decaffeinatedfreakturtlelan-blog
I’m 19 please let me read your fanfic in peace
133 posts
Latest Posts by decaffeinatedfreakturtlelan-blog
YOU HAVE ENTERED
RADICAL SATURDAY
Look Up
~~~
I don't usually dabble in realism - but this was a gift for someone very meaningful in my life. And some things just deserve to be painted as they are.
𓈒⠀݁⠀﹙ 𝓢﹚𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 ☆ ₊⠀ ៸៸៸
君を愛しすぎて、 恐ろしいくらいだ。
# 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒦ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℬ𝓇𝓊𝒸ℯ 𝒲𝒶𝓎𝓃ℯ ☆ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ³
# 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺...
# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵, 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱, 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳/𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥⚠
# 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!
She could hear him pacing.
The sound of his shoes slamming against the floor.
She sat on the edge of her bed, trembling, her fingers digging into her arms.
She had been expecting this.
Ever since she threw up that morning and Alfred had seen.
Ever since Bruce’s sharp eyes had noticed the way her body had begun to change.
She should have run.
She should have come up with something, anything, to stop this moment from happening.
But there was nothing.
There was nowhere to go.
And now Bruce was here.
Pacing.
Breathing hard.
Trying to control the rage rolling off of him like a storm.
Then, suddenly—
“Who is he?”
His voice cut through the air like a whip.
She flinched.
Didn’t answer.
Didn’t look at him.
Her heart was hammering so loud, she could barely think.
“Who’s the father?”
He was standing in front of her now, towering over her, fists clenched at his sides.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
She couldn’t.
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
“Who is that man?” Bruce growled. “Tell me.”
She shook her head, tears blurring her vision.
“I—I can’t.”
His breath came out in a sharp, furious exhale.
“You can’t?”
She shook her head again, shoulders shaking.
“I can’t tell you.”
Silence.
A silence so deep, so heavy, it felt like it was crushing her.
And then—
Something shifted.
Something in Bruce’s eyes.
His sharp, analytical mind was spinning.
Working.
Piecing things together.
She could see it.
And then—
His eyes went wide.
His breath hitched.
His fingers tensed.
“Oh my god.” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading. “Tell me it’s not Dick.”
Her eyes snapped to his in pure horror.
“What?! No! Of course not!”
His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched.
He wasn’t done.
“Then Jason.” His voice dropped to something dark, something almost begging. “He's the only one other than Dick that is close to you.”
Her stomach turned.
She felt sick.
“How—how can you even say that?!” her voice cracked. “They’re my brothers!”
Bruce’s hands ran through his hair, his breath ragged.
He turned away for a moment, as if he needed to regain control.
As if he needed to force himself to breathe.
Then, slowly, he turned back to her.
His gaze was burning, piercing, his entire body tense.
“Then who?”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
No words came.
No sound.
Nothing.
Because she couldn’t.
She couldn’t say it.
She couldn’t make the words leave her throat.
Because if she did—
It would make it real.
Bruce stared at her.
His eyes darkened.
His voice dropped to a whisper, barely more than breath.
“It’s someone I know, isn’t it?”
Her body shook.
Her fingers dug into her own arms so hard she could feel her nails breaking skin.
Bruce took a step closer.
“Isn’t it?”
A sob ripped out of her throat.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t—
“I CAN’T TELL YOU!” she screamed.
Tears poured down her face.
Bruce’s expression twisted, something between anger and devastation.
He turned away from her, hands clenched into fists, breathing hard.
His shoulders were shaking.
He knew.
Maybe not the name.
But he knew.
Of course he knew.
The air was crisp, cutting through the night with the kind of sharpness only Gotham could hold. The city stretched before them, endless and dark, its heartbeat pulsing in the distant hum of traffic and the flickering of streetlights below.
Clark stood next to Bruce, arms crossed, staring into the skyline. He didn’t dare look at him.
He couldn’t.
Not after what he had done.
Not after that night.
Bruce was quiet. Too quiet.
They had just finished a League meeting, the usual endless war against an ever-growing darkness. But none of it mattered to Clark. Not now. Not after what he had taken.
And then—
Bruce spoke.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"I'm going to be a grandfather, you know?"
Clark's breath hitched.
What?
His fingers clenched against his arms as he forced himself to stay still.
Bruce never talked about personal things. Never.
But now—
Clark could hear the weight in his voice.
The way it pressed down like a slow, creeping tide.
He tried to smile, forced out a laugh, something light, something normal.
“That’s great, Bruce.” He swallowed. His throat was dry. “I’m sure Dick will be a great father.”
Silence.
A silence so deep, so suffocating, it froze the city.
Clark finally turned his head—
And saw it.
Bruce was smiling.
Smiling.
But it wasn’t real.
It wasn’t right.
It was wrong. Twisted. Something that should never be on his face.
A chill ran down Clark’s spine.
And then Bruce spoke again, and his words gutted him.
“Dick?”
He shook his head, slowly.
And then, still smiling, still mocking, he said—
“No, Y/N is pregnant.”
His daughter.
Clark stopped breathing.
The world stopped turning.
Everything—everything—crashed.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.
His heart slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape.
His face went white.
His mouth opened—
Nothing came out.
His ears were ringing.
This wasn’t real.
This couldn’t be real.
Bruce knew.
He knew.
Oh god. Oh god.
Clark felt his whole body lock up, every muscle going stiff as a corpse.
He tried—he tried so hard to find words.
To say something.
To fix this, to pull back, to undo—
But then—
Bruce’s smile fell.
It was gone.
And what replaced it—
Was worse.
His face darkened, the lines of his expression turning sharp, his eyes sinking into shadows.
He said nothing.
Nothing.
Because he didn’t need to.
Clark knew exactly what was happening.
What this was.
There was no need for screaming, no fists being thrown, no explosion of rage.
That would have been better.
But Bruce didn’t work that way.
Clark could feel it.
Bruce knew what he did.
It was only a matter of time.
Clark barely made it through the door.
His hands were trembling. His legs felt weak. His chest was tight, too tight—like something was crushing him from the inside. His breath came short, quick, shallow gasps that weren’t enough, weren’t nearly enough.
He staggered forward, gripping the nearest wall as he pull at his suit, fingers fumbling, desperate.
He couldn’t breathe.
God—he couldn’t breathe.
His mind was spinning, drowning in a black fog of guilt and disgust, thick and suffocating.
Bruce knew.
Bruce fucking knew.
He ripped his suit off, throwing it to the ground like it burned him. His chest rose and fell in erratic, panicked movements, sweat breaking along his skin as his stomach twisted violently.
He felt sick.
God—he was sick.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, fingers gripping at his scalp as a sharp buzzing filled his ears, loud, deafening—
He deserved this.
He deserved so much worse.
God, how did this happen?
How did he let this happen?
How did he ruin her?
A young girl. An angel. Someone who had looked up to him with wide, trusting eyes, a girl who had spent her childhood watching him, admiring him.
She had been just a child.
