#to write a reincarnation fic

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[loneleeghost]

ok so... i have this headcanon...

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[ghostbsuter]

Damian was 10 when he was shipped off to his father.

He was 10 when he finally decided enough was enough, packed his stuff, called Mara, and the ball went rolling.

The moment Talia left the mansion, the DNA test confirmed, and Bruce emotionally compromised, did he finally move.

He'd stared his father down, felt nothing when he stood up and mild annoyance bloomed when his father asked– demanded– where he was going.

"You're a fool if you believe I will stay here." He spat, eyening the man in disdain.

It became very apparent that Damian wasn't what Bruce thought he'd be, what Talia thought he was.

"Your mother entrusted me with your safety–"

"I don't need protection. Mother wouldn't care if I stayed or not." He blinks. "Where is the cave? I wish to use the computer, I have people to contact."

Reluctantly, Bruce shows him the way, questions of who and why, and the plans he apparently had were asked.

Damian answers with vague wordings and enough open spaces for interpretation. Words greatest detective, he can figure it out himself without damian spelling it out for him.

When they do arrive in the batcave, Tim Drake— Robin— was sitting at the computer.

Huffing, Damian shoved the entire chair away from the table, taking its place and started typing.

"W— hey! What—? Who?" Tim looked between Bruce and Damian, despite being sleep deprived his eyes caught on the similarities, mouth dry and mind calculating.

"Does Dick know?" Is all he asks, leaning back and watching the younger boy work.

"Not yet."

A heavy sigh.

"Silence," the boy huffs, annoyed. "I'll have to make a call."

Glaring daggers, he pulls out a old burner phone, pressing the single number saved inside and waits.

"Damian."

"Hello, brother."

('Oh. Did he have another?' Tim wonders, watching Batman's face, blank like a paper sheet. Nothing. It feels like all his efforts of bringing the man back were just flushed.)

—

Or in simpler words:

Danyal al Ghul, the first successor of the demons head, born with his twin Athanasia al Ghul, to be the future of the league.

They were reborn with their former memories, stuck in place, constantly watched and trained. Manipulated. Weaponized.

All for a man playing immortal.

They'd only started planning when two more children came into the picture, Damian and Mara Al Ghul.

Danyal now Daniel "Danny" and Athanasia now Eleanor "Ellie" Nightingale took matters into their own hands and separated to take the kids in and end this.

End the league. End the cycle of whatever this, this cult is, and take over.

In many universes, Ra's al Ghul does not die, always returns, wielding his people like mere weapons.

In this universe, Danyal al Ghul is acknowledged as a traitor, killer of the Demons head and Older Brother, borderline father even, to his tiny brother Damian al Ghul.

In this universe, he raises Damian instead of Talia, shows him the cracks of this careful manipulated picture and listens when Ellie tells of her travels to this tiny child with a sad sad fate.

In this universe, Ellie takes in their tiny cousin, shielding her from the cruel eyes of a man not worthy. She trains her, shows her the ropes and takes her along when she leaves.

In this universe, Damian al Ghul and Mara al Ghul live a good live, protected by the twins of old souls and have a somewhat normal if not very complicated childhood.

[aaron-romave]

My Only Sunshine

It was a quiet night in Gotham, when suddenly the coms crackle to life, with a voice, that seemingly none of the bats recognized. That is all but one. Damians blood ran cold as he heard something that should not be possible. He had never even let himself think about it, because even recalling the mere memory of it would shatter him. 

The other night, dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you 

In my arms

Batman's voice was the first to come over the coms “oracle who is this? Where are they?”

“I’m working on it B.” She crackle back in her slightly mechanical disguised voice.

When I awoke, dear

I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried

Oracle may not have known where it was coming from, but he did. He knew it as he knew the heart beating in his chest and the air within his lungs. Without thinking he leapt off the building, grappling across the city that his father loved, but he has never thought of as his true home.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy 

When skies are gray

He was vaguely aware as Batman cried out for him, but that didn’t matter. His blood was rushing too quickly through his ears. Any protest or question simply ignored. He had somewhere he needed to be, and he needed to be there now. 

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take 

My sunshine away

“Oracle location!”

“I’m trying B! But these people are good I can’t work faster than I am!”

Was the last thing that came over the coms before he reached up and muted everyone, everyone but the voice he was focused on. The world had narrowed down to the wind whipping past him, his heartbeat in his ears and the one voice that he had wish to hear again for so long.

I'll always love you and make you happy 

And nothing else could come between

His lungs burned as Wayne industries came in to view. Why? Why of all nights was he on the outskirts of the city?  He needed to move faster, faster, please be fast enough. He begged to himself, to whatever god was out there be fast enough ….and for him to be there for this not to be some sort of cruel trick.

But if you leave me to love another 

I’ll support you as you follow your dreams

It was him. It had to be him. only he knew to sing it that way.  His brother quietly singing and holding him as he silently cried. He was never good enough for grandfather, he will never be good enough to be the heir to be excepted never daring, hopeing to be loved, but it was never like that with his brother. His brother loved him more than anything, and he couldn’t stop anything as grandfather ran his sword through the heart of the one person he truly loved. Through the heart of Damien’s one weakness. 

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy 

When skies are gray

Even at the end, when his brother knew grandfather was coming for him, his too kind brother never forced him. Always giving him a choice and he had failed his brother when he was willing to give up everything for someone as weak and pitiful as him. He wasn’t strong enough to run. He wasn’t strong enough to protect the one person who loved him above all else. 

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take 

My sunshine away

He was so close three minutes out. Almost there the highest spot in the city, the best place to see the stars. 

Northstar, I’m so happy you made it out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.

My Northstar please stop blaming yourself. This was my choice. It was always my choice and I don’t regret a second of it so neither should you. You are without a second of doubt the best thing to have ever happened to me. 

Damien felt a pit open up in his stomach.  Less than two minutes to Wayne enterprises

You have to let the others in Northstar. Being family to them, loving them it’s not replacing me or dishonoring me. Quite the opposite Northstar it’s keeping me alive; In a different way, but I’m still with you. 

Go on brother adventures with Dick, try things that make you uncomfortable, but know that he will keep you safe. 

Spend time with Babs in the library, read books that let you travel to fantastical worlds that we could never dream of.

Go to Jason for advice. You two are more alike than you even know, lean on each other, use that. 

Try photography with Tim. Take pictures of all those animals that you love.

Less than one minute

Pull pranks with Stephanie. Let yourself be a kid and laugh at stupid and dumb things. 

When things get too much go to Cass for quiet and understanding.

Go to Duke and ask him to take you out shopping at a regular store or to go to the mall to buy a toy for yourself. Enjoy the normal quiet moments.

