#one child became an oracle

[sarafangirlart]

Zeus: Hera did you kill Lamia’s children?!

Hera:

#some say she kidnapped them which is funny bc after that their fate is unknown #one child became an oracle #it’s so funny to me and idk how to explain why #at the gym I used to go to there was a North African girl named Lamia #I don’t remember if she’s Libyan but it would be so funny if she was #greek mythology #ancient greek mythology #greek pantheon #hera #greek goddess #hera goddess #hera deity #hera greek mythology #zeus #hera x zeus #lamia

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: Original Serial Adopter

When Bruce adopted Dick Grayson the Media was in a frenzy. The billionaire and playboy adopting an orphan after some kind of freak circus accident? Nobody expected it to last more than a month. The media called this action an "Act of Charity".

Then a few years later he adopted Jason Todd. Jason was much more scrappy and after a while some media started calling him the "Wayne Stray".

When he took in Tim after Jason's "accident" they called Tim a rebound. But instead of a relationship Tim was just being used to fill the void that Jason left. The media eventually called him "Jason Todd's replacement."

The media got much more suspicious when Bruce adopted Cassandra and crossed lines with their speculations that resulted in a lot of lawsuits. Though nobody in Wayne's circles believed the rumors for a second, so rumors were wiped out pretty quickly. The least offensive of these things called Bruce a "Bleeding Heart" when the media saw the scars Cassandra had.

Stephanie was never officially adopted - at least legally - but anybody who saw her with the family knew that Bruce had adopted her as a daughter. Like Cassandra she got some negative comments but they learned after the first time. "Another Wayne Joins The Manor".

When Damian came into the picture the media exploded. Comments along the lines of "The Bastard Child" which made Bruce's blood boil but kept quiet. Damian had only known violence and aggression growing up, and while his mother loved him she had exposed him to a life he didn't need to see. Bruce wasn't about to make everything worse by loosing it on the media for being jackasses.

When he fostered Duke the media exploded again. Showing the ugly side of human ignorance but Bruce and Duke were both able to ignore it (while Tim and Oracle found ways to rip every person apart who dared make a comment against them).

Bruce didn't care what they said, because at the end of the day he had children who he loved with all of his heart and was learning to do the best for. Sure, he made plenty of mistakes but he tried to learn from his mistakes.

Though the rumor about Bruce being a "Serial Adopter" was one that would be one that would never leave him.

But he had to learn it from somewhere.

A fact that was ignored until Alfred showed up back to the manor after a shopping trip with a scrawny child walking hesitantly behind him, carrying some of the groceries'. He was prime "adoption bait". Underweight, messy black hair, blue eyes that were just a bit too blue, and bruises that were in view despite the kids best attempt to cover them with his hoodie.

A large hand print bruise around his neck, scraped knuckles, and a bruise peeking out from under his hairline might as well have been ink in the pen that Bruce was going to use to sign that kids adoption papers and sign the receipt for the shovel he would buy to bury the bastards responsible.

After the groceries were put away Alfred properly introduced the kid. His name was Danny and after a series of unfortunate events while Alfred was shopping Danny had been forced to jump in and help him. Bruce thought that maybe Alfred had been in danger and never called them but when it became clear that luck just wasn't on his side and that he was never in danger for anything despite being late it made Bruce even more concerned about the teen that currently was eating his third apple as though he had never eaten anything in his life.

He stayed small, stayed silent, looking around the room anxiously. He clearly kept tabs on every window. Every door. Every exit but hardly paid any attention to the valuables. He was scared but not a thief.

Finally they have to ask about Danny's injuries. Was he safe at home? Did he have a place to stay? Why was he so thin? Did he need them to call somebody.

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"I don't have a home to go to. The bruises are fine, I'm just clumsy. I don't need a place to stay. Thanks for the food and the hospitality but... I don't feel like being kidnapped and tortured by another millionaire so if Alfred doesn't need anything else I should go."

Danny tried to get up and move, the pain obvious but before anybody could say anything else Alfred simply said.

"Sit."

Danny hesitated, then sighed and sat down again.

"You promised you would allow me to treat you before you left. I am a man of my word so as soon as you finish your apple I will bandage your wounds and you will be free to leave if you wish."

Classic Alfred trap.

One that worked flawlessly.

Fresh bandages, a full stomach, warm clean clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on the comfortable couch in the living room was all it took to lull the injured teen to sleep.

Alfred continued this trend for three more days managing to trick Danny into helping him with minor tasks around the manor, offering him another meal because he 'made too much and didn't want to waste it' and countless other things.

It wasn't until day four when Danny seemed to accept his fate and allowed them to help him. Which prompted Cass to point at Alfred.

"Original Serial Adopter."

Making the entire table laugh while Danny just looked increasingly confused.

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

[khaire-traveler]

Random Greek Deity Facts

- Artemis has been associated with horses in the past.

- Ares has associations with owls.

- There are ancient gravestones with reliefs on them that historians still cannot tell if the art is of Dionysus or Jesus.

- It is common for historians to struggle identifying if a statue is of Artemis or Apollo because they often look so much alike.

- Hephaestus is a god of fire.

- Maia, the Mother of Hermes, was thought to assist in raising both Dionysus and Hephaestus.

- Hypnos is said to live in a massive cave, sleeping with thousands of his sons.

- Rather than blood, Greek gods are said to have something called Ichor running through their veins; no one is quite sure what "Ichor" actually is.

- Both Apollo and Artemis are deities of light; it is not just Apollo. Along with this, it is believed Leto may also be a goddess of light.

- It is commonly believed that the hyacinth flower is not actually the flower Hyacinthus was infamously transformed into; most sources seem to agree that it was likely either an iris or a larkspur.

- At one point in the Dionysiaca, Dionysus wages a war against India. The goddess Rhea is said to have gathered troops for him, and Zeus was said to have been the one to task Dionysus with going to war in order to allow him to join the gods on Mount Olympus.

- Demeter's chariot is pulled by two giant winged serpents; she has literal dragons pulling her around, and no one is talking about it.

- The Python was a child of Gaia, and before Apollo took up the Oracle in Delphi, there was actually an Oracle with Gaia in that location.

- The twins Castor and Pollux, who made up the Gemini constellation, were commonly worshipped throughout ancient Greece under the title of the "Dioscuri" or "Dioskouroi".

- Also regarding the Dioskouroi, the name "Castor" ("Kastor") may translate to "Beaver".

- The famous epithet "Paean" of Apollo was also listed on an ancient Mycenaean tablet that listed the names of separate deities. It is, therefore, possible that Paean was once a separate god who later became associated/merged with both Apollo and his son Ascelpius.

- Besides being an epithet, a Paean was also a type of devotional chant/song that was sung in honor of Apollo. Some ancient sources claim that the event of singing a Paean could actually be quite loud, involving clouds of stomping/banging and movement.

- The masculine version of Hekate's name, "Hekatos", was an epithet for the god Apollo; both names can be translated to "worker from afar".

- The first record of the more "traditional" view of a werewolf comes from the Greek myth about King Lycaon, when Zeus transformed into a wolf for ten years as punishment for tricking the gods into consuming human flesh (yes, you read that right).

- In the myths, Zeus and Hermes have a lovely Father-Son bonding trip of destroying an entire village (except for one home) for not showing either of the disguised gods hospitality as poor travellers.

- Both Apollo and Zeus were seen as gods who purified "blood-guilt" - a condition which was caused by the killing of another person and required immense purification.

- Cerberus is described as a fully sentient being who can communicate as other immensely powerful children of Gaia could, meaning he is akin to the gods in terms of intelligence rather than being like an overgrown dog.

- Hermes is said to be the inventor of offerings, specifically animal sacrifices.

- One origin of the Pegasus was Poseidon and Medusa doing the devil's tango.

- There is a tale that claims Hermes to be the one who granted Aesop his knowledge of fables.

- According to some ancient sources, Cerberus has as many as fifty heads, a mane of snakes, the claws of a lion, and a snake tail.

- Iris was not only the goddess of rainbows but was also the personal messenger of Hera and was prominently featured in The Iliad delivering many messages on behalf of the Olympian gods.

- Eros has been depicted as the child of Aphrodite and Ares, the child of Ouranos and Aphrodite, the child of solely Aphrodite, the child of Poros and Penia, the child of Ouranos and Gaia, the child of Zephyrus and Iris, and a primordial being who simply came into being. So, where did Eros actually come from? Your guess is as good as any.

----

That's all for now! Let me know if y'all enjoyed these and would like more. 🧡

----

|| Sources ||

- Theoi.com (of course)

- The Iliad by Homer

- Theogony by Hesiod

- The Dionysiaca by Nonnus

- Information from various museum trips in Athens and Delphi, Greece (sorry, I don't remember the exact sources 💀)

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hellenic pantheon #greek mythology #please reblog this version with the sources

[redwineandtarot]

Who are you?

hi! today's pac is all about you. i want to say that every person has so many layers and this a general (and a too short to describe a person fully) reading. so please keep this in mind while reading. you may be drawn to more than one pile in this reading as well. take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. i would love to hear your feedbacks <3

decks used: raider waite tarot deck, ethereal visions tarot deck, spirit animal oracle deck, the soul's journey lesson cards, moonology oracle cards, archetypes cards

🥀paid readings🥀

Disclaimer:My readings do NOT replace any professional advice. Use your own judgment while making decisions. You have your own free will. Take everything I say light-heartedly. All of my readings are for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

pick a pile

pile 1-2

pile 3-4

i do not own any of these photos

pile 1

I see that you mostly radiate feminine energy. And you are highly spiritual in some way. You have a gift of manifesting. Of course everybody can manifest things intentionally but your approach is kinda different? It is like you have mastered manifesting from the get go.

You may also have a great protective barrier around you. I kinda struggled to read your energy. You really have a highly spiritual vibe. Even if you are not that spiritual you have the “gift”. Everybody can be spiritual, I mean, however something about you feels different. I cannot really put my finger to it.

Number 4 may be significant. 

You have really strong feminine energy and like the feminine energy you can deal with chaos. You can bring chaos in an intentional way. You are not afraid to put an end to things and start new. You can use chaos to manifest the things you want.

Water element may be significant.

While you are a spiritual person you know when to use your logic. Your logic and spiritual sides are not in war but they, together, help you move through life. 

You may sometimes be sharp with your words despite you giving me a calm energy. You have a calm and intentional chaos. You may be witty and win arguments easily.

You may sometimes be indecisive about your intuition. You may have a knowing inside you but just because you don't see a real life “proof”, so you may find it hard to believe it.

You may also have guilt while enjoying worldly pleasures. In the end we are still living in a material world so do not shy away from them. As long as you do not have addictions and know when to say “no”  it is okay, pile 1.

Embrace your chaotic side.

Extra messages

You may have been waiting for a manifestation for a long time. Do not worry it will come in an unexpected time. Whatever you are doing, keep going. 

I also see an unexpected emotional situation happening. You may be meeting someone new (romantic or platonic), you may hear something that will make you feel really happy or this again may be your manifestation coming and you feeling intense emotions regarding that.

saturn, sagittarius, 3rd house

thank you for reading <3

pile 2

You are a highly creative person, pile 2. For most of you, this is a creativeness in art, music etc. However this can be in other things as well. Or you may bring this side of yourself to your daily life while being a creative person in art. You are really original when it comes to creativity.