And now—now she was ruined.
Because of him.
His stomach lurched. He barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited, heaving up nothing but acid and self-loathing, his body rejecting itself.
A knock at the door.
Soft at first.
Then urgent.
"Clark?" Lois.
God. Lois.
His hands gripped the edges of the sink as he tried to steady himself, his breath still coming in rapid, uneven gulps. His vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut.
What would she say if she knew?
What would she do?
The thought alone was unbearable.
He sucked in another broken breath, forcing his shaking hands under the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. It did nothing.
It wouldn’t wash this away.
Nothing would.
Another knock.
Louder this time.
"Clark, open the door. What's wrong? You're scaring me."
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against the mirror.
I love you, Lois.
The words almost slipped out, almost choked him.
She deserved better.
She deserved a husband who wasn’t—who wasn’t—
He sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath, but it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
His chest was too tight. His throat too dry.
He gripped the sink harder.
His reflection stared back at him, empty.
He wanted to smash it.
He wanted to shatter himself into a thousand pieces.
But it wouldn’t change anything.
It wouldn’t erase what he had done.
— MASTERLIST ☆
— NEXT ☆ PART 1. PART 2.
— © stxrkiss ☆ don't copy, translate or use my works here or any other websites.
I am not a "doll". I am not a dickgirl, I am not a femboy, I am not a TMA, I am not a boymoder, I am not a futa, I am a TRANS WOMAN. And if I am not loved... then I will leave.
Okay I JUST realized I never posted these on here—- BUT BASICALLY, about a year and a half ago I started doing these experimental black hairstyle posts that were threads long on Twitter, to give artists a source of inspo for their black ocs whose hair they wanted to try something new with! There’s more to black hair than just the selected styles portrayed in media, and I thought it would be fun to show people how much texture, shape, fades, length, and style can be combined when drawing black hair—-cause it’s a kind of manipulation our hair can do irl! The OG posts were lost with the hacking of my original Twitter account (@/bagels_donuts) but I’ve since reuploaded the whole thread to my new Twitter (@/ItsDonutsFR)! I hope artists on tumblr find these useful, sorry it took me so long to post them here😭🙏🏾 I’ll upload them all in parts!
Part 1: Long masc hairstyles + playing with fades
summary : the forgotten wayne child realizes why she's so forgotten.
Dark trees lined the horizon , their luscious leaves obscure the sight of the steady rising sun in the distance . You stand by yourself alone , eyes drooping ever so slightly as you your hands steadily move across the canvas before you.
You feel so lost - maybe because you are - lost and scared as your hands slightly trembled - the grip on your paint brush loosening. The paintbrush looks dull at first - just a sleek white wood, but the bristles were of the finest quality, of course - any gift from Damian Wayne would be .
You vividly recall the morning he had shoved a small rectangular box in your hands - face holds a small scowl . You recall opening it and was met with the paintbrush.
"Damian, you didn't have to," you murmur slightly as your hands glided across the smooth wood with utter care. Damian looks at you impassivly, " I made it , carved the wood and thined out the brush myself - I just happened to think of you that's all " he says before turning around and disappeared behind the halls.
You held your tongue - Damian was never expressive, but he tried - tried more than anyone else had in your life to care for you . That morning, you sat the box on your desk and swore to use it on a good painting.
It's been a couple of years since that swore, and now , you find yourself finally using it. You sat up straight in your wooden stool , one hand glides across the French canvas before you , it stands proudly upon the Korean easle- the wood was sourced from the finest wood the could offer.
Your left hand props up the Japanese paints in a wooden palette , around the rim sits the purest shade of white , a molten golden yellow, little dabs of sea blue , rosey pink and earthy browns .
Your hands seize as you stop , you gently rest the paint brush onto the rim of the easle as you look at your painting. It looks beautiful to the eye- how could it not?
The woman before her has beautiful golden hair - hear that shines so brightly it could rival the sun - her face , ethereally so smooth its as if God personally carved her out the finest poreclin.
Her stunning blue eyes state right back at her- captivating - so dazzling, in fact that a mere glance at it can overthrow any captain off course.
You stare back at her but can't help but find fault in it - in the faintest corner of her collar bone, you mark a single lone bristle that stuck on with the paint . Your jaw tightens, but it doesn't match the way you clutch onto the paintbrush in fury as your eyes peek the faint outline of the littlest pink escaping the outline of her beautiful dress.
Anger boils in you, and suddenly, the girl stating back at you suddenly looks imperfect - she looks uglier now that you've seen her flaws, and suddenly, this is deeper than just some stupid painting.
You glance at the canvas once more - it's your reflection stating right back and suddenly you feel your lungs constrict on itself - denying your body of any more oxygen.
Your reflection looks so hideous- why must there be so many acne scars ? Why must your nose look so distorted ? Why is it that one eye slightly looks bigger than the other? Why is it that you aren't perfect ?
You felt tears stream down your face - body still as it a war enrages within you . You fight the urge to reach out to your reflection and tear apart your body - to rearrange it , to mold it into something better , something perfect.
Why can't you be perfect ? Why must you look like this ? Is this a cruel mockery bestowed upon you ? Your mind traces back through all your memories - memories of watching Cassandra , Stephanie, and Barbra putting in makeup one night for some gala - your sister look so happy with one another as they carefully smack their lipsticks together - their reflection looked unreal- too beautiful for the eye to comprehend.
Bruce had invited them - not you but them and a few other of your brothers . You feel bile rising in your throat as the memory replays before you - why hadn't Father asked you ? Does he know how much you wish to go to a gala?
To live every girl's dream of dressing up and dancing under the prettiest lights with a handsome boy ? What a naive thought- a truly naive thought as your memory flashes to you running back into your own room .
Your sobs echo through the room as you desperately slap makeup onto yourself - a pathetic attempt to look beautiful. You memory zooms in on your past self finally looking into your old mirror - the reflection is utter repulsive - a literal pig stands before you , makeup smeared.
You choked as you blinked away , staring back at the canvas - again, the beautiful woman's portrait morphs into one of a pig with makeup smeared on . You let out a scream - shoving the portrait back, causing it to collide with the wet grass , mud trickles onto it , covering the portraits beautiful face.
You covered your face with your hands desperately as you began sobbing hard- is this what it's come to ? You being so ugly , so imperfect that it's the reason why no one in this God forsaken family loves you ?
Why you're so utterly replaceable because your surrounded by beautiful and talented people . Why Bruce always introduces Cassandra so proudly as his daughter because she's so utterly beautiful and graceful unlike you.
Why Dick and Tim snares at you whenever you're in the same vicinity . Why Alfred always shoots you a pitiful look whenever Jason and yourself quarrel - always saying "he's younger than you and had a hard life you have to foguve him" .
Us this why your mother unceremoniously dumped you 9n a cold winter night at the Wayne's manor , nothing to your name , just a simple rag that covered you?