Go to Bruce for comfort, he is Batman but he is also our dad don’t forget that, let him be a dad.  

The world went blurry. There is no one on the roof. 

Northstar I’m gone. I really am gone. You know how magic is Northstar your big brother had a few tricks up his sleeve, but I’m afraid this used the last of it. In the future in the far, far, far, future when you come join me in the hereafter, I’ll be waiting for you with open arms. I love you, Northstar now let our family love you in my stead. 

As his feet made contact with the roof of Wayne enterprises a small, glowing object made it self known in the center of the roof. It appeared that stars itself littered and sprung from the object, beckoning him forward. 

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the bats and birds joining him on the roof, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his shaking hand was reaching out to grab the old dog stuffed animal as the last glitters of Stardust left the plush.

A drop of water fell down and landed on the left ear of the love worn dog. Reaching up and touching below the domino he realize that he was crying. When did that happen? When was the last time this happened?

As he clutched the dog plush to his chest, a frivolity that would have never been allowed in the league, but still his brother who he loved most in this world snuck it in for him. Hiding it behind a loose stone in the wall. Bringing it out for him to hold as his big brother comforted him and told him stories of a better life that they could have. 

The demons heir, Robin, Damien sobbed, cried for the injustice of the world, for his brother who even waiting for him in the hereafter was still looking out for him. 

His body shook as wave after wave of agony and despair ripped through him. Years of repressed grief tore through his body sharper and with more deadly aim than any blade. The floodgates had been opened. His big brother had given him this one last gift. 

So when Batman, his father, his dad crouched down in front of him concern showing through his usual stoic expression he does not ignore what his brother has given him and leaps forward, clutching onto his dad and weeping for the brother that he lost and the son his dad will never get to know.

( inspired by this)

[crybaby-bkg]

I loveee the concept of reincarnation bc it’s just so comforting!!!

oh to be reincarnated lovers with Bakugou where you find each other every life time and leave a memory of the other to find in the next lifetime. You see each other in a new lifetime, drawn to each other, swearing familiarity even though your minds disagree. But it’s something deeper within you that knows each other, misses the others embrace, and you can’t figure out why.

There’s a famous painting of someone who looks suspiciously like you made in the 1600s by some tortured artist, the muse a lover he had lost years before. There’s a statue that looks just like Bakugou from the 1800s, who everyone thought to be created after Apollo, but you beg to differ. There are letters found between two lovers, one gone off to war and the other at home, their exchange of love something poets discuss in contemporary times. Theres even skeletons found embracing each other, with one’s head tucked into the others neck.

And for some reason, every time, these figments of love appeal to you deeper than anyone else around you. They’re so familiar, and you think you might be going crazy when flashes of memories start to plague you.

Sitting in a darkly lit room, a slate of white marble in front of you, a point chisel in hand. There’s a blond man sitting behind the marble, with a sly grin, as your hands raise to start chipping away at its flawless perfection.

Sitting at home, writing away with a quilled pen to a lover you miss. Kissing the edge of the paper and pulling away to find it stained with red from your lips.

Laying in the soft grass, your face hidden in a strong neck as heavy winds start to take over you. Your arms entangled in another’s, tilting your face up to kiss a blond, stubbled jaw.

When Bakugou tells you he remembers the same things, you wonder if you’re both just on a bad trip from a drug you don’t remember taking. But you carve your names in tree trunks and wonder if you’ll find find it again hundreds of years later, if you’ll see him again, if you’ll create another piece of your unyielding love on every crevice of the earth.

[hellspawn-enjoyer]

Another thing I need to rant about because I find it incredibly adorable is how these dorks have the nerve to have elements of a reincarnation romance in their romance together.  

What do I mean by this?

I mean having dialogue that lampshades that one feels like they’ve met before and the other feels like they’ll meet again. Karlach’s dialogue in her date night romance scene you get in Act 3. You and each companion get a different special response to asking her if being mysterious suits you.

This is her response for Astarion-

Karlach mentions feeling like there's something familiar about Astarion. The second picture is a common dialogue other characters can get, but it does add various meanings to her line specific to Astarion. Overall adding to their special connection and how they just sort of click when they first meet each other.

Feeling something familiar between them also plays nicely into them having similar woven parts in their unfortunate traumatic history. As well as them being a sort of mirror to each other. One that shows what they could've been, but also what they can still become since they can either improve or descend into becoming worse versions of themselves down the road.

This dialogue on its own is cute because of the fact it shows that she feels connected and understood by Astarion to the point that she feels they’ve been together for longer even though their time together at present is so short.

So the fact that Astarion has a similar feeling, but with her death makes it all the more gut-wrenching.

When Astarion tries to convince Karlach to go with him to Avernus to look for a way to fix her engine, if she declines Astarion will tearfully accept her decision but remain hopeful that somehow their paths will cross again. Basically, saying that maybe her death isn’t the end of their love, but instead the beginning.

So now we're getting into the whole Reincarnated/We’ll meet in another life romance trope. Obviously, you can roleplay this with any romance, but it just makes me particularly insane that it’s hinted a few times as a theme in their romance with special dialogue between the two of them. That they have a connection so deep to each other that they can feel it from another life.

Now, of course, I've got to talk about Ascended Astarion's dialogue if Karlach declines his offer to go with him to Avernus because it's interesting in it's own way as well. He essentially says the same thing to Karlach, but the way he says it comes across as being more confident that they'll meet again.

This, of course, can be read similarly with him planning to find her reincarnation and romancing her again or as Astarion willing to do some questionable things in order for them to be reunited with each other. You can see this as sweet, concerning, or both. All valid takeaways from this scene. Either way, he holds on to the feeling that their romance has only just begun and that they have something more awaiting them in the future.

Karlach's origin epilogue if she chooses to die on the docks also adds to this with Withers coming to her and saying that her death isn't the end of her story.

So even if you play their romance in a way that ends with her choosing to go out on her own terms their dialogue and this ending scene connects in a way that reinforces that they'll have a chance to meet again someday. Also implying that they're a fated pair, soulmates, romantic or platonic that have met before and will meet again, that just gets to me.

Overall another reason why I'll never be normal about these two and their relationship with each other! 😭

[jhonny]

"stop talking like that boy you're ruining my tboy swag" - yami bakura, probably

or, when both bakuras are trans but only one of them has perfected the trans voice.

+ bonus thief king (as a treat)

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[kimerawrt]

DP x DC: Reincarnation

(this idea keeps bothering me so I'm launching it into the void of tumblr)

Danny is the ghost king, has been for a hundred or so years, and had been working non stop to fix the mess pariah dark made. He did but he keeps working almost like an obsession (its not thankfully)

Cause working with no pause is not healthy even if one is dead, CW and other ancients decide to give their king a forced reincarnation vacation. Their king gets a rest of his duties by living a human life while they manage the zone, cause a human life is nothing to ghosts that have existed for millennia, they can wait for their king to return.

