whoreinadegradingway

[whoreinadegradingway]

[whoreinadegradingway]

house - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 354

“Reggie, you’re here!” Sirius was standing atop his chair at the back of the crowded pub, wildly waving him over. He had an envelope in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other, covered in writing. “You want in on the action?

Smoothly sitting down next to his husband, dropping a kiss on his head as he went, Regulus raised a sharp brow. “What action?”

“Hogwarts Express arrives at the school in an hour. We’re taking bets on your Harry’s house.” Sirius rattled the envelope. “5 galleons in. Winners split the pot. So, you in?”

James chimed in. “You should, I have.”

“Oh really?” Regulus chuckled softly. “Let me guess, you’ve put your money on Gryffindor, like you.”

“No, actually.” James shook his head amused. “He might look the spit of me, but he’s every inch you. He’s a Slytherin.”

“What’s everyone else said?” Regulus reached up to grab the paper from Sirius’ hand, but Sirius snatched it away before he made contact.

“No cheating!” Sirius held the paper high above his head as he carefully climbed down, claiming the seat opposite. “Give us your guess first.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Fine, I say Gryffindor.”

“Really?” Remus questioned from Sirius’ side. “I thought so too, but I’d be interested in your reasoning.”

From along the table, Lily interjected. “Me too, I wouldn’t have thought you’d have gone for that. I think our boy will be a Hufflepuff, he’s too sweet to be anything else.”

“Darling, you only think that because he’s sweet to you. That boy has had you figured out for years.” Mary leaned over to join in the conversation. “He’ll be a hatstall but will come out Ravenclaw in the end. He’s sharper than any of you give him credit for.”

“Go on then, baby.” James nudged Regulus’ shoulder playfully. “Why Gryffindor?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Regulus glanced around the group, all gesturing for him to continue. “Malfoys are sorted alphabetically before Potters. The hat will barely touch Draco’s head before sorting him into Slytherin.” He smirked. “Harry will demand for it to put him in Gryffindor out of sheer spite.”

[whoreinadegradingway]

"i was drunk, he was tall"

regulus black about his first time hooking up with remus lupin, probably

[whoreinadegradingway]

Eldritch Danny in the Kent barn, anyone?

Reduced to his most primal form after being torn apart by the GIW or his parents or some cataclysmic event, he's hiding out in the first place he finds that feels safe.

The Kents don't notice him at first, then maybe they start thinking there's a feral cat or something hiding out and taking shelter, so they start leaving out a little extra food/water because they're soft hearted people.

Then they start catching glimpses. And... that's not a cat.

Why do they always end up with the lost aliens?

Do they do the sensible thing and call Clark? Hell no. They raised a Kryptonian, they can handle this weird feral little shadow creature, no problem!

Anyway, they gradually befriend and adopt the little guy hiding out in their barn. They rarely catch glimpses of it, but they think it's hurt. They think it's getting better.

At some point Clark visits and discovers the weird little creature and tries to fight it (because this demonic little entity is sneaking around his parents' property and he can only assume it has evil intentions). He's not trying to hurt it per se, just capture it and make sure it's not going to cause any harm to the people he loves. It attacked him first (when he cornered it in the barn and accidentally got in its personal space in a threatening manner).

He catches it and his parents finally get a look at their new pet? child? something else?

And it's definitely hurt. It's trembling and dirty and they're about 85% sure that the oddly glowing green and red and brown is its blood and is not supposed to be on its outsides.

They take it into the house and bathe it and do what they can to wrap its injuries and they offer it food and water.

They quickly learn that what they thought was it hissing and growling at them was, at least in part, a language. It sounded strange and was almost painful to listen to, and it was definitely causing the out of place emotions they kept feeling. They weren't entirely sure if it was making them afraid as a defense mechanism or if its own fear was just so palpable that it was being projected onto everything and everyone that approached it.

Anyway I just like the idea of the Kents taking Danny in like a stray cat when he's too hurt and disoriented to look or act human, and Clark shaming his parents for not at least calling him when mysterious probably-alien lifeforms appear in their barn. Yes, he knows he was also a mysterious alien lifeform that appeared on their property, that doesn't mean every time this happens it's going to be something safe or something without evil intentions. Please just call me so I can check, Ma.

Stray cat Danny my beloved.

Ooh and, when he is recovered, Danny and Connor both being a little weirded out by the fact that Danny is somehow Connor's uncle now even though Connor is the same age or older than Danny. And bonding about having a clone/being a clone...

[whoreinadegradingway]

See I'm a sucker for dick adopts Tim.

For the simple fact of I need Titans Tower to happen.

I need this exchange to occur.

Jason: You steal my colors, you steal my dad.

Tim: What the fuck are you talking about Bruce is my grandfather, and Robin belonged to my dad first!

Jason:

God himself:

Every hero in the world:

Jason: When you say Dad who exactly do you mean?

Tim: Nightwing is my Dad!!!!

Jason: I see on a unrelated note I will be moving to another earth

Dick appearing: I see you have chosen death!!!

Jason, who is now regretting every life choice that ended him here. It's one thing to fight the son of Batman. It is another to bitch about the son of Nightwing, wearing a robin costume and trying to kick his ass.

Jason is getting his shit rocked for kicking his nephews ass, and now understands why Bruce cried like a little bitch everytime Dick and Bruce fought.

