#when were bats invented anyways

[pigspeetsandhooflikefeets]

cave batman is so fucking hot I think i hauve covid

[corkinavoid]

I just found this in my notes

Apparently, I woke up at 5:23 in the morning, wrote it down, and went straight back to sleep. Trust my hyperfixated ass to still be making content even as I'm unconscious.

Anyways, yes,

DPxDC Trust Me, I'm an Engineer

Danny is half-ghost, but he is also a child of two mad scientists who spent the better part of their lives elbow deep in building all kinds of stuff out of all kinds of junk. Imagine what their kid, who loves science and engineering as much as they do, if not more, can accomplish?

When he moves to Gotham, he decides to leave all the heroics behind, hanging up his cape. Surely, he will be fine - Gotham has, like, what, six? seven? ten? vigilantes of its own. They don't need any more, and, besides, Danny is fairly certain he doesn't work that great in teams.

But there's just... so much crime happening.

Danny doesn't want to get involved, not really. He's retired. But he wants to help somehow!

So, he starts building unconventional devices for self-defense. A rubber duck that shoots lasers out of its eyes? A fork that turns into a shocker? A rice cooker that defends your home in case of an attack? A pen that transforms into a gas mask? You name it, he can build it.

It escalates quickly. Someone asks him to upgrade a baby carriage to a full impenetrable robot that will protect the baby inside it, and Danny decides why not. It's for safety. He installs countless safety measures so nothing could be triggered by mistake, and even though by the end the carriage doesn't look that much different, it proves effective in the first serious accident. In fact, it is so effective that it saves a total of five hostages, including the baby inside it, who didn't even cry because there are soundproof shields inside and recordings of the baby mother's voice.

Danny builds more of those carriages. Then he switches to home defenses. Then someone asks him to make brass knuckles that turn into a gauntlet shield in case of attack. Danny does a thorough check to make sure it won't fall into the wrong hands, but he ends up making it.

It doesn't take too much time for him to start making full-on robotic suits for people. Bulletproof, running on clean energy - Gotham has plenty of residue ectoplasm - with built-in defense mechanisms and stuff.

It is at this point that the Bats start taking a closer look at his inventions. Before that, they thought it was just some Rogue in the making, and they kept an eye on Danny, but never once has he created anything with the purpose of offense instead of defence, so they let it slide. But then Tim gets his hands on one of the suits and comes back to Bruce, nearly salivating over it.

A few weeks later, Danny gets an internship at WE. A year later, he is invited to work with the JL.

And that's when it hits him.

M e c h a s.

He can do real, actual mecha-suits for heroes. He can make them fit those heroes perfectly, enhancing their strengths and negating the weaknesses.

No alien invasion fucks with Earth anymore, because when they do, the JL just grabs their Danny Fenton Suits and whatever evil aliens were aiming to take control are annihilated in no time.

Maybe Tucker joins him along the way. Maybe Danny has an arms race with Lex Luthor, maybe Cyborg bonds with him over the mechanical rambling. What I'm saying is, cool robots for everyone!

[hipstergecko]

Waking Up.

Hey so remember that DPxDC prompt I wrote awhile back? I've been writing it! Here's a brand new chunk.

Ghost in a Box: Danny experiences extreme sensory deprivation after getting trapped in a coffin like box his parents invented. His box is opened on the JL watchtower after being found in an underground bunker. Humans can't do sensory deprivation for too long. Apparently neither can Danny.

Original Ghost in a Box prompt here.

----

Black bat was waiting. She was quite good at waiting. Sometimes on a mission you had to be patient. Still and silent. Waiting.

The boy that had come out of the box had been in the intensive care unit for days. He had been dehydrated and was terribly emaciated. He had been starving. How long had he been in the box?

They couldn’t ask him until he woke up. So she had been waiting.

Cass sighed and walked silently down the hall to the ICU. After they had gotten the boy into the medical wing, she’d gotten the whole “that was incredibly dangerous” spiel from her dad Batman. He was proud of her though. She could tell. It spoke through the lines of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. The softness of his hands. Hopefully that softness would be given to the boy from the box.

There had been multiple debriefs and meetings to discuss how to proceed with the boy. The majority of heroes were loath to continue opening boxes. What if they were full of creatures much like the boy? Capable of so much damage and danger. They didn’t even know what he was.

The documents they had uncovered called the boy a ghost. But after checking his vital signs, they found he had a pulse. He had a heart, breath, and blood. He was human.

But he was in the box. So he wasn’t. The members of Justice league dark had been contacted and were due to arrive any day now. They had been on assignment somewhere else. Cass hadn’t bothered to find out where they’d been.

None of that mattered anyway.

What had mattered, truly, was that the boy from the box was afraid. Afraid and unable to communicate. And Cass understood him. He was terrified and desperate. And Cass saw him beyond the horrors.

He was a child and he needed help.

So he was hers now. No matter what anyone else said. She reached out to him first and he was her new brother/son/child. Bruce would have to deal with it.

She had stayed on the watchtower, with Bruce’s blessing, since the box had been opened. She barely left the boy’s side much to Bruce’s chagrin. He was not pleased with the possibility of her being in danger. But Tim had pointed out that she was plenty dangerous herself.

She loved her brothers.

She stayed on the watchtower all the time now. Staying with the boy and only leaving the observation room to shower and eat on her own. The doctors had insisted, gently, that she should take some time to herself after those first few days. So she does. Today she took a hot shower and attended a few meetings to keep up as to what they planned to do with her new brother. She also got to spend some time with Spoiler who had just so happened to be on the watchtower that day (she sent a thank you message to Tim over the family chat).

She looked through the observational window, a frown hidden behind her mask. The boy was hooked up to various machines to monitor his vitals. His eyes were still covered and the headphones were still firmly on his head. He looked so small and frail against the bed linens. There wasn’t much more they could do until the JLD members arrived.

The doctors inside the room were gently cleaning the boy. Running a warm soft wipe down his arms and legs, checking his vital signs, laying a warm blanket over him for comfort. She watched impassively at first, then with intense interest as some of the monitors showed brain activity.

Signs of waking. Her new brother was waking up.

She was the first one in the room when the boy jerked awake with a gasp.

---------

Consciousness.

Discomfort.

Gravity.

The air tastes funny. His arm itches. His legs feel heavy.

Weird.

Danny floated on the edge of wakefulness. Or at least what he thought was consciousness. It was hard to tell anymore. Everything was a cycle of dreaming and waking, or was it dreaming and dreaming? It was hard to find reality. Nothing changed except the hallucinations his mind conjured. And even his mind had started to get things wrong.

He couldn’t trust his memories anymore. He couldn’t remember what life was like. If he saw his mother in the box with him, he couldn’t make out the details of her face. Or His father’s laugh. Or his sister’s hair. Everything was fuzzy. Distant. Faded from his memories.

Did he even have a family? Was that something he made up?

He couldn’t remember.

How long had he been in here? He’d stopped counting the days when his eyes ceased to glow. Recycled ectoplasm was good at sustaining a ghost, but not good at feeding a ghost. And him being only a few years dead, he was still developing powers. Well he would be if he wasn’t essentially being purposefully stunted in this stupid box.

What a stupid box. Can’t even sit up in it. It was more like a coffin than a box. It would figure that he finally got put in a coffin. Specially since he died all the way but not quite once already. How lame. Someone somewhere was probably laughing about this.

What was he thinking about? Oh yeah. His eyes stopped glowing. Made it harder to see what was real. He couldn’t see the shadows of his real hands and the lack of them on the images his mind conjured. It was hard to tell the difference. If he could even tell the difference anymore.

He probably couldn’t tell at all anymore really.

He floated beyond consciousness for a moment more, resisting the press upon his mind to wake. Better to sleep. After all, there wasn’t anyone coming to get him. The whispers were silent when he wasn’t in his mind. The voices stopped. The hands didn’t pull at his mouth and eyes. It was the only chance at peace he got.

Something touched him.

Weird.

Wait…

Something, no, someone was touching him. Moving his itchy arm. He felt hands on his legs, moving them under the heaviness.

The hands were touching him.

Danny jolted to full consciousness with a gasp. He violently jerked away from the hands and scrambled back. They’d never moved him before! They’d only tried to! He had always fought them off! They were just hallucinations!! His mind only thought he was being touched!! What happened?! How?! WHY?!

His breath came in larger gasps of air as he spiraled into panic. The hands, glowing and green, decayed and skeletal reached out of the darkness. Whispered words filled his ears, static and chiming all at once. He flailed out at them frantically, touching nothing. He whimpered. They weren’t real they weren’t real they weren’t real.