You have a colorful personality. You may use art to heal yourself. You may be expressing things that you cannot while talking with others through your art. Some of you had nothing but art/music while you were growing up so it became like your friend. It healed you.

Number 5 may be significant.

You have a child-like energy to you. You are in balance with your emotions. Maybe because of these two qualities you are able to create such wonderful things.

You have spirit guides that are near you a lot. They encourage you on your path. See you like their friend.

Another intuitive pile. You have a great intuition. You may want to try channeling through art.

You may hide your sorrows, abandoning them almost sometimes. But you try to nurture your inner child. I am not sure what happened in the past pile 2, it is probably different for each one of you but i want to say that you are such a brave person for not leaving your inner child alone. Something that happened in your childhood(mostly) or teenage years may have scarred you a lot and you are still trying to heal yourself. 

People may envy your creativity. And see you as an abundant person. And you probably are. And I see you living an abundant life. (Abundance may be in different or multiple things) You deserve it pile 2.

Your words are powerful. I see lots of different talents: singing, painting, writing etc. 

Extra messages

Do not burden yourself with little details. You may benefit from slowing down a bit and looking at the bigger picture.

Maybe you need a little vacation or an adventure.

sagittarius, 5th house, north node

thank you for reading <3

pile 3

You are a healer in some sort of way pile 3. You may be the mom friend of the group. You may work/ want to work in a medical field or a field where you help beings. But for most of you it is related to health. You are great at giving advice and hyping people up. You see the little details in people that they may not see. You are a detail-oriented person. Your observations are on point most of the time.

You have what it takes to be a great leader. 

You are a multifaceted person.

You may be more on the quiet side. But not because you are shy, it is just a preference. You probably have a friend group that you would give so much to. You love and prefer grounded relationships. You are not likely to have a big friend group or a friend group whose bonds are loose. You like your alone time.

Spirit is protecting your loved ones.

You are ready to work hard for the things you want. I see that you have great visions/big dreams for yourself. However you keep them on the low. You probably work hard in silence. 

You value your peace and are not afraid to leave something for your happiness.

You give me so much earthy energy. You probably honor nature and love spending time out in nature.

You may fear failure. And can sometimes leave things at a place where you have one more step to go for achieving your goal. 

Extra messages

You may have something in your mind that you are afraid of pursuing; whether it is a relationship, a job, a hobby etc. Do not back away and go forward with it. But not in a fiery way. Think thoroughly. Depending on what you want to pursue, you may need to make a plan first. A practical plan. After that, spirit gives you the green light to go forward!

12th house, neptune, taurus

thank you for reading <3

pile 4

You are a playful person. You like to have fun, at the same time pursue your goals. You may have fire placements in your chart because I sense a lot of fiery energy from you.

You may like partying or just having fun around. You like earthly pleasures and are not shameful about it. 

You wish to improve yourself. You may like self help books, philosophy or anything that will broaden your vision. 

You may sometimes try to run away from your emotions. You can even use a way of escapism like social media, partying, tw!substances etc. Balance is key pile 4, if you really struggle with escapism you may want to get help from a therapist.

You can achieve great success and build some sort of wealth in this lifetime. You have what it takes to do it. You are not afraid to go after what you want and stand tall. Your words may sometimes be sharp.

You may like to dance and even be a dancer. This is a confirmation if you were thinking about taking a dance class, go for it!

You may sometimes be too much in your head. Almost like an addiction despite your carefree attitude towards life.

You also have a gentle side to yourself. It is not up front but you still have it. You value the people in your life a lot. You probably show this gentle side of you to your loved ones.

People most likely find your eyes beautiful.

People may envy you a lot. While we all have struggles whether we show it or not; people are prone to think that you have it all. You may also have lots of admirers.

You may meet important people on your journey to success (like soul family, soulmate etc.)

Extra messages

Keep being you and do not be afraid! You have a lot to contribute to this world in your own unique way, pile 4. You may want to start meditating and listening to your emotions a little more. Hear what they are saying. 

1st house, virgo, uranus

thank you for reading <3

#pac #pick a card #tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #intuitive reading #pac reading

[transtravisstoll]

Batkids Age Reversal List

want to do a age reversal AU for the batkids but why do the comics keep fucking up their ages this has taken me weeks of trying to figure out i’m gonna off the DC comic writers. if you have any better ideas for their ages pls let me know im going to gouge my eyes out if i have to do any more math.

alfred: ???

-immortal. fuck you. he looked death in the face and told him to stop tracking mud all over his freshly mopped floors and that dinner was at eight.

bruce: 39

-had damian at eighteen bc i wanted it to be as close to his age gap with dick in canon as possible but i am not having this man fathering a child at 15

damian: 21

-came to gotham at age 8, refused to be a normal kid bc he was literally raised an assassin and bruce doesn’t know how to encourage nonviolent activities in children so letting him fight crime seemed… better than being an assassin. he, at the age of eight, could not come up with a name that wasn’t fucking Terrifying so whenever gordon asked for his “little shadow”‘s name they were suspiciously silent bc no, damian, you can not call yourself Vengeance or Malice. the media called him shadow and it stuck.

duke: 18

-wanted to keep his age gap with tim similar, but with duke being the older one, instead of doing dick and jason’s age gap bc it makes more sense this way.

-his parents got jokerified when he was 12, and so did a Lot of people in the Narrows. it absolutely decimated their little community so duke became signal. he didn’t fight crime, he gave back to his community, he helped with the cleanup. bruce ended up basically kidnapping the poor kid. (duke ran away from his foster home because he wasn’t a glorified babysitter or maid, fuck you, he can crash on couches.)

STEPH: 16

-again, wanted to keep the age gap between steph and tim the same but keeping steph the older one. makes more sense this way!! leave me alone.

-became spoiler at 13, was only spoiler for a year before she became shadow at 14 for about six months in between damian and jason. there was a six month period as well where bruce didn’t have a shadow and alfred literally had to bribe steph to be shadow bc he wasn’t abt to let a kid run around the gotham night without knowing batman was two steps ahead of them. plus, having a kid with him made bruce more cautious.

TIM: 15

-FINALLY got to mimicking the age gap between dick and jason in canon

-never becomes shadow, actually, he takes bab’s spot as their computer wiz. doesn’t call himself oracle though because he fucking sucks at making names. calls himself override (barf).

-also, steph is the only one who hes told he’s override to and also knows the batfam’s identities

-duke knows tim is override bc he’s scary like that!! tim doesn’t know duke knows he’s override, but duke knows that tim knows their identities and tim Also doesn’t know that. duke is fr terrifying. love him.

-tim figured out the batfam because of duke’s meta abilities bc he’s also scary like that

Jason: 14

-oh, he’s… currently out of commission. became shadow at 12.

-didn’t die in ethiopia, because fuck that plot. he was doing a stakeout but the joker had kidnapped this itty little baby (an eight year old boy) who he found running around the gotham night. jason went out of commission saving that little boy. what does out of commission mean? who knows. could be dead. could be severely injured. kidnapped. the possibilities are endless.

-i think it’s fucked that the comic fans voted for a fifteen year old to die by the joker. y’all are crazy.

cass: 13

-mimicking jason and cass’ age gap with cass being younger bc it makes more sense leave me alone

-isn’t a Batman approved shadow (yet) but she shadows batman anyways after jason’s… indisposed. the bonus is that batman doesn’t Know he has a shadow but gotham is kept in the dark abt shadow being (redacted) because cass and jason had the same exact fucking build, okay, jason hasn’t gotten his growth spurt yet (because of childhood malnutrition) . weird how batman lost weight though, after he went on that rage incident after the latest arrest of the joker. he’s leaner now. (is it the same batman? who knows.)

dick: 8

-mimicking the tim and damian age gap, bc it’s six years in my head leave me alone.

-huh, jason went out of commission saving an eight year old and dick is eight… suspicious. coincidence? hm.

babs: 7

-mimicking the babs and dick age gap but with babs being younger bc i think she’s older in canon? unsure. DC please i’m going to kill you and then me.

#batkids #batman #dick grayson #stephanie brown #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #reverse robins #dc comics

[spirit-tracks]

Okay SO. Theory Rush after finishing Tears of the Kingdom. Go.

The Zonai are said to have descended from the heavens to help found Hyrule. I can think of another race that descended from the heavens. Do you guys think the minish are native to the Zonai sky islands?

Does the Depths set look a little familiar to you? This along with Josha's theory that people once lived down there, I wonder if the interlopers were present in the Depths before being banished to the twilight realm.

The architecture and robot designs from Skyward Sword have a distinct Zonai look to them! So that leads me to believe the Zonai were the race that created the Lanayru Mining Facility.

It might even be that the Past from Skyward Sword is indeed the time period that Zelda was transported back to! Maybe the legacy of the kingdom of Hyrule goes back even further than the fight between Hylia and Demise: though I admit the early appearance of Demon King Ganondorf throws a wrench in this theory.

About secret stones and the amber relics in Skyward Sword: I want to say there's a connection between them, though amber relics don't seem to be as rare and important as secret stones, (we find them in abundance in Skyward Sword and they don't do much). Of course, i haven't played SS in a while so if they have any more significance it's escaping me at the moment. For the time being I'd like to think ancient hylians might have carried them around as good luck charms to emulate secret stones of their own.

The Legend of the Great Sky Island mini quest in has the construct telling us that the island was supposed to be where a hero will one day awaken to defeat the Demon King. I know our Link wakes up on this island, but there's definitely something eating at my brain about the Great Sky Island being related to (or perhaps even IS) Skyloft, and that the awakening of the hero is referring to Skyward Sword Link. (This potentially supports the theory that the Past in TOTK predates the war between Hylia and Demise)

There's a pretty good chance that Rauru and Sonia's child could have been named Zelda, after the sweet time traveling girl they practically adopted :) the first princess of Hyrule named after the last princess of Hyrule.

There is a giant dragon skeleton in the Gerudo Desert Depths, big as or even bigger than Farosh, Dinraal and Naydra. It is my belief that this mystery dragon became a dragon ala Secret Stone alongside the three aboveland, but was killed at some point in the Depths. I don't know what four people decided to become dragons, but my strongest theory is that Dinraal, Farosh and Naydra are the draconified forms of the oracles of the Golden Goddesses, Din, Farore and Nayru. So who is this?

Seeing as the Lightroots underground are activated via Zonai hand terminal and each Lightroot lies directly beneath a shrine on the surface, I think the Lightroots are extensions of these shrines, having grown straight downward to light up the underground. This is probably obvious but I just barely figured this out 😅

Since Rauru, sage of light, and a new Temple of Time are in this game, I want to think that this person and location are more than just Easter Eggs to Ocarina of Time. I think that the sage from Ocarina of Time was named after King Rauru, though I'm not sure whether him being the sage of light would have been a coincidence or a direct inspiration.

What I do think is that he indeed did put the triforce in that very same Temple of Time and all the sky islands went to the Sacred Realm until Tears of the Kingdom, when they came back to earth and appeared in the sky. That's just a theory but why else would the sky islands be reappearing as if from nowhere?

Speaking of which, there were floating masses in the sky in Minish Cap, namely great big stone temples and fortresses. Minish Cap takes place during the early days of Hyrule, which would be pretty much right after the Zonai descended. Perhaps the Zonai are the Wind Tribe mentioned, and the people we see in game are their descendants, who look much more hylian than Zonai due to being crossed with full hylian genetics over the generations?