You feel your body tremble manically - not even your own flesh wants you - just simply wants to reject your entire being . You feel yourself collapsed onto the muddy floor - maybe this is where you belong- a pig is always found in the mud - counting down the days till it meets the demise of a blade.
Maybe that's what's happening - your body is just waiting for you to die, so a better person can host it. You throw up bile upon yourself - you look even more pathetic- you look like a mess - an unwanted mess that everyone purposely walks pass because it's utterly too much .
You hiccuped again when you hear the mansions backdoor slide open.
"Name just what do you think you're doing ?"
thank you for reading !!
Love without Sex
I’m doing a Philosophy paper on Asexuality. Please reblog if you think Love without Sex is possible! I really need the data. Like if you think love has to have sex.
I think my favorite moment in all of solo leveling is where when Jinwoo is fighting Igris for the first time, and realizes his dagger isn't doing anything so he puts it away and Igris is just like "Oh we doing straight hands?" Drops his buster sword and cape and just smacks Jinwoo into a wall.
i hate when you google a word and some fucking company comes up instead. Do you think you are more important than the english dictionary you piece of shit corporation
[for the last time || в последний раз]
chapter warnings: n/a (damian just rambles a bit on how much he dislikes reader lol)
01. | 02. | » you are here | ... |
![[for The Last Time || в последний раз]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9bf2d313becacd1dc3363a3a063b2e68/466f3aa136887147-9e/s500x750/81b30c0998c9380ab8adf2e388422e3378514dcf.jpg)
From the eyes of [ Robin ]
Roughly 20 hours before the events of 01.
The morning was dull and overcast, the pale light filtering through the manor’s tall windows with the insistence of a persistent fog. Damian descended the grand staircase with deliberate, measured steps, his sharp gaze sweeping over the pristine foyer before turning toward the dining room.
Breakfast was always a tedious affair, but tolerable with Alfred’s efficiency. And—most days—endurable by the girl’s silent presence. She would usually be seated already, picking at her plate with the nervousness of a bird, her eyes darting between her food and whatever book she’d brought to the table.
Today, the seat across from him was empty.
“Good Morning, Master Damian,” Alfred greeted, setting down a neatly folded napkin beside his plate. “Eggs, toast, and sliced fruit as usual. Would you prefer tea or coffee this morning?”
“Tea.” Damian slid into his seat, gaze flicking to the empty chair again. “Where’s the girl?”
“The Miss has not made an appearance yet.” Alfred’s brow furrowed as he poured the tea with steady precision. “Have you seen her this morning, sir?”
“No.”
Alfred’s fingers tightened slightly around the teapot before he resumed his usual elegance. “I shall send her a message, then. It’s unlike her to miss breakfast without a word.”
Damian scoffed, already cutting into his food. “Perhaps she finally decided to skip the unnecessary pretenses.”
Alfred’s look was a measured thing, the kind of quiet reproach Damian had grown adept at ignoring. “Very well, Master Damian.”
The room lapsed into silence, punctuated only by the soft clink of silverware against fine china. Alfred moved about with his usual efficiency, though there was a new stiffness to his movements, something Damian noted and promptly dismissed.
Minutes later, Grayson strolled in with all the gracelessness of a man who’d only just dragged himself from bed. His hair was tousled and he was already smiling, as if he expected the world to greet him with the same warmth he poured into it.
“Morning, Damian. Alfred.”
“Good morning, Master Richard,” Alfred replied, setting down another plate.
Damian didn’t bother with a greeting, his attention already straying from the room. He finished his meal quickly and rose from his seat, ignoring the curious glance Grayson shot his way.
“Going somewhere, Lil’ demon?” Dick asked around a mouthful of toast.
“My morning stroll,” Damian replied curtly, already turning toward the hallway. “Try not to do anything foolish while I’m gone.”
The hallways of Wayne Manor were vast and labyrinthine, but Damian knew them all by heart. It was a routine of sorts, to walk them every morning. Familiarity bred comfort, or perhaps it was more a matter of asserting his own existence within these elaborate, yet hollowed walls.
He passed the gallery, a corridor adorned with paintings and photographs from every era of the Wayne family. Damian rarely gave them much thought, but today his steps slowed, eyes narrowing as he studied the long line of frames.
One of the oldest photographs showed Grayson at twelve, smiling with infuriating exuberance beside his father, who looked decidedly uncomfortable with the forced cheer. Jane was there too, small and stiff at six years old, her posture awkward in a frilly dress that didn’t suit her.
Another photo showed the three of them, with Todd newly added to the lineup. Jane was probably nine, her eyes brighter with her lips curled up into something much genuine, more attuned to the cheerful energy Todd brought with him. Grayson had been fifteen then, already growing into his role as the dutiful eldest.
The progression continued down the line. Jason’s surly adolescence then absence, followed by the portraits with the appearance of Drake, Richard’ steady maturation, to then the doe-eye’s awkward transitions between childhood and whatever she was attempting to be now. And then Damian himself, glaring with unhidden suspicion in his first formal photograph, Bruce’s hand a heavy, yet not an unwelcome weight on his shoulder.
They were all there, framed and preserved like insects under glass.
But there was another photograph Damian hadn’t noticed before as it was placed far up the wall, it's dimensions small that it could easily be overlooked unless one had the stature of a person who'd gone through puberty. It was old, in black and white, the edges faded and worn with time, encased inside an intricate silver frame. It was a photograph of a woman standing alone, her hair elegantly styled, eyes alight with something Damian couldn’t quite define. Curiosity, perhaps. Or amusement.
The initials engraved in the plaque beneath the frame read.
M.W.
He frowned, tilting his head. The girl’s mother? That was unlikely. Her lineage was no secret within these walls, though it was a matter so rarely spoken of that it had taken Damian time to piece it all together. She was Bruce’s blood. His half-sister. Although he could never bring himself to call her that out loud.
Damian regarded the photograph again, his eyes narrowing as he studied the woman’s features with the meticulous scrutiny he applied to all things. The curve of her eyes felt familiar, their shape mirroring the girl’s in a way that left an uneasy knot in his chest.
But there was something wrong about them.
They were bright, yes, yet clouded—somehow. As if some unseen weight pressed upon them, shadowing the edges despite her composed smile. It was a gaze that seemed almost distracted, as though the woman were looking at something far beyond the camera’s lens.
For a moment, Damian felt something like recognition. A restlessness he couldn’t place, an unsettled thread that frayed at the seams of his thoughts. But he dismissed it as quickly as it came.
Whatever ghosts lingered in those eyes were of no consequence to him.
He scoffed, tension coiling in his shoulders. The resemblance, if it existed, was irrelevant. She was soft—fragile in a way that grated against everything he was taught to value. The others spoke of how she’d been indulged: by Grayson, occasionally by Todd before Drake took the mantle of Robin, and even by Pennyworth. Curiously, never by his father. He'd come to realize there was a void there—an absence of interest, as if the girl, his daughter, simply didn’t register.
He would not waste his thoughts on shadows.
She had never earned her place here. Not like he had.