The high king of the ghost zone is born again with a new name. His name is Bruce Wayne.

(more under the cut)

Bruce is a happy child, and a very smart one. He understand machines in some strange way and is incredible good with physics (specially astrophysics). His parents are aware of how smart he is and encourage him to learn more things, Bruce learns a lot of how to manage a business from his dad and his mom teaches his about lots of things but mostly on how to think logically and deduct the truth

For some strange reason animals seem to like him, specially cats, dogs, crows and bats. When Bruce falls into the well he is scared by the bats but calms down enough to know the bats are also scared

Bruce is a happy child, until his parents are murdered in front of him.

Bruce feels like something in him breaks at that. his emotions are so painful that its almost physical. Alfred is the only one he has left and he becomes very protective of his butler

Bruce grows up with grief in his heart. He graduates high school with the biggest honors and goes to college. He tries engineering and leaves it. He tries medicine and leaves it too. He cant move past his parents murder and he cant unseen how his beloved city seems to get worse and worse.

Bruce decides to do something to fix all of that. He now has a mission. He drops out of college, makes a well thought plan and leaves to train leaving a letter behind to Alfred cause he knows if he sees the butler he wouldnt be able to leave. He needs the training.

For a year, Bruce looks for the best experts in a lot of fighting styles, offensive and defensive, things happen and he stars training with the League of Assassins. Bruce is good and learns fast but there is something in there that makes him extremely wary and make him work very hard to not get hurt

The Lazarus Pit

Those glowing green boiling waters gave him a bad feeling. Sometimes Bruce could swear the were whispering at him, calling to him to let them give him something he ought to have. Bruce was smart and knew that would be nothing good and he didnt ask the others if they too could hear the weird waters. He was sure Ra's would kill him for it. The guy was obsessed with the thing.

Unfortunately for him, in the final test to be an assassin, Bruce got hurt enough to need to be put in the waters to not die. Ra's saw potential in him and he was not going to lose someone that good in fighting.

In the waters, Bruce was being healed but something else was going on. The Lazarus Pit was made of a mix of ectoplasm, purified waters from long lost oceans and death magic. That combination made the waters heal all organic organisms in exchange for something, for sentient beings was their sanity and for non sentients was their will

Its a good thing that the ectoplasm in it recognized their king soul and the death magic was not able to take, but it could give as well.

That day Bruce Wayne remembered his last life and knew what awaited him after he died. That night, Bruce escapes from the League and returns to Gotham.

Once home, Bruce pass some time with Alfred telling little things about his travels. Alfred gives him a look that told Bruce that the butler knew he was not telling him everything. It doesnt takes long for Bruce to tell Alfred everything, the hidden parts of his travels, the League and his memories from a previous life. He could never hide things from Alfred for long.

Alfred believes him and declares that Bruce is his guard no matter what he had been or done. Bruce is happy to have Alfred with him.

Bruce had not forgotten his mission to fix Gotham and after searching for a place to train and build things he finds the Cave under his house. For some reason it feels nostalgic, as if one could build a portal to the realm of the dead in there. Of course Bruce has no plan of doing that.

While building his gadgets to fight crime in Gotham, Bruce also builds something he saw the Fentons do before the portal. It was a machine to gather ectoplasm in a passive way. He had a suspicion that the city was not only contaminated by smog but there was also something supernatural in it.

When the first drops of glowing green ectoplasm filled the vial he had left under the machine Bruce knew he was right. As it only took some days to gather it, it was clear that there was an unusual high concentration of ecto in the city. It would be too easy to open a portal in here.

Bruce then used the gathered ecto to power up his supercomputer and many more tools. He was also working on making a car powered up with it. Of course he was not going to let the bright glowing green be seen in whatever he is making.

Alfred had a slight suspicion that besides being the ghost king, his guard might be also a mad scientist

Bruce might have also kinda tamed the colony of bats living in the cave. Making sure all of them were healthy and vaccinated was a nightmare he was not willing to repeat.

Because of working with ectoplasm, Batman always gives an uncanny feeling to the criminals and makes most of them give up in fear. Batman becomes a cryptid very soon, though the police still tries to arrest him, Bruce gets a odd nostalgic feeling at being chased with guns shooting at him

it only takes a year after Batman is out fighting crime for a ghost to show up. Luckily that ghost is just Cujo. Now Bruce has a very good guard dog to protect his house and Alfred

Thanks to Cujo Bruce discovers the city has an spirit and its kinda cursed. Its too bad he had no knowledge of what kind of magic is affecting the city. And because his current human body is not magical he can do little to help. Having Cujo chase away maligns shades seems to help some.

When the rogues appear they remind Bruce of the ghosts he fought when he was a half ghost. Though, he knows they are alive and can change for the better unlike the dead that are stuck and need something too drastic to change. Although Arkham is so corrupt that Bruce has to fight another type of fight to fix that, one that unfortunately he cant punch away

When Bruce sees how the child in the circus is left alone after witnessing his parents death, or course he would want to help. He didnt expect that Robin would join him in his night job

Then another child tries to steal his wheels and ends up adopting him, he also didnt expect the new Robin and by know he would seen the pattern

When Jason is killed by the Joker, Bruce is devastated and seeks vengeance. Batman cant kill, thats a rule he imposed to his vigilante persona. But he didnt need to be Batman to get revenge and the teachings of the League of Assassins come in handy. He knew that if he killed the Joker his soul would belong to him and he would get a better revenge when he becomes the ghost king once more.

An unknown assassin kills the Joker

Twice

There is something strange in Gotham. Something that makes the Joker come back to life a little bit more unhinged every time. Something that made Jason Todd crawl out of his grave some months after burying him

Time passes, Bruce gets more children and gets in more fights. Then Jason comes back to Gotham filled with the Pit madness. But when he tries to confront Batman, the Pit calms down in the presence of its king.

Jason is happy to not having to fight the Pit all the time, he still becomes the crime lord/anti-hero Red Hood, though his relationship with his dad is not bad after they had a talk, mostly of Bruce killing the Joker more than once already (they probably go to kill the Joker again as a bonding activity or something)

-There would be other shenanigans in between all this like:

+the kids discovering you can bring food back to like with ectoplasm and making a mess in the kitchen, everyone but Jason gets a life ban from Alfred domain

+the other heroes of the League thinking Batman has a meta power to make him appear intimidating, tho it wouldnt explain where he gets the strange technology or why some could swear a green see through puppy follows the dark night even in the watchtower

+Batman and Deadman make a strange friendship in the eyes of the other, Deadman knows the bat has the soul of his king but as he is not king now its fine to be casual, the ghost adores Cujo and pets it all the time

[sulky-cabbage]

AU: Where Sukuna Wins

Part 1

Part 2 here

Imagine an alternate universe in which Sukuna triumphs, dominates over Japan, and endures a lonely existence for many centuries, while allowing some humans to live.