[whoreinadegradingway]

I have a cursed comparison to hit you all with. Just let me finish making breakfast and I'll tell you

[whoreinadegradingway]

Tim: You don’t get to choose your biological family… Jason: You don’t get to choose your found family either! Cape up bitch!

[whoreinadegradingway]

Tim Drake has juvenile arthritis.

It wasn’t all that surprising as most woman in his family got either when they were around 15 or around 40 or so, and a few men in his line had it too.

He assumed that his sore ankles and knees were from skating, thinking it was sprains and twisting that cause the occasional swelling and pain.

It got worse when he started as Robin but thinking Bruce we see it as a weakness and make him stop, he kept it to himself and altered his suit to have more support.

It word out fine for a while, he was able to manage it pretty well even as he didn’t have a proper diagnosis. He knew his families history and knew in the back of his mind that it was most likely JA but he refused to admit to having such a big thing to hold him back.

A few times on patrol some of his joints and even muscles would tense badly and he knew it was only a matter of time before Joe wrist locked while he was grappling but that didn’t stop him.

Unfortunately for him, Alfred himself had arthritis in his left hand due to damage he faced in combat that wasn’t treated properly and he noticed the sighs over time. The butler considered telling Bruce but spoke to Tim privately first and after the young man agreed to see a doctor for it properly if that Alfred wouldn’t say anything, he deemed it better to respect the others choice.

Until Tim lost his spleen and Alfred knew damn well that his immune system was going to give him more and more hell.

Alfred felt bad at first, not wanting to ruin the beautiful reunion, but after a couple of days of Bruce being back he spoke to the master of the house. He explained that Tim wasn’t keeping secrets from Bruce for any reason other than he wanted to be strong enough for his mentor and was afraid to admit a weakness.

Bruce was absolutely heartbroken. His time trapped away from his family had done two things, the first being that he became far more protective of his children and untrusting to everyone outside of it, even people he was okay with previously.

Secondly, he had a lot of time to reflect on how his own trauma responses had harmed his relationships. His anger, his paranoia, his fears, it all caused him to be less than adequate as a parent. He was a good mentor, but only in how he taught skill.

So, to learn that the entire time he was rather aggressively training a child with a chronic autoimmune disease that made his body a prison of tension, pain and inflamed joints. And that same child now was missing a spleen so his immune defences were effectively just suggestions for anything harmful to him.

He had gone straight to Tim and while he wanted to hold his child gently and cradle him, the sixteen-no, seventeen now- year old was clever and would notice him being careful with him straight away. Instead he move his arms to be around his sons torso and picked him up like that, brining a hand to cup the back of his heads and distantly hearing his custom made Martian Manhunter slippers fall to the ground.

Bruce was on the verge of putting his strategies in place to stop crying but he stopped himself and instead let his tears fall, “I-I won’t say I wouldn’t have done exactly what you thought I would, but I’m less of a fool now, Chum. Let me help you with your arthritis. Please, I beg you.”

Tim didn’t cry but he did let go.

He slummed into his dad’s arms and confessed that he was terrified. It was already so hard to live the life he did with such a disability, but to know that now he had to be extra careful when he had swelling and aches?

Bruce held him and to Tim’s surprise promised to make sure that Damian would understand that this doesn’t mean Tim will no longer be a vigilante, that he’d work to actually educate and help his blood son understand.

Tim had cried then, because while he still wanted to smack the kid around again, he knew that all Damian needed was for someone to teach him without it being ‘here’s what America’s like’ and more ‘here’s what the world is like when you aren’t an assassin’.

And the fact he was scared that Damian would use it against him was always present even fi he had managed to hide it from the child who figured out weaknesses quicker than chess masters figured out their first move.

Bruce had asked him if he was sore then and Tim had shyly revealed his angry looking knee. It was red and round and Tim shrugged and said it wasn’t too bad.

Bruce wanted to cry but instead he smiled at his son and thanked him more sincerely than he ever had before.

[whoreinadegradingway]

JLD's Apprentices

Danny

The morning after patrols, especially after a big Arkham breakout, was usually followed by a long rest and a big breakfast. Many of them had stayed at the manor, too exhausted to go to their hideouts or apartments. Alfred had prepared a large assortment of food: bacon, pancakes, eggs, muffins, and waffles.

Out of nowhere, a green portal appeared at the end of the table, and a teenager walked out holding a clipboard.

"Damn it, I still gotta work on my aim with these portals," he said jumping down from the table," sorry about stepping on the table B."

The table then erupted, weapons were pulled from seemingly nowhere, and each of the bats launched themselves at the intruder. The teenager was unfazed as their weapons passed right through them.

"You know, when you said that Gotham was dangerous, I wasn't expecting such a warm welcome," they smiled at Bruce.

"Good morning, Danny."

"Father, you know this intruder?"

Bruce sighs, "This is Danny, he is an apprentice under Justice League Dark."

"He works with Constantine?"

"Ew. No, I mostly work alone or with my friends."

"Father, how does he know are identities?"

"I actually didn't know your identities until I stepped through the portal. Sorry about that. The portal I was using was tied to the location of a soul, not a general location." Danny rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at the ground. " This is what I get for following Constatine's advice," he muttered.

