed to grin, "You'd be surprised!" His optics sharpened before his moved. A strange whistling in the air as abruptly, he slashed at the so called 'demon' spark eater.

Ni no Kata kai: Yoko Mizu Guruma!

It took a second for the words to translate from... Human Japanese?? It meant; Second Form: Improved, Lateral Water Wheel.

But in the same second, before anyone could even ask any type of question- water seemed to phase into existence. Slicing a circle around him, the sharp liquid crashed into the intelligent spark eater, sending them flying back against the mirrors- but instead of going inside, it cracked the mirror they landed on. The tendrils they had were cut off, flailing in clear pain.

"What the heck was that?!"

Rodimus held his servos up at the looks he got, "Don't look at me! I have no idea why that Hot Rod has a weird water mod! It very much clashes with our name though, I thought he would've gone for a fire one."

"I don't think that's a mod." They all turned to Brainstorm who seemed enthralled by the Hot Rod on the screen. "There's something off about this, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Grrr- right, yes. The weird swordsmechship you can do." The demon snarled, pained and- were they healing? The tails were back! What the pit?! "I'll give you that, Hot Rod. You're no ordinary mech- someone who dealt with Proteus wouldn't be that easy to kill..."

Proteus? Who??

"Senator Proteus?" Megatron muttered incredulously, recognizing the name.

"This is your last chance, demon. Surrender! Atone for the innocent lives you've take—" Hot Rod said, optics burning with righteous determination, something that Rodimus was cheering for yet at the same time. He couldn't remember if he'd been like that when he was younger... Definitely not.

This alternate universe was already so wild with just him alone! Not to mention the spark eater.

"Never! Those worthless lowlives have two uses! To work as they were forged and constructed or to be feasted on by those more powerful than them! Like ME!" Primus could you be any more villainous?

Megatron's faceplate twisted into an angry scowl, glaring at the sparkeater. He was very pleased to see anger on Hot Rod's own faceplate.

"Speaking of such, did you know, little slayer? We are being watched. Not by my brethren, but something else. And I sense such delicious sparks akin to yours."

"Someone else is there? Brainstorm, can we look around or-"

Ultra Magnus interrupted him, optics wide as suddenly the demon was looking at them. "He's talking about us!" He barked suddenly the spark eater launched itself at them, at the screen. Behind him, Hot Rod looked alarmed and immediately sprinted towards the spark eater.

"That's impossible!" Perceptor barked but suddenly the AU Observer's screen sparked and shattered- with the force of a spark eater and a familiar red and yellow mech behind it.

"SCATTER!" Megatron screamed, grabbing Rodimus and throwing them both to the side to avoid the flailing spark eater who hissed and snarled. Drift and Ultra Magnus had done the same, with Drift unsheathing his own swords, prepared to fight.

Hot Rod landed in a roll but immediately leapt towards the spark eater, speaking human Japanese once more.

Mizu no Kokyū - Shichi no Kata: Shizuku Hamon Tsuki!

This time, the translation was automatic.

Water Breathing - Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust

Hot Rod stabbed his sword several times at the spark eater- water forming once more, a surface that depicted droplets that were sharply stabbed against the howling spark eater.

"PUT THE LAB IN EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN MODE!" Ultra Magnus roared as Hot Rod was suddenly flung back thanks to a lashing sharp tail, a cut along his chassis all the way to his shoulder.

===== Fire Bot on Lost Light =====

i would write more but- well, honestly i shouldn't XD im going to end up writing spoiler territory stuff- i mean i kinda already did but im still on the fence of the details ive already revealed so those may or may not be changed.

but yeah, this is ONE of the ways hot rod could've accidentally gotten on the lost light.

i have other ways in mind but for now...

im gonna leave it at that hehehe

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #10

"Oh hell naw!"

Goon Nr.1 shouted the moment the bag got pulled of Danny's head, and he squinted at the light. His eyes adjusted.

"I am not paid enough to deal with a Wayne kid!" Goon Nr.2 groan.

Danny blinked again. Now he could just... easily walk out of this, but the school trip had been boring, and he thought he could get in some rough housing if he let this men... like kidnapped him. You know? Like he does with his ghost rogues. But this was unexpected now that these guys were apparently getting a closer look at him.

"Come on its Wayne kid! The Ransom will be a big pay out." Goon Nr.3 said cheerful.

Danny blinked again, the other two goons giving the third one a rather deadpan stare.

"New guy?" Nr.2 asked.

"New guy." Nr.1 confirmed.

Okay, this was the point on which Danny was now puzzled. Who were the Wayne's? Why was kidnapping them bad? And was this a good moment to transform and get a bit of brawl in? He really wanted some action after all the museums and sightseeing trips Mr. Lancer took the class on.

Goon Nr.1 was now patting Nr.3's shoulder like he was an innocent child. "Dude, we don't mess with the Waynes because that alerts the Bats. We don't want to deal with Batman if we don't have too."

"Last time I worked for Peguin, he strung me up and tied me to a roof..." Nr.2 shivered.

"I saw him take out ten guys at once before... ran for my life that day." Nr.1 sighted before he shook his head. "And that's when Batman has a good day. On a bad day... you will have broken bones."

"And in the worst case, you get one of his spawns to show up instead." Goon Nr.2 added on.

"Uh... Spawns?" Danny couldn't help but ask, blinking from his spot on a chair, no longer tied onto it as he had already phased out of the ropes while they weren't looking.

"The Robin's!" The two goons said in sync and then proceeded to launch into an explanation about the Robin's, their theory about which Robin became which other vigilante according to the timeline and how Red Hood fit into that theory and also why they were so much worse when they showed up instead of Batman.

Danny won't deny it. That was kind of the most interesting part of his school trip now, as he sat there nodding along to the explanation Goon Nr.1 and Nr.2 were giving him and Nr.3.

