<p>:<b>Damian:</b> I would jump in front of a car for you. I won't do that for a lot of people, you know?<p/><b>Tim:</b> Oh please, You would throw yourself in front of a car if someone dared you to.<p/><b>Damian:</b> Is that a challenge?<p/><b>Tim:</b> Wait what? no-<p/><b>Damian:</b> Watch me.<p/></p>
Req: “can you do a fic where the reader has to get protected and she doesn’t want to and thinks it’s dumb but like otherwise someone is gonna try to kill her so a batboy (of your choice) has to protect her and they like realize they like each other? i just think it would be really cute sorry haha you can ignore me.”
I’m not gonna ignore you!!! this is adorable! also i let ppl vote not knowing the prompt and they picked tim hehehe so this will be fun! you really left me a LOT of creative freedom lmao so i tried my best but had a lot of fun lolz hope you enjoy angel!
It had been at least 5 years since you had ever shivered. And the last time it happened you were like 20 seconds away from dying so the fact that it was becoming a common feeling was definitely a problem. But your near death every couple minutes was a pretty dumb excuse to get you holed up in the batcave being watched over by none other than Mr. Batman himself.
The whole problem arose when all the cold-powered super villains decided it was time for their equivalent of a crossover, deciding that if the world was frozen over they could… steal shit? Then unfreeze it or something? They were always a little slow (call it brain freeze if you will) but the beginnings of their plan worked and the temperature of the Earth was dropping steadily which didn’t bode well for a hero like you who’s powers revolved around heat and energy, the colder you got the weaker- making this the reason you were in a makeshift furnace set up discreetly in the Batcave.
“Morning y/n let’s see how you’re doing” Tim greeted you with a wave, grabbing a tablet that was tracking your internal body temperature and other boring statistics on whether or not you’d live. “Oh man, okay, lemme turn it up” Tim tapped at the tablet while you folded another paper airplane and threw it at the glass. “I feel fine man, like really, I’m just chilling” you shrugged, incinerating the paper airplane with a small flame in the center of your palm while Tim chuckled. “Well ya see, you ‘chilling’ is actually quite a bad thing, but yeah a couple minutes with extra heat and you can come to breakfast!” you rolled your eyes at his smothered laughter. “How long you been sitting on that one?” you teased him.
“Long enough Sparky, now warm up I’m hungry” Tim started you on a burst of energy while he moved on to the main BatComputer. “Whatcha solving today? Anything I can help with?” you squinted at the screen hoping for something interesting. “Bruce is going out to see if he can find the location of all the machines dropping the temp, and no, you’re definitely not going outside anytime soon” Tim chided you while you groaned and let sharp flames jutt from your clenched fists. “I’m not a child, I can regulate my temperature on my own, hell I can still make fire so clearly I’m fine” you said matter-of-factly holding up a flame and letting it dancing into a small burst.
“And I’d like to keep you that way y/n let’s not risk it, now c’mon I think you’ve taken in enough energy” Tim opened the door to your little glass room, his eyes widening at the heat that brushed over his face. “Dude you ever got hot in there?” Tim questioned, fanning his face from the exposure. “Nope, I’m kinda like that all the time” you explained, casually taking his hand to show him how your skin practically radiated heat. “Oh- wow, you’re really warm but it’s kinda cool.” Tim mumbled, pushing your palm flush up against his, the tops of his fingertips curling around yours while he grinned, “your hands are so small” you snorted, “whatever Drake, I could cook you like a bird if I wanted to,” you laughed, racing up the steps towards the kitchen ready to warm up some breakfast.
Okay, so @iamwhelmed and I were talking about this the other day, and I literally can’t stop thinking about it: Imagine the utter CHAOS that is Christmas morning at Wayne Manor once the Batkids are grown and have their own kids.
So many people. Just. So. Many.
And of course, it’s not just Bruce, Alfred, and their (grand)kids and (great)grandkids, but since Kon and Jon are at the manor every year because of Tim and Damian, Clark and Lois are there every year as well. And of course they bring Ma because, like Alfred, she is immortal.
Ma and Alfred have passive aggressive bake offs that result in enough baked goods to feed a small army, which, well, the Wayne’s and company kind of ARE a small army, so it all works out.