One of the hands grabbed his arm.

He cried out at the contact. The weak and raspy sound pulling painfully from this throat as he lashed out at the hand and fell back. The ectoplasm felt firm and plush beneath him.

Wait, was that really ectoplasm? Was this real?

Somehow in his retreat, he reached an edge. He slipped.

He fell.

He hit a hard surface and felt the air whoosh from his lungs. He choked on the strange air and grasped blindly around himself. There was no ectoplasm, nothing swishing around him as he moved. He struggled to breathe and reached frantically out to his sides.

There were no walls.

No walls, no ceiling, no swishing stale ectoplasm.

What…

He… he wasn’t in the box.

This couldn’t be real.

He scrambled back along what he felt was the floor until he hit something hard. A wall? He didn’t care. This wasn’t real, but it felt real enough to use as an anchor, so at the wall he stayed.

Danny grasped at his arms. Nails dug into muscle, piercing the skin and drawing ectoplasm. He felt the pain and it grounded him. He was real. He was still real. His breathing was still harsh, the panic still real. The hands still reaching for him weren’t real. The floor and wall weren’t real. He was just trapped in another hallucination.

He just needed to calm down and wait until he came out of it naturally or hurt himself into reality. Either way he would still be in the box.

Abandoned in the box.

He dragged his nails down his arms, leaving behind gashes that wept. He wasn’t concerned though. His ghost form would heal fast enough that it wouldn’t make a difference. All he needed was to stop seeing things that weren’t real. He’d shed enough tears over illusions of his friends and family. Been through enough terrors and memories to doubt his mind. He knew he was in the box. Once he found the box again he could try to go back to sleep.

He’d lost the will to do anything more what felt like a lifetime ago. All he had left to his obsession was protection. Self protection. Survival. Keep his human half alive. By staying a ghost and surviving the horrors of his mind.

It was all he had left.

He ran his hands up his arms to start tearing at his skin again and found… wetness? He hadn’t healed yet? He lifted a hand to his face and licked the wetness on his fingers.

Copper tang. The faintest taste of ectoplasm.

It tasted like… blood?

Danny’s heart stopped in his chest. Wrong. His heart stuttered in his chest and he scrabbled at his neck. He fingers found his pulse.

Oh no.

He had a pulse. He was human again!

The darkness surrounding him was suddenly suffocating, pulling at his breath and stealing his rational thought. He was real, but he was going to die. Humans can’t survive as long as he had without food and water and air! He couldn’t keep control of his ghost form and his human half was going to die! He had to change back or he would fail at doing the only thing he had left!!

He started hyperventilating and desperately grabbed at his ghost core. An immediate searing pain shot through his chest. The sound he made was akin to someone tearing paper and he fell over on his side. He began trembling all over.

That hurt so bad. That hurt so bad.

He couldn’t think. He could breathe but that just brought him closer to death. Tears welled from his eyes and caught on something just beyond his eyelashes, turning the blackness somehow darker. He was going to die and the recycled ecto had failed and he was going to die and the static wouldn’t stop and the hands wouldn’t let him go and he was going to die alone and forgotten he was going to die again nopleasenopleasenotagain-

Something touched his hands.

Danny jerked back and away, nausea surging up his throat. He pushed himself up only to vomit stomach acid. The only thing in his system. It burned as it came and went. His stomach clenched so hard that he curled over on himself. His muscles shook with strain as he hyperventilated. He couldn’t get enough air. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move…

Something touched him again. A gentle pressure on his back. Warm and soft.

He tensed beyond what he thought he was able. Rigid, but shaking in fear. He had no thoughts beyond the sheer terror of what he thought was unreality becoming reality.

Moments passed. And nothing happened.

The pressure on his back stayed. It did not grasp at him like the hands did. It remained gentle and soft. A warmth. It was different. It was scary.

It felt nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Danny’s breathing calmed. Slowly, he felt things around him. He felt the blood trickling down his arms. The cold floor under his legs. The soft, long shirt on his body didn’t close in the back or reach down past his knees. He was warmer than the floor which was strange, but made sense. He was human again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he turned back human. It was his greatest fear. To turn human in the box and die alone and small in the dark enclosed space.

But he wasn’t dying. He was breathing. The air was fresh. It tasted strange. His hands fluttered along the wounds on his arms. He felt pain and knew it was real. And the pressure on his back felt real.

Did… did someone open the box?

Hope hit him so hard that he began to cry softly. He couldn’t let himself hope, but he couldn’t deny it. Not when this all seemed so real. His crying grew harder. Harsh stuttering breaths that he couldn’t even hear. Which was kind of odd. Why couldn’t he hear himself? Did he still have ears? He slowly reached up and felt where his ears should be. There was something covering them. A hard plastic thing that went up over his head. Slowly his hands moved in front of his face. He found his nose and his mouth. They were still there. Then he touched the places where his eyes should be. He felt cloth.

His eyes and ears were covered?

Another hand touched his own and he jolted. It was as gentle and warm as the other hand. He could finally hear his ragged cries as the hand took his gently and intertwined the fingers. A gentle squeeze had the tears coming hard and fast. From fear or hope? There was no telling. A sheer outpouring of emotion.

Someone had opened the box.

And they were holding his hand.

He desperately hoped this was real.

----------

That's it for now! Honestly I'm just writing snippets of story beats and then stringing them together when the anxiety has quieted. I have an AO3 account now, but I'm still posting everything here first!

Nyeeeh keep an eye out for more I guess.

[prismuffin]

OMG I JUST-

Okay, can I get an ask of the batboys (Dick, Jason, Tim (separately), reacting to them thinking Male Reader called them(the bat boys) a 'good boy'?!

Like the batboys are talking about something they did today, and they hear the reader say something like , 'looks like someone's been a goodboy' while standing beside them.

BUT! But when they turn around, they see Reader talking to his pet.

-Crow

this is soo funny to me LMFAO- anyways i think that-

Dick had just gotten back from a run with you and your dog. He was making idle chatter as he refilled his water bottle in the kitchen, his back to you as you kneeled down to remove the harness from your dog. "You know we ran an extra mile today," Dick said, closing up his water bottle as you hummed, scratching behind your dogs ear. "And you did it without any breaks, good boy." Dick choked, turning around quickly to look at you, "what did you just?!-" He cut himself off, noticing you still cooing over your dog before looking at him in confusion at his sudden outburst. Noticing that you were talking to your dog he immediately felt embarrassed at himself and he started to blush a bit, clearing his throat as he looked away from you. "N-Nothing...nevermind," He was quick to leave after that, wondering why that interaction made his heart pound a bit in his chest. Jason was cooling off after a particularly rough workout and he was talking to you about it. He'd just hit a deadlift goal and was telling you about it while he made his meal prep, kind of bragging, kind of not. The last thing he expected to come out of your mouth as a response was you calling him a good boy. He paused, smirking at your teasing before turning to you slowly with an eyebrow raised only to see you petting your dog, completely ignoring him. His face fell immediately as he realized you were just talking to your dog and he just turned back around, deciding to leave you in the dark about his little mistake. Tim would be ranting to you about a new contraption he had made, he had tested it out on a recent mission and it'd worked perfectly so he was proud to be ranting about it to you. He's not sure why but he felt his heart skip a beat when he'd heard your response, "Awww Good boy! Good job buddy-" A blush broke out on his face at your words. Were you babying him? "Wh-what?!" He turned, stopping as he saw you looking at him in confusion, you were kneeling and petting your dog though you'd stopped after he'd turned to you. "Oh you were- uhh-" His eyes darted between you and your dog and you couldn't help but chuckle as you realized what just happened. "You thought I was talking to you?" You raised an eyebrow and his blush deepened. He shook his head, "No! thats not-" "Aww did you want me to call you a good boy because your little invention worked?" You teased and he turned away from you as you laughed at his embarrassment, your dog yipping in a sound that was all too similar to laughter it was practically mocking to Tim.

———

Directory

[starry-bi-sky]

tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid

okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.

It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.

(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)

There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.

It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.

Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.

Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.

He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.

At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.

This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.

Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.

Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.

Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.

("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)

Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.

Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.

Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.

Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.

Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".

(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)

Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.

He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.

Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.

Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.

At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.

He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.

Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."

And there it is. There's his out.

Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."

The ball starts rolling.

Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.

He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.

It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.

Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.

He breaks the lock by hand.

Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.

The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.

And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.

I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"

I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.

Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.

But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.

Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.

Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.

Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.

Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.

And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny is not okay.