Meanwhile...

Mr. Lancer was panicked. One Danny Fenton was missing. A Fenton was mission. He lost a God damn Fenton in an unknown city. He needed to do damage control and that quickly. Unknowingly alerting the Bats to the situation through contacting the GCPD to find one blue-eyed, black haired teenager.

[kettlefire]

As Good as Good Gets (DP X DC Snippet)

Richard "Dick" Grayson is the golden child. In the eyes of the public, and in the eyes of the league. Dick is a sweet, caring son, a man who went from being a sidekick to being a hero. The pipeline from Robin to Nightwing had many people applauding his dedication to keeping Gotham safe.

No one knew the full story, not truly. No one but Bruce Wayne himself. And maybe a certain butler. Many don't know that Dick only became Robin to stop him from hunting down and killing the man who killed his parents.

No one really knows about the harsh fights and arguments he has had with Bruce. The times when Dick would find himself cut off from the Wayne name for a week or so. No one knows that the first person Dick warmed up to was Alfred. Having been bribed with cookies.

Things weren't always this good, trusting, happy relationship between Bruce and Dick. It had been a rough ride, a complicated one. But that was okay, because it got better.

Dick stopped being so moody and angsty. He grew up, he learned, and he changed. He became an older brother, found people that needed him. Needed him in a way that the citizens of Gotham didn't need him.

His brothers like to call him annoying. A goody two shoes who Bruce trusted more than everyone else. They couldn't fathom how someone like Dick could be so stupid and bubbly at all times.

All times, except when shit hits the fans. Despite the name calling, despite coining Dick as the stupid Wayne. They all knew better. They knew that when it mattered, Dick Grayson always pulled through. He was a force to be reckoned with when needed.

The whole Wayne family was a force to be reckoned with when called for. It didn't have to be under the guise of costumes and vigilante acts. Whether he was Officer Grayson or Nightwing, Dick was a man with his morals and values.

One night on patrol as Officer Grayson, Dick found someone who needed that force. A force willing to protect and care for the innocent. The hurt. The damaged, yet still good.

It started like any other night. A call of shots fired by an empty warehouse. There was no sighting or knowledge of any rouges being there, so Dick took the call. Told the team he'll contact them if it seems more than just a civilian incident.

The warehouse was dark, reeked of copper and oil. It didn't take long for Dick to find the trail. The liquid he found looked like the person had been dragged before walking. There was a clear struggle, even with the mess and emptiness that was the warehouse.

That wasn't Dick's biggest concern. The concern lay in just how much blood there was. Too much for any normal person to lose and still manage to stumble through the warehouse.

It wasn't just blood. It wasn't that much, but Dick could spot the strangeness in the liquid. The mixed in green that had an eerily similar color and glow as a certain pit.

Without thinking, Dick followed the trail. Barely remembering to make contact with his family. Give them an update on what he found. Words telling him to stay put for backup went in one ear and out the other.

Something in Dick's gut was telling him he couldn't wait. He needed to find the source. Whoever was currently bleeding out in this warehouse. He silenced the comm, moving further through the dimly lit building.

Then Dick found it. Or more so, he found him. It was just a boy. A boy that reminded Dick too much of the youngest Wayne. A boy sat against a wall, looking pale and weak.

Red and green coated the front of the boy's shirt, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. An attempt to stem the bleeding. A puddle had already started to form beneath the boy, and Dick moved without thinking once again.

He quickly found himself kneeling beside the boy, hands carefully reaching out. Before Dick even touched him, the boy flinched. Eyelids suddenly opened, wide and terrified blue eyes landed on Dick's.

In just that one look, Dick knew what he had to do. The haunting, terrified, and pained look in the boy's eyes told Dick everything he needed to know. The boy was in danger. Someone had hurt this kid, and it was clear it wasn't the first time.

The boy struggled weakly against Dick's touch, terrified whimpers, and barely coherent pleas spilled from the kid's lips. It had Dick's heart aching, clear as day the poor kid has been through hell and back.

It took a lot of reassurance, gentle touches, and promises of help before the kid let Dick take a look at the bleeding wound. A promise on Dick's soul had been the final thing that earned him any semblance of trust. A strange promise, but Dick was willing to make it.

That concern turned to pure anger the moment Dick managed to pull the sticky shirt away from the wound. The sight of a Y-incision cut perfectly into the skin, stitches tight on the skin, but blood still leaking heavily from the wound.

It didn't take long for Dick to realize why. Despite the perfect surgical care of the wound, a good couple of stitches had broken. Leaving gaping spots for that red and green liquid to pour out of.

The boy was deathly silent, tears streaking down his cheek as wide blue eyes stayed trained on Dick. In that moment, Dick knew he had to help. Had to get the kid to safety, patch him up, and find out what kind of monster would do this.

It didn't matter if the kid was human or not. It didn't matter if the kid had special abilities or not. No one, absolutely no one, deserved to be vivisected.

The kid was shrouded in mystery, but that mystery only seemed to grow and become clearer when Bruce had entered the scene. The boy had tensed, eyes flashing a bright glowing green.

Lazarus pit green.

It set a pit of dread in Dick's gut. His mind brings forward memories of Jason. Jason, after his revival, after his dip in that cursed pit. The same flash that his brother would get if he got too angry. Too emotional.

As much as Dick wanted to focus on finding who did this, if it had any connection to Ra's al Ghul. He couldn't. Not when the kid tried to get up, to pull away as Bruce and the others made their way closer.

Right now, Dick only cared about making sure the boy was okay. Fixing those stitches, getting him a meal, and a warm bed.

He needed to get this kid someplace where he felt safe and secure. Comfortable and protected. Dick wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the promise he had made, but he wasn't letting anyone get to the kid.