Anyway I need to retouch up on my Zelda lore to make sure I'm getting the details right, (that, and i haven't yet 100% the game so i may be missing some totk context), but I HAD to post my thoughts and get them out there! I'll add on later if I think of any more, in the meantime feel free to brainstorm!

#totk #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers #botw 2 #botw 2 spoilers #just covering all my bases #totk theory #totk thoughts #totk meta #loz #legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #loz totk #wicked.loz

[dairy-farmer]

Tim wakes up on a regular day just like any other day. He makes breakfast; gets ready for work; goes to WE; goes home; do a light workout; sleep. Ever since he woke up confused a few months ago, bruised and aching, he'd taken measures to live healthily and has led a very mundane life ever since. Or well, as mundane as one can be when you're a eighteen-year-old CEO to the company that belongs to his neighbors.

Except today, there came a sudden break in his pattern. Today was WE's quarterly meeting. And for the first time since he became CEO, the owner and former CEO of WE would be coming to the meeting. Tim is admittedly nervous. He had rarely interacted with Mr. Wayne. The most interaction he could remember was when Mr. Wayne adopted him a few months before he had decided to become emancipated. He doesn't know what he did during that brief period in time that impressed Mr. Wayne so much that he made him CEO. Whatever it was, he can't let Mr. Wayne down. Although Tim can live independently without relying on Mr. Wayne, the few months he had been adopted was enough for Tim to feel indebted.

The meeting goes well sans a few intense stares the board members gave him and Mr. Wayne. Then Mr Wayne asked to meet him in his office. Tim thought he wanted to go over the reports from the meeting but confusingly enough, Mr. Wayne kept on asking him questions about a restaurant chain and how he hasn't given any reports or updates to a cave?? Tim didn't know what's going on. He asks, as politely as he could, if Mr. Wayne had a drink before his meeting. But that might not have been the best question to ask because he looked so offended. Mr. Wayne gets mad and demands Tim to stop playing around and if this is still about Damian taking his position. Tim feels his heart stop. Did he do something wrong? Why is he about to be fired so suddenly? He knew Mr. Damian will inherit the company but last he knew he was still far too young. Mr. Wayne looks at him in shock and asks Tim to repeat what he called Damian, to which Tim did. Suddenly Mr. Wayne is putting on a rebreather and pressing something on Tim's desk. The room is soon filled with gas that knocks Tim out. The last thing Tim hears is Mr. Wayne calling something called Oracle and reciting a string of code.

Meanwhile, Bruce is panicking. It's been months since he last saw Tim. He had been distant with him all morning. He thought he was still mad about Damian taking his place as Robin but then he suddenly called Damian as Mr. Damian. Something is wrong with his son and they're going to find out what.

They checked with Leslie and all old footage of Red Robin. Tim never had any documented head injury so they don't know what was the cause of the amnesia until they asked Zatanna to come. After Zatanna checks Tim, she asks Bruce why exactly did he go to Tim right now and when was the last time he spoke to Tim. Bruce tells her that he missed his son but Zatanna demands more answers. Bruce finally admits that Red Robin hadn't visited the cave in a while and he was hoping he could help him with a case.

Zatanna tells Bruce that they had been cursed to be forgotten by a family member that needed them the most. The one who cursed his family had probably known his weakness to his children and wanted him to feel despair and guilt of losing a child that needed him the most. It could've been an easy fix had the bats figured out they were cursed immediately but it had been months and the spell had latched on to Tim's firmly. The fact that Tim is still alive can only be a miracle. However, Zatanna doesn't know if he'll ever get any erased memories back

-🦆

🥺🥺🥺🥺 tim losing his memories and nobody noticing! but also 😍😍😍😍 tim losing his memories and nobody noticing! tim having been cursed and it being unsure whether they can recover those memories meaning that ruce and the rest of the family, if they want to form any kind of connection with tim will have to TRY and bond with him because currently tim isn't particularly attached to them!!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER FOURTEEN: TRIPE

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, child abuse and more (check the tags)

Read after the cut

-

By some sense of duty, or else an undug tendril of guilt, Will volunteers himself to oversee your evening routine alone. You allow him this, being in scant possession of what slim tolerance has borne you through Hannibal’s accompaniment thus far.

Will proves himself to be far less involved than the other man would have been in his stead. He leans against a wall with the nonchalance of a prison warden as you shower blood and spend alike down the receiving drain, allows you to pad into your bedroom, towel-wrapped, to select a clean nightdress and sanitary products with his head turned nobly aside.

You cannot determine if his distance from you is through respect for your condition or some lasting dislike of you, neither of which holds entirely true.

More likely it is that he does not see you as his child, yet, nor quite with the equality of a lover.

Still, as you get into bed he cannot help but come to you, uncertain as he his of his purpose.

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” you ask, part in bitter jest, and part in annoyance with his indecision.

That a man can fuck and beat you in throes of black delight and still skulk about like a repentant sinner would have confounded you in the days before you became accustomed to such duality. To what end, and upon what strength the latter side subsists is now the greater puzzle, for it is this that drags its heels and restrains Will from his full devilry.

“Well?” you say, brusquely. “What are you waiting for? Dad’s permission?”

Will gives a hard laugh, one hand kneading the back of his neck.

“I admire your commitment to the part, but you don’t have to keep it up so seriously when it’s just you and me.”

“I promised I would,” you remind him. “Why can’t you? You had no issue kissing me in front of Hannibal. I don’t see why it’s a problem now.”

You see Will’s fingers go to the bridge of his nose, wanting the guard of the eyeglasses he’s neglected to wear.

“It’s not genuine,” he says, flatly. “The only reason you’re asking is to manipulate me.”

“So what?” you say. “Scared that it’ll work?”

“Not scared, no.”

“Sure you’re not.”

There is something hysterical in your tone, the cut string of a trapped and weary madness.

Will examines you, aware of the power play you’re attempting over him, intrigued by it, despite himself. Attracted, even.

His gaze is like a stone in the sun, all heat, all black, all blue.

He knows what revulsion you must push past to test him like this, still slightly high from the forced euphoria of fucking, and the drugs. You’re beyond consideration of the consequences, irrational, barely attached to the tongue and teeth that bite at the air in their ire.

Still Will hangs from your words like a pilgrim knelt before an oracle, dependent on your answer.

“Haven’t you had enough of me kissing you tonight?” he asks.

Sniffing, you turn to face his gargoyle shadow on the wall.

“So it’s a no. You’d make a really terrible father.”

“One...”

“Not my name.”

So Will says it, gently, and you roll back towards him, your heart quick and high behind a rail of bone with the thrill of his appeasement.

Your truce, the union of flesh: they’ve altered Will, for as he looks at you a second time his pupils are the chasms between worlds, wild and deep.

Kneeling up on the bed, you make a trellis of both hands through his curls and clutch him to you in an ungainly kiss. Will stumbles in the force of it, his arms spilling about your back so as not to fall upon you with all his weight.

You gasp against his lips with eagerness to take what he has taken, to fallow the rose flesh of his inner mouth, the lathe of your tongue churning. Will is too surprised to kiss you in return, but as you hitch one leg after the other upon his hips you feel the vine of him against your groin, wanting you again, as always.

You think of him fucking you now, pinning your wicked hands with the nail of his fist as he thrusts through a sheen of blood. Though you despise him still, your loins smart with interest in engineering the act rather than merely suffering it as ever before.

At last Will returns your kiss, but briefly, and with a knowing restraint before he lays you back upon the bed again.

You grasp at his face in an attempt to reclaim his lips. He pushes you lightly away.

“Hey,” he grins. “You made your point.”

“Oh?” you say, coolly. “And what is my point?”

“That I like kissing you. That I want to kiss you, whether Hannibal’s here or not.”

“Right,” you say, twisting a corner of your quilt around one finger for something to do with your hands. “But you never would have picked me. Like, if I was in one of your FBI classes. If I was your student. Would you even have noticed me?”

Will laughs again, with a startled unease, as though the notion is foreign to him.

“Starting affairs with students isn’t exactly my style. I turn up, I teach. That’s it. I don’t get personally involved. Or didn’t, till now. Letting people get close is... uncomfortable for me.”

He glances down at the bunch of quilt in your closed knuckles. Unlike the ever-tactile Dr Lecter, he makes no attempt to take it away.

“So how come you got so close to Hannibal?” you ask. “Didn’t you say you had reservations about him?”

“He saw me even when I was making an effort to turn away. He and I have commonalities I can’t ignore, and enough differences to keep me wondering who he really is. There’s a lot even I don’t know about him, and there are times I wonder what I’m doing letting him in.”

You’re on the verge of another question as Will steps sharply back from the bed.

“We can talk more tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll still be here in the morning. But if you want my thoughts about Hannibal then it’s only fair that you tell me a little about you in return. If this is going to work long-term I need to know who you are.”

Then he goes over to the light switch and closes you in behind a shutter of night.

*

 

You’re roused from the saccharine heat of your bedcovers the following morning by Will rapping on your bedroom door. His face appears in the crevice between it and the frame as though wary to trespass, the broken spell of your desperation in his eyes.

“It’s so early,” you whine, noting the bare line of sunlight beneath the curtains. “And I feel like death, thanks to you and Dad. Can’t I stay in bed?”

“Hannibal just rushed out to an emergency appointment,” says Will. “One of his patients is having some kind of crisis, so it’ll be just you and me for a while. You want coffee? I was about to make some.”

An apology, you think, something to alleviate the swaddled and perspiring misery of your comedown.

“Sure,” you say, weakly. “Black, please. Sweetener, if there is any. The low calorie version.”

Will’s brows rise.

“You think Hannibal keeps that around?”

Reflecting on the little paper sachets that had been favoured throughout high school you say, “Ha. I guess not.”

Within twenty minutes you’re sitting up against your pillows, one hand gripping a delicate, steaming cup, the other soothing your stomach through which bites the first monthly cramp.

Will takes a nearby chair, eyeing the bars on your window as though assuming your daily view through the glass.

Though you loathe him still in his unpredictable oddities, you’re keen to make closer yet the allyship you’ve struck up with him, watchful though he is of that very attempt. If he will not help you escape, then a friendship at least may fortify the sanity you fear will leave you in this quasi childhood.

Will doesn’t seek your regression quite as Hannibal does— a cantankerous teenager is as young as he perceives you, the sick girl that never grew up. This house, then, is a Neverland in reverse, a sumptuous den of brutal sex.

Closing your eyes against such thoughts, you take in your coffee, each dark mouthful a long-acquired taste. You remember forcing back cup after cup of it, trusting it over plain water in the belief that it would burn calories as you drank.

Suddenly you’re acutely nostalgic for the days spent in your childhood room, scrolling through online threads of ailing young women in a community of mutual suffering.

It occurs to you that you may never feel so entirely comprehended without judgement as you were there again. You understand Will rather more through the thought, his convergence with Hannibal a relief to so lonely a monster.

“Tell me about ‘Dad’,” you say, into the silence. “You said you would, last night. Like, who even is he? Where did he come from?”

Will blinks, stirred up from his own brooding thoughts. In the dreary daylight he has the face of a beautiful invalid, all its angles skirted in shade.

“Hannibal’s from Lithuania, originally,” he says. “He had a younger sister, Mischa. She died a long time ago. I don’t know the finer details of what happened to her. She’s the only family he’s ever talked about, and even then it’s been bare bones.”

You sit up straighter, envisioning a young girl with Hannibal’s eyes, and none of his appetite.