With a huff, Damian turned away from the photograph, his brisk footsteps echoing through the empty hall. Whatever Alfred’s concerns were, they weren’t his. The girl would show herself when she decided to stop hiding away like a coward.
And if she didn’t, well—Damian couldn’t bring himself to care.
Taglist: @kneelforloki
MASTERLIST ..⋆. 𐙚 ̊
જ⁀➴ welcome to Red's masterlist ୧⍤⃝💐 !!
PULL ME IN
summary: due to Bruce distancing himself from reading and seeing other women - batfam has to watch their mom willow away.
CH 1
DIE YOUNG
summary : batfam enjoy each other's presence while Alfred and Bruce silently mourns your death.
CH 1
CH 2
Lone Warrior
summary : reader is put into emergency foster care after a tragedy , despite living with the Wayne family for a bit , reader takes it upon herself to move away and start anew since she clearly wasn't welcomed , after many years have passed Damian finally joins the family and after a particular spat w his father he finds himself in reader's room and an interest in them has sparked.
CH 1
CH 2
HELP YOURSELF
summary : in a family filled with intriguing members of their own right , duke has a particular interest in a certain vigilante in the family that everyone seems to overlook . this interest leads to the family to spiral into obsession .
CH 1 - 3
Neglected Reader x Yandere Platonic Batfam
CH 1
CH 2
CH 3
CH 4
Damian Wayne x Tokyo Ghoul Reader
summary :Damien Wayne is a complex character on his own , he has his own complex emotions and feelings that not many people can understand, que in a ghoul like sibling whom can comfort Damien in his hard times by reminiscing their own experience with them.
CH 1
CH 2
CH 3
DRABBLES
I 'hate' Cats - jason fic
New Beginings - jason fic
hc for reader being the favorite in batfam - hc 1 , hc 2
saiki reader x batfam shenigans
SALVATORE - tim drake blurb
I HATE SPIDER LILLES - a lonesome child dies while a neglectful father loses himself to guilt and grief. ( batfam x neglected reader )
Fallen Star - jason mourns his dead wife .
Am I Enough ? - Alfred unexplainably dislikes a certain Wayne member and is hellbent on making her life as miserable as it can get .
TO LOVE YOU IS KILLING ME - the only person bucky has ever felt seen , loved and cared by is slowing dying and he can only helplessly stand there and watch them go .
TIMLESS - spinoff on (neglected reader x batfam ) where us the reader loves neglected character while batfam seethes in jealousy
REQUESTS
strangers - reader comes from a post - apolyptic world where mankind was wiped out due to nuclear warfare and deadly disease . suddenly she is awaken in a world where humanity is thriving yet this weird family behaves so strangely toward her??
ty to everyone who supports my work , i really appreciate everyone and i can't thank you all enough !!
if a link is not working pls comment which one and i'll fix it and i apologize for the future trouble !!
HELP YOURSELF
summary : in a family filled with intriguing members of their own right , duke has a particular interest in a certain vigilante in the family that everyone seems to overlook . this interest leads to the family to spiral into obsession .
When he was first introduce to the Wayne family , Duke was overwhelmed , everyone was so talented , so special and unique and came from such - complex backgrounds , it was hard to ever find something or anyone dull in the family . Duke had his highs with the family - from patrol , to movie nights every Saturday , food fights on Monday mornings because of course Jason had to rile up Damian but he had his lows - particularly the fact that he was the only sole meta in the family .
Something so minute shouldn't affect him , I mean come on isn't badass that he's in a family that can accomplish so much with sheer willpower without powers ? Though , it hurts every time he sees Conner teach Jon how to use his super strength without hurting himself in the process . He seethes in envy every time he witnesses it because he swears it ensnares him in a painful grasp - reminding him that he's the bystander in this family and that he's the only odd one out.
He shakes away the chill that runs up his spine and returns his focus back to the scene in front of him , a young woman is desperately trying to yank her purse away from some lacky burglar. ' Easy' Duke thinks to himself as he effortlessly swoops down from the rooftop he is perched on and landed on the thug . " Leave this poor woman alone " Duke commands as he pressed his legs onto the burglar's back. The burglar growls and pushes himself off the floor - practically making the woman scream . Duke immediately goes to jump away and reassess the situation when the burglar spins around inhumanely fast mid air to face the vigilante .
Bewilderment and confusion was all Duke felt but regardless he goes to land a sucker punch to the burglar's mask face when suddenly the burglar takes out a bomb from his inner pocket and throws it at the woman behind them. The woman screams as the bomb makes a beeline towards her and Duke wants to scream in frustration at how utterly stupid she's being and the fact that the burglar has outplayed him.
Suddenly , a figure clad in black with red accents jumps in front of the lady and catches the bomb effortlessly and throws it aside like it was nothing. Duke takes this time to sucker punch the burglar into the floor while he was distracted with the bomb's dentation , causing the man to groan in pain . While Duke is handcuffing the burglar , he eyes the figure in the corner of his eye handing the woman her purse before approaching him.
" Thank you ..... " Duke trails off as he watches the figure properly . He notes that they adorn a black body suit but has a red spider symbol in front near their chest . They adorn black helmet that covers the entirety of their face , only showing the user's dark brown eyes.
"Widow "the figure answers before leaping away from Duke . " Wait ! Who are you , I've never met you before !" exclaims as he extends his hand in attempt to reach out to them . " Just stay safe kid you don't know what you're doing " the figure says , directing a glare at him before they vanish.
That afternoon , Duke returns back to the mansion , he slumps against the kitchen table , the weight of patrolling all day and the situation of meeting a strange entity named ' Widow'. Alfred gently pats him on the back and serves him a plate of snadwhiches.
" I take it that today's patrol was exhausting Master Duke" , Alfred asks him as he begins to wash up wares in the kitchen. " You have no idea , met some weirdo who called me a kid like what the hell " , Duke complains as he takes a bite of the sandwich . " Weirdo ?" Alfred questions as he dries a plate. " Yeah some named Widow " Duke replies . Alfred drops the plate.
He feels every muscle on his body tense at the mention of her name , a name that may have been a bygone memory to many but not to him never him . Duke scrambles out of his chair and approaches Alfred . " Hey are you okay ?" Duke asks as he holds the elderly man by the hands. Alfred tries - he tries to talk but is too shocked to say anything - he fears this is a dream , a cruel dream that god bestowed upon him as a punishment - a reminder of his failure .
"Widow - are you sure they said Widow ?" Alfred asks the boy frantically , panic old eyes watching Duke's intently. Duke stumbles back but answers , " Yeah that's what they said why does it matter ?" . Pin drop silence fills the manor as Alfred registers Duke's words. Alfred crouches to the ground , his hands run along the jargoned edges of the broken plate - the rough feeling grounds him , reminding him that all of this is real .
" It matters because that is your sister young master " Alfred forces out. Silence consumes them again . " What ?" Duke questions as he holds onto Alfred tighter. For the five years he has lived with the Waynes - no one never mentioned a Widow or a sister not ever so why is it now that he finds out that he has a sister and one that he has not heard or known about.