He had just gotten back from shoving a very offended Spoiler out of the second story window with a broom when he discovered Red Robin hacking into one of the family computers and had to whack him too.

The broom was getting used a lot today, huh?

In Danny's defense, he had locked up the portals and lab tight before activating the houses security system. Unfortunately, Vlads murderer - some guy named Deathstroke- had used a Fenton product to do the crime, and now his parents (as oblivious as ever) are out hunting the hit man for revenge. Jazz was in on a girl's trip with her friends for a week, and his friends are both out of town with their respective families so the three of them had no idea any of this was going on.

Now here he is dealing with a bat infestation. He hopes his parents will forgive him for blowing up the computer, but he really doesn't want his parents going to jail. And with half the stuff on the computer being destructive mad scientist inventions and the other half being plans/tools to commit horrific atrocities and genocide of an entire dimensions worth of sentient beings?

Jail. Jail for a thousand years. Can't let that happen. So Danny is on his one man mission of throwing ninjas with daddy issues out various windows over and over again. This can't last forever! They have a city to return to, right?!

Well, turns out he was right! Too bad they were all now in what Danny could only guess was a new world full of talking monsters that kept trying to eat them!

At least the house came with them so they had shelter. Why did mom program the teleporter to activate without coordinates put in anyway. What where these monsters? Where is Nadiria supposed to be in the galaxy? Where they still in the milky way? Was it safe to fanboy about being on another planet? Can Danny become a "monster wrangler" alongside the bats so they don't get eaten?

Can danny manage to hide his identity as a ghost/ "monster" from the bats while they're trapped in this freaky place?

[tragedybunny]

A Lovely Night - Astarion x F!Reader - TW: Mentions of past suicide attempts

Just an idea that came to me that I had to write. I promise next thing up is one of the requests that was waiting for awhile.

You and Astarion share a quiet night at camp and end up getting to know a lot more about each other and your relationship.

“Astarion, honestly,” you scold, fussing with one tent pole. “You’re making this difficult on purpose.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, my Dear,” he smirks, and moves suddenly, the half-finished tent collapsing on itself. It’s just a little game to maximize his time with you. The longer you two work at this, the less chance the others have to steal you away. 

“Gods, I’m going to sharpen one of these into a nice, pointy stake.” Your threat is undercut by a poorly concealed smile.

“Oh, what a cruel thing to say.” He widens his eyes at you, all feigned hurt. 

“That’s it, set it up yourself!” Throwing your hands up, you start to walk away, when he catches you, arms around your waist, pulling you in. 

“Fine, fine, I apologize,” little kisses pepper your neck as you squirm, still playing at a show of indignation, and start to giggle. 

“Let me go, you vile beast,” you’ve twisted until you face him, and he brushes his lips against yours. 

Words die away, and you rest your forehead against his, arms looping around his neck. Another soft kiss and the two of you have forgotten the tent entirely. 

Someone groans intentionally loud enough for you both to hear and the two of you dissolve into laughter. Astarion lets you go. The two of you really should make sure you have some place to sleep tonight anyway.

When the tent is finally up, you settle next to each other by the fire. Gale’s cooking again, which Astarion finds preferable. Sometimes when unoccupied, he stares at you like a parched man at a cool stream. Reaching for your hand, his fingers brush the scar on your wrist. At first, he hadn't noticed it existed, his mind divorcing itself from his body when he was intimate with you. Later he'd found it, when he was trying to study and memorize every bit of you while denying the ever-growing place in his heart that you occupied. 

You hadn't told him about what led to it, and he hadn’t known how to ask. Tonight you jerk back as though burnt when his touch finds it, and he wants to be hurt. But you've given him space and patience, he could at least do the same for you. 

So he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you close until your head rests on his shoulder as you both stare at the crackling fire. "Favorite season," he asks. It's a little game the two of you invented, learning otherwise small details about each other. You knew the larger parts of his past, Cazador and all, and he knew the broad swathes of yours. You left home because you disagreed with your parents, he'd started to figure you for a noble before you'd all but admitted it, and you were a Warlock who couldn't say much beyond that. But the tiny details of you, those you could be free with. 

"Spring, it feels full of second chances and rebirth." You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. 

"Summer," that's the rule, you both have to answer, "it's the only time the night feels alive, even if it is short." 

A sympathetic noise and you kiss his cheek. "A pet that's not a dog or cat?"

"Rabbits," he answers without hesitation. 

"Really?" 

"They make a rather compliant food supply in a pinch."

"Astarion!" You try to sound scandalized, like you didn't know you were in a relationship with a vampire. Playfully, you swat at his shoulder. "Pets are not for eating." 

Scratch gives him a look from across the fire, the mutt never far from your side. "I thought we weren't judging each other," he scolds with a smile. "Your turn."

“What could I trust you with? Maybe something more appropriate like a raven,” you snicker, and he rolls his eyes knowing you can see him. “Oooh, maybe a bat.” 

“Are you making fun of me? You know, if we had anything like that, the neighbors would figure me out for sure, and then there’d be a mob after me. Is that what you want?” 

“Well I can’t trust you not to eat the rabbits it would seem, so what am I supposed to do,” the last word is squeezed out between giggles. Gods, it’s amazing to hear you laugh, even if it is at his expense. 

“Fine, no eating any pets. I promise,” he uses the same honeyed tone from the first days of knowing you, stifling his own laughter. It’s absurd, and wondrous, it almost feels like you're talking about real possibilities of some future beyond all this. 

“What about chickens? What if we had a farm with a bunch of chickens. Would I have to chase you out of the hen house like a fox?” 

“Madame, I’m highly insulted, you would think so low of me. Also, birds are harder to catch than you would think.” Arms crossed, he pouts. 

“You poor thing,” you kiss his temple, “I’m sorry for offending you.” Settling back down, you sigh wistfully. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? A little farm, the middle of nowhere, after we deal with everything."

"If that would make you happy. I'll refrain from any untoward curiosity about your chickens." Not that he ever expects you would really want that with him, you'll come to your senses after all this. 

"Deal. Seal it with a kiss?" He barely gets the agreement out and your lips are on his, gentle at first, waiting for his lead to something more fervent. Lips part, he invades your mouth, the noise you make music to him. A small step, a moment of desire that doesn't send him hurtling back into the abyss. 

"Dinner is done, if you two can tear yourselves apart for a few minutes," Gale practically scolds from across the fire.  

You pull away, blushing, another musical laugh echoing around him. “We can continue this later.” Reluctantly, he surrenders you to dinner, and the conversations the others pull you into. 

After what seems like an eternity, the two of you are finally alone again, the dying fire casting a soft light through the walls of the tent. In the flickering shadows, he watches as you begin to strip, casting the day away as you toss your garments to the side. The sight of you unclothed no longer sparks anxiety, now just a casual expression of your comfort around him. He drinks you in, alluring and unguarded. You are, admittedly, very pretty, but there's something beyond that. It’s that heart of yours, full of kindness, even for someone like him. 

"Why do you always have to play the hero?" He'd accosted you once after yet another noble deed.

"I can't just look away when I could've done something. This is a choice I make every day Astarion. To try to do what's right." You tapped his nose lightly with a finger, and he glared at you. "Even when it comes to you, my dear bloodsucker."

Somehow that was even more amazing to him. Kindness and goodness didn't just come to you, you fought to be that person. He suspected it was against a past that had tried to teach you the opposite.

You reach for the loose nightshirt you'd pulled from your pack. "Leave it off, please." Pausing, you give him a questioning look. "I just want to feel you tonight." 

The way your eyes softened at that made his still heart tremble. "Alright, Love."

After you settled among the blankets, he lays down in your arms, back pressed to your chest, your arms wrapping around him. He knows the touch of his skin brings a chill to yours, but that’s what the generous pile of blankets is for, so he pulls them over the both of you, trapping the warmth of you. 

"This is nice," you say, kissing his neck and shoulders until he feels the tension in his muscles giving way, and he relaxes in your embrace. 

Inhaling, his nostrils are filled with the scent of you. It's the most wondrous thing, and somehow it clings to everything now that you share a bed; blankets, pillows, even his clothes. He's surrounded by you all the time, and even more amazing, he smells himself on you, tangible proof you’re really his. His in the way that you gave yourself to him, just as he was yours. 

Something still feels unsettled in him though, a curiosity, no a concern, from earlier. “Can I touch it?” He blurts without thinking. 

Feeling you stiffen behind him, he curses, you’d had such a lovely evening, and now he’d ruined it. An arm unwraps from him, and you hold it where his fingers could find it. “Go ahead.” 