That included his family. As strange as it seemed, Dick put himself between the others and the kid. Shooting them all a glare that they had only ever seen a handful of times.

Dick lifted the poor boy up in his arms, cradling the crying child close as he led the way out of the warehouse. Ignoring the questions or confusion coming from Bruce and the others. As Dick walked, feeling the trembling boy clinging to him, he made a rather obvious realization.

Maybe the eldest son really was more like Bruce than he expected. Just a few short moments the the boy, a boy that Dick didn't know his name, and he was ready to pull out adoption papers. To give the boy a safety he so desperately needs.

Give him the chance that Bruce had given him all those years ago.

[yoonjae20]

A series of snapshots of how the public views Danny’s return [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I can't believe it's been already 5 days since I last written something. University has kept me so busy.

Anyway — on to the next part! I tried something different for the first half, I hope it's not too jarring. I thought it would be fun to have a sort of outside view of how the public see Danny and Bruce.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous. Next.

“Did you guys see the interview Lois Lane did with Bruce Wayne and his husband?” 

“I was so shocked when I heard the news. They do look cute together though!”

“I still can't believe that the most eligible bachelor of Gotham had been married all along! It does explain why he never dated anyone.”

“I know right! But they must be super private for it to only come out now.”

“Actually they said in the interview that his husband was busy with other affairs outside the country.”

“Don’t you think it almost makes it sound like he’s a royalty from a far away land? He was so serious when he said he needed to take care of his duties and responsibilities.”

“No way you are believing that conspiracy theory. There’s a thread that debunked it already. Apparently he’s from some no name city in the Midwest.”

“I did think he had an accent I couldn’t place. Did you watch the clip of the interview where Lois Lane asked who proposed first?”

“Wait, what? I can’t believe I missed that, I hadn’t had time to watch the full interview!”

“Me neither.”

“Here let me pull it up.”

“-So who proposed first?”

Danny and Bruce look at each other for a moment and the latter groans at the expression his husband wears.

“Please not, love.”

“But it’s such an adorable story!” 

“Now I’m only more curious,” Lois chuckles. 

“Well we were quite drunk that day to be honest,” Danny laughs. “It was almost midnight when we decided we needed a hotel. Unfortunately all rooms were booked other than a Love Suite.”

Lois leans forward, eager to hear more.

“The receptionist said they don’t have a room for us both unless we are a couple-“

Bruce buries his face into his hands.

“And Bruce said and I quote ‘Actually we are fiancées.’ I don’t know if the receptionist or Bruce was more flustered when we woke up in the morning.”

“Wow!” Lois exclaims. “I never thought I’d see the day where Bruce is embarrassed.”

Bruce still doesn’t look up from where he hides his face. 

“Yeah he couldn’t look me in the eyes for the entire following day,” Danny snickers. “I actually asked him when the wedding would be while we were eating breakfast. He almost choked on his food!” 

The clips ends and the girls giggle.

“And still people believe Bruce Wayne isn’t a huge himbo.” 

“I do wonder how his youngest came to be. Did he cheat while his husband was away on business?”

One of the girls opens her mouth but before she can share her opinion the other interrupts.

“If you tell me you believe the rumors he’s a clone too then I’m gonna hit you, Sarah.” 

“I’m just saying that we never saw his mother in public!” 

A loudspeaker announces the next stop.

“Come on, we’ll have to hurry to get the bus.”

Their voices fade as they leave the subway. 

“Huh, isn’t that Bruce Wayne’s husband? Who is that next to him?”

“I think that’s Jason Todd, you know the one who died and came back a few years ago? Apparently he was in witness protection or something.”

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize him. They look so familiar with each other.”

They watch as the older man cackles as he throws fries in his mouth while the younger scowls and playfully punches the man’s forearm. 

“Yeah I heard that now that he is back in Gotham he has been on several outings with the rest of Bruce’s kids.”

“Even with his youngest?”

“Yeah they went to the zoo. With his oldest son he visited him at work I think. He also went to his daughter’s performance. I’m not sure if he did something with the Drake boy.”

“Talking about the devil…”

The door to the Batburger opens, Tim Drake as well as the rest of Bruce Wayne’s brood following him. The older man cheerfully greets them, ruffling the hair of Tim as he sits down next to him. Soon their happy chatter fills the fast food restaurant and the ones watching them move on to other topics. 

“I was skeptical but they do make a good pair.”

Bruce Wayne and his husband are greeting their guests for the charity with matching suits and beaming smiles. Bruce leans to whisper something in the man’s ear and he nods. He politely excuses himself before he hurries out of the room with a champagne glass in hand. 

“Indeed. I’m a bit surprised how well adjusted his husband is, considering I can’t recall ever seeing him at a gala.”

Bruce watches the man go with a genuine smile before he turns back to the people surrounding him.

“That brings me back to when Mr. Wayne first returned to Gotham. I can’t help but feel he looks more at ease now.”

“I know what you mean. He’s mellowed out a lot over the years. To think he had a secret lover he had been hiding all this time…”

“And he seems to be getting along with his kids too. Talking about them-”

Damian Wayne approaches his father, telling him something. Bruce hums before he excuses himself and his son as they go in the direction his husband had gone too. The two high society members quickly forgot about the strangeness of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tim Drake so serious.”

“To think that Mr. Wayne would have died without his husband there- It sickens me.”

“The fact that his son has to hold the press conference must mean his injuries are even worse than speculated.”

“I heard that he might need to relearn to walk too.”

“His husband looked furious when the reporters swarmed them once they arrived at the scene — honestly I would be too.”

“They have no shame.”

“I wouldn’t want to be them or the Clown now.”

“I can’t believe Red Robin and Signal let him slip away. Where were Batman and Robin anyway?”

“I have no idea either. And here I thought Batman favors Mr. Wayne and his family.”