“Huh,” you say. “That makes a lot of sense.”

"Hannibal would disagree. He doesn’t put much stock in the past making him who he is.”

“Seems kind of a weird thing for a therapist to say. He’s always digging into mine.”

Will looks at the floor, as though distinguishing some new pattern from the grains in the carpet.

“Hannibal views himself as... separate from other people. Being that he acts outside of ethics and the law in his own profession, I’d guess that what’s between us isn’t his only secret.”

“I’ve tried to tell you,” you say, tapping your coffee cup with bitten fingertips for emphasis. “I’ve known this for so long. But since you’re going along with his games how can you even judge him for whatever horrible things he’s doing?”

“Without knowing what he has or hasn’t done,” says Will, slowly, “I can’t say that I do.”

He gets up from his seat and paces before the window, his hands gesticulating like pigeons frenzied into startled flight.

“You assume that what I’m trying to learn about Hannibal—the core of who he is—is something ugly. But that isn’t what I’m afraid of. It’s the possibility of him lying to me. I don’t know if I could forgive him for that after the bond we’ve made. After what he encouraged me start with you.”

“You shouldn’t trust him,” you say, urgently. “Don’t. You don’t need him.”

Scoffing, Will says, “Jack seems to think I do. Alana— she’s convinced I’m one nudge away from disappearing so far into a case that I kill someone without even knowing it. Hannibal's the only one that doesn’t think of me as broken.”

You consider informing him of his suspected encephalitis, that Hannibal surely withholds this truth and more so as to keep his favour.

In the end you retain your silence; better that Will discovers the manipulation alone and behold how he has been misled upon this trail of darkness.

“Enough about me,” says Will, abruptly. “I know that someone hurt you, long before Hannibal. Before me. Someone you've never forgotten.”

Alarmed by the twist in conversation, you stammer, “I— I already told him some of it. I said I didn’t remember. But I was lying about that. I just don’t know if it was only one, long night, or it happened other times. I don’t know which is worse.”

You pause, slightly breathless. Like a portent from the white lips of some phantom you know that you must tell Will the truth, adhere him to your weeping heart with empathy for you.

“I was just a little kid,” you say. “And he was an adult. Nearly family— I used to call him Uncle Lee. Hannibal probably told you that. Anyway, I got my ‘wrong’ feeling about him way before he did what he did. Like I knew it was coming. Then he came into my room alone one night and... it happened.”

You put down your coffee cup, almost knocking it from the bedside table with the shaking of your hand. Will comes away from the window at once, dragging his chair to your bedside to listen. He neither speaks nor looks into your eyes, aware that you can bear neither without faltering.

“He touched me,” you say, “and the whole time I couldn’t even face him. I don’t even remember what I felt. Maybe I didn’t feel anything at all. Just stared at the ceiling or whatever. He did stuff to me that changed me forever. I felt like a tiny old person in a kid’s body, after that, knowing about things I wasn’t supposed to know.

“And the worst of it was still having to see him after. My parents— I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t get the words out. They just thought I didn’t like him. So he came back to the house, now and then. Never saw any consequences.

“I’ve always wondered if I was the only one, or if there were others. He was a plumber, or something; he could have access to people’s daughters anytime he wanted. Just walk into their room and... you know. I think maybe he did do that, a couple of times. Who knows.”

Your restless fingers pick at the gold embroidery on your bedspread, working it loose from the velvet. One of Will’s hands folds over yours, gently holding them still.

“What I always think about is how he treated me, afterwards,” you say. “I tried avoiding him, but it didn’t always work. One day he cornered me at the top of the stairs— my parents were in the kitchen, so it was just me and him.

“I must have been maybe twelve or so. Not far off thirteen. My body was changing. I was growing up. He said, ‘you’re getting a little chubby, you know. You ought to do something about that before you look like your mother.’

“Then he smiled at me, and just walked into the bathroom like there was nothing wrong with what had just come out of his mouth, or what he’d done to me all those years ago.”

Inhaling an unsteady breath, you try, with dubious success, to smile.

“So now you get why I’m like this. And knowing it wasn’t my fault, that Leland Frost is just a predator... it doesn’t fix anything. Like, where do I go from there?”

“He injured you,” says Will, softly. “And it may never stop hurting. But you can recover. No matter what you believe, it is possible. His shallow cruelty is not your compass. You don’t have to live on the basis of an insult.”

Scowling, you pull away from Will, trapping your hands under your armpits.

“How can I change when I’m reliving what I went through every day? Why does Hannibal think this’ll heal me? Why do you? Oh, yeah. You don’t.”

“I want it to,” says Will.

You snort dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah. Not so long ago you would have punched the air to see the back of me. You don’t want to share Hannibal with anybody.”

Will leans back in his seat, arms folded; it takes a moment for you to register that he is, by some subconscious impulse, copying your posture.

“I’m not sharing Hannibal with you,” says Will. “I’m sharing you with him. And I want to do that. You knew it before I did.”

His gaze snaps to yours, more arresting than his hands on you had been.

“You’re more like me than I cared to admit. Hannibal was right about that. And though everything about you should repulse his sensibilities he finds you adorable. You clearly don’t appreciate it, but there it is.”

You yearn to deny him, to condemn this speech as sophistry, but you are silent, as much a congregant to him as he has been to you.

“Leland Frost tore you down because he saw that you were growing up and away from him,” says Will. “He knew that one day you’d have a life, and achievements, and people that really cared about you. He was going to fade out of your world, and he couldn’t stand not leaving a mark.”

“I just don’t get it,” you whisper. “He loved me. Why did he do it?”

Will shifts his chair even closer to the bed so as to lean into you, his expression tender, tragic, sombre with a father’s sympathy.

“Leland never loved you, and that’s no reflection on you or your worth. It makes him weak, that he could throw away the relationship he had with you over an urge.”

You don’t have the strength to rage against the whited sepulchre in Will, not when he speaks the truth you’ve always yearned to hear from another. Pain winds through your body, throat to gut, great, twisting pulses, as though eviscerated on a blade of past.

What advice would Will give for you to survive what he and Hannibal have done, and will do?

Nothing. Not a word. He knows that the structure of the home, even comfort from those that afflict you has changed you in so short a time. Your desperation to be gone from him he senses, too, and with it your lust to be loved.

Will holds your hand for a long time before he speaks again, on another subject quite as dreary as the last.

“When you said it’d been years since you...”

“Since I last had my period?” you ask, touching your stomach through the sheets. “Yeah. It has been.”

Your body, the betrayer, making a scarlet banner of your betterment through cruelty.

“I never wanted it to come back. Having it again means I’m not as sick anymore, and that’s like... messing up for me.”

Will's head tilts, his face carved up by the shadows thrown from your barred window into a lattice of snow.

“Failing to die is barely a failure at all,” he comments.

You shrug yourself further under your bedcovers.

“It is if what’s happening to you is something worse,”

“Is it always so bad, being here with us?”

Will’s hand rises. Doesn’t quite touch your face. You turn your head away, but not cruelly; he’s not a bad man, you decide, only contorted so utterly from the ways of his fellows that he is some creature other, or from before, the flint-armed hunter of the caves.

And like such a creature, he seeks your answering affection for want of some warmth in the dark beginning of the earth.

You allow him to kiss your forehead, clumsily, inclined towards him as though you were not both aware of the fiction that allows this contact.

He can only guess how far you’d run from this, had you your chance. How readily you’d betray him.

*

 

You’re much recovered by the time Dr Lecter returns, having been hydrated and energised by a selection of unnamed supplements Will had you take with lunch; there is a cure for every ailment in the makeshift laboratory of the kitchen, it seems.

Hannibal discovers you at your usual perch of the parlour couch, writing in your journal with a blanket tucked loosely around you against the October cool.

Will stands to greet his companion, setting aside a book you’d offered him from your shelf to peruse, its cover depicting the bloody half-brain of the sun on a desert horizon.

“I didn’t expect our charge to be in such high spirits,” says Hannibal, with unmasked surprise. “Thank you for caring for her this morning, Will. I’m aware that whatever time you can spare for us in the midst of an investigation is very precious.”

Likely aware of your eyes on him, Will says, “I’m glad I stayed. I appreciated the company. How’s the other patient?”

“Suitably quieted. I doubt that I’ll be called away again on her behalf. Still, I made the most of the journey home.”

Hannibal reaches into a shopping bag looped over one arm and produces from it a wrapped package of fresh meat, marbling the paper with blood.

Grimacing, you say, “Ew. What is that? Looks like an organ.”

“It is. I’ll be making trippa alla romana tonight. It’s an Italian dish made from cow stomach. Don’t turn your nose up till you’ve tried it. Have I served anything to you yet that you haven’t enjoyed?”

*

After dinner, all three of the household recline, full and talking lazily before the fire. Had your company been any other than your abusers you would almost be content, for having been allowed to leave the table after a valiant half plate you are not so guilt-soaked as you’d have been had you finished it all.

You had, in fact, disliked the meal, a first in Hannibal’s house. The thought of the organ, plucked from the rib of a butcher’s shelf, had struck bile to the back of your mouth from the first bite.

A cup of chocolate, warmed to a froth and unadorned with cream is set in your hands instead, which you drink in feline licks to make it last.

Will’s phone shrills abruptly in his pocket. Frowning, he glances at the lighted oblong of its screen and starts at a familiar name.

“It’s Jack,” he says. “I’d better take this.”

He promptly exits the room, speaking with clipped tones into the device.

Alone with Hannibal, you become acutely aware of him looking at you, not quite with suspicion, but not so far from that.

"I see that you and Will are becoming close,” he says, at last. “I’m glad to see it.”

Humming vaguely, you snatch up the journal again and weave your pen about in a pretence of writing.

Hannibal says, "Still, it saddens me that—for all your pretty words of promise—you display a lesser willingness to befriend me.”

You do not answer, pressing your pen so hard against a page that it blots through to the other side.

"Put your journal down a moment, Little One,” says Hannibal. “I’m speaking to you."

Without looking up, you answer, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You needn't say anything at all. It's your behaviour I wish to change."

In a flounce of irritation you throw the journal upon the floor, its spine creasing.

“I do what you say, and I don't fight you anymore,” you say. “Isn't that daughterly enough?"

"For the purposes of your treatment,” says Hannibal, “it is not. You remain closed to me, parted only by narcotic aid. I'd prefer you to open to me of your own volition. With Will, you prove yourself increasingly capable of that.

“I’ve given you all you’ve asked for, and more, and yet you show little gratitude. I wouldn’t wish to remove these luxuries for you to appreciate my endeavours.”

You look at him, then, this man both jealous and performing jealousy to groom you into his concubine, and in looking see that he will deconstruct your room into the barest cell, should he not have his way.

"I do appreciate what you’ve given me," you hastily protest. "I do, Daddy. You don’t have to take anything away. But I— I just don’t know you the way I know Will.”

“But you do,” says Hannibal, rising to sit beside you, a dangerous proximity. “That’s why you are so afraid of me, is it not?”

You begin to object, trailing off at the sound of approaching footfalls as the younger of your captors returns, listing in the churning swell of stress.

“It's the investigation,” says Will. “Another doll’s been found. Savannah Belmont. It’s too soon to be the Lover’s kill. He has a cool off point between each abduction.”

Hannibal straightens in his seat, rapidly alert.

“A copycat, then.”