"What did he say?"

"Quote 'The bloody paranoid bastard is probably in his cave still brooding or whatever. end quote."

Several of the bats stifle laughter

Bruce sighs into his coffee. " What did you need, Danny?"

[whoreinadegradingway]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Tim died, and Death received him in black.

Not the inky black of velvet, nor the warm hush of midnight. No, this was the absolute stillness of shadow made solid—black Ice that bled frostbite and silence, stretching endlessly in every direction. Cold air clung to his skin like regret. When Tim opened his eyes, the first thing he felt wasn’t pain.

It was absence.

He lay on a frozen floor, the ground slick with frost, his breath fogging faintly before him. His body ached—not with injury, but with memory. Every weight he’d carried in life seemed to have followed him here, pressing down on his chest like unfinished words.

The chamber around him was cathedral-like in height, carved entirely from obsidian and black Ice. Pale blue light shimmered from high crevices, casting no warmth. Sitting directly ahead of him, raised on a jagged throne of polished darkness, was a figure cloaked in shadow and power.

A crown of blue fire flickered atop his head, casting dancing light across his inhuman form. His face was obscured, save for two glowing green eyes—luminescent, ancient, and quietly watchful.

"You died," the figure declared, voice echoing like thunder in snow. It held no malice. No judgment. Just a terrible, cosmic certainty. "But you are lucky. The spirit of Gotham has intervened on your behalf. You are granted a choice."

Tim blinked, lips chapped, arms wrapped around himself. The cold didn't bother him as much as the clarity of the moment.

"You may return to your city—not to your body, but to become one of its spirits. You’ll keep your memories, defend your family, and haunt the place you bled for."

A beat. Those glowing eyes never left him.

"Or," the king continued, "you may pass into the next life. The true afterlife. Your memories will fade, but so too will your burdens. You will know peace."

The fire crackled as the final offer fell into the void.

"Or you may become one of my denizens—creatures of shadow and liminal space. You will forget your name and past, but walk again among the living in other forms."

Tim didn’t move.

Silence stretched, hollow and endless. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled—a sound too tired to be a sigh.

"...Can I choose neither?"

The king tilted his head, flame crown flickering.

"What do you mean?"

Tim stared down at his hands, pale and ghostlike. His voice cracked.

"I just... I don't want any of it. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go forward. I don’t want to become something else." He swallowed. "I just want to fade away."

The figure on the throne blinked.

"...What?" The word was startled. Off-balance. "Why? No one has ever asked that. Not even the damned."

Tim lifted his gaze, eyes glassy.

"Because I’m tired. I spent my whole life—every day—trying to be someone for someone else. A replacement. A soldier. A detective. A good son. A good friend. A perfect something."

His breathing hitched. He clutched at his ribs, where the ache of loss lived like a parasite.

"I tried so hard to be kind. To be useful. To be... seen. And in the end, none of it mattered. I died, and no one noticed. No one called. I was always someone’s backup plan. Someone's second."

Tears slipped down his cheeks, warm in the icy stillness.

"I don’t want to come back. I don’t want to be another version of someone else. I just want to stop existing. I want to be forgotten."

And then the sobs began.

Not the tight, controlled kind he’d always allowed himself—no, these were broken, animal cries. Grief carved him open from the inside out. All the words he’d never said, all the pain he’d swallowed, came spilling out in gasping breaths and muffled wails.

He crumbled to his knees.

And the King of the Dead—this ancient, terrifying thing crowned in flame—stood swiftly, the fire dimming slightly as he descended from his throne.

He moved with the care of someone used to being feared—and now trying not to be.

He knelt beside Tim, and without a word, wrapped his arms around him.

Not like a monarch. Not like a god.

Like someone who had once cried the same way.

The cloak enveloped him, and for the first time in years—alive or dead—Tim didn’t flinch from a touch. He didn’t pull away from warmth. He clung. Clung to this stranger in fire and Ice like a drowning man clings to the shore.

And the King held him as Tim shattered. As he sobbed out the loneliness that had slowly killed him. As he wept for all the versions of himself that had never been enough.

[whoreinadegradingway]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Every bat has a cat.

There’s an old phrase in Gotham: every Bat has a Cat.

Like most things whispered through Gotham’s smog, it’s only mostly untrue. Technically, the only Bat who ever really had a Cat was Batman himself—and even that’s been more of a tug-of-war than a love story. Not for lack of effort on Catwoman’s part. She’s tried everything: seduction, threats, borderline kidnapping. At one point, she swore she’d adopt all of Batman’s kids just to spite him. She’s teamed up with the Birds of Prey—where a few of the Bat-daughters moonlight—and once even tried to snatch up Little Timothy Drake back when he was still Robin, dangling the offer of being her “pet stray.” It didn’t take. Timmy was too invested in feathered spandex and daddy issues.

And then there was that… incident with Nightwing. But Gotham doesn’t talk about that. Gotham forgets. Gotham represses.

Still, the saying stuck around, mostly as a joke. A rite of passage, the locals would wink: “Once the birds become Bats, they’ll find their Cat.” Like puberty, but with more rooftop flirting and potential felony charges.

It was all fun and folklore—until it wasn’t.

No one really knows when the joke stopped being a joke. When the line between myth and prophecy started to blur. All anyone can remember is the night it finally got everyone’s attention.