“It did seem that way. If the Clown washes up dead, I’m betting on Mr. Wayne’s husband.”

“One can only hope.”

Danny opens the door with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Those damn vultures. If he had known how annoying they would be, he would have convinced Bruce to go live with him in the Infinite Realms — although he knows that despite their love for each other, his need for revenge had outweighed everything else once he finished his travels across the world. 

He shakes his head and steps in the room, eyes trailing to the bed — Bruce should be still out on pain medications-

“Bruce!” Danny chides when he sees the man struggling to stand up from where he is seated on his bed. “What are you doing?”

He hurries to the man’s side and helps him back into the bed as he groans.

“What happened?”

Danny frowns as he sits down the chair next to his bedside. It pains him to see Bruce so obviously weak, face drenched in sweat — if he finds that Clown, he’ll-

“There was a Rogue attack during the charity gala,” Danny explains as he pushes away the dark thoughts — he can plan with Jason later. He is sure the boy will take him up on the offer. “Don’t you remember?”

“What about the target?”

Danny sighs as he leans back, eyes tired — he hadn’t slept a single wink since the incident, but leave it to Bruce to be concerned about anything other than his own health.

“Tim and Cass managed to detain them. We got surprised before you and Damian could change into your costumes.”

Danny knits his eyebrows together as Bruce raises a hand to his temple, obviously straining his memory to recall what happened. 

“You should rest, darling,” Danny leans forward and puts his hands over the man’s left hand. “My ectoplasm sped up things, but you were quite hurt. I'll tell the kids that you are awake.”

He moves to stand but Bruce grasps his wrist before he can move from his spot. It’s feather light — nothing like the reliable, strong grip Bruce normally has. Danny gnaws at his lips as he waits for Bruce to compose himself. 

“Stay,” he says, voice exhausted before he murmurs, “please.”

If this were any other circumstances Danny would have snorted at the man’s display of rather lacking emotional vulnerability, but this is also the first time in many years that he has seen the man seriously hurt and had been powerless to prevent it even though he had been right there. The comfort Bruce is seeking right now — it’s also something Danny needs. To make sure the man is still alive. 

The man scoots over as Danny climbs in the hospital bed and pulls him closer once Danny makes himself comfortable. Danny falls asleep to the rhythmic, slow sound of the man’s heartbeat.

Danny wakes up to hushed voices talking. He keeps his eyes closed as he becomes aware of his surroundings.There’s a hand in his hair and he can hear the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he speaks-

“-He looks too exhausted.”

“You should have seen him when he brought you to the ambulance,” Jason chuckles. “I thought he was gonna bite the next reporter that shoved themselves in his way.”

“We can be glad Daniel was there Father,” Damian says before he hesitates. “I don’t think I would have been able..:”

He trails off and the atmosphere turns somber. 

“Has there been a press conference yet?” Bruce asks as he shifts to hold Danny a bit closer.

“Yes, Tim took care of it,” Jason says. “He and Dick will come by tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Danny can feel Bruce nodding. “Go return to the manor, it’s getting late and I’m sure Alfred won’t appreciate you coming home after curfew.” 

Danny doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Jason is probably rolling his eyes.

“You say as if all your kids aren’t running around as vigilantes at night,” Jason says. “Besides I’m going to one of my safe houses for the night.”

Bruce grunts, displeased and Jason sighs. 

“Fine I’ll go to the manor,” he gives in. “But only because these are special circumstances.”

Bruce lets out a hum, now obviously pleased.

“Should we wake Danny?”

“No, Iet him sleep,” Bruce says, before a bit of amusement slips into his tone. “I’m sure the nurse will let it be once she recognizes him as Bruce Wayne’s husband.”

Jason scoffs, but doesn’t protest. Damian says goodbye to his father before both of them leave. It’s several minutes later that Bruce chuckles.

“I know that you are awake.”

Danny opens one eye, peaking at Bruce who is looking at him with a soft smile. He’s propped up against the headboard and Danny is relieved to see him looking better than when he stepped in the room a few hours ago. 

Danny sits up and raises an eyebrow.

“My breathing?” he asks and Bruce snorts. 

“It doesn’t need a Detective to notice that you suddenly started breathing again although you didn’t while you were asleep.”

Danny huffs out a breath — that tell is the only reason why Danny can never deceive the man. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Danny says as he leans against the man.

Bruce frowns as he tucks Danny into his side.

“Have they-”

“They all have been very accepting and lovely Bruce,” Danny interrupts. “You have good kids. I just feel bad that I have been monopolizing their attention. After all, you are their father even if some of them try to deny it.”

“You are now too,” Bruce says, surprising Danny, “if you want.”

Danny smiles as he answers, “I know. But that’s up to them.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who can refuse you.”

Danny snorts.

“You are just biased, darling.”

Bruce shrugs, expression content. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Danny laughs as he shakes his head. 

Yeah, they’ll be fine — no matter what others might think about them. (And if he has to kill a Clown for that to happen, he will gladly do so.)

[stars-obsession-pit]

Amanda Waller scanned through another lengthy report from the leadership of the Ghost Investigation Ward. Worthless. So much posturing, yet not a single important development in their research.

She made a mental note to try to replace whoever wrote the report with someone less prone to bullshit. Not that the odds were great of finding suitable replacements—all her most competent and loyal agents were tied up dealing with more pressing concerns.

For all the dangers ghosts and ectoplasm posed, they were at least rare. Natural portals were uncommon and typically short-lived, and earthbound shades were weak enough to pose little risk. The development of anti-ghost weaponry was vitally important for real national security but could, for now, be left on the back burner without too much direct oversight from her.

Then one single line caught her eye. An offhand mention. Independent ghost hunters Jack and Madeline Fenton claim to have created a functional ghost portal.