Clark, Dick, and Steph are always wearing ugly Christmas sweaters. One year, Dick takes Bruce’s credit card, and he and Mar’i take a quick trip to Walmart to get everyone else an ugly Christmas sweater as well. Of course, Bruce and Jason and probably a few others are absolutely adamant that they wouldn’t be caught dead in something like the “Get Lit!” Christmas tree sweater that Dick bought, but that’s why Dick recruited Mar’i. One look from her big green puppy dog eyes, and a “Please, Uncle Jason?” or “Pretty please, Grandpa?” and they’re pulling the sweaters over their heads, no questions asked. And then meanwhile, there’s Jon who is just far too excited about the ugly sweaters. (”Look, D, it says ‘Meow-y Christmas!’ and it has a picture of a cat!” he says as Damian face palms, muttering, “Jonathan, you are a grown man.”)
And, of course, they gotta get some family pictures in those ugly Christmas sweaters.
Christmas photos are actually a Whole Process. You gotta get the ones in the ugly sweaters, then the ones in the formal wear. You gotta get the pictures with everyone, then just the Wayne’s, then just the Kent’s, then each couple and their kids, then Bruce and his kids, Clark and his kids, Bruce and his grandkids– the list goes on and on.
As @iamwhelmed pointed out, Tim would probably be in charge of family pictures, but once he and Kon start having kids, managing a toddling quarter-Kryptonian while simultaneously trying to get his whole, chaotic extended family to stay still enough long enough for the ordeal that is Wayne-Style Family Photos is too much, so Bruce ends up hiring a photographer.
But a bunch of Bruce’s kids married aliens. Which means most of his grandkids are at least part alien. (I have to imagine that TimKon and DamiJon would have gotten surrogates and used Kon and Jon’s DNA respectively because, ya know, gotta save their dying species.)
And these little baby Kryptonians and Tameraneans probably don’t have complete control over their powers yet, so half-way through the photo shoot, Mar’i Grayson accidentally shoots a starbolt at the floor, and Tim and Kon’s son sneezes and a whole gust of freeze breath comes out, and Damian and Jon’s daughter just starts floating towards the ceiling, and Jon has to fly up to go grab her.
So Bruce, in all of his Tired Dad/Grandpa glory just slips the wide-eyed photographer and extra $100 and with a sigh asks, “Could I get you to sign an NDA?”
- he’d try to get red from jason then settle for brown or black for “stealth purposes”
- he’d have the little black hat and would be the person who does those epic vent kills and everyone’s just like o_O
- he’s the biggest brain and half the time dick just votes where tim votes because he’s like always noticing the little details and piecing things together
- but if you’re imposter he’s totally 3rd impostering for you hehe (think tubbo and the captain) and it drives everyone insane but you think it’s adorable because he’s always looking out for you even if you’re a murderous imposter :)
- dick ALWAYS gets blue
- he also always dies first
- this doesn’t help either because he has the little son/pet blue guy that sits at his grave site and dick will forget to do his tasks as a ghost because he’s trying to make his son not lonely
- damian is always screeching at dick to finish his damn tasks because he forgets hehehe
- he always gets voted out if he survives far enough because everyone’s like “if dick isn’t dead by round 2 he’s sus”
- he just likes playing it because it makes him feel like he’s in one big family!