Alfred can feel warm hot tears running down his worn cheeks as nostalgic memories of him making a younger you a hot chocolate in the afternoon as you sit in the same chair as Duke had , coloring whilst simply blabbering about your day. He recalls how every night , he can feel your tiny figure sneaking into his bed to hug him with your stuffed bunny You were practically his daughter .
He also remembers that you weren't particularly liked by the Wayne family , at the time only consisted of himself and Bruce - a younger much fragile Bruce that had no idea how to raise a kid - a kid that was just put into his custody because their parents got too drugged up and k*lled themselves in the living room.
The situation wasn't ideal , Bruce was immature , till learning how to navigate his own feelings , his own anger , his own loss and so were you , a small , fragile thing that didn't quite yet understand why mommy and daddy were being put in a box .
He also remembers that tragic day - the day he lost you - . It was like any ordinary day , he dropped you off at kindergarten and watched you run to your teacher , excitedly showing her a drawing you made. He watches you smile and wave him goodbye as the teacher escorts you to your classroom. Alfred does what he usually does , returns back home and begin his preparations when he receives a call from your teacher . He remembers the dread , the sheer panic , the bone chilling anxiety that consumed him when he picked up that call to hear your teacher utter the words
" two government officials barged in class around recess and they took ( name ) I'm so sorry I tried to stop them - tried to grab the tiny thing but they had her really tight and - and they left "
i dont think i ever posted this here but i adore the idea of splicing together bumper stickers
Danny Phantom AU where his eyes glow or at least reflect even in human form
So basically all I want to see is one of the Fentons going downstairs at 3 AM only to find Danny raiding the fridge with his glowing eyes
Carrie projecting her period cramps onto Freddy
SLASHERS MASTERLIST!
Michael Myers
Male Reader
My Pretty Boy Summary: M/n was a killer who used his good looks as bait to draw his victims in. Yet, you know who wasn't so keen on the idea? His boyfriend, Michael Myers. Sorry Summary: You knew Michael would never intentionally hurt you, but accidents do happen. And how can you stay mad at your boyfriend after he tries to make it up to you? Childhood Friends Summary: You couldn't remember your childhood, so with a plan to return to your old home in Haddonfield for clues, you never expected yourself to be tied to the boogeyman himself, Michael Myers.
Gender Neutral Reader
Captive Summary: You were a witness to one of Michael's killings, however, instead of killing you, he'd taken you as a prisoner. How odd... Silent Pursuit REQUEST: Michael Myers chases you after he attacks your home and then BOOM smut (be warned, no smut but lead up to it)
Hannibal Lecter
Male Reader
Velvet Ring , Velvet Ring Pt. 2 and Velvet Ring Pt. 3 Summary: Before Hannibal Lecter became the Chesapeake Ripper, he was a mute boy sent to an orphanage. There he meets you—a boy who slowly wins his affection. However, nothing good ever lasts. Give Me Attention REQUEST: Hannibal smitten with male surgeon who doesn't want to be his friend. Me, Jealous? Summary: Hannibal's husband doesn't react to jealousy, but his little cannibal certainly does. You Can't Outrun Fate Summary: When M/N feels that Hannibal is losing interest in him, favoring being in Will Graham's presence, he flees. It takes a year or more but Hannibal returns, and won't let M/N leave again. Always, Forever Summary: M/N wanted this nightmare to end—he regretted ever meeting Hannibal Lecter, accepting his friendship, and more painfully, allowing the doctor into the darkest dwellings of his mind. Where M/N and Hannibal face each other during the Mizumono episode. Pretend Summary: You faked being attracted to Alana to gain insight into the FBI, never knowing that it would set off your boyfriend's possessiveness. Nothing Can Bring Me Back Summary: Hannibal was indeed a person suit, but also a safety net to a man who'd lost everything: his child, his lover...his heart. Hannibal/The Hunt crossover. My Mirror REQUEST: Reader has NPD and doesn't form a connection with anyone till he meets Hannibal. A bit self-indulgent, but Hannibal is fascinated by the prospect of being 'special' to a narcissist. Bound By Appetite Summary: Hannibal was with your sister Alana, and you were trying things out with Will. However, the cannibal isn't willing to lose you to such a pig.
Gender Neutral Reader
No Feelings Allowed Summary: Hannibal seeks to destroy his feelings because love was something the little boy from 1945 knew all too well, not the monster that had replaced him. Devotion in the Ashes Summary: Hannibal is devoted to the person who truly sees him—the one who's been there since Misha and even before that tragedy took place. Birds Of A Feather REQUEST: reader is off-putting constantly? always has a blank expression and is just really morbid to the point of weirding out other people. And if possible, could reader have an obsession with rats? Platonic. Handcuffs Summary: You made Hannibal Lecter fall in love with you, however, that doesn't mean that your cannibal suddenly turns into a normal person. You can't declaw a predator, nor do you want to. Secretary Summary: Hannibal told Crawford that his secretary was 'pre-dispositioned by romantic whims' and traveled to the United Kingdom. However, it's rarely as simple as that. Protect Summary: You didn't care if people were against your relationship with Hannibal, calling you all names under the sun for managing to 'bewitch' one of Baltimore's highest socialites, but Hannibal was a different story. mano mažylė and mano mažylė Pt. 2 Summary: How would things turn out if Hannibal raised a child on his own? Not that good. Platonic. Are We Real? REQUEST: reader who is aware of Hannibal's facade but not of his true nature. Perhaps reader feels insecure in their relationship as they have a hard time telling whether or not the facade he has for the people is also kept up between them? Quite The Pair REQUEST: More Hannibal please
Various
Gender Neutral Reader
Slashers With A Serial Killer Lover REQUEST: slashers' reaction when discovering that their lover is a serial killer
Jason Voorhees
Male Reader
Oh No, He's Hot! Summary: What m/n believed would be a rather simple job has him encountering a masked murderer named Jason. But, oh no, why does m/n feel weirdly attracted to the dominant man? Social Recluse Summary: Even if you accepted Jason and his 'hobby', he understood you didn't like interacting with people. Staying hidden in your cabin, luck isn't on your side when a camp counselor stumbles inside.
Norman Bates
Male Reader
Well Mannered Son and Well Mannered Son Pt. 2 Summary: The rain didn't stop, causing you to pull over and seek shelter at Bates Motel. The attendant was cute but raised a hell of a lot of red flags. But who said you were the most sane to begin with?
Ethan Landry
Male Reader
He's Not The Killer REQUEST: Ethan is being accused by Chad of being Ghostface. His boyfriend doesn't like people disrespecting him. You Belong To Me REQUEST: Ethan is obsessed with you. So when you manage to discover he's the masked killer, Ethan sees no other choice than to kidnap you. My Boy REQUEST: Friends think Ethan's stuck in a toxic relationship, unaware that the boy actually encourages it.