They hold a grudge against him, of course, and want to kill him. They train at Jujutsu High and have some great fighters that occasionally provide Sukuna with some entertainment. 

They are so desperate for salvation, they can only find solace in prophecies about a figure with powerful blue eyes that will defeat the king of curses and rescue Japan.

And do you know what Sukuna does in response to that? One might expect him to go full Pharoah mode and kill newborns, but NO!!

HE DOES THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE !!

Whenever he ravages a village and devours the women and children, he ALWAYS spares the blue-eyed infants.

All the curses know better than to kill an infant with blue eyes. The last time a curse did that, Sukuna made sure to make an example of it.

Killing a member of the Gojo clan is also off limits, as well as anything that could delay the reincarnation of this certain person.

These humans are not the only ones waiting for salvation.

Sukuna is also WAITING...for his wretched existence to end at the hands of this person.

The ONLY one worthy of having the honor to do so.

[luxaofhesperides]

You know how Spiderman has 'canon events'? And how Gwen would always die? How about in every universe Duke exists in, there would always be Danny. And every time they fall in love! But whenever Duke tells/hints at him being The Signal, Danny suffers an accident or dies.

Like let's say in the DC vs Vampires universe, Duke tells Danny he's Signal and then a few days later he gets turned into a vampire and Duke has no choice but to kill him.

Or something like that yknow?

Earth 26.

The undercity is full of life. People from above refuse to understand it, staunch in their beliefs that the undercity is full of crime and sickness, drugs and filth. But the people down there are more human than any of the ones Duke has met up top.

Though Bruce Wayne can try to bring Duke in all he likes, there’s no denying that Duke doesn’t belong. His heart will always be in the undercity, where he was born and grew up and lived and lost so much. 

The undercity is where Danny is.

Away from the blue skies filled with blimps, tucked beneath the towering buildings and clocktowers and elevated rails for trains leaving trails of smoke through the city, there in the cramped spaces and dark alleys, is Danny. 

He ducks through familiar alleys, cutting across perilously stacked homes and hopping over railings to get to the Fenton Lab faster. 

He’s been excited all day, heart thrumming with anticipation, as he returns to his roots and seeks out Danny. Today is the day he’s going to come clean, tell Danny everything: his feelings, his powers, his identity as The Signal, fighting crime in all parts of the city to keep Gotham safe. He’s sure Danny suspects something is going on with him, likely has already guessed at everything he wants to talk about, but Danny deserves the truth.

It is his inventions that help Duke save people, after all. 

Finding the front door of the Fenton lab is always a challenge. Metal scraps and materials stripped from vehicles litter the front of the building from people leaving all their unwanted things with the Fentons. Miscellaneous inventions and tools are left scattered around as well, creating a labyrinth that Duke has to traverse every time he wants to see Danny while he’s working with his parents.

It takes a few minutes, but Duke manages it, pushing open the door after a quick knock.

“Danny? Are you there?”

He can hear something from the lower floor, a strange, high pitched whirring noise. His powers kick in and suddenly he can see people rushing around the room, shouting in voices that he won’t be able to hear until the time comes. He can see himself, crying.

Duke’s heart drops.

“Danny? Danny!”

He runs down the stairs, suddenly terrified that he’s too late. Something is going to happen to Danny. It has to be Danny, because no one else is home with him; that’s why Duke asked to meet in the Lab, to have some privacy while the other Fentons were out.

The noise is louder, too loud to hear over, and Duke rushes into the Lab just in time to see some strange circle of metal spark with electricity. Danny stands right before, staring up at it.

“Danny!” Duke shouts as loud as he can, and Danny startles, then turns around.

Their eyes meet just as the machine finishes turning on, the metal circle ripping open with a thunderous noise, and Duke can do nothing but watch as it sends electricity and some other energy racing through Danny’s body.

It lasts just a brief moment, and then Danny is crumpling to the ground, eyes closed as the machine settles. The swirling pit of white and green stares out at him and Duke knows without a doubt that Danny is dead. . . .

Earth 41.

Duke’s been acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.

Danny’s not one to go around poking at people’s secrets, especially not his boyfriend’s, but he knows something big is going on. He’s not worried that Duke is cheating on him, but he can see the injuries he comes back with some days, citing all the unrest and the resurgence in crimes following Batman’s death.

He wonders if Duke is going out each night for street fighting, forcing all his emotions into his fists until they’re beaten bloody. Batman’s death hit him hard, and Danny has no idea what to do to help him.

They’re both stressed, on edge and scared, but they don’t fight as much as he expected. Admittedly, it’s hard to fight where they’re always spending time apart. 

No longer. Tonight, Danny is determined to get to the bottom of things so he can help Duke with whatever he’s going through. He even texted Jazz to get some tips about communication and helping someone through grief. He’s as ready as he’ll ever be. 

Right at 3AM, the window slides open. 

“Welcome back, Duke,” Danny says, watching as Duke flinches, then sighs as he closes the window. 

“What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Well, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, I decided to hang out here and wait for you. But you’ve been gone for a long time.”

“Sorry, Danny, but I’m really tired. Can this wait?”

Anger bubbles in his gut and Danny takes a deep breath to force it down. “I’ve been waiting. If you keep pushing this conversation off, we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Duke slumps against the window, rubbing a hand against his face, looking exhausted. “Look, Danny, things have been getting real bad, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of it.”

“What’s going on, Duke? What are you so worried about?”

“It’s… The guy who killed Batman. His name is Karma, and I’ve been going after him.”

“You’ve been what?!” Danny shouts, shooting to his feet. “Duke, are you insane? Anyone who can kill Batman is bad news, there’s no way anyone short of like, Superman, can stop him! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Someone has to stop him! And I can do something to help, okay? I’ve been helping the other bats fight him. I can do this.”

Danny clenches his fists, feeling frost crack against his skin. “You could have told me,” he says. “You know I can help, too. You’re not the only one with powers.”

“I can’t endanger you like that, Danny.”

“So you leave me in the dark instead? You would have rather I wait for you forever while you never come back because you got yourself killed running into a situation you can’t get out of? You think I would have been any safer not knowing? Then clearly you haven’t been paying attention!” He’s shouting by the end of it, shaking with fear and rage and so many things it all becomes a tangled mess in his head. 