Will nods, his throat tightening. His eyes touch your face briefly, and you offer him a small, close-lipped smile, an extension of comfort from across the room. His shoulders drop from their rigid line, and when he speaks again the frantic note in his voice is tempered slightly.

“Definitely a copycat,” he says. “The Lover disposes of the dolls by throwing them into rivers like garbage. No attempt to lay them to rest. Savannah was put on display, placed in a chair on a dirt bank as though she was waiting to be found.

“Both killers meant to degrade their victims, but only the copycat’s is implied to understand and accept that humiliation. Savannah Belmont died aware of her inferiority in the eyes of her murderer.”

You find yourself sitting on your hands to prevent them from betraying your agitation with their unsteadiness. Your leg, however, you cannot control, the right foot gyring an inch above the floor.

Hannibal eyes it without speaking, folding your reaction into the lengthy tome of his mind.

“The victim’s stomach was missing,” says Will, turning to pluck a bottle of whiskey from a nearby cabinet like some bronze fruit. “That’s new. The Lover’s mutilations are all with the purpose of fitting the bodies of his victims inside their silicone casings. He has no surgical skills.

“This new killer obviously has expertise. Savannah’s stomach was cut precisely from her body with the clear intent of taking it as a trophy.”

“Her stomach?” you repeat.

You feel the heaviness of meat within you and are chilled by the coincidence.

Hannibal could not have known what the copycat would take to reference it, could not have known of his existence to begin with, and yet as you glance at him under your lashes you don’t quite trust the seriousness of his expression, his eyes gleaming dimly as tarmac in the rain.

“You mustn’t worry, Little One,” says Hannibal, turning to lift you up onto his lap. “The Lover can’t hurt you. We will protect you, always.”

He settles your head against his chest, which resounds with the slow beat of his heart and the machinery of organs digesting his own rich meal.

The monster knows of your renewed distrust and is unthreatened by it, declawed and tooth-filed as you are by his influence over you and all the passageways of the world you’d otherwise cross in your escape.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Daddy,” you mutter, against his shirt, and the warmth of Hannibal’s palm cups your buttocks with a tormenting friction, both threat and tease at once.

While you hate him—are in terror of him, always—your form is increasingly enamoured by his touch as though it knows that it must be so, or die.

“No need to thank me for performing my duty to you, Little One,” says Hannibal, into your ear. “For you belong to me, and to Will, and you must never forget it.”

#manna fic #hannibal fic #tw noncon #tw csa #tw abuse #tw drugs #tw captivity #dead dove do not eat #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #darkfic

[sadlybeans]

No More Batman AU

It became too much eventually but he was willing to deal with it… Batman was a good thing for Gotham, even if he wasn’t good. Bruce had his doubts but they always seemed like such a selfish thing to consider when the city was becoming safer and safer and safer. But still… Batman was cold and cynical, he had to be in order to do his job, but this conflicted directly with the fact that Bruce Wayne is a father.

Dick leaving was a huge crack in an already fragile wall. Bruce couldn’t really express why, how could he? For Dick -and to everyone else- he and Batman are the same, how can he explain he is not? Sure, Batman isn’t a separate entity, but he also cannot be Bruce Wayne.

Everything is crumbling.

And then.

Jason.

Dies.

Batman cannot understand the pain of losing his precious son, the pain of knowing he will never see him again. Batman lost a soldier but Bruce lost his son and he can’t pretend otherwise.

The cowl is put into a commemorative case. Bruce shuts down the computer and turns off the lights. The grandfather clock doesn’t move again for months.

At first everyone thinks Batman must be wounded, or he must be grieving Robin, but days pass… then weeks… then months.

The rogues start running rampant again.

And Batman never returns.

Timothy Drake knows who Bruce Wayne really is and he knocks on his door to ask for the impossible.

Batman doesn’t come back, and neither does Robin.

Dick sometimes calls Alfred but he’s never stepped foot into the manor since he last spoke to Bruce, crying and screaming at the other end of the line.

He comes home when he hears the news about a new young vigilante in Gotham.

They fight, they scream, they cry, and at the end he hasn’t forgiven Bruce but he stays.

Tim is scolded to hell and back, but Bruce cannot be too hard on him because… he was there. This weird child knocked on his door to make him company like one would a seniour citizen down the block, he tried to console him on his son’s death despite not knowing either of them.

Tim isn’t giving up.

Bruce and Dick decide they’re only letting him out until he’s been properly trained, since they can’t stop him.

Gotham is too dangerous for an inexperienced kid playing vigilante, so Nightwing picks up the slack, but it soon becomes clear that Gotham needs only one thing when the Bat Signal keeps shining night after night… so they get creative.

Shadowy figures, obscure sightings, tales of criminals scared nearly to death…

Batman is back, they whisper, just as when he first came; little more than a myth or an urban legend.

In reality, the cowl has never left its case.

Batman is no more than an illusion and Oracle’s cleverly written reports, but Gotham doesn’t know any better.

The team grows despite Bruce’s best efforts to prevent it. Dick, Barbara, Tim, Cass, Steph, Duke… All of them dear to him, all of them making a better job than Batman ever did.

Gotham isn’t safe but it’s better, and it becomes better by the day.

Batman is never coming back.

… Robin is never coming back.

Until he does.

#batman #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #tim drake #barbara gordon #duke thomas #nightwing #black bat #oracle #the signal #no batman au #i do plan on writing a fic about this #actually i’m writing it atm so i’ll keep you posted

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Friday: untitled Jak oneshot/ Daxter Snaps And It Doesn't Go Well

(This takes place right after Jak finally gets to return to Spargus in Jak 3, because I had some Feelings about the Dark Eco Oracle and its well-loved shrine having been either moved or destroyed in Haven. Also for reference: since the original Jak concept art was a cat/foxlike alien child, hence the ears being set so high on his head in TPL, I'm hereby deciding that their species can purr. Because I said so.)

This is Quite Long, so I'll probably crosspost to AO3 later.

TW: panic attack

Jak hadn't been surprised by the summons when he'd returned from Haven. He knew he was in for it. Damas had started trusting him with more and more responsibilities and then Jak had screwed it all up. Running off to Haven and then getting stuck there immediately after? Not a good look.

Honestly, Jak was just grateful he wasn't being "escorted" up by city guards.

Part of him wanted to go in fighting. That's all Damas cares about, right? a small, bitter corner of his heart muttered.

The rest of him was too afraid. He finally knew better than to look to anyone in Haven for affirmation or examples. Damas had been the closest he'd ever come to an authority figure he trusted. What if he lost that, too?

The second his and Daxter's heads were visible in the elevator shaft, Damas was already raising his voice. Perhaps he was simply projecting his voice to reach them, but Jak's stomach twisted into knots regardless, and his breathing became quick and shallow.

"Where have you been?" Damas demanded, rising from his throne. "It's been a month!"

The elevator locked, and Jak crept out onto the pathway like a skittish animal. He didn't meet Damas’s eyes. The confused anger and hurt he'd seen in them the last time flashed in his memory, and he winced. An oppressive silence fell for a few unnaturally long seconds, punctuated by the creak of the water wheel. Damas was waiting for an answer.

It's not our fault, Jak tried to reassure himself, Just another betrayal. We didn't do anything wrong.

When he didn't answer Damas, the king’s expression twisted between outrage and disbelief and-

And disappointment.

"Nothing? Really, Jak?" He took one step down from the dais, clenching his fist at his side. "Why didn't you tell anyone where you were going?"

Daxter took it upon himself to answer when Jak wouldn't -- or couldn't.

"Oh lay off!" he hissed, puffing himself up to look bigger, "Don't you have friends to kill in your gladiator ring?"

"Dax!" Jak gasped. Too late.

The words were already out and a black look fell across Damas’s face. His entire posture went rigid.

"Excuse me?" he asked in a frightful facsimile of calm.

"Daxter, don't," Jak pleaded, but it was far too late for that. When Daxter got this mad, he didn't even hear Jak.

"You heard me!"

Daxter leapt off Jak's shoulder and stood on the first stepping stone as if blocking the way between them.

"You tried to make us kill one of our only real friends, and threw a tantrum when we wouldn't! And if you think I'd trust you with Jak's location after that, those spikes must be diggin' into your brain!"

Jak couldn't breathe.

Either Damas was going to cut them off, or Daxter was going to get hurt, and either way everything was going to crumble. He'd finally escaped Haven and there was going to be nothing to escape to.

His core pulsed, obeying signals he didn't even know his brain was sending. It tried to respond to the fight-or-flight instincts quickening his pulse and shortening his breath. In Haven, he would have gone Dark in response. But he'd used all the dark eco. There was nothing left. Nothing but adrenaline and panic.

A strange, almost echoing sensation pushed at the inside of his skull, and the room spun. He couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they'd been fused shut. He couldn't breathe!

"Jak!"

Between blurs of brown and green, Damas -- or an unfocused and staticy version of him -- approached rapidly.

As if from another room, Jak heard Daxter snarl, "Stay back! If you hurt him, I'll rip your spikes out!"

"I wouldn't hurt him!"

"You already did!"

It was too much. He couldn't- he couldn't focus. He couldn't find the light eco. Jak's knees gave, and it was a struggle to stay upright. Hands caught his upper arms, preventing him from collapsing entirely.

"Breathe, Jak!"

Damas sounded worried this time.

"You have to breathe!"

"Can't-!" Jak gasped, breath squeaking.

Then the world turned sideways and he was in the water. Or partly in the water.

His legs twitched with the shock of the new sensation, surprising him enough to suck in a deep breath. A compressing sensation against his chest and arms tightened in response.

"Focus on the water. Find your feet."

It took four tries to get his boots on the rocky bottom of the pool. His chest hurt, but he managed another deep breath.

"That's it. You can do this."

A small hand took his, pulling against the pressure around his shoulders, and pressed it against a narrow chest.

"L- like we practiced, bud-"

Oh. There's Daxter.

"Just breathe when I breathe, remember?"

Distantly, he heard Damas ask Daxter, "Has this happened before? In- in Spargus, I mean."

"Don't think about it, warrior," the other voice encouraged -- Damas? Is that Damas? But he's mad at us! -- "Just do as your friend does."

"If Jak wants to tell ya, he'll tell ya," Daxter said sourly. "You and I are not on speaking terms right now."

"...that is understandable."

One by one, his muscles relaxed. His breathing was much too fast, but it was easier to get full breaths at least.

When the ringing in Jak’s ears at last began to subside, he picked up a new sound. It was faint, barely audible at all, but he could just make out a nervous rumble. A laryngeal vibration he could feel through the back of his shirt. With conscious thought on standby mode, Jak's body responded to long-forgotten cues unbidden. His glottis rapidly dilated and constricted with his breathing, creating its own vibrations in a bid to self-soothe. It was how he'd learned not to cry out loud as a young child -- although blessedly, he would never remember that.

It wasn't the first time Damas had walked one of his people through a panic attack in the throne room, and it wouldn't be the last. But this one hurt.

"You're safe. There is no danger here. This is a safe place."

Shame raked its claws down his chest and Pain reached through the incision, grasping at organs and prying bones out of the way.

Jak didn't trust him.

And it was his fault.

"I'm sorry," he whispered- to Jak, to Daxter, to either-

A memory loomed damningly before his eyes. Mar had just started walking, and nearly toppled into the pools. Damas had yelled at him to get away from the edge, and the baby had burst into a loud, terrified wail.