It probably wasn’t true—lord knows she’s seen plenty of hoaxes before—but something about it made her pause. It might be finally time to send transfer some of her better agents to the Ward to look into things properly.

[hughmanbean]

Dick and Jason are dead. A causality of battle.

Well, not really. But the otherworldly hunter thought they were, and it really wasn't in their best interests to dispute that. It was too chaotic to get back to Bruce, so they decided to just wait it out.

There was a scuffle and the crate opened, the two of them taking the opportunity to jump out.

Jason scans the room. Dick stretches.

"What in the-"

---

"You sure, Skulker?"

"Trust me, High Whelp, these two were knocked out cold!"

Danny opens the door. They look at him. He turns back to Skulker.

"You know, for the Best Hunter of the Infinite Realms, you sure aren't good at keeping your prey down."

[ohai-there]

scumplane narut for the ask game!

@croutonconfidential Sorry for the delay! I got cooked!

Including this post and this post!

"Regarding the criminal you're pursuing," Minato says, grabbing the report scroll his ANBU had presented to him this morning, "a large explosion of chakra was felt to the west of the village and once we sent in teams to investigate, they reported a large crater in the forest. We've also received reports about the man sharing the description given wandering through some of our rural towns, injured. I've had a team follow him from a distance, since."

Shen Qingqiu raises a perfectly sculpted brow, "straight into business, hm?" and Shang Qinghua elbows him in the ribs and gets a sharp slap of fan over the head for it, "Martial Elder Brother Shen, they have different customs from us. You can't expect them to go for a gift-giving ceremony."

Minato pauses, was he supposed to be giving gifts to the Guests??? But Shen Qingqiu just snorts, his face as smooth as jade as he flicks an arm out and just says, "Ming Fan."

One of the disciples, the one who had knocked on the carriage door, steps forward and clasps his hands together, the back of his palms facing Minato, "Hokage-sama," he says, bows lightly, and slips one hand into his long, long sleeve.

Minato can feel his ANBU tensing, preparing for a weapon to be drawn, but Minato keeps his body relaxed as a show of trust.

Ming Fan pulls out a large, gold-gilded wooden box from within his sleeves, was he carrying that with him this entire time??? and no one noticed????? and he presents it with both hands and a shallow bow.

"For your hospitality," Shen Qingqiu says disdainfully, "to show our appreciation for your assistance."

"Ah," Shang Qinghua says, "right. Disciple One, my gift as well."

One of the women steps forward, her own heavy wooden box in her hands. It's inlaid with blue gemstones of all colours and silver detailing and Minato can feel the wealth radiating from the box itself.

"Of course," Shang Qinghua introduces, "gold. We weren't sure if spirit stones would be in circulation here, beyond the barrier, so gold is always a safe option. A tea set, made from the master who lives atop of the Great Eastern Mountain bordering the Demonic Realm, made with the volcanic ash of the mountain pressed into the porcelain that enhances the taste of tea steeped within."

The woman opens the box, allowing Minato to peek in and see a shining, smooth teapot and four teacups within - there's golden tree branches and fluttering leaves painted into them, and when the light shifts he swears he can see them sway - below the teaset tray, he catches a glimpse of golden bars and his stomach aches.

Then, she reaches to the front and slides open a front drawer, one that had seamlessly blended into the outside of the box and sitting on velvet is a chunk of wood.

"Incense," Shang Qinghua says cheerfully, "from a hundred-year old spiritual sandalwood tree, it's said to bring good fortune and prosperity for those who burn it. It also smells really good. Undertones of soap!"

The woman slides all of the compartments closed, the wood clicking back into place softly, and Minato almost reaches out to take it but hesitates, because neither Shen Qingqiu nor Shang Qinghua have held, much less touched, the boxes.

"Boar," he says and ANBU Boar flickers down, understanding Minato's silent command easily, and takes the box, standing behind him openly and stiffly, not unaffected by the value of the box in his hands.

"I have brought," Shen Qingqiu says, voice silk and commanding attention, "a brush set; each bristle is the very tip fiber of the flight feathers from the Venomous Six-Tailed Goose and the ink is made by Master Wu of the Western Sun Estate - the same master who creates all of the ink sets for my own Scholarly Peak."

Distantly, Minato hears Shang Qinghua mumble something that sounds like, "my budget," but his attention is taken by Ming Fan displaying the stationary within the box easily and Minato has to keep his face from twitching at seeing even more gold in the box beneath the tray. Beside it is another, smaller wooden box, and Shen Qingqiu seems to notice Minato's curiousity because he smirks in a way that makes Minato want to curl up on the ground in humiliation or perhaps get on his knees to beg to see it again.

"Apt observation," his fan comes out, fwip, and flutters lightly before Shen Qingqiu's smug expression, "Tea from our sect's Flower Peak."

"What." Shang Qinghua says, seeming to freeze in laser focus at his fellow Peak Lord, "what do you mean Tea from our Flower Peak."

Shen Qingqiu ignores him, directly addressing Minato, "This is the seventh-grade five-hundred-year tea, planted and raised by our very own Martial Younger Brother Li."

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Shang Qinghua shrieks, his hands waving around comically, "ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US KILLED? ARE YOU TRYING TO GET HOKAGE-SAMA KILLED?!"

What.

Shan Qingqiu sniffs, "hardly. Martial Younger Brother Li owes me after I went hunting for the instructional methods of raising the All-Devouring Demonic Succulents through multiple libraries."

"SO YOU'RE TRYING TO GET ME KILLED!? HE'S BEEN CARING FOR THOSE TEA LEAVES FOR FIVE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO YEARS! HE TALKS TO THEM EVERY MORNING AND NIGHT!!!! DID YOU EVEN ASK BEFORE TAKIN- oh heavens above, he doesn't even know you took them, does he? Does he?"