Two fingers caress it, running along your wrist, deep, straight, no jagged edges. A sharp blade and no hesitation, did they find you before it was too late, or was magic needed to bring you back? A cry tries to tug its way out of his throat, but he clamps his lips shut. There was almost a world without you, a world where you weren’t there to find him on that beach. The thought presses down, threatening to strangle him, and he tries to blink away tears. But he can feel your pulse thrumming under that scar, you’re here, you survived, and you found him. “If anyone ever makes you feel like this again, I’ll tear their throat out.” He knows you can’t say the why or when of it, but he’ll be damned if it ever happens again. 

“Hmm,” you don’t elaborate, but let him keep on with the small circles he’s now rubbing on your wrist. 

“What?” It was probably a stupid notion, look how far you’d brought this group, whatever your past, you didn’t need protection anymore. 

“It’s just different, thinking about someone trying to protect me.” 

“I do try…” Not that you could tell, apparently. 

Your arm shifts back, and before he can be anxious, it finds its previous spot, encircling his chest. Lips bury themselves in his curls and back down along his neck again. “I know. I meant, I don’t know, emotionally.” You huff, and he finds one of your hands to squeeze. “If I was happy never mattered much before.” 

“Well, it matters now.” There’s a deluge of emotion threatening in your words behind a dam that barely holds it back. That’s not for tonight though, or any night soon, he knows you have to finish this fight first. But when he can, when you’re ready, he’ll be there, repayment for the way you hold his heart with a delicate touch. 

“I think I’m starting to realize that.” Another kiss, this one on his ear, making him shiver. “I love you, Astarion.” 

“I love you too. Just…please don’t ever forget that.” It’s all gone entirely too serious. “Withers doesn’t need any more of our gold.” 

Behind him, you make a sound that’s half laugh, half sob, your face is wet where you press it into his shoulder. “Just whine at him, it seems to work well enough on the rest of us.” 

You pull him tight against you, and for this moment, everything is perfect and wonderful and lovely. Tag List:

@micropoe10 @spacebarbarianweird@writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

[c0la-queen]

You | Tord x Reader

Here we go! I'm sorry if this isn't my normal quality, I wrote it while fighting off a headache... but also, I wanted to be a little silly! Because these are silly guys! I hope you enjoy the slight cliffhanger I left it on, hehe! Mwah, mwah!

Warnings: Tord is a bit of a weirdo, stalking behavior, obsession, Tord is 100% making assumptions about you and your personality, love this little freak <3

Words: 1.5k

---

Being a quiet person is not always an easy thing.

Some people would think it was. You never have to worry about saying the wrong thing. There were less chances of you offending anyone from your words.

Or, some people think the opposite. "I could never handle being so quiet" they say. It must be a headache to be around so much noise.

And… they were right, in Tord's opinion. It was nice to not have to get stuck in awkward conversations. He had the added bonus of being intimidating, so people eventually got the hint and stopped trying to talk to him. However, he also had to keep enough Advil on hand to tranquilize a small horse, considering he decided to live with the three loudest motherfuckers on the planet. Pros and cons, and such.

There were times when it proved to be nice, though.

Like right now.

The odd occasions where he had the day to himself. Tom and Matt were at work, Edd was visiting his parents, so that left Tord to his lonesome. What a great day.

As much as he would have liked to spend the whole day in the house, he couldn't. He needed to go grocery shopping - the fridge looked abysmal. At least it was warm and sunny outside. Still, he dragged his feet. He really didn't want to go to the store.

Ugh.

He was the son of the Red Leader. He had seen much worse shit. He had killed men in cold blood without batting an eye. He was not going to be bested by the looming possibility of social interaction.

…maybe he needed therapy?

…

Nah.

--

If Tord ever managed to invent a time machine, the first thing he was going to do was find the person who developed wireless earbuds and give them a kiss.

Being an intimidating looking person was a great way to ward off unwanted conversations. But there were always people who had no sense of self preservation and chose to try and talk to him anyway. Wearing earbuds while he was out helped with that. Nobody was stupid enough to try and deliberately get him to take his earbuds off. (Except Edd and Matt, but they know that they'll get away with it.)

The basket handle on his arm was starting to dig into his arm as he stood in front of the pasta aisle, watching his pet idiots (roommates) argue on the group chat over what type of noodles to get. Edd wanted Ziti, Tom wanted Angel Hair, and Matt wanted Bowtie… for some reason.

Tord was busy calculating the risk vs. reward of banging his head against the shelf until he bled out of his ears when it happened.

You happened.

Through his music, he heard the sound of laughing and giggling. He glanced to the side, expecting a gaggle of obnoxious, immature 20-something year olds with the sole purpose of ruining everyone else's relaxing shopping experience. And that's mostly what it was. But, standing in the middle of them was you.

Hello, you.

You were laughing, just like the others. But not the fake laughter of conformity - no, it was real, genuine laughter. Tord didn't think he had heard anything so beautiful. He even paused his music just so he could hear it in its pure form.

The more he looked, the more he saw of you. You were like the sun, so golden and bright compared to these others you were standing with. He could tell you weren't like them, he could tell you weren't using some made up personality to try and fit in.

What the hell were you doing with people like that?

Then, you were moving. Your little group had apparently decided the joke wasn't funny anymore, so you were moving on. Disappearing into the next aisle. Disappearing from his life.

Tord threw a couple boxes of noodles into the basket without even looking at it, shoving his phone back in his hoodie pocket and moving on to the next aisle. He pretended to deliberate over what brand of laundry detergent to get as he subtly watched your group at the other end of the aisle. He was able to get a better look at you.

You were wearing a brightly colored cardigan, wool by the looks of it, that perfectly matched the colors of your earrings and purse. You liked to coordinate your outfits. You had on a little skirt that teased just enough of your thighs to draw attention without being slutty, but you also had black tights on. You liked to look attractive while still feeling like you were being modest. Your earrings and the clip in your hair looked like they had been bought from the girls' department store in the mall right across from Matt's store, that was always playing mind numbing pop songs and had unicorns everywhere. You liked cutesy, almost juvenile things.

Tord wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything about you.

--

A peaceful day all to his lonesome where he would force himself to get groceries before wasting the day away on the couch quickly shifted - now, he was spending the rest of the afternoon with you.

Well, almost.

You and your friends were walking around town, enjoying the warmth and dipping into any stores that caught your attention. Tord was also walking around town, a good distance behind your group, enjoying your warmth and drinking in every detail he could get.

And he had learned plenty.

He had no idea why you were friends with these people. From what he could tell, you were stifled in this group. They would talk over you, ignore things that you pointed out, refuse to go to stores that you wanted to go to, tease and taunt you, and walk ahead of you. Despite it all, you always kept a smile. You kept shining, kept illuminating the area around you.

They don't deserve your light.

Oh, but you knew that, didn't you? You knew, but you were so sweet and gracious that you gave it to them anyway. Maybe if you shone bright enough, warmed their skin enough, they would finally give you attention.

Tord would give you that attention. He already was, and you weren't even giving him your sunlight.

And he never would ask you to.

No, your sunlight was going to be a gift that he had to earn. It would be a blessing that he was going to work hard to have bestowed upon him.

He would never exploit you.

Like they did.

--

Tord slipped into the coffee shop, running a hand through his hair. The warm weather was causing a light amount of sweat to gather on his skin.

He pretended to look across the overfilled menu, taking in the names of all the absurd drinks available. He already knew what he was going to get.

"Hi, welcome in! What can I get started for you today, sir?"

The barista was smiling at him too much. Her eyes drifted down his chest, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Her pupils her dilated. She was checking him out.

Not that he cared. On an objective standard, she was pretty. But she didn't shine. She wasn't sunlight. She didn't brighten up the entire room just with her smile. She didn't make the birds sing by just looking in his direction.

She wasn't you.

"Iced Americano."

"Will that be all for you? We have a whole menu of signature flavors. I'd recommend-"

"Just an Americano."

The barista blinked in surprise when he cut her off. Typical. A pretty person with a shallow mind that couldn't comprehend the idea of a person not being interested in them. She huffed softly before ringing him up and telling him his total.

He paid, then turned to go sit and wait for his order to be made. He didn't get very far, though, before he almost ran into someone.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I totally wasn't looking where I was going!"

It was you.

You were talking to him.

You were looking at him.

You were so warm.

"It's fine."

As Tord fled like a fucking coward, you gave him a sweet smile. You smiled at him. And he just walked away. Asgardians above, his father would have been so disappointed in him.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat at a window table, watching your friends snicker at the coffee shop mascot.