"I'm- was it the shouting? I-"

"I'm sorry, it's okay, it's okay now- I know, I used the Big Voice, Daddy's sorry! You scared me, Bug!"

He hadn't gotten any better after losing Mar, had he? He still shouted when he was afraid. And look how that had turned out.

Damas tightened his hold on Jak and rested his chin on the crown of the boy's head. The apologies were bitter on his tongue, but necessary.

"I...I triggered this, didn't I? I'm sorry- gods, I'm sorry, Jak. I'm- you scared me. I couldn't find you! No one could!"

"You...thought we defected?" he asked through numbed lips.

The panic was slow to fade, still muddling Jak's mind. He couldn't quite make sense of what he was hearing.

"I thought the Marauders had taken you! Or you'd collapsed somewhere in the Wastes where we couldn't find you!" Damas answered. The dregs of that old fear still stained the edges of his voice. He shuddered.

He swallowed hard, interrupting the agitated purring for a moment. "I...did not handle the...situation as I should have. I damaged your trust. And I deserved worse than the silent treatment. I understand that. But to keep it from Sig, too?"

"You can't just run away like that! I- I understand why you didn't tell me-"

Painfully slowly, Jak drew his legs back out of the water and onto the rocks.

"They wouldn't let me," he mumbled. "They didn't let us leave."

Damas shot a concerned look at Daxter, who shrugged and looked away.

Shifting his grip to have one arm around the boy's waist, Damas heaved himself to his feet, taking Jak with him.

This promised to be a very unpleasant conversation, the least he could do was find them somewhere more comfortable to sit.

They were silent for a time, each processing the whirlwind of events. Jak was deeply, thoroughly, confused. No one had ever apologized like that before. Acknowledging his pain and the specific way their actions had caused it? It would be a cold day in hell before Samos ever did anything like that.

He didn't understand.

They'd defied Damas, then run from him. Daxter had just challenged him to his face.

Yet he spoke like a man anxiously awaiting the return of a prodigal son.

"Who wouldn't let you leave, Jak?" Damas asked him, far too gently.

Jak shut his eyes. "Haven."

"Haven?!" Damas sounded horrified. "What were you doing there?! Is that where you've been this whole time?"

Miserably, Jak nodded. "I was just- we were just scouting. Just- it wasn't supposed to be-"

He gritted his teeth.

"They locked down the air trains," he croaked. "And- and there's force fields blocking off the city exits. The only way they'd let us go was if I fought on the frontlines for three weeks first."

Fighting down his anger lest he trigger Jak's panic again, Damas forced himself to ask, "What made you go back to that city in the first place?"

A hostage. His boy- The boy had been a bloody hostage, and he'd had no idea! Damas felt something dark and dense fluttering between his ribs. If he found the person who ordered this, he would drown them in the sands.

Jak winced and passed several looks back and forth with Daxter.

"Ashelin...called me to the oasis," he said at last.

Damas stiffened beside him.

"She want- she wanted me to come back to Haven. After everything they did to me, she wanted me to come back."

He felt the hints of the anxiety returning, and wrapped his arms around himself for comfort.

"Ashelin Praxis?" Damas demanded. He curled his lip. "I might have known. I hope you told her where to shove that offer."

Daxter scoffed. "Oh, he did. Even told her "I have new friends now", which was a little too generous considering what you said to my pal."

Jak gave the ottsel a weary look, and Daxter grudgingly subsided.

"I told her to leave. She- she wouldn't drop it. Said the friends we still had were going to die. That it was my responsibility because of-"

He flipped a hand in the air in frustration.

"I don't know! Dead people I share some common blood with!"

"Pal, I'm pretty sure that common blood stopped bein' responsible for that dump when Princess Scribbleface's darling pappy took over," Daxter grumbled.

"Common blood?!" Damas startled, but Jak had already moved on, hastily trying to explain himself.

"We didn't believe her -- I- I mean, why would we? But when I asked the Oracle in the temple-"

"How did you find the Oracle?!" Damas spluttered.

"The stupid thing called me," Jak growled. He leaned forward and pressed his face into his hands. "Said the whole planet was in danger and my friends would die if I didn't find the catacombs."

He muffled a snarl in his palms.

"I hate them. I hate those rottin' things. They don't tell me when something is a trap. They only tell me what fits their agenda."

Jak could speak to Precursor Oracles.

Only monks were supposed to still be able to do that.

Monks, or Heirs of Mar taking the Trials.

"And...was it a trap?" Damas asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

A painful, wishful image of Jak in the Tomb of Mar wormed through Damas’s thoughts. If life had any semblance of fairness, or restitution, it would have been reality. It was not what he deserved, not after how many times he'd failed the people he cared about. But Jak deserved it. He'd been isolated enough.

Jak's face was like stone.

"All they cared about was getting me into Haven to find the catacombs before that nutcase Veger could. And all Haven cared about was keeping us there."

A deep, ominous creaking filled the room. Harsh shadows stretched and yawned as the terrible old statue beside the dais flickered, then lit up. A suffocating sense of dread filled Damas as he beheld the monolith. It wasn't a real Oracle. It was a shell, made to hold pieces of the water wheel. It wasn't made to have any kind of lights.

Daxter yelped and scurried up to Jak’s shoulder as the water wheel ground to a halt.

The silence was unnatural.

Jak's chest heaved, and Damas feared for a moment that he was going to panic again. But an answering light flickered in the boy's eyes. White, incandescent rage.

"What do you want now? You're not welcome here!" Jak snarled, standing up with a jerk.

"Angry one-"

It said in warning, a rolling, ancient voice that echoed off the stones and twisted in their eardrums.

Jak clenched his fists.

"No! I'm not afraid of you! You're no "holier" than Onin. You aren't even a Precursor!"

A sense of fury shook the room, and the water trembled.

Jak held his ground though his legs shook.

"You can't do anything to punish me," he challenged, angry tears glowing in his eyes. "The worst you can do is withhold information that would protect me, and you do that anyway! If- if you had power at all, you wouldn't have let Veger destroy Crius!"

Crius? Damas vaguely remembered that name. Hadn't he been one of the Bonekeeper's heralds? The memories were fuzzy at best. Father forbade Mother from speaking of the Bonekeeper when they married. Any communing with the patron of dark eco was done in secret, and as a child Damas had only caught her once.

"The dark shrine was all those people had!" the anger was slipping away from Jak now, replaced by something closer to grief. "He gave them hope! He gave- he gave me hope! And you couldn't save him. So what makes you think you can scare me now? Hu'mens are worse than you."

And the Oracle, miraculously, quieted. The waters stilled, and some of the dread receded. Jak fell back to the steps, having exhausted the last reserves of his emotions.

"Yeah! You tell him, Jak!" Daxter cheered, breaking the silence, "About time you put Sparky in his place!"

He ruffled Jak's hair -- the hair he could reach at least -- and leaned against his arm comfortingly.

"Next, we get Loghead!"

The Oracle remained lit, but speechless. All this time, had rebuking the heralds really been an option? Ever the pragmatist, Damas decided to follow Jak's example.

"As the boy said." His voice was quiet at first, but gained courage with each new word.

"This is not a place of seers and soothsayers. Respectfully: we do not require your guidance at this time."

"Heir of Mar-"

the Oracle began, almost wheedling.

Rage loosened his lips and he lost the last shred of reverence he'd held for the messenger.

Jak went rigid and Damas felt an anger of his own. How dare this entity try to leverage his bloodline when the Precursors had turned their backs on him!

"Hold your tongue! Unless you can comprehend the trouble you have caused, keep your counsel to yourself."

Resentfully, the Oracle's eyes flashed.

And with that, the lights were gone. The water wheel resumed its gloomy rhythm. The statue was hollow once more.

"So be it. You wish to hear no truth from me? Then you, Damas of the Wastes, shall hear no truth from me."

Something about the acquiescence -- or threat -- made Damas uneasy. Withholding information again, just as Jak had said. But he had the feeling it was hinting at something important. Taunting him.

Bloody seven hells.

He'd sooner cast the bones himself and call upon the Dark Lady directly as his mother once had than ever deal with that thing again.

"Little wonder you're always so on edge, dealing with that," he said; a poor attempt at a joke.

Jak dropped his face back into his hands.

"I'm so sick of them. Jak do this. Jak go there. Suffer for us, Jak! It's Fate!"

Damas scoffed. "Fate, eh? Wastelanders make their own fate. If this is who my monks consult, it's no surprise that they believe the world is coming to an end."

"They are pretty worried about the creatures in that space ship," Jak admitted reluctantly.

"Bah."

Damas waved it off.

"When the metalheads invaded our world, we survived with or without the Precursors they hunted. We will do the same if these creatures land."

He jostled Jak's shoulder -- shaking Daxter by proxy.

"Ey! No manhandling!"

Daxter slithered away down the steps and into the water. He glared up over the step like a little croc.

"You keep your emotionally constipated hands away from me!"

Damas let out a startled laugh, and Jak shook his head and grinned.

"I...guess you're right. Spargus is pretty tough."

"We are Wastelanders, boy," Damas declared, "We carved out a home in the places where nothing else survives. We'll carve out our fate the same way, with the same tools our ancestors used."

"...with eco," Jak said quietly, as if experiencing a revelation.

"Our minds think alike."

Damas’s wry grin faded.

"Jak...I'm...sorry. That I made you feel you couldn't contact me for help. If I had known you were being held in Haven against your will, I would have come for you."

The boy fixed him with a bewildered expression.

"You would have?" Jak asked, "You're serious. You. Leaving your people to come after me?"

The king met his stare evenly.

"Yes."

"After the- the thing, with the Arena-?"

Damas winced and looked away.

"I. I did not warn you, I was not permitted to. But the final trial of a Spargan is one they are supposed to lose."

Jak bristled. "What?!"

"It's a test of whether they can put loyalty to their city over the commands of a tyrant. Sig wasn't supposed to throw down his gun, he was supposed to goad you into a sparring match." Damas ran his hand over his shaved head. "I should have told him before he went in that it was you. I didn't know that you knew each other, but- maybe he wouldn't have panicked if he'd known it was a Final Trial. Maybe I wouldn't have panicked."

Jak stared at him in disbelief for several seconds. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he blurted out an accusation with no bite to it.

"What, did you forget I didn't grow up here?"

When he was met with chagrined silence, his eyes widened.

"Oh my gods you did. How?! You're the one that found me out there!"

Clearly embarrassed, Damas shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you. There are days when it just...seems as though I have known you for much longer than seven months."

Jak took that statement, turned it over in his mind. The version of Damas in his head wasn't quite matching the one in front of him. Even before things had become strained between them, he hadn't had the context to understand the way Damas saw him. He still didn't- not completely.

"Sorry," he said suddenly, and gestured to the soaked trousers. "I um. I don't usually...not in front of people, I mean-"

He leaned back against the stairs and stretched his legs out before him. The linen stuck to his legs in sodden wrinkles and folds, nearly transparent against his calves. It would dry quickly once he stepped outside again -- and the evaporating water would serve to cool his skin nicely. But for now, it drew his mind to his panic attack.

"Don't apologize." Damas laced his fingers together loosely and leaned his elbows against his knees. "May...may I ask what it was that sparked that kind of fear?"

Jak met Daxter's eyes, down in the water. The ottsel winced. He knew he'd taken it too far. He was just so sick of people acting like Jak was a trained dog with no autonomy of his own. And sometimes his desire to protect Jak’s emotions didn't mesh completely with what Jak needed at the moment.