It happened at the grand reopening of the Gotham Museum, debuting a new exhibit on Ancient Sumerian artifacts. Bruce Wayne showed up with two-thirds of his grim duckling trio—Tim and Damian in tuxedos, sulking appropriately (Jason, the other brooding duckling has refused to come, and everyone knew Duke and Dick to be too much of sunshine boys to be part of the brooding bunch). The opening night was invitation-only, with patrons shuffled between exhibits like a very wealthy cattle drive: first Sumerian, then Medieval, then an optional wine bar where the Chardonnay was too warm.

It was during one of these exhibit rotations that Tim saw it. A flicker. A whisper of motion at the corner of his eye. Something feline, something familiar, slipping back into the shadows of the Sumerian wing.

He didn’t hesitate. He turned to Bruce and Damian, voice clipped and sharp.

“Catwoman’s here.”

As soon as Tim muttered the alert, the Bat Family trio slipped into action with the kind of silent efficiency that only years of crimefighting, trauma bonding, and tactical group chats could provide.

Bruce gave a curt nod. “We’re changing. Now.”

It took them less than five minutes to disappear from the gala and reappear as the Bat, Red Robin, and the Robin—silent shadows in kevlar and purpose. They moved through back corridors, slipping past distracted security and tipsy patrons, until they reached the Sumerian exhibit once more.

Only this time, the lights were off.

Tim frowned behind his mask. “That's not ominous at all.”

“Should we announce ourselves?” Damian asked, already reaching for his sword.

“No,” Bruce answered curtly, gesturing for silence.

That’s when the voices drifted through the shadows. Muffled, conversational, and—oddly—playful.

“I dunno, Kitty,” a teen male voice said, exasperated but not particularly hurried. “Mama said not to overindulge, and we already got most of the artifacts we wanted.”

Tim blinked. Mama? Oh great. A new Cat-themed villain with actual parental boundaries.

“Sure,” replied a teen girl, voice bright with amusement. “But look at this diamond, Stray. Tell me it’s not gorgeous. Wouldn’t it look perfect in our collection?”

There was a dramatic sigh, the kind of sigh that implied someone had already lost this argument many times before.

“Mmhhmm... you know what? Fine. What’s one more diamond in the bag?”

That was their cue. The trio advanced, silent as breath, until they reached the edge of the display hall and got their first clear look at the culprits.

It… wasn’t Catwoman.

It was a girl, sure—dressed in what looked like a Catwoman suit, but styled after a tuxedo cat, complete with white accents at her gloves, boots and torso. Her partner, taller and broader, wore a sleeker suit—blacker than night and painted to his skin, save for white hands and feet—and had a calm posture that said yes, I do this a lot and no, I’m not impressed by any of you. Both wore green-tinted goggles that glowed faintly in the dark, and both had visible tufts of snow-white hair peeking from their hoods.

Tim stared. “Okay, so… not Catwoman.”

“No,” Bruce confirmed, grim.

Damian narrowed his eyes. “They are amateurs.”

“Amateurs who just stole a priceless diamond,” Tim muttered. “And called it ‘pretty.’”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “We move. Now.”

Batman dropped down in front of the display case like thunder in a cape, his shadow stretching long and ominous over the marble floor.

Red Robin and Robin flanked him a beat later, dramatic and ready—Tim in full tactical mode, Damian practically vibrating with the urge to stab something.

“Step away from the artifacts,” Batman growled.

The two teens froze mid-theft. The girl blinked behind her green goggles. The boy raised an unimpressed brow that none of them could see but everyone could feel.

“Oh no,” the girl deadpanned, dramatically clutching the diamond to her chest. “It’s the law.”

“Panic,” the boy muttered with a lazy smirk.

“You’re trespassing on federal property,” Batman continued, all gravel and menace. “Surrender. Now.”

“Hmm,” the girl—Kitty—tilted her head. “No thanks.”

“Yeah,” the boy—Stray, apparently—shrugged. “We’re kind of indoor ferals. Surrendering isn’t in the skill set.”

Tim lunged first. He was fast, calculated, and nearly caught her.

Nearly.

Kitty somersaulted backward over a Sumerian statue with all the grace of an Olympic gymnast raised by a jungle cat. She landed en pointe on the exhibit railing, wiggled her fingers in a “ta-ta” motion, and vanished into the shadows like smoke.

Damian growled and went after Stray. “I will neuter you.”

“Big words, Bird Boy,” Stray laughed, ducking and weaving as Damian’s staff sliced through empty air. “But you gotta catch me first.”

Batman threw a batarang—clean, perfect arc, museum-quality aim.

It bounced off the floor as Stray backflipped over it, landing in a low crouch. “Mama warned us about this. Rule number one: Don’t play fetch with the Bat, you aren't a dog, you are a cat and cats has stabdards.”

“Not that she has anything to talk about” answer Kitty, sitting over a display. “She is the first one who plays cat and mouse with him”

Tim leapt from above, a textbook ambush.

Kitty twisted in midair, caught his cape mid-descent, and used it to swing him into a wall.

“Ow,” Tim muttered from the floor, sprawled in an undignified tangle of limbs and regrets. “That’s—okay. That’s fair.”