- if you’re playing with him he’ll find you when he’s a ghost and follow you around then do the little back and forth dance if you die to tell you to come ha four with him and you’ll go on little among us ghost dates
- he always waits for you while you do tasks and if you run off without him he’s in the VC like “y/n babe why do you keep running away from me i just wanna hold hands in electrical” and he gets shut up by tim who is about to make a 1000 iq play
- duke is the guy who always goes to the sabotages, like you’ll just see his lil yellow (sometimes pink idk how to explain it but yeah) body rushing to fix O2 or waiting for someone in reactor
- he’ll usually die doing this but he says there’s nothing dumber than dying to a sabotage so he’s got the crew when he’s playing :)
- he likes to twin hats with whatever you’re wearing it makes him happy
- when he sees you he’ll do the little back and forth dance for a minute then go back to being the only functional person on the damn ship
- you can usually find duke dead in the halls on the right side of the ship because he runs over for O2 and dies and then rages for like a minute straight
- when he’s the imposter he hates killing you so you’ll sometimes end up third impostering with him while everyone bangs their head against their desk hehe
- jason is a double killer through and through
- he’s an expert at causing sabotages and using doors to trap the perfect amount of people
- him and tim will get in SCREAMING fights during voting and he’s the only person to call when tims bluffing/being sus
- he has definitely left his mic on and screeched when someone kills him
- he’s the lil red dude with an egg on his head that like to dance in front of the camera when ppl are on cams just to be a meme (but sometimes for an alibi)
- everyone is always sus of jason so he’s usually surrounded by a hoard of people while he runs around doing his tasks calling everyone dumbasses
- as an imposter he totally got tricked by the stacking bodies trick and lost his shit in the VC when he killed damian then 3 of you were standing under his body reporting it lmao
- when he’s playing with you he’s using all the stops, like picking up the lilt in your voice when you’re lying or when you’re really passionate, he’s either your greatest weakness or your strongest alibi and playing with him makes it all the more fun
- he gets REALLY into it
- he likes the green dude or the black dude with either no hat (for hiding better when he’s the imposter) or one of the black hats
- he’s super protective of you, running next to you and begrudgingly doing the back and forth dance to get you to follow him to his tasks
- he’ll make the others shut up when you want to talk and he’ll vouch for you when he can
- this doesn’t mean he won’t absolutely murder you in admin while you rage over the stupid card task
- when tim outsmarts him you can hear him slamming a hand on his desk as the red ‘failed’ sign appears
- he is the definition of baby rage
- he doesn’t like killing people with pets because it makes him feel bad (for the pet) so he’ll leave those ppl for last while tearing through the vents to bring about drake’s demise
- gets a shitty skin and gets voted off first round no matter what
- Jaydawg: bruce kinda sus
- Timbers: yeah, so b?
- DWayne: yeah
- Bruce: THATS IT IM DONE WITH THIS GAME
hehehe this was fun i wanna play among now tho rip
Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz Pairing: Damian
Wayne x Reader Warnings: Angst,
aka NOT HAPPY Word Count: 867 A/N:
All these angst requests…who hurt ya’ll?!
was only in the fairytales. No one stayed forever and they definitely weren’t
there every time you needed them. Especially when they made that promise to
someone else. To protect something else. And here you were, sitting across the
table from the lawyer, dreading the questions and the paperwork. You just
wanted it to be over, to forget, and move on. Though you know that would never
you even meet this guy?” Her voice shook you from the trance.
know how it is. Young love. I got swept away in the drama and exuberance.”
Nowadays, he spent 90% of his time in the land of “what is happening?” and his subconscious kept whispering that this was only a temporary arrangement.
It wouldn’t be like this forever.
It couldn’t be like this forever.
His parents would show up at Wayne Manor and they would thank the Waynes for their courtesy and they’d wrap him up in that honey-and-lavender hug that his heart ached for all the time.
Around the seventh month of being a Wayne, Duke had gotten better at hiding his grief. He avoided the dinnertime that Alfred forced everyone to be at and used it as an opportunity to do some patrol the old way. Black hoodie, sneakers, and alone with his thoughts.
It was one of those days where the sadness seemed to sit on his chest like an elephant. He could hear the sounds of ruckus and laughing and shouting but he was sitting on his bedroom floor with his arms around his knees and trying his best to hold it all together.
The sobs came soft at first, soft with the realization that he’d never see them again. No more game night on Fridays where his dad promised them his lasagna could only get better. No more of his mother’s cookies that Duke would always prefer to Alfred’s.
Then the dam burst and he couldn’t stop crying.
Skies, Duke couldn’t stop crying.
His head was starting to hurt but that didn’t mean he would stop. He felt like every tear was for every time he failed them. Every time he didn’t tell them he loved them when he could have. Duke didn’t find them fast enough, now they were suffering, prisoners to a madness akin to Joker’s.
Duke barely registered his door opening, and he barely registered Dick’s arm around him.
“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be alright.”