Jak broke their gaze and began to pick at a scar on his elbow.

"...thought I was going to have to choose sides. Between you and Dax."

"Why would supporting Daxter cause you to panic?" Damas pressed.

"Because," he muttered with a shrug.

He'd assumed without question that Jak would take Daxter's side. Jak didn't know whether to be amused or grateful or just tired.

"Because?"

"Because I- I wanted this to still be home." Jak made a vague gesture encompassing the room, and its occupants.

"This is your home," Damas insisted. He glanced to the empty Oracle with a thoughtful frown.

Something lingered in the corners of Jak's eyes. A concern he wasn't voicing. Did he still believe he could be so easily forsaken?

"If this is where the desert brought you, then this is where the desert meant you to thrive."

But then, he had been cast out of Haven on the flimsiest of pretenses. His faith in hu'menity was shaken. For a moment, Damas considered changing the subject. He could talk about the coming trials, give Jak something else to think about.

Or he could meet him on his level. Show him the same vulnerability he'd so unwillingly displayed.

The words stuck to his tongue, stabbed like needles into the roof of his mouth as he forced them through his teeth.

"I...had a son. Some years ago."

"Had". Was there ever such a horrible word?

"He was like you -- or, he would have been, when he was older."

Under his breath he added, "if he ever got the chance to get older."

Jak's brows knit together, then went slack. From tiny pinpricks in the centers of his eyes, horror flooded out to the rest of his face.

"You have a child?"

After a moment to collect himself, the king nodded.

His head dipped lower, nearly brushing the steeple of his fingertips.

"I did. He was taken from me, by some of the same people who seem to have orchestrated your own suffering."

"I pray that my son still lives but- he was so young. So small. So-"

Damas’s voice cracked.

"So very small."

Guilt played across Jak's face for a moment, then was swallowed up by a deep sadness that welled up from within. Haven was a city of devils. He wondered if Damas’s child had been taken during the time when Praxis was snatching children en masse in his search for Jak's childhood self.

Did that make it his fault that Damas was so bereaved?

"That's-"

That's not fair. It's an abomination. Hurting a kid should be enough to make the Precursors strike you dead on the spot. Errol should've died the first time he put me in the Chair-

Jak's thoughts spiraled out of control, and he had to fight to return his focus to the moment.

"That's terrible."

Inhaling sharply, Damas raised his head and straightened his spine. One warm, callused hand found its way to Jak’s shoulder and squeezed.

He felt his throat closing up, snapping his voice into grating pieces.

"The reason I tell you this is so that you will understand this: It would take more than a little teenaged defiance to make me turn my back on you."

"I lost my son, Jak," he croaked, "I cannot lose you, too."

The laryngeal vibration began again -- from Jak, this time. The nearly autonomous response was as much a subconscious desire to comfort Damas as it was self-soothing. Even so, his chest ached dully. How old, he wondered, had Damas’s son been when he was taken? He must have been so scared! Did he call out for his father? Did Damas call out for him?

"In...war," Damas said hesitantly, "Sacrifices are sometimes required of us. In my case, I had to stay and rebuild the part of the wall the attackers destroyed. To protect thousands from the storms and the Marauders. I knew that, but it still took days for Sig to convince me to send him to Haven in my place."

"Yeah," Jak muttered, "I know about sacrfices."

But Damas shook his head. "It's hardly a sacrifice if someone else chose it for you out of convenience. That's just betrayal."

Silence fell again, but there was no tension to it. A sense of introspection lingered between them, each consumed with his own thoughts. Even Daxter's anger had muted itself -- now overlayed with guilt, berating himself for jumping to fight Jak's battles without bothering to see what Jak himself wanted.

The moment of quiet ended with a crackling of the city radio from which Damas monitored all official channels.

"Oh not now," the man groaned with a most unkingly attitude. "Can I have a moment of peace?"

"No way," Jak scoffed, finding a glimmer of humor in the situation, "You jinxed it by letting us take a break. Now something crazy is going to happen."

Damas narrowed his eyes. "Boy, if you will that into reality-" he warned, with no real way to finish the threat.

The second he picked up the receiver, he knew it was going to be a headache.

"Sire! We've got three different Marauder patrols converging on the city gates! There's a fourth on the radar crossing the river now!"

Daxter pulled himself out of the water and cringed. "How many cars is that?"

"Twelve, at least," Jak gulped.

Damas did not take this information the way he normally would have. He seemed to be fuming as he stood up and stomped up the stairs to retrieve his staff. Jak could hear him muttering under his breath.

His voice rose to something more audible. "I'm not in the mood for this, Egil," he snapped, addressing the thane of the Marauders as if he were present.

"Not the time, Egil, this is not the time to test me! Just got my kid back, got threatened by a bloody Oracle-"

Jak decided, for the sake of being able to focus during a fight, to just pretend he hadn't heard Damas referring to him as his own kid. He could come back to that and freak out later. Right now, there was a fight to be had. He held an arm down for Daxter to use as a ramp, then stood.

"Where do you need me?" he asked.

Damas gave him a searching look. For an instant, his gaze flicked to the lifeless Oracle. That seemed to reinforce his resolve.

"With me," he said shortly. "We're taking the Dozer. You're on the turret gun."

The way Jak's -- and even Daxter's -- eyes lit up almost made up for the hassle Damas knew this skirmish was going to be. He cast one last look at the Oracle before shepherding them to the lift.

Keep your counsel, he thought, and I will keep mine. I don't need your permission to add a son to my House. What of that, eh? The Heir and your renegade Pawn allied against you!

"Hey, maybe I should drive," Jak suggested as the lift began to move."

"Hm." Damas pretended to consider it. "No."

"Why not?!"

"You can't reach the pedals yet."

He could have simply explained that he preferred to drive his favorite vehicle himself. But, the slightest bit giddy at the thought of open rebellion against fate, Damas instead bent slightly to offer a teasing grin.

"What?! Oh come on!"

The elevator sank out of sight, and the water wheel trembled. The statue vibrated and the pools bubbled and boiled with the helpless fury of a falconer whose birds had long since slipped the jesses to fly free. But the boy had not spoken falsley: it was not a Precursor, merely the echo of one's memory. In the face of hu'men defiance, it was helpless to retaliate in any meaningful way. Even withholding the truth of the Hero's identity had been robbed of its intended effect, considering the Fallen Heir and the Hero had gone ahead and reformed the broken bond between them anyway!

The Oracle could not comprehend their motives, nor could it ever hope to understand the complexities of the hu'men mind.

It could only watch and seethe.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #free day friday #jak and daxter #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #headcanon that the final arena battle is a Kobayashi Maru and Jak pulled a Kirk #i named the Dark Oracle after one of the mythological Titans #sneaky reference to sparguscituangel canon where Mictecacíhuatl is the patron of dark eco #tw panic attack #daxter was fully ready to End Damas right there 😂 #Jak's species can purr now because the concept art started out vaguely feline #eldritch abomination oracle time! #except instead of humans being unable to comprehend the lovecraftian monster #its the lovecraftian monster that is wholly incapable of understanding humans without succumbing to madness #long post #oneshot

[dying-birds]

Dying birds (Reverse robins Au)

(storyline part one)

     Damian Wayne's childhood was unconventional, to say the least, raised by assassins only to be dropped off at his father's doorstep for his own protection. Consumed not only by wrath but the overwhelming pressure to please his grandfather, Damian was headed down a dark path of vengeance and blood. A path his father Bruce Wayne, was all too familiar with his father. Bruce took him on as a sidekick hoping to instill the values of justice and human life. Bruce becomes a more lighthearted Batman for Damian's sake.

     After getting settled into his new role Damian was introduced to many other heroes and sidekicks, one of them being a redhead speedster. Wally West aka Kid Flash, may be the most annoying person Damian has ever met and yet he somehow he was also Damian's best friend.

     As Damian grew older he found himself constantly butting heads with his father leading him to move out. A life away from Bruce and the constant fight had done him good Damina even considered doing away with the capes and mask sadly Gotham had other plans for him. Damian had been walking home from the store when he witnessed what appeared to be a mugging. He stepped in and things went south real quickly as he was shot by an unknown marksman. Bruce found his son bleeding out in the streets, a war on Gotham had begun. Damian woke up in a Gotham hospital unable to move his legs. Things were revealed about the mugging turning him bitter toward Bruce. Damian left Gotham altogether and Bruce became a harsher Batman

     Tim Drake a mistreated child with a knack for photography, the next sidekick. Bruce would find this kid standing in the middle of his cave. Batman was on the edge of going rogue, Tim could let that happen. He pushed into taking the mantel out of necessity

     The start of Tim's vigilante career was spent trying to get Bruce and Damian to talk to each other. For all his efforts he was treated horribly, Bruce's training was brutal and Damian treated Him harshly. For a while, Damian blamed Tim for taking his place but the truth was Damian thinks of himself as broken and sees what he could have been in Tim. Tim eventually does break through to Damian and the older boy comes back to Gotham taking up an oracle-type role.

     Damian starts to see Tim as a little brother and enjoys having him around. Not long after Tim meets a ninja girl named Stephine Brown. Through a series of events convinces her to join the bats. Taking her under his wing Tim trains her to take his place so he can leave for a secret project called Titan. Only Steph and Damian know about this project.

     One day on patrol Tim tries to help the wrong person causing him to get shot in the stomach. Tim gets away but he's bleeding heavily. Damian's on the comms trying to help him but everyone is to far away. Tim stumbles through the street before sliding down against a pole. In his last minutes, he talks to Damian and Bruce about how grateful he was to be a bat and tells Stephine how much he appreciated her friendship and how proud he was of her. Damian is on the comms the entire time helpless as his brother dies, his last words I love you guys.

#reverse robins #reverse batfam #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #batfam #batman #bruce wayne

[jellazticious]

Your characters are so shaped

Mine telling us who those main four are?

I assume this is about Light Plague so

boop!

Here's them coloured because it's been long since. Just a TLDR because I think I'm rewriting them again

Names from left to right, Mortimer Tacre/Dr Morter, Cobalt Roussel, Tastriphe/Plague Kiwi, and Tak the Oracle

Morter is one of the oldest members of the Scorchers. Now, "The Scorchers" is the unofficial name of the forced mercenaries in the bunker. The name came from the first generation Scorchers using flamethrowers. Anyway, Morter used to serve as a pure resource gatherer until he nearly dies fighting off one of the mutations and loses his head. He was revived by miracle but now he has to live with a mechanical head where whatever's left of his face and brain remains. Since he could not go to the surface because of his recovery, he then became a doctor for until he's well enough to go up again.

Cobalt is the newest addition to the team. Reason? His adoptive father, Crimson Roussel, have died with debt and one of the only ways he believes can get rid of it is to willingly be a Scorcher under 131. 131 is the name of the organization that protects the survivors of Palethos, and Palethos is the name of the bunker. Morter acts as Cobalt's mentor through this whole thing, he even was the person that manages his artificial eyes and mechanical arm prior to getting hired.