“Gotta admit,” Kitty said, lightly jogging backward while juggling the diamond between her hands, “you guys are way more coordinated than the usual mall cops.”

“But you still can’t catch us,” Stray added cheerfully, cartwheeling away from Damian’s latest sword swipe and Batman batarang. “Seriously, has anyone ever told you three you try really hard?”

“They’re cute,” Kitty said with mock affection. “Like, ‘aw, they think they’re scary’ cute. Specially the little one, you think I can add him to my display? I always wanted a bird”

“I call dibs on the one who smells like coffee!!”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Who trained you?”

They shared a glance. Then, in perfect unison:

“Mama did.”

Robin skidded to a stop, scowling. “You mean Catwoman.”

Stay grinned, sharp and smug. “We call her Mama. You probably call her when you're lonely.”

“Ooooh,” Kitty winced. “He’s gonna stab you for that.”

“Let him try.”

Another dive. Another swipe. Another miss.

They danced around the trio like mischievous spirits in catsuits, leaping, tumbling, and disappearing behind columns and curtains, always just out of reach.

By the time security finally wandered in—late, confused, and holding tiny flashlights—the Sumerian wing looked like someone had hosted a parkour-themed wedding in it.

The only thing left of the mysterious teens?

A single calling card, perched atop the display case like a signature.

It was shaped like a white paw print.

Tim picked it up and read aloud, “From Mama’s kittens, with love.”

Damian scowled. “I hate cat rogues.”

Batman just stared at the shadows, his voice low. “She trained them.”

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder. “And apparently, she trained them too well.”

[whoreinadegradingway]

F*ck Forgiveness. I Want Vengeance.

Hmmmm

Another DeadTired idea. And Ghost King Danny with Consort Tim.

Tim dies a bitter ended death with the Batfam (Maybe during his RR run and isn't caught by Dick when he is kicked out of WE window? Or its in the future where his relationship between the bats is bad.)

So yeah Tim dies. And wakes in the Infinite Realms and learns to unlive in that Realm and gained a wonderful afterlife.

And somehow manages to gain the attention of the Ghost King, King Phantom and somehow manages to become his Consort after some adorable ghost courting.

Despite the fact he's been dead for like a few months in his original Realms timeline, time in the Infinite Realms is more ocean like than riverish, Tim has been happily married to his husband for what feels like eons.

So Tim was not, very very not happy when his ghost is suddenly pulled away from his anniversary dinner and stuffed back into his body.

He hears yelling and fighting, wakes to see the Bats fighting League Assassins while Batman is fighting Ra's in rage.

And Tim.

He isn't happy at all.

He already figured it out, connected the dots.

Oh Ra's was going to regret bringing him back. The Bats, and he KNOWS they should had respected his last wishes to be fucking cremated, ashes scattered in space, so THIS wouldn't had happened.

Cause Tim wasn't playing around anymore.

[whoreinadegradingway]

DP x DC Prompt: Warlock!Tim with his Patron: King of the Infinite Realms

Tim Drake is desperate, running on caffeine and stubborn hope, when he learns about the Infinite Realms. With Bruce lost in the time stream and everyone else convinced he's gone for good, Tim decides Ra's al Ghul will be the last resort. Instead, he pours every ounce of his energy into summoning the rumored King of Ghosts—a being said to rule all dimensions and know the fates of the dead.

When Danny answers the summons, he’s expecting a power-hungry sorcerer or a wannabe necromancer, not a sleep-deprived vigilante who blurts out: “I’m looking for my dad.”

Tim, without hesitation: “I’ll offer you my soul in exchange for the ability to traverse dimensions.”

Danny, deadpan but amused: “...I would’ve helped for free, dude.”

Unfortunately for Tim, the ritual circle he spent three days awake designing only breaks if a pact is formed. So Danny, sighing like the world’s most tired college student, goes: “Alright, fine. Let’s go over terms.”

What This Leads To:

Dimension-hopping Tim wreaking havoc across timelines, being a headache for Clockwork, and gathering way too many alternate-universe Batfamily variants.

Danny playing reluctant babysitter, tagging along to make sure Tim doesn’t accidentally rip open a ghost portal in a Victorian AU.

Slow-burn romance—Tim thinks he’s bartered his soul, Danny’s like “nah, I’m not cashing that in,” but feelings start creeping in anyway.

Not necessarily crack—this could be played serious, leaning into Tim’s canon-level desperation during Bruce’s time stream arc.

Tim slowly realizing his so-called “patron” is actually a soft-hearted disaster who keeps sneaking him snacks and making sure he sleeps.

UPDATE!!! I have a few thoughts on the powers Tim would receive from Danny!

Initial powers: ice and floating (he has to train before he can search for Bruce!!) Powers gained from training: portal creation, flight, density shifting Advanced abilities: duplication, telekinesis

Let me know what other ideas you have!!

ALSO! Danny's Ghost King form needs to be a space-themed Eldrich entity!! Who would become a patron of a non-Eldrich or demonic being, right???

(If you write this please please please 🙏 send me the link!!!)

[whoreinadegradingway]

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Get In the Water Ruthlessness Hold Them Down

Danyal's blow forced Constantine to skid back several feet. The only reason it didn't cleave him in two was the magical shield he'd thrown up last minute. Damian could only watch as the white magic crawled up his brother's arm.