Brahms Heelshire
Gender Neutral Reader
Clean And Tidy Summary: The Heelshire's never posted that nanny ad. After all, you were perfect for the job. Not only were you Brahms's nanny, but you were also the caretaker of the house when the Heelshire's were away. Touch Starved Summary: You are all too comfortable and willing to give physical affirmations to Brahms.
Stu Macher and Billy Loomis
Male Reader
Looks Can Be Deceiving and Looks Can Be Deceiving Pt. 2 REQUEST: Ok, but like imagine both Billy and Stu with a big tiddy goth! male! reader as their roommate. Reader looks intimidating but is actually really nice. Why? and Why? Pt. 2 Summary: M/n Prescott was a straight-A student, popular, good-looking, and kind. So why was he holding a gun and aiming it towards his sister? What was his motive? Can't Handle It? Summary: M/N didn't know what the big deal was. Why Billy and Stu were angry at him for making out with some girl when they were doing the same with Sidney and Tatum.
Will Graham
Male Reader
I Hate You Summary: Perhaps Hannibal Lecter was right. The darkness inside him was meant to be released, so why does it hurt when that acceptance isn't displayed by M/N, the person who he'd come to care for? Monster In The Making Summary: The Lecter siblings were obsessed with Will Graham but for entirely different reasons. While Hannibal wanted to deconstruct the puzzle that was the detective, M/N wanted Will to be his. What Can I Say? I'm A Man and What Can I Say? I'm A Man Pt. 2 Summary: You're an ass man and Will Graham definitely carries a dump truck :) As You Are Summary: Will can't help but notice how graceful and stylish his partner is. Can't help but want to improve his looks.
Joe Goldberg
Male Reader
Hello Summary: A new customer has entered the bookstore and, unsurprisingly, caught the attention of Joe Goldberg. After his disappointment with Beck, can M/N be his one true love? Obsessed Summary: It was supposed to be a one-night stand—fun with a cute guy you found in the club, but this was Joe we're talking about. Once he'd tasted you, he couldn't get enough.
Hannigram
Male Reader
Bite Me, Darling REQUEST: Hannigram fic with male reader who has a biting habit—this includes objects and biting Will/Hannibal. Top Priority, Top Priority Pt. 2 Summary: Will Graham intrigued you, however, you can't leave your duties as Hannibal's bodyguard. How to place a man over the person who gave you a second chance at life and made you feel at ease? Are You Sure It's Just A Childhood Friend? and Are You Sure It's Just A Childhood Friend? Pt. 2 Summary: You were happy to be reunited with a childhood friend. But Hannibal and Will saw it differently—they saw it as it was. A man who wanted to steal you away from them. Too bad you were too trusting and defended this friend till things go awry. On The Tip Of Your Tongue and On The Tip Of Your Tongue Pt. 2 REQUEST: Reader is always really quiet and generally avoids people so everyone thinks he’s shy, but one conversation with him shows that he is NOT shy—he’s just on the verge of murdering someone constantly. My Vampire Summary: You encounter two mortals on the verge of death and, despite your nature, you tend to them. Of Blood and Moonlight REQUEST: Hannigram x Vampire reader. Will and Hannibal falling for a dhampir (half-vampire) with mid-back long, luscious platinum-blonde hair, gorgeous golden eyes and a handsome face.
Gender Neutral Reader
My Morning vs. Your Night REQUEST: Reader who operates on a backwards schedule? Like eating breakfast at 9pm and dinner at 7am. And anytime they’re seen during the daytime, they just look exhausted. You Kill, I Collect REQUEST: hannigram with a reader who’s really into collecting candles, but ONLY the weird ones. Like they definitely have a few pot-roast or bacon candles lying around. Just the cursed candles that you would never expect to see.
dont worry, he specializes in stem (shenanigans, tomfoolery, escapades, and mischief)
Down Bad in Distress
Bruce Wayne is kidnapped... A lot. And it's always so weird that only Batman is allowed to save him. That this dumb, charming, but kidnap-able Billionaire doesn't have a bodyguard.
Now, Bruce can simply go "Oh, we've got Batman. No need to worry for that!" But people are fussy nowadays. He underestimates just bow much Gotham loves their disaster of a prince with a golden heart. Even his company employees are begging him to hire a bodyguard. (This is from the many files being sent to his office, obvious recommendations on competent bodyguards)
Cut to the new bodyguard for hire—who was recommended by Alfred of all people (something about him being the disciple of a good old friend of his). The man was large. Fucking huge. Taller than Jason, if one would like to admit (Jason is his 6'4" baby and this fucking fridge if a man looked 6'6").
But he was all soft and warm. Like a golden retriever the size of a bear.
Anyways, Danny was a rather kind man. When he wasn't following Bruce around and playing bodyguard, he was indulging the kids. Entertaining them with the most obscure things and stories from his childhood. Better yet, Danny would be the kids' bodyguard rather than Bruce's whenever they went out.
It was a miracle when they realized that Damian wasn't reacting badly to the man. Very strange since Damian would think it'd be shameful for someone to protect him during the day. But then again, Bruce once saw Danny effortlessly pick up Damian so his son could coax a cat out of a tree. That was most likely the kicker.
Anyways, Danny looked and felt soft.
It wasn't easy for him to settle into the man's ever present presence, but it's been almost four months since Danny's been hired and Bruce doesn't even flinch when the man brightly greets him from the bottom of the stairs.
"Good morning, mr. Wayne!" Danny would say, all teeth and bright eyes in his suit.
"Bruce," he'd correct immediately.
And then Danny would pause, laugh, and— "Good morning, Bruce."
Then his kids would follow and Danny would affectionately greet them all, ask where they plan to go and if they needed Danny to follow.
His bodyguard was like sunshine and warmth incarnate.
But if course, Danny was a bodyguard.
There were instances where Bruce would have to take a second to remind himself that this man that would look down at socialites like he's ready to crush their hands is the same one who once gave him puppy-dog eyes to back up Damian when his son asked to keep the kittens.
That the same man who grabbed someone by the scruff of their collar like they were weightless was the same one who talked about poetry and literature with Jason.
That the man who once hauled Bruce off the ground and walked right out the gala when the smoke alarms blared is the same one who would gently coax Tim off the coach and into a proper bed.
But right now, that's not his concern. No. Bruce is more concerned about the fact that he's gotten kidnapped again.
Everyone was most likely alerted. They were. He could hear Red Robin, Blackbat and Spoiler talking over the comms, checking in on Red Hood and Robin in case things went off.
"B, don't move. These guys are more prepared than the usual ones." Tim's voice filters into the comms, evidently annoyed. "I've got Oracle checking if there are any bombs in the place."
Bruce stayed silent, watching the masked men and women walk around, guns in hand and crates surrounding them. He had been knocked out during a party. The last thing he saw was Danny's eyes—god, it frightened him a bit. How those pretty blues suddenly turned green like Jason's.
Then he was here. Most likely with a concussion.
"B?"
"I'm okay... Be careful..." He murmurs under his breath, hearing his children sigh in relief.