"Mate, you've been out shopping for like 4 hours. Where are you?"

Edd's voice drifted out from his phone speaker as Tord pressed the screen to his cheek.

"Something came up."

"Did you get the bowtie noodles? Did you? Tord?"

There was a muffled 'Matt, get off me' and some shuffling fabric before Edd's voice returned.

"The fuck do you mean something came up?"

Tord glared at the boy you were talking to, watching you give him an adorable pout. Oh, the things Tord would do to you.

"I found the perfect girl for us."

[imagines--galore]

||Light 'em Up|| Prologue

Summary: She saved Hiro from bullies and then punched Tadashi when she thought he was one too. She calls herself Hiro's caretaker, and became Tadashi's best friend. Now she attends the same Institute as Tadashi as a robotics student. She's Sakura dubbed Cherry Blossom by Fred. She's Hiro's partner in crime, when it comes to annoying his brother and Tadashi's best friend. Pairing: Tadashi Hamada x Sakura Kamiya(OC) Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Adventure A/N: I've written this for the longest time and figured it was time to start uploading this here! So enjoy!

"So was that everyone on your little Nerd Team?"

Hiro asked cheekily as he stood beside his brother, helmet in hand. They had just stepped out of the Institute, after meeting everyone, and were about to head home. His older brother grinned and nodded, putting his own helmet on.

"Yup!" He started the Moped as he counted his friends on his fingers one by one.

"Gogo. Fred. Honey. Wasabi. And..." His eyes widened with disbelief with a hint of fear, as he paled and breathed out.

"Oh crap!"

Hiro's smile widened all the more when his brother was almost immediately cut off by a loud shout from the top of the stairs.

"Tadashi Hamada!"

Both brothers turned to look at the stairs where a figure was walking towards them, their steps quick and determined. Tadashi seemed to shrink where he sat on his mopped, while his younger brother, with his helmet still on, waved excitedly.

"Hiya Sakura!"

Immediately a bright smile was directed towards him.

"Hello Hiro!"

The younger boy was then swept into a giant bear hug by the girl. She lifted him off his feet, the both of them laughing before she deposited him back on the ground looking at him, her eyes shining.

"Oh its so good to see you! Its been almost three days since I last saw you. I was worried when I got Tadashi's text about the Bot Fight. Why did you even go there anyway? No wait! What were you thinking?! For being a smart kid that was pretty dangerous and stupid Hiro."

As she spoke she started to turn his head around, eyeing him from head to toe.

"You're not hurt are you? If it were up to me I would glue that helmet to your head."

She laughed rapping her knuckles smartly against the object. Worry and concern was written all over the older girl's face as she inspected him for any kind of bruises or even a scratch.

"Seriously are you okay though?"

Her voice was soft, violet eyes laced with concern as she looked at Hiro in the eye.

"I'm okay, Sakura!"

Hiro said pushing her hands away gently, with a grin. He knew how the older girl could get with him. She was always checking up on him and making sure he was eating properly and sleeping well. Whenever he was about to try out one of his new inventions she would make sure to be just around the table, that was put up to protect them if need be, with a first aid kit and a fire extinguisher. He didn't mind though. He loved the attention and Sakura loved to take care of him. Smiling lightly Sakura stood up straight, ruffling his hair, making it messier than ever.

"I know you're okay, Squirt!"

Hiro protested laughingly batting away her hands.

"H-hey Sa-kura."

A small voice called out. The girl turned, her long pony tail swishing around her head with the movement, to look at the older Hamada brother, her face completely devoid of any emotion. Beside her the younger Hamada brother grinned slyly as he stood behind the black haired girl, partly hidden. His eyes relayed a single message to the victim.

"You are so dead, bro!"

[ashoss]

For the bat x pjo thing, I’ve always loved the idea of Jason as a son of poseidon. I know that one’s probably overdone, but I love it a lot!

Just think about it—he’s got the looks, the sheer physical and probably even mystical power, the changeability…he’s just as intelligent as Percy believes he (Percy) isn’t, especially strategically. He was resurrected during heavy rain, which could be an explanation, like Poseidon’s upset his kid died so he’s sending rain to bring him back. He died in the desert, where there’s not a lot of water, and I know it’s a lazarus pit, but he regained his faculties in the water, and in both the comics and the movie, he’s extremely disoriented and falls/is pushed off a cliff into a body of water—but more than that, even if he preempts betrayal later on by leaving first, he is EXTREMELY loyal and will do anything for his friends.

I don’t know if you’ve already heard it, but you should really listen to Ruthlessness from Epic the Musical, with Jason confronting Bruce with the Joker in mind. It’s perfect for that, and that’s actually how I got the idea before I read anything on AO3 with Jason as a son of poseidon.

And I love the idea of Roy as a son of Athena too, you know, extremely clever, invents things but also fights very well, and, even if he’s not great at lying as a leader, is a very good leader anyway. (Kori and Bizarro have their own things, but Artemis, even though she is from Bana-Mighdall, is still descended from the greek amazons, and could be a legacy of a child of Athena, Ares, or Apollo).

And yeah, okay, I feel like Damian kinda has to be a legacy or something, BUT what if he were more like Carter Kane in The Red Pyramid? A vessel for Horus, or something, but a powerful warrior-magician nonetheless.

For Dick, I really liked in your other one him as a child of Hermes, but I feel like a son of Astrape, goddess of lightning, would work better. Astrape for sheer, you know, flashy power that still puts you on your ass, and arcs through the sky even if it can’t fly on its own necessarily (although that’s just a lot more representative, of course his abilities would be the result of hard work, as usual). And the fact that Astrape and Bronte are in Zeus’ entourage, and his shield/weapons bearers just fits Batman and Robin’s first thing and then Nightwing and Batman’s whole thing after very well, I think.

As for Tim? I honestly think he should just be a clear sighted mortal. He’s never seemed that much like any one child of anything to me.

Stephanie as the daughter of Dionysus is just inspired, and I can’t believe I never thought of it!

And Alfred I feel like would be, even if not the son of anyone, or a legacy, a sort of disciple of Hestia or something.

Babs I just love as a daughter of Athena, but also, she’s kind of taken the role of Oracle for herself, and I was thinking, you know, she should be a clear sighted mortal who became the oracle of Delphi, like Rachel.

And Cass I love as the daughter of Nike, but I feel like a daughter of Hades just fits her so well! Disappears into shadows, often called quite creepy and yet has no patience for what she sees as trivial when she could be attacking something with her fists instead (and has something against contributing to the overpopulation of her father’s realm 😆).

And Duke I liked in the other one too, able to see something vaguely…Other about his foster family, and the gods already seeming much too bright, but just with his meta ability.

Heh, I know I focussed a lot on Jason and the Outlaws, but they are very much my blorbos 😅.

💜

god i do really love Poseidon kid Jason (especially if we give Jason more of the earthshaker powers). he's definitely very similar to Percy in a lot of ways like you mentioned. HOWEVER while you bring up a LOOOT of good points for Poseidon kid Jason i think i want to stray away from having any of the batkids being kids of the big three? i feel like it might to into like,, mary sue territory (even though they're not really OCs but I'm lowkey kinda strict with my PJO aus and want to stick as close to canon as possible - meaning the big three only broke their oaths to not have kids with Percy, Jason and Thalia.) maybe ill do another au or something with Poseidon kid Jason because i really do love it lol

Athena kid Roy is interesting! unfortunately i don't know much abt Roy himself to really refute it or anything

as for Damian i definitely was playing with him being a magician, and maybe a legacy on Talias side? I'm not too sure on that part.