Duke jerked away. He swiped at the tears lingering on his cheeks and pointed an accusatory finger at Dick.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to help,” Dick softened his tone. “Duke, why are you…is it your parents?”
Duke scoffed, “You can’t help crazy parents, Dick.”
“I can’t help them but I can try and help you.”
Dick adjusted his sitting position to sit crisscross-applesauce right in front of Duke, forcing him to look at him.
“Duke, how can I help?”
Get them back.
“I don’t know.”
Duke sniffed and stubbornly looked at the lamp. Wow, fancy detailing I’m not rich enough to appreciate.
Dick ran a hand through his hair as he tried to relate to the sorrowful teenager. It wasn’t his first time doing this.
“It’s fine to cry, Duke. I remember when I lost my parents. I didn’t fully register it at first. It was like living in a fog. B took me in and I just…it was always in the back of my mind that I hoped they’d come back for me. I’d almost imagine them walking through that door and thanking B and Alfred then taking me back to the circus.” Dick’s voice was slightly above a whisper, but loud enough for Duke to hear.
He hid his shock. That was exactly what he felt like.
“Is it like,” Duke fiddled with the zipper of his hoodie, “like you felt this wasn’t permanent. Like you really aren’t a Wayne because your parents are waiting for you. Like this is just a bad situation that’ll get fixed by some miracle.”
Dick nodded, “Exactly like that.” He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, and Dick took it as a good sign that he didn’t immediately shrug it off. “Duke, it gets better, but you have to get to a place where you have to realize you’re not selfish for wanting to live your life.”
Duke felt numb listening to it, even though he knew Dick was right. He wiped his eyes again.
Dick nodded and reached an arm out, not hesitating to pull his brother in for a hug.
“Duke, I know it’s tough right now, but just remember you got me.”
Duke nodded quietly, allowing himself to rest his head on Dick’s shoulder. He ignored the swelling in his chest at the familial gesture with which Dick hugged him. But he appreciated it.
Dick had never seen Duke look this…vulnerable. In the months he had been at the Manor, Duke had effectively distanced himself. Everybody already knew that Duke was sneaking out at night to patrol on his own, but nobody had stopped him. Dick had to stop Damian from marching to Duke’s room in his aggressively affectionate manner and demanding to know why Duke wouldn’t join dinner.
Duke had always seemed like the strong one, the one who was the most emotionally stable out of all of them. Dick should have known.
“Why do you care?” Duke sniffed, his brown eyes meeting Dick’s blue bravely. “It’s not like we’ve known each other for very long.”
It was a valid question, Dick could admit, but he still wanted to laugh out loud. Why wouldn’t he care?
He flashed a comforting smile at the kid, to let him know he cared.
“The moment that B took you in, you became a part of this family.” Duke raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Dick raised his hands up defensively. “It’s true! You’re one of us now, Thomas, whether you like it or not.”
Duke wiped at his eyes, smiling a little. Smiling was a good sign, right?
“That doesn’t completely answer my question.”
That earned him an eye roll, but Dick wrapped his arm around Duke shoulder again and squeezed lightly.
“It’s cause you’re my brother, yah goof.”
Despite the guilt, Dick felt another emotion creeping up his heart as he held the boy. He felt that protective instinct that he always felt during patrols and missions that included Jason, Tim, Cass, Dami, and Steph.
Duke might have been new, but for better or for worse, he was a Wayne now.
[ 1 ] 2 – Some nice cereal with a hint of existentialism￼ [ 3 ] [ 4 ]
Warnings! Sort of graphic description of a panic attack, vague ass shit lmao, fucked up timelines that I’ll explain later, filler chapter really, shitty writing tbh, awful spelling (at times), and terrible grammar!
SOYA SPENT THE REST OF THE WEEK METICULOUSLY RESEARCHING EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS WORLD, and safe to say, Soya (at best) had half-answers to every single question related to the various vigilantes, superhero’s, organizations, and the like. Since the internet could only give so many answers before veering off into conspiracy theory territory. Thus, Soya didn’t have a lot to work with. However, even with most of her answers being incomplete at best, she was able to confirm most of the known vigilantes (in Gotham, and the JL) identities.