"Cease your flailing," Shen Qingqiu brushes off where Shang Qinghua had clung to his robes in his panic, "Hokage-sama, please ignore this foolish idiot's words. The tea will bring no harm to you, Yingying," Minato watches as the only other woman in the procession bounces forward, taking the small box out to display it proudly to Minato, who hesitantly leans forward to peek at the green leaves.

A soft, delicate, yet heady scent floats into his nose and Minato wonders faintly if he's going to be poisoned.

"No harm? No harm? People have been assassinated over this tea -let me see it- YOU'RE GIVING HIM SO MUCH!?" Shang Qinghua splutters and there's a sharp smack as Shen Qingqiu hits his fellow Peak Lord over the head, "really, it's only enough to extend his youth for about a hundred years, especially since these people have such lacking spiritual compatibility. It's hardly anything to get worked up about."

"A HUNDRED YEARS IS A LONG TIME FOR MORTALS!!!!! PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KILLED OVER OUR SHITTY SECOND GRADE TEA THAT ONLY GIVES LIKE!!! TEN YEARS OF YOUTH!!!! SEVENTH GRADE!!!!! WHAT IF THE EMPEROR WANTS TO BUY OUR TEA AGAIN? WE'RE NOT GIVING HIM EIGHTH GRADE! HE CAN'T AFFORD THAT! "

Shang Qinghua has his head in his hands, pulling at his scalp in distress, and Minato feels about half of his despair. A hundred years is a long time, Konoha had been founded a hundred years ago. Minato never really thought he'd make it to forty, much less any longer, and to be at peak physical health for a hundred years, the thought makes him dizzy.

"As grating as Martial Younger Brother Shang is, he does bring up a good point, Hokage-sama. I would highly recommend consuming all of the tea as soon as possible, lest others find you in the way of their own quests to immortality." A wave of Shen Qingqiu's hand has Yingying putting the box of tea back into the larger box, and Ming Fan closing it fully. Shang Qinghua groans, "I could've sold it for a palace."

Minato stares at him, a bit uncomprehending, as his mind tries to make sense of the absurd situation before him. He needs - he needs to take the gift, take the tea, but with the sheer value of the leaves he needs someone he can trust, entirely, to take care of it.

"Hound," he says, watching as Hounds small frame flits from the rafters to the ground, head bowed low. Minato hears the two women squeal and titter as Hound takes the box, it looks comically large in the slight teenager's hands. Shang Qinghua moans out something like, "my palace."

"Very well," Shen Qingqiu says, his fan slips closed and into his sleeve, "with all our formalities out of the way, lets get down to business."

[babydipper]

stephanie brown, you will never not be famous

[aaeeart]

oh Bode

when you get comfortable with your friend and start opening up a little too much

bonus ⏬⏬

[inkpotsprite]

So, a lot of you have been asked if I'm going to do a "Damian Drake meets Damian Wayne AU."

Here's your answer:

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #9

"This portal will bring you back to your time safely."

The young teen, well kid in Dick's eyes said before them, pointing towards a green vortex. Dick felt relieved but also a twist in his gut. Time travel adventures always had their pro and cons. He was sure that they hadn't messed up anything, Damian wouldn't end up with a new hair cut this time, nor any of his brother. Hell Jason was even apparently cleaned out from some bad ectoplasm.

Yet...

They had spend some time here, fixing Ra's newest dumb idea to get Damian back on his side. They had bonded with this kid from the past. A young hero at the age of 14, barely older than Damian himself.

The kid had gotten tricked by Ra at first then they ended up in his time resolving the mess and bonding with this kid. Like really bonded with this kid. Like B starting to mentor the kid like he did all of them. Tim tinkering and engineering with him. Jason bantering and joking with the kid, even Damian bonded with him, thanks to one size changing ghost dog. Not to mention Dick bonded with the kid a lot too.

And it sucked in Dick's opinion. He glanced at his family, even if they all were in gear and wearing masks, he could see the small signs in the way they where holding themselves. The small indications, movements barely noticeable to anyone else.

Hell he could even see it in Bruce, the way the man tensed just a little bit. The small twitch of the man's lip, the little minuscule tilt. It was all there and only for the Batfamily to see.

Dick put on a smile, burying that twisted feeling in his gut.

Like they all did.

Like they all were forced to do.

He watched Tim make one last souvenir selfie. Well they all had one with the kid. Made at various points during their stay in this time. Even Damian sneaked making one using the excuse of wanting a selfie with that big green ghost dog.

"We will be on our way then kid." He tried sounding cheerful and by the smile the kid gave him, he was sure he hit the right tone of voice. "Don't be a stranger when we meet again."

He smiled still, knowing his family caught on to the fact that he said 'when' not 'if'.

Because it was obvious.

In their short time here, they all but officially, had adopted the kid into the family. Dick would joke that he kid would fit right in with them while they were here. Jason lamenting how Bruce had a type with kids. Bruce had had that minuscule uplift to his lip whenever they had joked around with the kid.

But again, this wasn't their time.

And that's why time travel sucked.

You make bonds, maybe even new family.

But they wouldn't be there when you are back in the time you belong.

But Dick was determined. When they stepped through that vortex, when he looked back at the kid waving to them. He knew what he had to do the moment they were back in their time.

He just hoped the kid would remember them, remember his words of not being a stranger.

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade

Someone a while ago asked me about what Kei's school life in Shell Game would've been like if she was a kid in 1-A as opposed to 1-C, so here's some noodlin'.

(Kei replaces Mineta's slot because I don't feel like dealing with him.)

The facet of being a UA student that bothered Kei the most (immediately) was the scrutiny. The celebrity. The total inability to fold herself and her flat expression and sleep deprivation back into the comforting anonymity of a world without widespread cell phone usage. Every other rando in Japan—arguably the world—knew the school’s reputation and its uniform. The more invested enthusiasts knew the names and faces of all the hero kids in each year and ranked them based on their apparent promise. Kei’s entire being retreated from the spotlight as though possessed by a cockroach. 