"Good. We've got Red Ho—What the fuck is that?" Barbara immediately cut herself off, her voice strained and pitched with surprise.
"Oracle?"
"Spoiler—Do you have a view on that?" Oracle frantically asked. "Shit—the cameras just went down. Guys?"
"is that—" Stephanie chokes out, "Is that Danny?"
Bruce froze. Danny?
Jason always knew that Danny was kinda off. The first time he met the man, it wasn't his size that Jason immediately noticed. It was how his eyes flashed green when they met his. At first, he felt threatened, ready to attack whatever the fuck thought it was a good idea to infiltrate his family.
But then... Then Danny smiled at him. Offered his hand with a kind greeting. Jason took that hand and... And felt calm. Like the buzz in his head melted away, like the Lazarus was cleansed.
And Danny most likely knew. Because the man was smiling in satisfaction, like he was pleased that Jason suddenly didn't feel starved and angry and hurt.
"I don't know what happened to you kid, but whatever the hell did, it wasn't good for you. Hopefully you'll get better now." Danny whispered softly and then withdrew his hand, tucking it behind his back.
Jason doesn't know what the fuck Danny was but the man was worth keeping around.
Admittedly, he turned to Danny a lot nowadays. Jason can't call Bruce all the time. No. His relationship with Bruce still isn't good enough to warrant Jason to call him constantly.
But Danny? Again, Jason doesn't know what the hell this guy is but whenever Jason was in trouble, he dialed Danny's phone immediately. And he came... Every, single, fucking time. No questions asked, just pick Jason up and patch him up like nothing.
Danny was a good guy. Like sunshine, like golden retrievers. All teeth with some fangs.
And that same guy just snapped a man's neck with his bare hands.
"Hood... Are you seeing this?" Robin asked beside him, equally stunned as they watched their usually kind and sweet bodyguard effortlessly tear through the group of men with his bare hands. There was already blood around. Everywhere, maybe. Some already on Danny.
"He's on a fucking warpath." Jason murmurs. Every bit of admiration he had for Danny just multiplied by a thousand when he watched him grab a gun right out of a guy's hand and slam it into their head. Fucking amazing.
If Bruce doesn't square up and ask this guy on a date, Jason would have to start planning to parent trap them.
Fucking shit, he needed this guy as a dad.
The doors don’t just open—they explode off their hinges, a violent crack echoing through the warehouse. Guns swing up, barrels glinting under harsh light, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the figure in the doorway.
Bruce’s pulse slams against his ribs.
And then Danny walks in, dragging a half-conscious man by the leg, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. He doesn’t even look winded.
Blood stains his usually pristine uniform—smeared across his face, streaked over the white of his shirt, soaking into his knuckles. His tie is gone. His collar is open, a few buttons undone, exposing a sliver of skin beneath the mess. There’s blood on his face, drying in streaks, and his knuckles—his knuckles are raw, dripping, alive. He looks… disheveled. Lethal. Gorgeous.
"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! THAT'S DANNY!" Spoiler screeched, "HE'S BODYING THOSE FUCKERS! RED! RED, ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS?!"
"SOMEONE RECORD THIS! SHIT! SOMEONE RECORD THIS!" Red Robin replied, equally loud and frantic as if trying desperately to find the old camera he used to stalk Bruce many years ago.
He doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t hesitate.
Danny launches the man he was dragging, sending him crashing into the nearest gunman with a sickening thud. Before anyone can react, he moves—crossing the room in impossibly fluid strides, twisting a wrist until a gun clatters to the floor, elbowing another man so hard in the ribs that something audibly cracks. A shot goes off, a wild, panicked attempt—Danny doesn’t even flinch. He snatches the arm holding the gun and bends it the wrong way. The scream is immediate.
Bruce’s breath catches.
Another man rushes Danny with a knife—big mistake. Danny catches his wrist mid-swing, wrenches it to the side with bone-snapping efficiency, then drives the same blade into another attacker’s thigh. The man howls, but Danny is already moving, slamming someone’s face into the nearest table hard enough to leave a smear of red on the wood.
They never stood a chance.
Two minutes. Two damn minutes, and the entire room is a battlefield of unconscious, broken bodies.
And Bruce cannot focus.
Bruce barely registers Jason swearing at him through the comms, telling him to get it together. He can’t.
And then Danny turns to him.
His face is splattered with blood, his chest rising and falling steadily as he steps forward. His hands, bruised and raw, reach out, and Bruce swallows hard.
Danny kneels, gaze flicking to Bruce’s bound wrists, and his touch—gentle, so gentle—works at the ropes with precise care. The knots had been tight, biting into his skin enough to bruise, to draw blood. Danny’s jaw clenches at the sight.
Bruce should say something. Should thank him. Should not be thinking about how unfairly attractive he looks like this—wild, wrecked, utterly devoted.
But he can’t help it.
He’s so gone.
"Mr. Wayne."
On instruct, Bruce corrects him. "Bruce."
And Danny pauses.
The chaos settles—not in the room, where bodies lay crumpled, groaning, and barely conscious—but in him. Just for a second. Just long enough for Bruce to see it.
Blue flickers into green. A warning. A promise.
Bruce doesn’t look away. Can’t. Even as Danny tilts his head, something unhinged curling at the edges of his smile. His chest rises and falls, slow, deliberate, the blood on his face catching the dim light. His knuckles, split and raw, flex at his sides before he exhales a laugh—low, sharp, guttural.
Almost a growl.
And Bruce—God help him—feels something thrill in his spine.
Then Danny takes his wrists. Carefully. Reverently. Those same hands that had snapped bones and silenced screams mere moments ago now hold Bruce’s bruised, bloodied skin like it’s something precious.
Then—cold.
Not warm. Not comforting. Cold lips, pressing soft against each wound, his touch featherlight against the raw skin. Bruce shudders.
Danny pulls back just enough for Bruce to see his lips—stained red with his blood. And he grins, sharp fangs more prominent than ever, his eyes molten with something Bruce can’t name.
"Bruce…"
Danny says it like a prayer. Like a promise. Like a goddamn claim.
Exasperated. Excited. Fond. And something else entirely.
"Try not to get kidnapped again, Bruce… Or I might just end up blowing up Gotham to get you back.
Bruce’s breath stutters.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Bruce is so utterly gone.
(Someone laughs in the background, shadows curling at their feet. Lady Gotham is pleased.)
Part 2 | Masterpost
⟡ ♡ ︎H A P P Y D A N N O D A Y ︎ ︎♡ ⟡
⟢ And 21st Dannyversary ♡
May Danny haunt your sleep for many more years—rent-free, for all eternity.
people are always like "Oh a vampire wouldn't get horny while drinking someone's blood, that's like getting horny while eating a sandwich" and like man have you never had a really good fucking sandwich?
the original got flagged with no way to appeal it when every contributor is deactivated but I will never let this post die. it's monday and we are getting on it cunts
Do you have a "signature move" in the bedroom?