Danyal screeched, a shockwave erupting from his mouth and shaking the cavern. Gritting his teeth, Constantine grabbed Danyal's arm with both hands and yanked him off course. Whirling around, Constantine threw Danyal across the room. Danyal righted himself midair and lunged again, but Constantine was ready. With a flick of his wrist, a sigil burned into the air, and a barrier of golden light erupted between Danyal and Talia. Danyal’s claws raked against it, sparks flying, but it held—for now.

The whites of his eyes had turned green.

Constantine staggered back, sweat dripping from his brow. He looked worse than Damian had ever seen him, gaunt and exhausted. "That won't hold 'im for long," he remarked. "Lad's losing all sense of himself. It’s the Pits—too much exposure to ‘em. They’ve warped him, torn his essence to shreds." He grimaced. "But if we stay here much longer, he's going to tear us to shreds."

Damian looked away from his mother fleeing the room, to Danyal, hissing and spitting insults as his claws ripped into the magic shield. In the Lazarus Pit, Danyal had been... calm. Disdainful, but calm. It was only in the overworld where Danyal lost his reason-

"No!" Damian said. "We don't need to leave. He does."

"You want to inflict that thing on the rest of the world!?" Todd yelled back.

Damian snapped, snarling. "That thing is my twin brother, and you will treat him with the respect he deserves!"

Danyal screamed from behind the shield. "I'm your murder victim, not your brother!" Danyal cackled again. The green leaked out of Danyal's eyes in jagged cracks as his voice suddenly deepened. "Ṭ̴̢̢̻͓̱̯̭̊̄͊̀̐̐̏̃̊̊̉ê̶̢̱̪̰͇͇̻̺̆̏̋̃̾̓͑̄͘l̴̥̹̫̦̲̳̼̗̮̗̼̤̒͛̇̇̐̔͜l̷͖͕͇̯̹̖̲̬͔̈͑̒̈́̀̕͜ ̵̪̋̋̄̈͘ṱ̸͇͓̃̌̄̄͒̍̒̃̌̔͘h̵̡͈̝͈̠̜̞̳̻̮͕̻͓̯̘̒́̽̓͝e̵͎͔̼̘̺͓͎̹̅̊m̵̛̠̻̰̦̀͋͋̓̈́̿̊̓̈́̿̕̕."

Damian closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. Upon his exhale, he opened his eyes again, certain of what he has to do. Damian stepped forward, Grayson's hand falling away as he squared himself against Danyal. His voice was steady, though it carried the weight of everything he’d been holding back. “I killed you. I snuck poison out of Mother's room and slipped it in your evening drink.”

The room fell deathly silent. Even the faint hum of the Lazarus Pit seemed to fade as Damian’s words echoed.

Danyal tilted his head, his twisted grin spreading wider. “There it is,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “The truth, laid bare. But do you feel better now, little brother? Does admitting it cleanse you of your sins?”

“No,” Damian replied firmly. His hand drifted to his sword hilt, but he didn’t draw it. “But I’ll make it right.”

Danyal’s smile vanished, his eyes narrowing as he floated , green light crackling like static around him. “Make it right? You think you can fix this?” His voice was a roar, reverberating through the chamber.

Damian drew his sword, the blade glinting in the eerie light. He pointed the blade at Danyal, his stance resolute. “You said it before; me or them. Me or Gotham. So here I am. I challenge you to a duel. One last battle, brother. Just us.”

"No!" Grayson protested. "Damian, you can't-"

"T̷̲̳̀̋̈́͗͝h̵͓̦̹̪̟̤̀͂̓̃̍̍ȋ̶̖̞̝̐͑́̀̓͝͝s̶͍͎̩̱̫̰̟̈́ ̶̞̺̹̔̂͌͗͒͐͜ȋ̷̢̛̞̱̘͎̙̐ş̴͈̣͎͖̐̐̌͠ņ̴̟̥̟̉̓͂̐̑͗'̵̭͙̳̥̱̦̖̇͂̆̕ͅt̶̲̱̪̠͓̀́͋́ ̵̜͚̪͕̣̙̯̦̈͒a̶͔͔̫͖̹̝͗̀̓̚͜b̷̨̨͚̯̲̮̠̏̍͛̇͊͝ơ̴̙̥̪̰̦̭͆̀̒̐ư̵̻̰̍̇̅̾̎̅̃t̷̢͔̣̻͖̙̦̃̈́͆̆̈́̚̕ ̴͍̖̰͎̪̹̮̲͐̎ỳ̶̖̼͈̥́̀͊̂o̶̡̪͕̒́ư̴͍̬͗̀͗̿͐̊.̴̯̻̭̱̤̩̋́͛͠ͅ" Danyal sneered at Grayson. His claws finished slicing clean through Constantine's barrier. With a deafening screech, Danyal lunged, his hand glowing with green light that morphed into a sword. Damian met him head-on, their clash sending shockwaves through the chamber. His family scrambled to stay out of the way, their shouts of protest drowned out by the sound of steel against spectral energy.

Danyal fought like a demon, his movements erratic but deadly, each strike fueled by years of pent-up rage and pain. And Damian did not stay uninjured, as cuts and bruises built up as he, inch by torturous inch, forced Danyal back towards the Lazarus Pit.