“I really think we should have this conversation in the morning,” Duke says, eyeing Danny warily. It’s probably just because he’s been out all night hunting Karma, so used to being attacked while he goes out to try to save a city that even Batman couldn’t lift from the darkness, but that doesn’t stop the stab of hurt from going through his heart. Danny has done his best to be safe for Duke, to be human and comforting and strong enough to protect him. 

And Duke is looking at him like he could be at threat.

“Whatever,” Danny mutters, shaking his head. “You’ll talk to me in the morning by saying nothing but how you need to do whatever this is and then you’ll leave and we’ll both be unhappy. Great. Can’t wait.”

“Danny—”

“Bye, Duke.”

Danny’s up and out of the apartment before Duke can take more than a few steps towards him. He zips up his jacket and pulls the hood over his head, taking the steps two at a time to get to street level. It’s dark and quiet outside, save for the distant police sirens, and Danny barely spares a glance around him before he’s making his own way home, sure that no one would still be out at that time.

He should have been more careful. More vigilant. Not so lost in his hurt feelings.

But there’s no time for that when he’s pulled into an alleyway, knife at his throat.

A man in a black helmet, face fully covered, stares down at him. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, digging the knife in a little deeper, “What’s the Signal’s little lover doing out so late at night?”

Signal?

…Duke. His boyfriend who always disappears in late hours, blows off dates when something big is going down in Gotham, who is trying to pick up the pieces following Batman’s death. 

And here is Karma, the very man Duke is searching for, pulling Danny away into the dark.

He only has a brief moment to regret storming off, for not being more patient with Duke, for not paying attention and avoiding Karma, before the knife is pulled away, tossed into the air, and the hilt comes down hard on his temple, and it is a long, long time before he is seen again.

The Signal does not find him alive. . . .

Earth 53.

The apocalypse isn’t kind even on the best of days. But today it might be coming close to something resembling kindness as Duke approaches the skeletal remains of Gotham. It’s been years since he’s been back here, moving with the Robins across the United States just trying to survive. They’d constantly been moving, searching for other survivors and food and shelter and any sign of hope they could get. 

There hadn’t been much anywhere, too much devastation across the country for anyone to even think of rebuilding. Even now, nature is just starting to recover, little green shoots pushing up through concrete rubble. 

This world isn’t one for superheroes anymore. Supervillains aren’t around either. Everyone is either dead or barely getting themselves through each day; but humanity is still around and wildlife is beginning to recover. 

Duke doesn’t know who’s left in Gotham these days. He suspects Oracle is still there, somewhere, helping reconnect telephone wires and setting up internet and electricity. Lights have been flickering on steadily as the Robins made their way into New Jersey and the sight lifted their spirits so much they decided to keep traveling through the night. 

No one in his group has a working phone any more, but the possibility of getting that piece of the old world back excites them all. 

By the time they reach the outskirts of the ruined city, the entire group is nearly buzzing with energy, speaking in hushes whispers that do nothing to hide the elation in their voices. Gotham was everyone’s home, once. They’re all happy to be back, regardless of what they’re walking into.

Duke volunteers to go scouting with a few others to find a good place to settle in for a bit as they reacquaint themselves with the city. Even before the end of the world, it was never a good idea to go blind into Gotham. 

Much of the city is still abandoned, and concrete rubble carry faded graffiti that show the remains of a gang long gone. The few people he see in the distance are quick to hide and disappear and Duke himself is too wary to approach them. But as he gets closer to the heart of Gotham, picking his way through destroyed streets, he sees more and more signs of life, people who don’t hide, weak lights in hastily constructed shelters.

No one attacks him as he wanders closer. In fact, a few exchange nervous glances then approach him, quietly asking if he’s coming from outside Gotham and what news he brings of the outside world.

Duke tells them about how Chicago is gone completely, unable to be saved at all, but there are settlements all along the shores of the Great Lakes. He tells them of the traveling groups he’s met who rotate through a few chosen states and are willing to take in new members. He tells them of someone who has an entire farm up and running again, full of chickens and cows and sheep and goat and horses, on top of all the crop they can grow. The location of the farm is kept secret and carefully protected, but they give away seeds and young animals for anyone wanting to raise their own.

The news gathers more and more people around Duke, eager to listen, and they’re more than happy to update Duke on what’s happened in Gotham. 

The Bats aren’t around as much anymore, but at least two of them are still in Gotham, helping people from the shadows. They’re fixing everything up as best they can, and most people live in or around Robinson Park where Ivy, who survived, grows food and shelter for everyone in exchange for protection and companionship. The Riddler turned from making death traps and taking hostages to creating new technology and inventions to make life a little easier, taking in a crew of assistants to learn from him.

That is to say nothing of the ghosts.

Gotham is full of them now, walking among the living as if they never died. They help people and stick with loved ones who lost them and fly through the air to deliver things with ease. It’s nothing that Duke has ever seen before, and he wonders how many people who died in the apocalypse chose to stay in such a ruined world. 

He begins to head back to the Robins, mind racing with everything he’s learned, when he sees Danny.

Danny, his friend once, who he loved dearly and didn’t quite realize it was deeper than friendship until after the world ended. Danny, who was always sleepy and soft and smiling, cracking bad jokes and lifting Duke’s spirits whenever he felt down. Danny, who was lively and dreamed of going to space to sit among the stars.

Danny, who is dead.

He never got the chance to tell Danny he was the Signal, but he thinks Danny knew anyways. He could ask now, put that lingering thought to rest, but it was one of the few things left unsaid between them, the only thing he had of Danny for all these years, and he doesn’t want to let go of it yet.

Danny hasn’t seen him yet. Duke could go to him, speak to his ghost, have some part of him back in his life.

But it wouldn’t be the same. It certainly wouldn’t be fair to tie Danny, who is free from the pain and misery of the living, to Duke, who is never going to stay in Gotham permanently. 

He misses Danny so much he feels hollowed out and empty, but he knows this is for the best.

Duke turns, pretending not to see him, and walks away. . . .

Earth 78.

Duke was…

Duke was important to him, Danny thinks. He can’t remember much, not after everything (electricity, screaming, pain pain pain, heavy darkness, a spark, hist chest cut open, where is ___? Why won’t he save—) but without any memory of what his life was like back then, his feelings are without context and easily ignored.

Wraith follows Shrike from a distance, watching as he drops into an alley to kill a rapist. Wraith feels nothing about this, for caring is not in his duties. He is instructed to simply keep Shrike alive and assist in his plans, whatever they may be. Wraith does not care about killing.

Danny, tucked away deep inside the mask, shivers and cries, wishing to hide away and say enough, please, that’s enough, just stop please stop stop stop stop—

Batman crosses the rooftops, a figure of darkness across the city’s skies. The Signal, his second oldest companion, travels through the shadows by his side until they land on the building Wraith stands on. 