Astrape kid dick is also interesting! i haven't really looked at any of the more minor gods/goddesses for any of them but i can def see it! it's taking some of the traits of Zeus and toning them down a bit without really taking away the power. i still think I'm kinda attached to Hermes kid dick, but if we really want to give him flight we can give him the shoes similar to the ones Luke gave Percy in tlt

honestly mortal Tim does make sense and can also play into his insecurities on not being enough to fit dick or Jason's shoes as robin, since he's not a demigod he's just a regular kid. (however i think i am attached to Aphrodite kid Tim now lol but i do think mortal Tim could be good)

i think i may need a bit more swaying on Dionysus kid Stephanie but i do think its cool - it's definitely something i haven't seen before.

and yes i think Babs should just be a clearsighted mortal no matter how much i like Athena kid Babs. i did really want to play into the oracle name itself and her being the oracle of Delphi is good (however i don't really think her being the oracle itself - like Rachel- would fit in the au? unless they were all at camp i don't really know. i don't think the batfamily themselves need an oracle ? maybe she could be blessed (or cursed) by apollo )

i do like hades kid Cass but like i said with dick i kinda don't want any of them to be kids of the big three. but i think it fits her character - especially with her being a bit creepy as black bat/batgirl. but it might be interesting in terms of her childhood - if David was aware of her parentage he might have had higher hopes for this killing machine he wanted. this child of hades who is a master at reading body language and could kill with the touch of a hand? it could also tie into her adverseness of death itself - because she couldn't handle the feeling of death because of two contributing factors - her understanding of death through her hades powers (like Nico) and her understanding of body language. (hmmm maybe i might make an exception of my refusal of big three kids for hades Cass)

and yes!! i love the ideas of just meta Duke with no godly influence. it might be interesting for him to not be clearsighted - but that could bring in more ideas for how his powers affect his life. do you think he could see the outline or the shadow of a monster? or that his new foster family's eyes tend to glow slightly too bright and there seems to be something golden in their veins? maybe one of them could have some control of the mist like hazel does and would lift the mist later on for duke.

very good takes!! you're definitely making me think about these tho lol

[funkylittlebidiot]

leap of faith

It's happened again - sleeping in the afternoon means i get creative in the evening. Here's a thing.

The Bats wouldn’t make it in time, Tim knew as he scrambled through the door leading onto the roof of Wayne Enterprises. He’d known it the second he’d hit the panic button right before his doors burst open, spilling tactical gear-clad goons into his office.

He’d also known instantly this wasn’t a situation worth the risk of playing Timothy Drake-Wayne, so he’d chucked the Manila folder he’d been holding out like a batarang.

It wasn’t particularly effective, but it was instinct, as much as ducking for cover behind his mahogany desk in the same move. Thank god Bruce had made it bullet resistant - there’s no feature more practical in a desk. Especially in Gotham.

Of course, that’s when a bullet pierced through the wood anyway and almost knicked his shoulder. It only took a moment to take in the projectile, a bullet shaped like an arrowhead the size of a thumb, lodged into the wood with the tip coated in a green crystalline sheen.

It’s only then that Tim had begun to panic.

There were many reasons why criminals might attack Timothy Drake-Wayne - money, leverage, petty grudge, a slip in his identity or a social faux-pass were all possibilities that easily swam to his mind. There wasn’t a single reason he could think of that they would attack Timothy Drake-Wayne with kryptonite.

And Tim was an inventive guy, if he did say so himself.

Breathing going slightly funny, but forcing that to the side, he took stock of his options. The bats wouldn’t make it in time, he didn’t have his own suit and weapons, and there was no way in hell he was going to call to Kon for help. Not with kryptonite in play.

If he could he’d text Kon he was craving Belgian chocolate so he’d get as far away from WE as possible.

Anyway, think.

Tim waited for the first goon to round the desk and point his gun at his head, and purposefully fumbled a bit as he grabbed the gun and twisted in a move he’d mastered at twelve years old. He might not be able to afford playing civilian, but he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity of being underestimated.

They took it as a lucky shot - a rich boy taking a defense class is only common sense in a city like Gotham - but it still left one out of six attackers on the floor with a dislocated shoulder. The gun he’d twisted out of his arm was used to knock aside another, before breaking the nose of the assailant.

There were still four guns on him - five if the guy got over his broken nose - and the space was too cramped a battle ground. Tim was used to fighting the open space of city streets, or the occasional indoors he’d been able to case beforehand, swooping in with full control of the situation. Situations where he’d had his suit.

His dark slacks and white button down wouldn’t hold back as much as an open-palmed slap, and with his missing spleen he was too high-maintenance to be a kidnappee.

He had to get out of the office.

Tim jumped over his desk, clearly surprising his assailants as he used the same move to kick out with his feet. They dodged, but their movement had cleared out a path to the roof access stairs hidden behind a set of doors resembling a build-in closet.

It was a useful feature - both for the CEO with the private helipad on the roof and the vigilante needing to sneak out of the office during city emergencies.

Tim ran up the stairs now, grateful they hadn’t managed to get a hit in yet, but hyper-aware he wasn’t actually running towards something, and burst out into the April chill. The helipad was empty because he hadn’t thought to schedule an emergency evacuation today, but the feel of cold air against his skin was soothing. It made him feel more like Robin - Red Robin, whatever - standing high on a roof, in control of his surroundings once more.

They would have to follow him up. They would need to come through the door one by one. And Tim still had the gun.

Of course he couldn’t actually use it. He didn’t know how lethal the unfamiliar weapon would be.

Besides, the thought of shooting rounds of kryptonite made him ill.

The door bust open, followed by two guns with men attached stepping out onto the concrete. They moved quickly, swarming out like a trained SWAT team, which made his stomach flutter nervously. He’d only seen the six, five now were left.

But he didn’t know how high up they went. How many had been needed to get the six of them up to the top floor of Wayne Enterprises in the first place? How many more were downstairs?

Tim fought the urge to take his eyes off the men in front of him to sweep the surrounding roofs for snipers.

The previous comfort had left him, feeling exposed with his back turned to the skyline, his button-down catching the wind like a white flag.

“You’re trapped,” one of the men called, voice amplified to be heard over the roar of the wind. “Surrender and we’ll take you quietly.”

Tim frowned.

“What do you want?” He yelled back, playing along as his thoughts ran ahead, calculating his options. “Money?”

“Leverage.” The second guy on the left called out. “You’ll be fine as long as you play along.”

“What do I have to do?” His heart was racing in his chest, fearing the answer but also determined it wouldn’t be a problem. If they ask him for Superboy it’s an easy response.

“Just get back down, open your computer, and set up a -“

Tim already wasn’t listening anymore, ears rushing with relief as he threw down the gun and started running.

It was a stupid coincidence - the kryptonite just an extra precaution or a new trend on the streets of Gotham or whatever. They didn’t want Conner. Which meant there probably wasn’t a sophisticated contingency set up for if he were to show up - no hidden snipers in the surrounding buildings (at least none expecting Superboy), no Cadmus technology, nothing.

Still, he made sure to wait until he’d dropped at least 30 stories to finally yell out a slightly strangled - Superboy!

The following few seconds, as he continued to fall, his heart sinking into his stomach, he was forced to question the decision of leaping before making sure Kon was actually paying attention.

Then, only fifteen stories below that, he collided with a familiar body, strong arms wrapping around him as his momentum careened to a halt. Tim clung on instinctively, air leaving his lungs with a sigh as his arms came up around Kon’s neck in a tight hug, the tiptoes of his leather shoes awkwardly fitting their usual holds on Kon’s feet. This sure was easier in his Robin suit, but that thought quickly left his head as he was surrounded by the warmth of Conner. His thin white shirt had been terrible at keeping out the chill of the drop, the wind tugging at it incessantly, but against Conner it allowed him to actually feel the arms wrapped around his back, the hands pressed against his side like pools of heat.

Tim smiled into the crook of Kon’s neck, before forcing his brain to focus back on the situation as he could feel Superboy tense with anger, shifting to fly back up to take in the scene. He pressed a quick kiss into the soft skin under his jaw, hoping to soothe.

“Do not engage,” he spoke into Kon’s ear, though he knew he’d be able to hear perfectly even if Tim couldn’t catch his own voice over the sound of the wind. “They have kryptonite weapons.”

Kon tightened his grip and shifted like he wanted to take his chances, but Tim tugged at his hair until he looked down and Tim was finally able to meet his eyes.

The sight was heaven-send, but the slow curls of panic were still swirling in his gut, telling him to get those eyes as far away as possible.

“Let’s go home. Please.”

Kon swallowed but nodded, tightening his grip before they were swept away by the wind.

As soon as they came to a halt and Tim couldn’t see the city gray of Gotham anymore, his heart finally un-clenched. He went boneless as their feet touched the ground, and Kon’s grip on him softened into a proper hug.

“Thank god you’re okay.” Tim breathed into Kon’s hair, causing Kon to pull back and meet his eyes with a furious gaze.

“Me?” He ground out, hands tightening on Tim’s hips. “I’m not the one pushed off the top of a building!”

“I’m fine! I wasn’t even pushed - I jumped!”

“You- jumped.” He looked like he was short-circuiting, which might have been funny if Tim hadn’t cared that he was clearly upset. “Tim!”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you do that?!”

“Because I needed to call for help but I wasn’t going to do that anywhere near where they could get a good shot at you!”

“So you jumped?! From a skyscraper!”

“No, I jumped into your arms!”