She wrote down most of her information in a notebook, in a coded language. Said coded language was, what Soya eloquently nickname: Bastardized Arasi. Bastardized Arasi was the combination of pig Latin'ed Farsi and Arabic, mashed together into a (miraculously) cohesive language. Soya was quite bored that summer to create a code language (at least it came into use this time around).
With all her research from these past couple days now in the various pages of her notebook, Soya decided to put everything related to vigilantes and the like on pause. Over the course of these days, Soya realized several things that related to this whole… situation. Yeah, situation is the best word for it. I guess.
Since Soya possessed so much sensitive knowledge on very elusive, but important figures both in and out of the public eye, she had to figure what to do with all this information. The first, and most obvious one: don’t tell anyone. Especially the press. There’s a reason why these heroes have secret identities in the first place and Soya isn’t going to jeopardize their safety and the safety of everyone related to them. But, after that, Soya wasn’t sure how to progress.
Whilst in the middle of her research, Soya took a break just to think. She thought back on everything that’s happened so far. She thought back on how her old world and this new world, are so similar yet, so, so different. She thought and thought and thought.
In the end, she came to a simple, but (sort of) effective solution: don’t actively involve yourself with the civilian identities of the Gotham vigilantes. Unless we somehow become friends. When Soya came to that solution, she thought of it as the best one that would suit her situation. Then again, Soya thought that there wasn’t much of a possibility of her ever really come into contact with Gotham’s vigilantes in their civilian identities.
Of course, everyone knows what they say about hindsight.
Soya sighed, flinging her head back, her forearm covering her eyes. In this world, Soya had just arrived to Gotham, around the tail end of her freshman year. In her old world, it was early September (before her sophomore year had begun) when she had died (Soya sometimes stares out the window for minutes at times, knowing the fact that she had died and somehow came back—) and came into this world with the memories of her past (is it really my past life or…?) life. In this world, it was the beginning of June (when she had “arrived”, now it was mid-August).
The timeline (of her life) was a bit skewed when she came back. In her old world, Soya finished her freshmen year and stayed in New York. Her mother and Soya had gone out to Manhattan to buy something, and on their way home, a truck had run a red light and hit the driver’s side of the car.
When the light turned green, and her mother accelerated, Soya saw the blaring headlights of the truck from the corner of her eyes. At that moment, Soya saw everything slow down to a halt. The trucks’ headlights became bigger and bigger, and their car was slowly moving forward, not fast enough to avoid the on coming, and definitely not slowing truck. She remembered as unbridled terror and panic shot through her body, holding her in a vice grip. Soya remembered calling out to her mother, but she doesn’t know what she said (what did I say? What were my last words to her?) to her. All she knew was that the blaring honk from the truck reverberated through her ears, the headlights swamped her vision and pain. So. Much. Fucking. Pain.
Then, a fuzzy aftermath of sounds, the taste of metallic blood in her mouth, the building ache in her chest (it hurt to even breath). Her vision was blurred and was soon dotted by black dots. Soon, the only thing Soya could hear was her heartbeat fading away into nothingness.
Soya’s heart seized at the influx of memories.
For a moment, Soya felt small. Tiny. Minuscule. She was shrinking, and shrinking and shrinking and shrinking—
Soya gasped, trying to take in a deep breath. Her throat, however, was not ready, at all. Her throat constricted, her lungs still wanting more air. Soya exhaled (roughly) and started to hack and cough her lungs out. Before she knew it, she was flung back into reality, not shrinking or falling or floating away for who knows how long.
Her hands swiped across her eyes, as her heart’s omnipresent beats thrummed against her ears. After Soya counted her breaths, steadying them, she sat up straighter, rolling her tense, wound up shoulders.
She sat still on her sofa, staring at her reflection in the window. Her mind was blank, filled with a white void. But, she was present. She didn’t float away, looking down at her body as she stared at it from the far left, upper corner of her apartment. She was here, staring at her reflection in the window.
For a split second, her eyed glew this supernatural amber mixed yellow. Soya blinked.
The glow waned, and the next thing she knew, Soya was staring at a glowing headlight, down below on some street corner. She blinked again, staring at her now, not glowing, amber-brown eyes.