With every strike Danyal landed, Damian gave him one in kind. The moment his feet touched the ground, Damian struck at his heel. In the air, he focused on attacking from behind. And Damian kept up his attack, without falter, because defeat was not allowed.

"I won't let you kill me," he said during a parry.

“You don’t know what it means to survive!” Danyal roared, slamming his claws into Damian’s blade. “You don’t know what it’s like to claw your way back, piece by piece, from the darkness you threw me into!”

“You’re wrong,” Damian shot back, his voice fierce. “I’ve been in that darkness too. I’ve fought my way out. And I won’t leave you there.”

Their battle raged on, but Damian slowly drove Danyal back, step by step, toward the Lazarus Pit. Finally, with a calculated feint, Damian disarmed Danyal, dispelling his etherial sword. Before Danyal could react, Damian lunged, tackling him with all his strength.

The two of them tumbled backward, plunging into the glowing green depths of the Lazarus Pit. The chamber shook, the waters surging violently as they disappeared beneath the surface.

And the world turned green.

[whoreinadegradingway]

H̵̩͋o̸̹͒l̶̢̑ď̸͕ ̵͔͛T̴̲̄h̶͙͋e̶̤͘m̵͍̋ ̷͓̈D̵̯͛o̶̡̅w̵̖̃n̵͝ͅ

Get in the Water AU: Original Post Ruthlessness

Ghosts were physiologically different from humans.

It was something Tucker and Sam didn't understand. They saw Phantom as "Danny with superpowers," not as a fundamentally different being.

Sometimes, Danny didn't understand either.

But his parents did. Utter disregard for the scientific method aside, the Fentons were the ones who learned how inhuman ghosts were: "Just emotions and electricity imprinted on ectoplasm, Danno, nothing to be scared of!" Snapshots of people at the moments of their deaths. The past and the present, incapable of contemplating the future.

And with his duality, Danny struggled to understand either of his halves.

As a human, Danny could move past his nightmare of a childhood, compartmentalize and think to the future, when he was fully healed and his past couldn't hurt him anymore. So when Dora, first elected Queen of the Infinite Realms - long may she reign - asked him to collect all the resurrected humans for a health check and assessment... when he'd noticed Damian Al Ghul-Wanye on the list... He'd thought up a little prank to pull on his long-lost brother. A cruel one, perhaps, but nothing harmful.

As a ghost, Danny couldn't move on. He could never forget that Sam led him to his death, that his parents negligence allowed for the stage to be set, that the lab they loved so much held both his home and his grave. Just as Danny would always be that fourteen year old, caught in that moments, he was still the 7-year-old Danyal Al Ghul who trusted his brother not to hurt him... and ended up poisoned.

Phantom wanted his murderer to suffer.

And Danny, much to his shame, had allowed it.

For a few weeks, Danny managed to ignore it. He'd gone after Damian first, so there were tons of resurrected on his list. He started with the more extreme cases first, like Constantine, but soon enough the next on his list was Ra's Al Ghul.

He'd asked Queen Dora to send someone else, anyone else. That he wouldn't be able to control himself if he saw his grandfather again. Instead of relieving him, she'd given him a knowing look and told him to follow his core's desire.

She never mentions it, but Queen Dora had been a murder victim too.

There was no showmanship, no dramatic reveal. Just Danyal, his grandfather, and the Pit.

Despite all Ra's Al Ghul's power, he was no match for a spirit hellbent on drowning him.

That's what Danny did to his grandfather. He'd thrown up afterwards, once he was human before. But the ghost in him relished the act; he could still feel Grandfather's throat under his hands, pulse fluttering against his palm as Danyal held him down. He struggled and shook as the Lazarus waters filled his lungs, burning away healthy tissue. Fingernails morphed into claws that sliced through the tender skin, blood leaking into the water, and water leaking into the blood.

It took a long time for Grandfather to die. Deep within Danny, next to his core, he knew it was what was deserved. That the murdered finally had justice. He was content with never speaking of it again, a secret between him and the waters.

And now it was going to happen again as Phantom's impulsive mind overtook Fenton's tactical one.

He'd known Damian was looking into him. Knew another confrontation was inevitable, what with two more of his siblings needing their health checks. But as Danny was stalking their mother, searching for the best way to abduct her (she was still his mother after all, he didn't want her dead... yet), Damian and his family confronted her.

Relief washed over him as only a normal amount of rage bubbled up at the sight of Damian, instead of the overwhelming, all-consuming fury he'd felt. Danny laughed at their arguments, at Constantine thinking he could put a living ghost to rest, at his siblings-unmet and his father-unknown, until...

Damian confessed.

His murderer confessed, yet as he continued to speak, to explain, the fury rose in him again. Because it wasn't a betrayal. He'd always thought Damian betrayed him, but no.

Through his own ruthlessness, Damian gave him the only mercy he could manage. And there was only one thing Danyal wanted now.