“What if I hadn’t heard you!”

“Then I would have been upset.”

“You would have -“

Tim kissed him before he could short-circuit some more, which luckily did help him reboot and focus on what’s important - wrapping his arms around Tim’s hips again and pulling him closer, pressing their chests together as Tim moaned against Kon’s mouth.

He wanted to walk Kon back, push him against a wall before dragging him into his bedroom to thank him properly for being his knight in leather jacket - which is when he realized they were no where near his apartment OR the tower.

They were on a forest-lined stretch of road, a familiar iron gate to Tim’s back.

He pulled back, accusatory, mentally rearranging his gratitude into punishment instead, as he glared at Kon. “I told you to take me home!”

“I did!” Kon sounded way too smug, clearly pleased Tim was suffering in his own right. “They were almost at the tower when I got there. Cass told me to get you home or else - and I’m more scared of her then I am of you.”

“If I get murdered by the Spawn you’re going to feel so guilty.” Tim murmured, crossing his arms against the hollow feeling of dread in his stomach as he stared up at the manor. Cass was there. Bruce was alive.

He could deal for half an hour.

That would have to be enough.

Kon’s arm fell like a comforting weight around his waist as he came to stand beside him, squeezing softly. “I’m just a shout away.”

[pluckyredhead]

ur post abt the green lantern’s political leanings was so interesting!! can you do one for the bat family? (but only if u wanna!!)

Honestly, I can't, because their politics are so incoherent.

Like, take Bruce. (And again, like with the Lanterns, I'm talking about canon here, not how I wish things were.) On the one hand, you would imagine he's pretty progressive, right? He's almost certainly a single issue voter and that single issue is gun control. He believes in rehabilitating criminals and in fact a lot of Wayne Enterprises hires are formerly incarcerated people. He is an active philanthropist who pours money into schools, orphanages, hospitals, public spaces, and the arts. These are all leftist values!

And yet the modern Batman is also a completely unrestrained violent anarchic-libertarian power fantasy. Bruce has invented his own law, which he enacts and enforces completely arbitrarily, however he feels like doing so. He obeys the laws he wants to obey and ignores the ones he doesn't care about, while insisting he is law-abiding. He tortures people literally constantly and considers it righteous. He uses the profits from his publicly traded company to become a one-man military industrial complex. (The emissions from the fucking Batmobile alone...!) He illegally surveils the entire city and sometimes the entire planet (Brother Eye, anyone?) because he has decided that his moral authority overrides literally anyone's right to privacy, anywhere. He allows his defeated foes to be locked up indefinitely regardless of their mental state in an institution that would make any qualified mental health professional run screaming in the opposite direction. He's sexist. All of these things sit on the right of the political spectrum, but imagine me pointing to the right like Charlie from It's Always Sunny pointing to his murder board.

And none of the Batfamily is any better. Some of them are honestly worse in certain aspects. Dick was a cop. Jason loves guns. Babs and Tim are even more in love with surveillance than Bruce is. Remember when Tim wanted to replace the police with, like, a Bat-army??? BECAUSE I DO.

It's not really "their fault," as much as anything can be a fictional character's fault. It's the result of being written by writers who are, for the most part, consciously trying to write the Bats as good Samaritans, but are also living in a world where we have had our brains warped by all of our blockbusters being funded by the US military, in a medium where badassery is prized above everything else, and so all this really problematic shit spills out onto the comics page without being questioned. It's also kind of a boiling frog situation: i.e. Batman has always had a cool car, so as he got tougher and tougher, of course that car would eventually become a tank, and no one stopped to go "Wait, what the fuck? What the fuck? How is this billionaire driving a tank around helping anyone???" I guess god bless Zack Snyder for inadvertently highlighting how fucking stupid and counterproductive a Batman taken to his worst extremes is.

To be clear, I don't think this is what most writers are trying to do with Batman (some of them are, but fuck those guys). But it's what happens when all you care about is rule of cool, and the more I think about it the more I'm like...shit, maybe Alan Moore was right and superheroes are just stupid.

Anyway in conclusion, comic book writers should consider the ramifications of what they're writing occasionally. But Bruce Wayne probably still votes blue, at least.

[respocked]

I'm thinking about work anyway so fuck it

Star Trek Public Primary School AU 🛸 !

Kirk

-the headmaster!

-went into education because of his own unfortunate childhood

-has an uncanny ability to tell which student has a bad home life

-remembers everyone's name, even if you went to his school 5 years ago for 2 months

-misbehaving teenagers send to his office get some candy and a motivational speech that changes the course of their lifetime

-most days can be found hovering suspiciously outside of spock's classroom

-way better with older students, 12-13 - has absolutely 0 idea what to do with young children

-which is awkward when while waiting for spock outside his classroom he tries to make small talk with them (-so... son... read any good books lately? -i can't read!)

Spock

- teaches early education, 6 to 9 year olds

-greatly overqualified for the position, had a human psychology degree, interspecies child development degree, highly regarded in scientific community

-could be teaching university but prefers to spend his time sitting on carpets with children drawing clouds

-his class is extremely nontraditional - no desks, sitting on the floor, tons of meditation, classes in nature

-does not adhere to the program at all but somehow his classes always score the best on all exams

-turned down a position in a trendy montessori school for a public one

-parents either go out his way for their child to attend his class or request someone else - either from homophobic or xeniphobic reasons

Uhura

-the school's cultural assistant!

-also runs student exchanges with other countries and planets

-speaks every minority language that has representation in the student body

-also a substitute teacher

-she can give a super interesting lessons

-but takes 0 shit from students who won't respect her

-runs an extracurricular activity with spock when she teaches immigrant and refugee students to express their emotions with music

-is the best at pitching a project idea for funding, which is why her office and spock's classrom are the best equipped ones in the school

-spock's bestie, they hang out after work (gay/lesbian solidatity)

-still lives with her parents, they're super close

-wants to date but it's too boring compared to writing another lesson plan

Bones

-the school nurse! & in charge of nutrition

-teenagers are afraid of him

-small children absolutely love him

-takes his daughter to work and lets her draw with crayons on his important papers

-also constantly in spock's classroom, but to complain

-"damnit, spock! give them all the vulcan cuisine you want, but don't send them crying to me after they get an allergic reaction!"

-"meditation? maybe have them meditate on doing some real work for once"

-but when parents with pitchforks come to complain abt spock's methods he defends him like a lion

-he sends them piles after piles of scientific proof of why spock's method are actually the bestest and most efficient

-when kirk thanks him for stepping in he pretends like he doesn't know what he's talking about

Chapel

-teaches sex ed!

-the sweetest teacher ever

-one of those teachers that noone is intimidated by but noone disobeys because noone wants to makes her upset

-uses her Blonde White Straight Pretty Woman priviledge to convince reluctant parents to sign up their kids for sex ed

-goes All Out on halloween tho

-you know she is there, dressed like a witch, running an educational halloween themed activity! paper bats hanging from the ceiling!

-has gluten free and vegan candy in case the winners have a food sensivity!

-has a secret crush on Uhura and Spock both

Chekov

-teaches IT

-burned out miracle kid

-graduated university when he was younger than his current students

-lets students play roblox on the computers

-and teaches them how to torrent

-somehow noone from the faculty knows where he lives

-background check turns up nothing

-"did you know computers were invented in russia?"

-puts 0 effort in but somehow his students love him

-little girls take sneak photos of him to edit in a flower crowns

Scotty

-teaches a woodworking & engineering class and does janitor duties on the side!

-like kirk, absolutely 0 idea on how to treat younger kids

-strict

-has to be, no joking around power tools!

-but you know praise from him hits different

-will tell students he's proud of them when they make theit first little table

-can fix everything

-say "this interactive blackboard is broken!" three times to summon him

-marries to his career, teaching fulfills his paternal calling

Sulu

-teaches biology!

-rule follower

-stressed out about exams 3 years before his students

-not very inventive but everyone wants his class because there is a hamster in the classroom

-classroom full of houseplants

-if you agree to water them when he's away you will receive a 50 page manual on proper misting techniques

-not strict at all but will give a dressing down to a student who is seen treating a living thing badly

-can be bribed with plants

[crtter]

When I was around 10 or 11 back in medieval times (2001 / 2002), I discovered online forums and thought they were so much better than chatrooms. Both because my dial-up internet was super slow and I couldn’t really keep up with a conversation in real time but also because, unlike in chatrooms, people didn’t ask you right off the bat if you were a boy or a girl in them. This was a plus to me. You see, even in the cusp of the 21th century, people still were very much on board with the whole “boys and girls are different species” thing and it just so happened that I was only interested in talking about video games, dinosaurs and TV shows about owning monsters with elemental powers and it pissed me off that whenever I identified myself as “a girl”, the conversation would steer away from these very important topics.