The yellow of Signal’s armor is familiar and it feels safe but Wraith knows better. Talia and Ra’s have taught him to see past his emotions, to force away any sentiment and grapple with the cold hard truth. This is the truth: they are here to hurt him and Shrike, because they are dangerous killers and dangerous killers are dealt with swiftly and painfully in Gotham. 

They can do as they please to him. They will not take Shrike.

He engages Batman in battle first, easily slipping past his defense by going intangible, freezing his boots to the ground and icing his fists together. The Signal slips away at first, leaving Batman behind to try to get around Wraith, sending shadows towards Shrike who leaps away deftly, dodging them with ease as he leaves the beheaded body behind. 

Wraith grabs Signal before he can fully sink into a shadow and tosses him back, then flies to Shrike, picking him up and getting them away as quickly as possible.

“They found us faster than I thought,” Shrike says. His voice carries something in it that Wraith doesn’t recognize, but it makes his heart feel heavy. 

“We’re done for the night,” Wraith returns, voice low and hoarse. He died screaming and even the Lazarus Pits weren’t able to fix the damage done to his vocal chords. 

He lets his invisibility wash over them both, and they disappear into the night. The safehouse they set up, far away from the one Talia prepared for them, is small but comfortable. It’s secure, everything created and coded by Tim, which means Danny can relax inside the walls of the small apartment. 

Shrike helps him shed his gear, putting it away carefully. Wraith becomes Danny and he watches as Shrike becomes Tim. 

Gone is the ruthless efficiency, the quickness to cut down the scum of Gotham without remorse. Instead, he’s pale and tired, eyes still a faint green from the linger remains of the Lazarus Pit that brought him back from the dead, but there is no madness in him. Only a coldness that came long before his death, unwanted by Damian, the first of Batman’s vigilante partners, who refused to see him as part of the family or even as a hero at all. Duke had already gone to work with other teams since then and never met Tim properly for more than a few minutes.

But he knew Danny. They must have been close. If seeing The Signal sends such a sharp stab of pain in his heart, it must be for a reason. But the memories are long gone, and with them, any desire to be close to him again. 

They never do well after a run in with the Bats. Though they have won every fight they’ve had, Tim often retreats to bed in order to hide his tears and Danny is left alone, lost, and wishing he had stayed dead. 

Tonight is no different. Tim is making a difference as Shrike, striking fear in the hearts of Gotham’s criminals. Crime has gone down in Crime Alley, his chosen territory of the city, killing as many people as needed before they finally get the message to be better people. Tim is also still only eighteen and had spent three years with the League of Assassins before returning to Gotham and seeing that his place in the Bats is erased and forgotten and replaced by the well-loved Jason.

He only stays in Gotham to kill the people who sold him off to the Joker and laughed as he died slowly and painfully. Once the Joker is dead, he’ll leave Gotham and disappear for good. 

Danny will follow him. He has no life now and no other direction. And with Tim hiding under the covers, Danny can do nothing but feel his own skin crawl at the need to get away from everything that connects him to his life Before.

It’s a terrible idea, but he goes out again, heading into Otisberg, where he once lived. Only a raised hood conceals his face; the expressionless mask he usually wears is gone, and Wraith feels far away from him.

He hears the Signal land behind him some time later. It could be minutes or hours; time slips by Danny easily these days no matter how hard he tries to hold onto the minutes passing by. 

“Wraith,” Signal says, and his voice is hard. “Where’s Shrike? Out terrorizing the rest of Gotham?”

Danny doesn’t reply. He stares out into the city lights, a cold emptiness growing inside his chest. 

“Well, if you’re going to just sit there, then I suppose you don’t mind if I take you in to let Batman interrogate you. You’ve been causing a lot of trouble around here, and we don’t take kindly to murderous masks in Gotham.”

He doesn't resist as Signal grabs his wrists, hauling him up from where he was sitting on the ledge. Danny allows Signal to turn him around, shadows binding his wrists together and pulling down his hood.

The Signal sucks in a sharp breath, hands falling limp to his side. “Danny?”

Danny doesn’t respond.

“This better not be a joke, I swear to God. If you’re just wearing his face to fuck with me, I’m going to kill you, Batman’s rules be damned. Say something already!”

Danny looks up into the visor of Signal’s helmet. He opens his mouth and a hoarse whine slips out. “I knew you,” he manages to whispers. “I knew you. And then I died.”

The Signal flinches, then reaches up and pulls his helmet off. “Tell me something only we would know. Anything.”

“I don’t… remember. I wanted you to save me. I don’t think you did.”

“If this isn’t really you, Danny,” Duke says, voice thick with tears, “Then it’s a really fucked up joke.”

Danny looks at Duke, helpless. He doesn’t know what to do. What to say. Wraith only knows how to follow and protect and take orders. Danny doesn’t know how to live anymore. There is nothing he can do.

And then, as he stares as Duke, a memory slides into place, fuzzy but there.

“Arcade on eighth street,” he whispers, and Duke’s eyes go wide. “That was going to be our first date.”

“It was,” Duke says. There’s a light in his eyes now, something that looks like hope and the sight of it makes Danny sick to his stomach.

“I’m dead, Duke. Danny is dead. There is only Wraith now. Let the dead go, and stay away so we don’t have to kill you. I… want you to live.”

The shadows have loosened, still wrapped around his wrists but as a caress instead of a restraint. It doesn’t take any strength to pull out of them and drop off the roof, falling towards the ground. Danny lets gravity take hold of him for a few moments, then goes invisible and flies away just as Duke grapples down and searches for him desperately. 

He can hear Duke calling his name, then calling in Batman and Nightwing, but his voice fades away before Danny can make out what they’re saying.

Not that it matters. Whether tomorrow or further down the line, he and Tim will leave Gotham and disappear for good.

The dead cannot stay with the living, and so they will go.

There’s nothing left for them here, anyways. . . .

Earth 0.

Duke has had his fair share of strange dreams. It comes with the trauma and the powers, a terrible mix that leave him shaken and rattled when he wakes up, gasping for breath.

But instead of fear, his latest series of dreams leave him with a deep-seated feeling of grief. The details fade away quickly once he’s awake, but he can remember bits and pieces of worlds that looks so different from the one he lives in, and all of them have a single constant: Danny.

Danny, whose face he never remembers when he wakes. Danny, whose name is permanently etched into his mind. Danny, who he loves and loses every single night.

Danny, someone he’s never met.

Dick asks him if he’s alright the next time he’s in Gotham, eating breakfast in the manor with him and Tim. He considers lying, then tells him about the dreams and how frequent they are, snapshots of other lives where there is someone important to him that he can never save. Tim, who he thought was sleeping with his eyes half open, looks up and mumbles that it might be another universe.