The runner-up of annoyances was being trapped in high school again. She’d done her time one life ago and resented that the experience just pigeonholed her into bilingual missions now. But explaining that to Sensei wasn’t on the table, so away she went. 

In the end, though, there was a small silver lining, as thin as cobweb. Unlike general education students, the two heroics-focused classes had occasional permission to use their Quirks to achieve their goals. Such as winning a sports contest between students, but still. It was something. 

“Gekkō. Your turn.” 

Kei jolted back to life like the engine of a forty-year-old car, covering her mouth with one hand as she yawned. Sure, Bakugō’s big boom ball throw had startled her awake, but she’d slept like total garbage last night. The stress from anticipating a new development in any mission made staying asleep an impossibility. 

So she’d kind of sleepwalked through the first few rounds of fitness tests. A lot of the other students’ Quirks didn’t help with their performances—exemplified by the invisible girl and the boy with electric powers—and so Kei didn’t meaningfully stand out. It helped that the students with physical Quirks usually really excelled at very specific tasks, but were dead average elsewhere. Kei barely needed to work to keep in the middle of the pack, only using her water manipulation for effect. 

And now everyone was looking at her. 

Dammit, Kei thought. She rolled to her feet with a little huff and made her way off the sideline with the air of a two-toed sloth dragged out for a quirky sports movie. 

“Do you need a reminder of what the rules are?” Aizawa asked, his voice as dead as Kei sort of wished she could be in this exact moment. 

“No, Aizawa-sensei,” Kei replied as she passed him. An instant later, she caught the tracker-equipped softball without looking, thought it had been thrown at her head. Not like it would have done any damage even if it made contact.

“Then quit wasting our time.” 

Kei didn’t even remember her placement during the UA entrance exam, but this still felt targeted. The numbers didn’t matter. She’d already known she was in, so the only consideration left was keeping the extent of her powers under wraps.  

It wasn’t like Kei didn’t get why Aizawa “Eraserhead” Shōta hated her presence in the class. Her enrollment in UA was basically anathema to the entire purpose of the program. Sensei and the principal couldn’t just cut the guy entirely out of the loop without causing Kei logistical problems when it came to doing her job. At the very least, an uninformed teacher might ask questions when Kei inevitably ran out of the classroom to deal with some crisis. Just because Aizawa looked like he wouldn’t care if his students fell down an open manhole cover, but that was the trouble with judging by appearances alone. 

I could take over the moment it leaves your hands.

Be my guest. 

Kei tossed the ball in the air, clapped her hands together, and summoned a blob of water that expanded in sync with her hands as she pulled them apart. When the falling softball landed amid the watermelon-sized sphere, it warped briefly into an image of Isobu’s curled-up shell before stabilizing. That was a telltale sign even to people without worthwhile chakra detection abilities—as long as they knew. 

So, basically Aizawa. Kei didn’t need to look in his direction to feel his glare.

There we are. Isobu’s power reached forward to engulf the brand new source of ammunition. 

Then the blob, the captive softball, and some simulacrum of Kei’s dreams shot off into the void. Only the thinnest possible thread of water connected Isobu’s new toy to Kei’s index fingers. Kei and the a couple of her classmates watched its erratic balloon-like course until, inevitably, the thread snapped. 

Eventually, there was a beep from Aizawa’s phone. “Five hundred and fifteen meters.” 

Kei rubbed at her eyes, already done with the entire affair. At least this data might be useful for Kei and Isobu’s future adventures in mass hydrokinesis. Perhaps Isobu’s range would be even larger if they added more of his chakra. Running those experiments would have to wait for another day, though. 

“Next,” said Aizawa. Going by the way a couple of students jumped, the next contestant was already on deck and suffering from stage fright. 

Kei wandered out of the chalk with barely any uptick in energy levels. She even yawned again. If the teacher wanted her out of the way faster, he could damn well throw her out.

But because this mission clearly wanted to establish the kind of pattern embodied by a combat deployment—boredom followed by intense spikes of activity, and then more boredom—Kei didn’t get a chance to nap. She found herself blinking away the drowsiness to the sound of Aizawa verbally ripping a kid to shreds. 

And it wasn’t Kei’s fault. Or even related to her. 

Novel.

While Kei had sat down and read brief profiles on all of her classmates on the Saturday before the term started, their names occasionally slipped her mind despite how painfully on-the-nose they could be. She’d get that data into her head later; for now, all Kei needed was a list of powers. 

Part of the reason Midoriya (today’s sacrifice) stuck out to her was how his name didn’t contain even a hint of his Quirk—just like hers didn’t. Because she didn’t have one. Going off the logic displayed by his classmates’ parents and their naming choices, Midoriya’s personal name should have had something to do with turning his own skeleton into dust. 

With his capture weapon and hair floating like the entire scene was underwater, Aizawa laid out everything wrong with the nervous kid’s approach to the ball toss. Given that the test in question was literally throwing a softball and this kid tended to hover around the middle of the pack, maybe he’d been planning to use his hyper-destructive Quirk to finally get an edge. Like any kid sitting through someone else getting shouted at by a teacher, Kei pretended not to hear the specifics.

It was still sort of difficult not to, even with her classmates trying to build a small reservoir of side chatter to insulate themselves.

There was a lot in Aizawa’s lecture about “basic competence” and paraphrased warnings about not breaking all the bones in his body. Because, well, someone who did that would probably need to be carried off a battlefield on a stretcher if not in a body bag.

“With your power,” Aizawa was saying, his voice as flat and cold as an executioner’s blade, “you can’t become a hero.” 