Incidentally, I also hated being made to wear dresses, wanted to kill whoever invented training bras and I wished that my parents had given me a less feminine name on a daily basis. Which surely didn’t mean anything. Anyway, I soon learned, to my absolute delight, that not only people in online forums didn’t think it was too weird if you didn’t immediately identify yourself as a boy or a girl, they also just assumed I was a boy because of my interests! This changed the game. I didn’t know why, but being called “he” and referred to as a boy made me feel ecstatic! But I also felt a little guilty. Sure, they didn’t ask if I was a girl, but not telling them after they assumed otherwise would be kind of like lying, right? And lying is wrong, especially if you’re lying to your friends.

But after much consideration I decided that I shouldn’t correct them. Sure, lying was bad, but correcting them would be even worse! Why, they would be SO embarrassed after making such a blunder, I would just be an asshole if I told them I was a girl! I had to think about their feelings! So I just gave myself a fake boy name and proceeded to have an online presence where I was exclusively known as a boy for like a full year until my mom caught me and made me see a therapist. In her defense, though, the cyber crossdressing wasn’t the main reason she sought professional help for me. The main reason was that I kind of believed Digimon were real and was convincing other kids of that as well.

[gatitties]

Deadly Halloween

Manager Miniseries

─Aoba Josai x fem!reader

─Summary: It seems like you are in a nightmare, unfortunately it is not a bad dream but a reality.

─Warnings: none

13 < 14 > 15

You ran across the highschool, desperate to get to the main gym where Seijo's Halloween party was currently being held. You screamed as you saw that thing try to catch your leg, with the bat you were holding you began to smash its head, desperate for it to die, although theoretically it already was.

Its blood splattered on your clothes, also staining your face, but you didn't care, when you got rid of it, you continued to the gym, closing the doors as quickly as you could, trying to regulate your breathing. No one noticed your presence or what was happening in the city because of the loud music that echoed from the speakers.

"Oh I thought you didn't want to come!"

Oikawa smiled brightly, grabbing you from the shoulder, dragging you over to the group, they were all dressed up so they didn't question why you had blood on your clothes and came with a bat full of nails.

"You look agitated, did something happen?"

Iwa frowned, seeing how your expressions were anything but normal.

"Yeah, it looks like you've seen a zombie!"

Makki patted your back hard, trying to make one of his jokes, however your face contorted when you heard that, zombies. Your mind wandered to the terror you had experienced a few minutes later, with eyes wide open and a face of anguish, your fists clenched tightly.

"Are you really okay?"

You snapped out of your daze when Watari's hand rested on your shoulder. You tried to smile at your friends, but couldn't. Your pulse trembled, letting go of the bat and holding on to the libero in a desesperate hug.

"They have died, e-everyone…"

Many thought that you were acting, that you were part of a Halloween story, but upon seeing your expressions and empty eyes... they swallowed dry. Nothing was invented, the city really was in a damn apocalypse, collapsed from those living dead.

"Th-that can't be! real"

Oikawa looked like he wanted to cry like a baby right there, as did Yahaba and Kindaichi. Watari, Matsukawa and Kunimi remained serious, trying to think of a plan, while Iwaizumi tried to calm Makki, who did not want to believe the truth.

"Then we kill them."

Everyone fell silent when they heard Kentaro, he had disappeared a few minutes ago and now he brought sports equipment that could be used as a weapon.

"Are you crazy?! There are too many!"

Yahaba shook him desperately, he didn't want to die there.

"It will be fine if we stay together."

Now everyone gasped at Iwaizumi's statement, they didn't expect the saner one to trust that idea.

"Okay, if we can block all the entrances, maybe we can wait for someone to come for us."

"What if no one comes?"

You took a look at Makki, who seemed the most nervous along with Kindaichi, you put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard and hitting them on the back of the head.

"I called when I was coming here, the authorities are aware of the problem and are mobilizing to get us out of here."

Your words were like a small ray of hope for the others, who nodded, listening attentively.

"Then, let's finish them off."

Kunimi declared, grabbing a paddle tennis racket. The others rushed to grab material that could serve as a weapon.

You all acted normal in front of the others students while covering all the entrances or exits to the outside world, some zombies could already be seen entering the highschool, but no one should suspect anything and anyway, no one would believe you, so the music didn't turn down one bit.

Everyone continued enjoying, oblivious to the carnage that was happening on the other side of the doors. Until one of the students decided to leave, causing the dead that were piling up at the main entrance to burst in, causing total chaos. The screams were heard above the music, which at some point was cut off, now everything was a total chaos of students running, and trying not to be devoured by the monsters. You were ready to kick those beings' bony asses but someone stopped you.

"Sorry, Iwaizumi thinks it's better to run away for now than fight."

Matsukawa dragged you towards the others, who began to run throughout the premises looking for a safe place. They hid in the boiler room because it was in the basement and it would be more difficult to find them there, the areas they wanted to leave through were obstructed, they would prefer to lock themselves in there since it was less likely to find someone or something.

"Is anyone hurt?"

Watari took on the role of doctor, checking that everyone was in perfect condition, luckily there were only a few scratches here and there, but nothing serious. You rested for a while, but as time passed, impatience began to make an appearance.

"We must leave, if they catch us in this place we will have no place to flee, the other exits must have already been unclogged, it will be easier to get out now without all the chaos even though those things are still roaming freely out there…"

For once in his life Hanamaki used the only neurons he had left, if they continued in that place they would be easy prey due to lack of space now that many teenagers have probably become zombies too

"Yeah, we must be in a visible place for when they come for us."

Everyone nodded, running through the hallways toward your destination, the rooftop. Without noticing that the captain was limping a little, they didn't notice until a zombie started chasing you, followed by a few more. Advancing the step, Oikawa became desperate because of his annoyance, he ended up falling making a dull noise that only Iwaizumi and you heard since you were behind the group. The two of you gasped when you saw how four zombies were pounced on your friend. Without time to think, the boy in danger accepted his death in a dramatic way, feeling how blood splashed on his face. When he opened his eyes he met you, he smiled with teary eyes.

"Am I in heaven?" then his gaze went to his childhood friend "Wait, is it hell?"

The vice captain grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, dragging him while you hit him on the head with a frown.

"No, but if you continue like this I will send you to hell myself."

You caught up with the group quickly. When you finally reached the roof you sighed in relief, closing the door and scolding the setter, who practically almost committed suicide.

"Shit, that was close."

You calmed down a little, closing your eyes and recovering the lost air, you looked at everyone with a small smile, sighed heavily, standing up to hug everyone tightly, being grateful that they were still alive. You wouldn't allow anyone to touch your friends.

Suddenly a zombie came out of nowhere, surprising everyone and almost biting you, your eyes widened, leaving all static in surprise. You heard a dull thump after screams of agony that gradually fell silent. You turned your head slowly when you saw that thing decapitated by beatings.

"Are you okay?"

Kentaro scowled, spitting at the dead body and grabbing you so that you were next to him. They wouldn't let you die on this crazy day either.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I don't know if you've ever talked about this before but you seem like you'd know. That post about split crotch drawer made me wonder, what did women in those times do when they got their periods? If the crotch is split you can't really put a "pad" or equivalent absorbent material down there or anything. And no one wants to get blood on their clothes and stuff so they probably did something?

What I've heard called a "t-bandage" at the time! Waistband + homemade cloth bandage pinned or buttoned to the front and back that runs between your legs. Unpin/unbutton the bandage when it's soiled put on another, wash the first one. Repeat as needed every month. (Some women also used homemade tampons- a roll of cotton-wool batting with a string around the middle.)

Unfortunately most of what we know about 19th-century menstrual supplies comes from anonymous surveys conducted by (cis male) gynecologists, since women could sometimes be loath to talk about such things even in their own journals- though a few extant examples of T-bandages have been found. This also means we don't know what trans men did at the time, since presumably they were wearing masculine underwear (usually a closed crotch that could be opened to use the bathroom) and would therefore have run up against the issues women would later face re: closed-crotch undergarments + sanitary belts.

Because, oh yes- the T-belt model remained common LONG after modern panties and disposable pads were invented. They were commonly called sanitary belts, and as you can imagine...they were a huge pain! because they weren't invented for the clothing they were now being paired with! this incongruity in the pace of change, I will never fathom

anyway, there's your answer