Yeah it’s called sleep
I love nonfiction that I simply cannot relate to at all. "it's easy to get addicted to buying fast fashion! I used to spend thousands of dollars on it a year!" okay. you're a space alien.
sick post i just found online. sorry i couldnt find the source
Head Canons about something that doesn’t need head canons
I have hcs about a very random thing. I follow an asmrtist on yt named Atlas ASMR that has this kind of series called ‘man on’ which is how I found and I fell in love with his stuff. Somewhere along the way I started building a universe that I am going to share with you here.
My hc that the man in ‘the man on’ and some other video is the same person. Not like he’s immortal but that he’s reincarnated and so are were. In our first life we were cursed to be reborn over and over again to die around the same time and to be born around the same time.
We the viewer are someone that he loves deeply but a part of the curse is that Atlas is the only one who remembers us. That’s why he’s always the first to strike up a conversation, the one to mostly interact, the one that is some videos so desperately wants to make a connection. He will always recognize us even if our face is different or we speak another language he’ll always know it’s us.
Something that I recently added (because he gets shot in the man on the train video) is that we typically meet around the same times in our life when we meet it’s a sign that our deaths are to come. Our fast and painless, his slow and painful. Yet it never stops him, time and time again he searches and seeks us out because despite the pain he’ll feel, despite that we don’t remember he, despite the fact that this pattern will repeat over and over again he loves us.
I’m actually working on a time comic of this inspired by would you fall in love with me again from epic so let me know if you’re interested in my head canons about this series or any other asmr hcs or seeing the comic
The videos I’ve used the grow my head canon.
The OG https://youtu.be/78bWAeHPrpo?si=cR5vNbzALiiSJQ57
DCxDP Fanfic idea: Rent-a-Scandal
Bruce's identity as Batman is outed on live TV. It was after Joker unmasked him, but thankfully, Clark was fast enough to throw on a spare Batsuit.
They managed to convince most of the public that Bruce had been working as a decoy to distract Joker so that "Batman" could find the rest of the hostages. Most.
There were those pecky few that saw right through their ruse. He needed to do another stunt that would install doubt that Ditzy Party Boy Bruce Wayne could never be Batman.
The thing was his usual antics weren't working. No amount of parties. No alcoholic induced stupidity. And not even multiple women hanging off his arm was making them move away from their observations. They were even catching on that all of those incidents were done on purpose.
He needed to do something fresh, something new, something that would completely overshadow the skeptics who were casting doubt on his facade.
But what?
"How about hiring someone to write up a scandal?" Jason recommended it over dinner. In front of him, he had a manuscript. For the first time, he was going to audition for the lead role in his school plan. Bruce just knows his Jaylad will blow the rest of the computation away. "You can have a writer who thinks you're trying to make some weird mystery party or something."
"It would never work. They would notice I used things I asked them to write as personal scandals. But thank you for the idea, Jaylad." Bruce beams at his son.
"Well...what if you hired someone trustworthy? Like Clark?" Jason counters, but Bruce is already shaking his head.
"Clark specializes in journalism, not public relationships. Besides, his full-time job doesn't give him time to type me up some scandal-"
"I have a guy," Alfred offers as he places an extra plate in front of Jason. At their bafflement, he gives them a secretive smile, much like the kind that would curve on a snake if it had the ability to do so. "He is trustworthy. I have his soul tied in a contact. He wouldn't be able to blab once I command it."
Jason slowly put down his fork. "I-
But Alfred was already moving away, waving a hand over his shoulder. "I'll ring the gent right now. He's your age, Master Bruce, which will mean you can make a new friend."
"Does he really have a soul?" Jason gasps as Alfred vanishes into the manor. Alfred's tiny face is white, which would have been hilarious if it was a white lie. The trouble is, Bruce isn't entirely sure Alfred is lying.
Not that he could tell Jay that. The poor thing was barely getting comfortable in the manor lately. If the boy thought the butler could steal souls, it was back to square one of earning his trust.
"No, no, no, Alfred was joking. He's likely calling someone he trusts-"
A boom bursts across the dining hall as a glowing green portal rips open and out steps a man close to Alfred's age in a purple coat. He's carrying a suitcase and has a typewriter tucked under his arm. A scarf is wrapped around his neck, where Bruce's eyes finally notice the odd grey tint to the man's skin.
He's obviously not human.
"Hello," the stranger sighs after running his green eyes around the room. My name is Ghostwriter, and Alfred Pennyworth commanded me to be your scandal writer. I brought along an assistant who will be playing the second part of all of the situations. This is Danny Phantom; he'll play your secret gay lover."
"Hi!" says a man around Bruce's age to the Ghostwriter's side, a little too cheerfully. He's not human either, as he's glowing like a lightbulb was placed under his skin. His hair was pure white, which also seemed to be glowing in a different shade, and his eyes were a color that was not humanly possible.
He also flouted while the writer stood in place. "Alfred owns my soul as well, but unlike Ghostwriter here, I didn't lose it to him in stripper poker."
"That man counts cards!" Ghostwriter snaps
Jason stood up from his seat, hands held up. "This a lot. I have a play to practice for. Figure it out, B."
His son grabs his manuscript, bows his head a little toward the guests, and scurries right out of the dining hall, leaving Bruce to his fate. Alfred pats Jason's head lovingly as he smiles and passes him through the door. "Oh good, you meet your ghostly pr and secret gay lover. We have a real show stopper with these two, Master Bruce."
You know, Bruce had a good run with the whole Batman thing. Maybe it was time to retire.
"Let's get down to business. What have you written so far, Ghostwriter.?" Inquires Alfred. He makes that satisfied snake smile when the writer glares at him with utter loathing before the man rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers.
In front of Bruce, a pile of papers appears covered in writing. He grabs them out of the air only because it floating dangerously close to his nose.
"I think the best course of action is to play up the fact that Bruce has a secret, then leak some photos of Danny in suggestive poses. You drop on in Wayne Tower's lobby after we allow the rumors to fester with paparazzi." The writer explains, waving his hand to his assistant, who seems too amused by what is being suggested.
"As Phantom or Fenton?" Danny asks to Bruce's confusion.
"Fenton. We want a scandal, not a diplomatic emergency." Ghostwriter scoffs.
Bruce's face screwed up. "What do you mean diplomatic emergency? How so?"
"Oh, I'm the Ghost King," Danny reveals casually as if those words meant anything to Bruce. "If word got back to the ghosts that I was fooling around with a human without the intent to make him my consort, well, things would get dicey."
Alfred's smile turned a tad bit darker. "We wouldn't want that."
Danny's face froze for a few seconds. He stared at Alfred with what could be considered terror and...attraction? He then smiled as softly as a flower. "No, we would not."
Ghostwriter flings himself into the chair next to Bruce. He grabs the meatloaf off of his plate with his bare hands, taking a bite with a sigh. "Don't worry, I've seen this story a thousand times. He may think Alfred is a silver fox, but by the end of it, Danny will be yours."
"What?"
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