After a few cups of coffee, Tim is awake enough to ramble on about the multiverse, pulling up reports from the Batcomputer on his phone to show Duke how many of them have had run ins with alternate universes. 

“So you’re saying that Danny might be here? In this world?”

Tim shrugs. “Well, maybe. If he’s the only constant, then I wouldn’t be surprised. If you’re here, so is he.”

“But he always dies!”

“Don’t worry, Duke,” Dick says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “If you do find him, then you’ve got all of his to help keep him safe.”

“Do you want me to find him? If you give me a description, I can probably narrow it down to a few people in the United States. One of them might be him.”

Duke considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, thanks though. If we’re supposed to meet, then we will. No point in rushing it.”

“Alright. Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that had been that. Nothing to really worry about, but the dreams continue and Duke keeps waking up grieving and so love with Danny, carrying the feelings of his alternates over to his own reality. At some point, he wishes that he and Danny would never cross paths in this world, if only so he doesn’t have to lose him.

But he wants to meet him. The universe says Danny is important to him; why else would he be part of his life in every world?

The thought never leaves him. It’s always in the back of his mind as he goes about his life, going to school and fighting crime. He finds himself lingering in the streets, trying to see everyone’s faces, listening for that familiar voice.

It takes over a year before he hears someone say, “Danny!” as he’s patrolling as Signal. 

He bends the light around him, going invisible, and searches for the people shouting the name of the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. It takes some time, but his eyes land on a tall, red haired woman fussing over a boy with black hair and blue eyes, leaning down some so she could reach his face.

He can’t hear what they say with the distance between them, but he knows with absolute clarity that he’s looking at Danny.

His Danny.

Duke takes a step forward, ready to drop his invisibility, letting the light escape his grasp, the pauses when he sees the bright smile on his face. 

This Danny is safe. He is alive and laughing and is with someone he cares about. 

This Danny has a life and a future and as much as Duke wants to know why his alternate selves love Danny so much, it isn’t worth Danny’s life.

Heart breaking, Duke steps back and watches as they walk away, disappearing into the crowded streets. 

He stares after them long after they’ve disappeared from sight, then grapples to a rooftop and releases his hold on the light. He sinks to his knees, trying to breathe through the grief that runs through him, and taps a pattern into his comms to signal that he’s ending his patrol early. 

It’s fine, he tells himself. This is for the best. This will keep Danny alive.

Danny always dies because of Duke. Someway, somehow, whenever they meet, the bell tolls and Danny’s death quickly approaches. It happens in every world, in the many, many dreams he’s had looking into a moment of their lives. 

But not this one.

In this one, Duke will save Danny by doing the only thing he can: making sure they never meet. 

It’s for the best. It has to be. . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts!]

[deadsetobsessions]

DC Prompt:

You wake up to a tiny child sleeping huddled quietly at your side, tear tracks fresh on his grimy face. Your body is sore and tired and when you lift a hand, the limb is skinny and pale and translucent. The thin mattress you’re laid on does not keep the cold from your suddenly thin and bruised back.

You know you died. You know you’ve woken up again. You know this isn’t your body or your life or even your city.

When the previous owner’s memories hit you, you know the previous occupant of this body is supposed to be dead. But you’re here now.

You know three things: you’re Catherine Todd, the child next to you is Jason Todd, and the rent is due in two weeks.

“Mom…?”

[ohitslen]

BREAKING NEWS 🎉Ch. 5 of The neighbor from 311 is up!🎉

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Mks angst - existential crisis. his friends being hurt or taken from him. Being abandoned. Failing. Being seen by others the same way they see swk maybe???

Swk angst - just indescribable physical pain being inflicted on him. Loneliness. Losing Mk

Mei angst - familial. Losing mk. (with the samadhi fire it was having a power she couldn't control ig but that was short-lived:( so) not being strong enough maybe???

Pigsy angst - losing his kid. Losing his shop. Being a lazy good for nothing. Being Zhu Bajie

Tang angst - being useless. Being left behind. Being seen as useless by his friends

Sandy angst - becoming violent/blackout rage. Causing harm

[skyward-floored]

Another fic with my one zelda au, where Link is corrupted and forced to hunt Zelda. Takes place sometime after this fic here.

Even corrupted heroes need their sleep... which luckily gives Link a bit of a break. Along with more than he expects.

————————————————————

Thunder rumbles, and Link drifts into awareness.

It takes him a moment to get himself to move, even when the sound of a sword swinging drifts through the air, and he slowly blinks his eyes open and looks around.

The sky is grey above his head, thick with clouds that threaten to release a steady rain. Link carefully sits up, a deep, heavy ache in his chest, and realizes the ground around him is a vast expanse of water, stretching as far as he can see. Somehow he isn’t wet though, and he touches a hesitant hand to the liquid, tilting his head at the odd feeling.

It strikes him then that he’s moving of his own volition, no darkness instructing his steps, no whispered orders aiming his sword.

He can think clearly.

Link takes in a shuddering breath, almost unable to believe it. He doesn’t remember how long he’s been under Vaati’s control, but it feels like it’s been weeks. And he’s finally able to move, and breathe, and stand up without a voice screaming in his head that he needs to kill all of his master’s enemies.

The sounds of a fight ring out again, and Link looks to his side, eyes widening at the sight.

A mass of darkness lurks mere feet away, swirling with faint dashes of purple and red. The dread that hits Link when he sees it is like an arrow to his chest, but then he sees something else.

There’s a man moving among the shadows, moving so fast that Link can’t easily focus on him. From where Link is standing it looks like he’s faintly glowing, green and gold, and his sword flashes in the light as he swings it. The mass of shadows the man is currently fighting lets out an odd howl, and he slices it neatly in two, before turning to another behind him.

Link would help him, but he feels rooted in place, unable to do anything but watch as the glowing man dispenses the shadows with terrifying efficiency.

He thrusts his sword into the last heaving mass of darkness, and Link hears a faint wail as it shrivels away, the space finally clear of enemies.

The man exhales, taking a moment to breathe, and Link isn’t sure what to do.

He’s saved from deciding when the man turns towards him, and Link is struck with the sheer presence he exudes, something ancient and strong, like one of the towering trees in Faron’s woods. He isn’t sure whether to bow or try to fight, but the decision is taken from him when the man lowers his sword, and looks at him fondly.

“Hello, Link,” he greets, voice gentle, but strong. “I’ll admit I’m somewhat surprised you’re here.”

Link narrows his eyes at the odd familiarity, and the man hums.

“I apologize, this must be strange to you. You’re asleep,” the man explains, and Link nods, relaxing a bit. Ah. A dream, then.