""̸̲̈́T̶͘͜ä̵̢li̸a̶̬̓ ̴̬̐A̵̛̪l̸̲̚ G̸̛̫h̶̺̏u̸̢̚l!̴̳̈́ D̷̩̕o̸͛ͅ ̶̝̍y̴͙͘o̵̙͐u̵̬̓ ̴̤͂k̸̡̑n̵͓̈́o̷͈͝w̷͖͂ ̷͓͑w̴̧̄h̵̲͌o̴̮̔ ̵̼́Ị̷̂ ̷̣̽a̵̳̓m̷̩̓?̷̝͒"̷̧͠"

It was her fault. She was the reason why he was dead, nothing more than a coward who couldn't go against her father for the sake of her children. She abused them, she struck his brother, it was her fault-

"Danyal," she answered. And Danyal grinned, fanged and sharp.

He approached, the waters of his birthplace lovingly brushing against his legs, consoling him the only way they knew how. They whispered revenge into his ears, madness into his heart, just as they had when he'd confronted Damian, when he murdered Grandfather. "You have much to answer for, daughter of the Demon Head," he said, voice echoing around the room.

Unrestrained greed filled her gaze. "You've returned to me, my son."

Danyal laughed, brutal and rough. "I've returned for you, Mother," he corrected. "Don't think this reunion will end well for you."

"You mean to hurt me, Danyal?" she crooned, all false hurt and fake love.

"I mean to kill you."

Genuine anger flashed across her face. "My son would never-"

"Y̵̺̆o̴̩͂u̸͉̕r̷̰͝ ̴͔͝s̵̡̉o̶̡̎ň̵̞ ̶̗̈i̴̘̍s ̸̦̐d̴̯̚ê̶͚á̶̩d̷̻̈́," he snarled, and Damian flinched. He was too close to Talia. "You wanted me dead... for being weak. For having mercy." He stared up at his mother's shocked form. "I killed Grandfather. Tell me, is that ruthless enough for you, Umi?" Talia flinched with just her eyes. He hadn't been allowed to call her Umi since he was three.

Their father stepped forward, the naked distress on his face contrasting with his battle armor. "Danyal," he plead. "You don't have to do this-"

"Stay out of this, Baba." The man's breathing hitched. "This doesn't involve you."

Constantine tried to talk him down next. "It does, kid. A Siren on your level can't stay around for long. It's time for you to rest."

Danyal threw back his head and laughed. "As if you could stop me, exorcist." No more delays. It's time for action. "I will drown you all before you can."

Danyal lunged. And despite his mother's decades as an assassin, she couldn't kill what was already dead.

He held her down by the throat, the attacks from Damian's family bouncing off him. "This is mercy," he cooed as she desperately clawed at his hands. "For me. For Damian. For everyone you will try to hurt in the future. Ruthlessness is the only mercy I can give you now." Her face turned red as she gaped for air and Danyal-

Was thrown back into the water.

Reorienting himself, he found John Constantine standing over his mother, protecting her from him. "̷̪͂E̷̺͐x̷̝̑ŏ̶̺ȑ̴͉c̷̟͘i̸͔̋s̶̮̀t̶̯͝."

And the Pit's water began to rise.

[whoreinadegradingway]

Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions

Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.

Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.

"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"

When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.

"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.

And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.

"Danyal."

His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.

After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.

His bother who... wasn't dead.

His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.

His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.

His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.

His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'

And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-

Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.

[whoreinadegradingway]

DPxDC Prompt

I've had this idea for a while (since seeing that art of Johnny and Kitty robbing a bank so Danny can get Top Surgery lol) but I haven't even had the brain to work on my own fic recently (sorry about that btw) so I'm writing this instead

So the concept:

T4T Johnny and Kitty, who died in the 80s after running away together.

Johnny was the kid of some rich asshole automobile mogul from Bristol, and Kitty was one of the workers' kids from the Narrows. They become friends, fall in love, both realize they're trans around the same time and then decide to run. They know that being trans on top of tax bracket difference gives them almost no chance of making it. Johnny steals a bike and a fuck-ton of money from his parents, and Kitty's parent(s) helps them leave.

They're still toxic and spiteful as hell, but nothing the other does can change the fact that they know and understand each other better than anyone else could.

They travel around the country being menaces together for a while until they decide to settle down in a strange city called Amity Park. They figured it could handle a couple more anomalies. But before they can get there, they get into a bike wreck with their final thoughts being of each other and Johnny specifically cursing his bad luck in life.

The next thing they know, they're in the infinite realms being given the chance to stay together and the freedom to simply exist with no strings attached. (Other than each other cause I firmly believe that they're mutually the others' obsession)

About 20 years have passed, a portal to their old world is permanently open and this scrawny little ass kid ghost that they've never even heard of keeps stopping them from going through it.

It isn't until Johnny actually starts paying attention a few months into it that he notices that first, the little shit can actually fight, and second, HE WAS FIGHTING THEM WITH A BINDER ON. (Johnny also vaguely wonders why Danny looks so much like his old neighbor Brucie, but that's less important than the binder thing). Johnny lets out the universal ghost fight timeout signal and vaguely explains the situation to Danny, who seems confused about the noise he made and why it made him stop.

Johnny gets Kitty to spread the word that if the timeout isn't called off by the next morning, stay TF away until they get an all-clear.

That night, *after yelling at him a bit*, he starts teaching Danny how to reshape his ghost form to his preference and even his vocal cords.

From there, Johnny and Kitty sorta ghost adopt him as a sibling and then take him to Frostbite to make sure his T-shots are ecto compatible.

(I hope this was coherent it's 4am for me and I haven't slept lol)