What the…? Soya’s face pinched together in confusion. Confusion bubbled in her stomach as she stared at her reflection. She remembered, clearly enough so, just a few moments earlier, her eyes turned yellow. And they glowed.
Weird. Soya thought, shrugging to herself. I must’ve thought the streetlight was making my eyes glow or something. Yeah, that’s probably it. Soya gave herself a pat on the back, concluding it must have every a trick of the light. Even with a doubt gnawing at the back of her mind.
I think I’ll head in for the night. With that, Soya stood up and began her trek towards the bathroom to wash up before going to sleep.
SOYA ABSENTMINDEDLY CHEWED ON HER CEREAL, as she stared out her window. The skies were much clearer then they were yesterday, the sun still slowly climbing upward. It was only about 8:36 AM, and Gotham’s streets began to fill with people, going about their day.
Soya hadn’t gotten much sleep, her mind trying to piece together what had happened last night. A part of her was so sure that her eyes didn’t actually glow (or change color), and it was all just a trick of the light. Another was more convinced that, yes, my eyes did change color. And they also glowed. Which makes no sense.
She lightly exhaled through her nose, taking another spoonful of her chocolatey cereal. Soya couldn’t decide what exactly had happened that night with the whole eye debacle, instead, she shifted gear and thought about the rather strange but dull dream she had.
Any time Soya would dream, it would reflect what was happening in her life, or something she was going to do. Rarely did Soya ever have dreams that were purely fantastical or plain Alice In The Wonderland type weird. Soya cringed. I forgot Mad Hatter exists. God, this whole thing about being in a whole new world is still so… well weird. I still wonder exactly how and why I ended here. Soya shrugged, gulping down on her chewed up food. Well, there isn’t much of a chance of me finding out how considering I’m not close to anyone that has the know-how and equipment that could give me some answers.
Then, another thought crossed her mind. Does me being here jeopardize the multiverse itself? I remember reading fics where multiversal travel could affect reality itself…
Soya shook her head, shoving another spoonful of cereal in her mouth. She pushed away any distressing thoughts like Gotham’s various Rogues or the state of the multiverse. Instead, she focused on her dream. Which, now that Soya thought about it, had a sort of yellow tinge to it. The same shade of yellow as her glowing eyes (or street lamp), just more muted then anything.
Soya’s dream began with her walking down some street in Gotham. Soya remembered wearing a hoodie, and some sort of shorts. She remembered going into a grocery store that had a distinctive red heading, but she couldn’t make out what the heading said. When Soya went inside, she picked out some food for herself (which is weird since I already have food at home…). Before she knew it, she was at the checkout line. The cashier was an older teenager, their coily hair combed into a bun. Soya distinctively remembered staring at the cashier’s lips, as they had this vibrant, strangely familiar shade of green lipstick. Then, the dream cut to her walking home, with her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets, as her bags of mystery food (one of them was a box. A blue box, I’m pretty sure…) hanging on her wrist. While she was walking, Soya had bumped into someone, meeting their eyes for a split second (hey, their eyes are the same shade of green as that cashier’s lipstick) before she mumbled out an apology and continued her trek home.
Then, she woke up, staring at her smooth, white ceiling, as sunlight filtered into her room, peaking past the small openings in her curtains.
And now, here she was, eating chocolatey cereal, thinking back on this strange but dull dream. Considering that Soya didn’t go out much in Gotham (even though she’s been here for over a month). Plus, Soya didn’t recognize the grocery store she was in, or what food she had bought for herself.
The light scraping of her metal spoon against the ceramic bowl, the slightly swooshingof her milk slowly filled Soya’s ears. Soon, thoughts about her dull but odd dream filled her head. I’m pretty sure I was in Gotham. Plus, what store was that? I know I haven’t gotten out much, but I don’t think I would’ve made up a whole new store. Also, I remember that cashiers face so well, but I’ve never seen their face before—
A soft buzz from Soya’s phone snaps her out of her momentary trance. Her phone buzzes once again, and when Soya opened her phone to see what it was—
Aunt Aisha messaged me? She thought, her thumb pressing on the message app icon, as her other handled another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.