He’s a little surprised he can dream in his current state, but he won’t complain. Being able to trust his actions and make decisions for himself, even in nothing but a dream that won’t last, is extremely relieving.

Apparently he hasn’t lost all of his humanity.

“Don’t be mistaken though. You’re asleep, yes, but this isn’t... exactly a dream,” the man says, as if reading his thoughts. “Which is why I was surprised to see you here.”

“And where is here?” Link asks quietly, breaking his usual silence.

The man sighs, resting his hands on his sword as he gently plants it into the ground before him. “That is a complicated question. I guess the simplest way to put it would be... inside you. Deep in your very being. Your mind, or soul. Spirit perhaps. The part of you that makes you, you.”

Link must make a face, because the man chuckles, a warm smile pulling at his cheeks.

“I know that’s strange to hear. It’s very odd that you’re this deep in your own psyche.” His face turns suddenly serious, brows creasing his previously warm expression. “It’s doubtless a product of the corruption that is attempting to fully overtake you.”

A chill runs over Link at the words, and the spot on his back where Vaati hit him with the spell aches with a bitter cold.

His legs tremble, and suddenly he’s on his knees, the heaviness he experienced upon first waking up here hitting him again. It’s worse then the first time though, and Link grits his teeth, trying to fight through it.

The glowing man looks at him in deep concern, but then a swirling mass of deep darkness wells up from the ground, approaching them both with an unholy moan.

He whirls around and slices at it, and Link is unable to do much except watch him fight. He’s not sure how the man is landing hits on a literal mass of darkness, but fight he does, and he fights well. The more the man slices at the darkness, the better Link feels, and the thick shadows are no match for his incredible swordsmanship.

They’re soon dispensed with a wail, and Link can breathe again, though shakily.

The man lowers his sword with a sigh, and returns to Link’s side, offering him a hand up. Link takes it, a warmth running through him at the contact, and the man doesn’t let go once he’s upright, looking into his eyes with such an intense sadness that Link isn’t sure what to do.

“You are in quite the difficult situation,” he says gently, and Link looks away.

“I was attacked with dark magic,” he quietly admits. “In my waking hours it forces me to obey its master. I’m powerless to stop it.”

The spirit nods, a grieved look on his face. “Yes. I know. The corruption runs deep. It was a very cleverly designed spell... it cut straight to your spirit, deep enough that I have to actively fight it off. It’s attempting to corrupt even me. You’ve shielded me well so far, but I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

Link looks back at the man, feeling a strange recognition in his face, the brightness in his eyes, the kindness in his gaze. There’s a feeling of other about the man, something dangerous as a lighting strike, but also something so familiar and warm that it aches.

“Who are you?” Link asks.

The man smiles gently, and lifts his hand, placing it on Link’s shoulder.

“I’m you. I’m all of us. I’m Courage,” he says, and the word strikes deep, a warmth blossoming in Link’s middle like a flower in spring. “I’m the Spirit of the Hero, forged in fire and trial. I’m a gift, and a burden, one that emerges only in great time of need. I’m you. You’re me.”

A tear falls down Link’s cheek, and the man tenderly wipes it away, his touch like that of a parent.

“Not many heroes meet me face-to-face during their life,” he admits. “You’re one of very few... I only wish our meeting could be under better circumstances. Unfortunately you have to take what you can get sometimes.”

“I’m no hero,” Link interrupts, speaking around the lump in his throat.

“...No?”

The spirit raises an eyebrow, and Link swallows. “I allowed myself to be ambushed and corrupted, I fought against my fellow knights— I don’t know the fate of any of them, but some of them must be dead. I’ve harmed innocents. Vaati is planning to use me to hunt down the princess herself. What’s heroic about any of that?”

“You didn’t want to do any of those things, did you?” The spirit asks in a firm voice.

Link slowly shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought. The fact that you’re still fighting now is a testament to your nature,” he says gently, cupping Link’s cheek. “If you weren’t a hero, you already would have given in.”

Link doesn’t reply, not willing to argue, but not entirely willing to believe him either. Zelda may have believed he was a hero, but all he’s done is fail from the moment she told him so.

What kind of a hero fails before he even begins?

The spirit searches his gaze a moment, then lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his hand back to Link’s shoulder.

“Our enemy was cleverer than usual this time around. He knew that if he corrupted you, Hyrule’s defenses would be severely weakened,” he says more quietly. “He hit us where it hurts. Even now the darkness is attempting to corrupt me. If it succeeds, you will remain a servant of darkness forever.”

Link stills, and the man squeezes his shoulder.

“Take courage, Link. You are strong, and so is your kingdom, and princess. We will not stop in our fight against the darkness,” he says firmly, and Link nods, blinking back the sting in his eyes. Hero or not, he’s not planning on giving up just yet. “You’ve been given a hard fight, harder than most, but I know that you can endure until you are freed.”

“Do you have any advice?” Link asks quietly, wiping his sleeve across his face.

“Our enemy may overestimate himself with you in his clutches. If he does, it will be up to you and your princess to take that opportunity if it arises,” he says, and Link nods. He isn’t really sure if that will ever happen, but he’ll remain hopeful just the same.

For Zelda’s sake, at least.

The spirit’s expression softens again as he looks at Link, and he glances up at the sky, then looks back at him.

“You’ll wake soon I’m afraid,” he says, and Link swallows thickly, stomach churning as the clouds above them darken.

It feels like he just got here. He doesn’t want to go back to being a mindless soldier, locked in darkness and unable to resist. The thought of being under Vaati’s control for the foreseeable future makes him want to curl up in a ball, as cowardly as that sounds, but waking from even this brief comfort threatens to make him wail.

It must show on his face, for the man gives his shoulders one last bracing squeeze.

“Courage, little brother. You’re not alone,” he says, and gives Link a hug, one so soft and safe that Link feels like he’s a child again, held in his parents’s arms.

The spirit holds him for several long moments, and Link closes his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he was hugged like this, and the spirit is warm, and safe. Normally he’d bristle at hugging someone who’s essentially a stranger to him, but this is different, and he...

He needed this.

A light kiss is pressed to his hair, and then the spirit pulls back, giving him an unimaginably fond look.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to speak again,” he cautions, and the edges of Link’s vision suddenly darken somewhat. “But I will be here fighting all the same. Don’t lose hope.”

“Thank you,” Link says in a stronger voice than he thought he was capable of, and the spirit unsheathes his sword, the hilt glowing bright.

He smiles back at him. “You’re welcome.”

Darkness rears from the water at their feet yet again, increasing in the edges of Link’s vision, nearly overtaking his sight. He stumbles to his knees, and one of the last things he sees is the spirit thrusting his sword into the shadows, fighting for them both.

And the darkness overtakes him once again.