Midoriya’s expression said he knew damn well what was at stake now. If he couldn’t figure out how to throw a ball without laying himself out flat, he was screwed. 

The real question was if breaking bones was the prerequisite to accessing that monstrous strength, or just a shitty side effect of having no control? If it was the former, the first time the kid fell off a jungle gym or crashed his bike should have made the news along with a crater. 

While the other students consulted among themselves whether they’d ever heard of Eraserhead before—which disengaged Kei even further from the conversation in favor of naptime—Aizawa withdrew from the chalk circle to let Midoriya figure his shit out. He’d either fly or fucking die. 

Aizawa probably didn’t care which. At least, not out loud. Better that this catastrophic failure happened in school and not in the field with lives on the line.

Kei shaded her eyes and awaited some conclusive result.

Midoriya didn’t disappoint; one colossal BANG later, the softball was rocketing off into the distance with a smoke trail marking its trajectory. But unlike the utter travesty that characterized his entrance exam footage, the kid that turned to face the group did so with all limbs intact. He’d destroyed only one finger in the process of setting off his Quirk this time.

Kei frowned while the other students cheered. Aizawa, too, looked excited to find improvement so close on the heels of his first sharp criticism. 

Sure, Blasty McSplode had a problem with Midoriya’s (qualified and still bone-breaky) success and then needed to be wrestled into submission for being a loud jackass literally a foot in front of the teacher, but that wasn’t Kei’s problem. Or, at least, his attitude wasn’t an interesting problem for Kei to puzzle over. 

Midoriya’s, though… There’s something wrong here.

Hm?

I don’t think his Quirk requires him to destroy himself to use it. If it did, he should’ve figured out how to minimize the damage way before he got here. Kei pressed her curled fingers against her lower lip as she thought. Damn, I usually just shrug off questions like this… 

But this secret may affect your risk assessment process when dealing with all of these humans. 

Maybe. But hell if it’s not a personal question. “Hey, what’s the deal with your Quirk totally pulverizing your vulnerable teenage skeleton every time I’ve seen it used?” That’ll go over well. 

“Gekkō,” said Aizawa, interrupting Kei’s thoughts with more school nonsense. He’d apparently picked her out as a zoned-out straggler. “Finish your tests. Side-hops and grip test, go.”

Kei sighed internally and trotted off to a different part of the field.

[to0-many-fandoms]

Some Dpxdc Headcanons

Danny and Jason have met plenty of times all over Gotham in and out of both of their respective costumes

Danny knew the second he laid eyes on Jason he was some kind of Liminal, he knew he wasn’t just a Liminal human tho, he just didn’t know exactly what he was at first

Danny eventually figured out he was a halfa but didn’t realize that Jason didn’t know until he came into the cafe that Danny ran so Danny started trying to push some of the more ghostly abilities Jason had only to realize most of them were already active just not consciously used

This really confused him so he just let it be

Jason for one didn’t realize his abilities were ghostly in nature because most of them just seemed like exaggerated Bat qualities

He is built in a brickshit house but can be as silent as Damian, even quieter than Cass and Bruce a lot of the time; he can jump as far as Dick and Cass like it’s nothing

Even in his Red suit he can blend in as well as If not better than Cass and Bruce when he needs to

His growls and grunts get even more menacing sometimes, they become almost amplified with an otherworldly edge

He can make new menacing noises at times without realizing, He never does make any of the softer noises of the ghostly language because he hasn’t gotten the chance to be soft, All his noises have been angry, hurt, scared, harm, they are all negative and meant to scare others off

I have not read any comics, have barely watched any of the show, this is all based on fanon shit

[puppetmaster13u]

Heeeey, wanna WIP?

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

   “Let me seeee-” The shark’s voice practically crooned through his head, pushing his own thoughts aside for a moment in sheer insistence. He snarled, keeping his eyes closed as he tucked the kid closer against his chest, spare hand brushing across the glass. 

   “Show me, let me seee-” It was probably pressed against the windows with how bright the glow of their eyes were even with his own clenched closed. Too close, too dangerous, the kid was squirming, probably didn’t know better than to try and look- 

   “Oh!” The sheer delight in the voice nearly had him falling to non-existent knees, the green glow shifting to somewhere higher. He grit his teeth, ducking his head down and shifting his hold on the squirming kid in his arms. 

   “Sh, sh, I need you to stop squirming, please,” he whispered softly, trying to gather his thoughts even as a migraine bloomed in his head. At least his brain wasn’t melting, and he hoped to anything that might be listening that the kid was fine, that he could make it back to a windowless room with them okay. 

[mediocretosubpar-soup]

If anyone recalls my Shen Jiu transmigrates into MDZS AU, I want you to know that when Shen Jiu makes his glorious return to swoop Jiang Cheng off his feet. One of his moves is this:

The young man bowed in front of the huge dais erected for the most honored sect leaders. This wasn't anything special just what was customary to do. But when he rose, he boldly spoke up.

"Sect Leader Jiang, may I ask for your token?" The young man had done exceptionally well so far, so asking wasn't out of line except for who he dared to beg for his favour. The crowd huffed in outrage and fear, all waiting with baited breath for the cantankerous man's reaction. Jiang Cheng rose regally, he looked forbidding in his austere purple robes, not even his aesthetically most pleasing features could cover for the fierceness of his most noxious personality pouring from him. The crowd eagerly peered closer, such brazen impudence would surely beget a most spectacular reaction. Jiang Cheng stepped off the dais into dead silence.

"Ugly colour." Jiang Cheng ran the cultivator's hairband through his fingers and pulled. He carelessly threw the red fabric on the dusty ground. Then he drew his own hairband free.

"When you win, I expect you to do so with your hair done up properly."

"Sect Leader Jiang's favor, comes with such humble expectations. I'll be sure to surpass his wildest dreams."