Aunt Aisha: I have set up where you will be attending school. Since you’re mother never had the chance to enroll you into a new school, and with all the recent events that have just occurred, I have only just enrolled you.
Aunt Aisha: You will be attending Gotham Academy as it is one of the best and safest schools in Gotham. Don’t worry about the tuition and the like, everything is covered.
Aunt Aisha: You’ll receive a package with your uniform, a letter containing what you need for the upcoming school, etc. I’ll also be sending in a credit card for you to use to buy anything necessary. Currently, a banking app is downloading on your phone so that you can track how much you are spending each month. Don’t worry about the bill either, I’ll take care of it.
Soya stared at the messages, her heart beating against her ribcage, as her dark brown hair slowly turned gray. She closed her phone, making a mental note to check the banking app later. She put her phone down against the dark granite countertop, screen face down.
She massaged her temples, occasionally chewing on her soft, milk-soaked cereal.
An image of an article popped up in her brain. It had a picture of a rather tan, spiky-haired, green-eyed teen that also attended Gotham Academy: Damian al-Ghul Wayne. He, like Soya, was in the 10th grade. Not to mention, Damian is Robin. Sidekick to the Bat himself. Holy hell, I’m going to school with Robin.
Soya groaned, burying her face in her hands. She decided that, nope. It’s wayyy too early to deal with the consequences of that. I’m just going to watch some YouTube videos and eat some more cereal.
With a sort of plan in mind, Soya hopped out of her comfy stool chair, to get some more cereal.
I honestly didn’t have much of an idea how to end this chapter so here you go lmao. Also, just to explain the whole timeline thingy about Soya dying and coming back into a diff body:
1) in her old world, she lived in NY with her mom. It was around early September when she and her mom got into the accident and subsequently, you know, died.
2) in this world, Soya and her mom got into the accident after they moved to Gotham. Soya had just finished her freshmen year two weeks prior.
3) Basically, Soya—in a sense—got sent back in time a couple of months (because in this world she moved to Gotham, while in her old world, she stayed in NY).
Anyways, hope that clears up any confusion. I promise more action will come, but it’s gonna be slow cause BUILD UP YALL. Lmao see ya next time ✌️
Jon double-checked his backpack and the gift bag holding all twenty-five Valentine’s cards. He gave a thumbs-up.
“Good,” said the man. “And don’t forget to zip your jacket; it’s cold out. Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too, Dad!”
Jon zipped his jacket and hopped out of the car. The chill nipped his ears like birds at a feeder. Like the many yesterdays before, he joined the sea of children trickling into the stout brick building. He smiled at a pair of kindergarteners half his size sprinting by, hand-in-hand, their wet boots making little pitter-patters on the pavement.
And like always, Jon located his locker—Kent, Locker Number 2015—and inputted his combination. Valentine’s cards wouldn’t be exchanged until later, so he hung the bag by its strings next to his coat.
Plopping his things onto his desk, the first thing Jon noticed was a spiky-haired boy talking to the teacher. The second thing he noticed was that the boy looked like the people Jon’s parents worked with—a black turtleneck sweater with beige pants and a coffee cup in one hand. Jon knew everyone else in his homeroom, so this boy must be new.
The teacher pointed in Jon’s direction. It took him a second to realize that they were looking at the empty desk across from him. Jon flashed his brightest smile and waved.
“Hiya!” he chirped. “What’s your name?”
“Damian,” the boy answered flatly, opening the desk and unloading the brand-new supplies from his backpack.
Jon rested his chin in his hands, legs swinging underneath the desk. “Nice to meet you, Damian! I’m Jon. So, where are you from?”
Damian scoffed as he stacked his notebooks. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just ‘cause,” said Jon.
“Ooh, I’ve heard of Gotham!” Jon replied. “My dad went there once to interview some people from the Wayne Foundation. What’s it like?”
“What was your old school like?”
“Must you ask so many questions?” Damian snapped. “Just be quiet and let me fulfill this godawful obligation in peace.”
That was enough to silence Jon… for about thirty seconds. Then he asked, “What does ‘obligation’ mean?”
Damian raised his hand. “Miss, I request a seating change.”
The teacher looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Damian, but that’s the only spot we have left.”