Plague Kiwi, also known by his name, Tastriphe Liet, goes along with Morter with being one of the earliest members of the Scorchers. He is the most competent fighter out there but nerfed for being a stubborn lone wolf that may or may not kill whoever he's teamed up with. Other than being a Scorcher, he is also a bounty hunter. There are other survivor societies in TLP but most of them do not get along with each other. Hunters are paid by the people inside the Tower of Corpses if they provide their targets. Targets are either criminals or people accused of being one, but frankly the people in that tower don't care, the hunters will catch them for their entertainment either way. Now that his jobs are mentioned, lemme also mention the fact he's a sentinel angel who have lost his divinity when he learns what it is to be human, to be as rightfully angry as one. His original name is just Tatriphe until he meets this orphaned little girl he took under his wing. He added her surname to his name. You can assume the worst because ofc he's going to lose this child and that moment is the point he does become human.

Tak the Oracle, I'll admit, I have NOT written them as much because originally it should be just the three but like

actually wait, I don't remember when I designed Tak- Man this bitch is a mystery even to the author 😭 ANYWAY No one in canon knows where Tak and their weird asf kid, Tikki, came from, they just showed up one day and let people be known that the parent have visions of the future. Some believe and some don't, but it is how it is with "weirdos". Somehow Tak invited themself and Tikki inside the establishment and managed to speak directly to Admiral Helicross about possible futures to look out for. The Admiral acts as if Tak has been officially added despite no one hearing news of it but no one dares question the Admiral's choices. Tak is a member of the gang, and frankly, the most useful out there. The mask is a facial prosthesis by the way, their face is severely burnt from an unknown accident. Tak is a Scorcher but unlike the other three, they are not assigned for upper division exploration as much.

#Yes Tak is getting another redesign #The Light Plague #Dr Morter #Cobalt Roussel #Plague Kiwi #Tak the Oracle #Jella Answers #I drew this

[ophernelia]

'Cause maybe you wanna just jump in at Season 3 and that's okay too. So, here's a quick synopsis of seasons one and two for each major character. Spoilers below!

Lykaia is a dark fantasy series that stems from one of my gameplay saves. Content warnings can be found here. Season 1 was just meant as a means for me to practice filmmaking. It wasn't too lore heavy or thought out. Somehow it's developed into this. I've made everything up as I've gone. Only taking a real shot at writing a script during season 2.

SEASON 3 OF LYKAIA PREMIERES ON YOUTUBE APRIL 5TH

IMOGEN SUMNER: Quiet and somewhat psychic Imogen moves to Copperdale after her eccentric grandmother dies. She finds out her childhood best friend, Lou, is a lycan. The girl Lou was pursuing prior to Imogen moving to Copperdale, Eloise Tinsley, comes from a family of hunters who take over the town with the help of the mayor. Imogen and Lou develop romantic feelings for one another. The two begin dating the following summer. Lou marks Imogen claiming her as his mate. Imogen helps Lou and his friends (who are also his pack mates) move out of Copperdale to San Francisco once the former becomes too unsafe for them to live in. Season 2 Imogen struggles with fully integrating into the friend group, but ultimately does so successfully. Lou and Imogen quietly get engaged. She aids Lou in helping him find his dad. Upon helping Lou meet his father, Imogen meets her great aunt, the oracle Dodona. Imogen finds out Hattie died after passing her abilities onto Imogen.

LOU HOWELL: Lou is the only child of a physically abusive and neglectful single mother. He was often left to roam outside on his on. This habit is what led to him meeting Imogen. Lou had no knowledge of him being a lycan prior to the first time he shifted as his mother hid it from him. The summer he turned was the same summer that Imogen's grandmother Hattie died. After his first shift his mother kicked him out. With no guidance and no where to go his friends brought him to Rory. Rory took him in and trained him to control his shift. Lou had feelings for Imogen prior to her moving to Copperdale and quickly became enamored with her after her move. In season 2, Lou becomes extremely attached to Imogen and begins to neglect his other friendships. This causes a rift between him and Owen specifically. Lou also decides to search for his father during this time. At the end of season 2, Lou's relationships are mended and he finally meets his father and older sister.

RORY OAKLOW: Rory runs and lives on a campsite in Copperdale that's home to several in-need lycans. She reluctantly decides to take Lou in after he's brought to her by Savannah, William, and Owen. Eventually she comes to think of him as her younger brother. Ultimately, she's pushed out by Eloise Tinsley's family business, Aconitum, as they bulldoze the campsite in order to erect a warehouse for their company. Imogen's family provides Rory with a place to stay. She refuses to be pushed out of Copperdale and bolsters her strength by having her mate, Ceres, join her pack. Pissed off by the events that transpired, Rory digs into Aconitum's dealings by breaking into the mayor's office and stealing sensitive documents. This event ultimately leads to this sector of Aconitum's downfall in season 2. After Ceres' pack is killed, Rory and Ceres get injured during a night out, Rory decides it's too unsafe to stay in Copperdale and moves to SF. The two decide to marry upon moving to SF. In season 2, Rory and Ceres' relationship is turbulent due to his meddlesome sister, Celeste. Rory moves in with Imogen's cousin and Savannah's current girlfriend, Kaila. Ceres and Rory break up briefly but ultimately get back together. Rory steals Kaila from Savannah and enters into a polyamorous relationship with the two. Rory's family comes to visit for the holidays and her mom decides to move to California to be closer to her and her father, whom she has a horrible relationship, does as well. By S2's end, Ceres and Rory marry. The pair are still with Kaila.

OWEN ELLISON: Owen is a background character for the better part of season 1. He plays the role of Lou's loud best friend who will sleep with anything in a mini skirt. He's also the reason Lou shifted early after playfully knocking him off the pier during a full moon. In S1 Owen joins Rory's pack and she takes him through ritual so he is fully able to shift. In season 2, Owen and Lou's friendships becomes strained after Owen develops on a crush on Imogen. He also becomes angry with Lou for the amount of time he spends with Imogen. Mistaking his jealousy as a genuine dislike for the new Lou. Ultimately, Owen comes to terms his feelings and recognizes he in fact is attracted to Lou and not Imogen. He's able to mend his friendship with Lou and Imogen after the realization and begins exploring his sexuality. At the end of S2, Imogen introduces Owen to her new friend, Grey.

SAVANNAH ROBINSON: Savannah also plays a background character for the better part of season 1. She becomes significant when she starts dating Eloise Tinsley as a means to get information out of her. However, Savannah does have genuine feelings for Eloise as they briefly dated prior to Eloise pursuing Lou. Savannah is the catalyst in Eloise's decision to disrupt Aconitum. In S2, Savannah discovers that Eloise tried to rekindle a relationship with Lou while they were together and the pair break up for good. In an attempt to cheer her up, Imogen hooks Savannah up with her cousin, Kaila. Still hurt by the events that transpired, she briefly has a squabble with Imogen after becoming annoyed with her relationship with Lou. The two make up quickly. After Rory moves in with Kaila, Rory tells Savannah of her interest in Kaila. The two briefly compete for Kaila's affection, leading to Kaila cheating on Savannah, but the two split amicably as Savannah decides Kaila isn't worth the effort. By S2's end, Savannah and Eloise mend their friendship and she tricks her friend group into going to visit her. Upon her arrival in Redwater, Savannah meets Eloise's current fling Savannah. Sensing chemistry between each other they decide to remain in contact without Eloise's knowledge.

WILLIAM ROBINSON: William also plays a background character in season 1 and most of season 2. He is the most unproblematic of the group, only getting involved to mediate Owen and Lou's squabble and to support his twin sister, Savannah. In season 1, Will joins Rory's pack and she also takes him through ritual so he is able to shift. (Though Savannah is his twin, female lycans mature faster than males. They're usually able to shift by age 13 while males cannot shift until 20 or so.) In season 2, William is busy happily living in SF. He begins seriously dating another lycan, Indiyah Atwood, while his sister and friends are busy with their drama. By S2's end, William decides to take his relationship a step further with Indiyah and take her as a mate.

ELOISE TINSLEY: In season 1, Eloise attempts to date Lou and is ultimately turned down and dropped when Imogen comes to town. Out of disdain for her and Lou, she doesn't tell him about her father's plans to take over the campsite. Shunned by the friend group for this, Eloise decides she wants to ruin her father's business. By S1's end, Eloise becomes a full fledged hunter and joins her father on his endeavor to alleviate Copperdale of it's lycan problem. Though Eloise has ulterior motives the entire time and only wishes to see how the company works in order to sabotage it later. In season 2, with most of the lycans gone from Copperdale, Aconitum begins to fail. This causes a severe rift between her father and Mayor Tarentino. Eloise influences her father to question her grandfather's capabilities in deciding how profitable a sector is going to be. After going away to college and dating a new guy, Eloise decides it's time to report her father and Tarentino to the feds. Eventually an investigation transpires which forces Copperdale's mayor to step down and Eloise's father to shut down his sector. Eloise's grandfather, Arenthal, joins them in Copperdale to help fix the situation. After pissing off the mayor, Eloise's family is forced into hiding and they move to Redwater, Texas. By S2's end, Eloise has to rescue her father and her mother from Mayor Tarentino and his partner, Vasily. Eloise is only able to save her father in time and her mother is killed. She develops a close friendship with AJ, Lou's sister, and the two move in together. Though their friendship is disrupted when Lou and Imogen come to town.

#lykaia #LYKAIA TLDR #text post #baby.. this was alot to write LAWD

[yonemurishiroku]

2nd Gen but Nico’s child is a mortal girl he picked up on the street who, due to the ability to see through the Mist, ended up being outcasted and abandoned by mortals. He taught her everything about the Mythological world and also how to defend herself. She later became the Oracle. A tough one, at that.

#yone rambling #i can go on and on w this

[theangrycomet-art]

Sonic Underground: Amy and Ambrose

I'm still not 100% sure on the direction I wanna go with Amy but I know I want her here somehow

Ambrose is Amy's older sibling/brother/sister and eventual guardian after their parents were arrested and roboticized for "treason" (hey if sonic

COMMISSIONS OPENED

Kofi

Notes:

Amy

13

Not sure which'll be Amy's final look outfitwise, but physically she's gonna look more like the first shot

parents were robotocized when she was 7 for the illegal use of Magic

met Sonic Underground after attending one of their impromptu concerts by the guidance of her cards

became a huge fan (especially of Sonic)

though not a part of the resistance officially yet, she does her best to help their cause

her Piko hammer is summoned through her cards (which serve as a hammerspace)

unfortunately, since the rest of her deck got destroyed during an encounter with swatbots she can only use the storage for her piko hammer or items like it (think like homestuck)

Ambrose

20, they/them

skilled tarot card reader, though his main source of income is as a magician hired to entertain whatever aristocrats' willing to pay

low-level prophet, doesn't get visions so much as "gut feelings" and being drawn to places/events

speaks in rhyme 95% of the time

this isn't a conscious decision, so much as habit

has been in charge of Amy since their parents were taken away

NOT a part of the resistance but stayed at the Sanctuary with Amy for a long time

agile but not very strong

mysterious/aloof with strangers but very openly affectionate with their little sister

they were more open in their youth, but the Robotnik's rule they've closed up and become more prickly

Quill band is an artifact from their mother- it helps enhance their senses and allows for "clarity" in their readings

Roses Family

long line of Readers (a sub-type of Oracles), though recent generations have had a severe power drop

the Thorned Rose Tarot deck is family heirloom

the readings from these cards ALWAYS come to pass, but it is up to the Reader to interpret them correctly

a Rose's regular cards are crafted by a child's parents/guardians and gifted to them on their 10th birthday

the longer the Rose uses these cards the stronger/more accurate they are

#Sonic #Sonic Underground #Ambrose Rose #Amy Rose #Amy the Hedgehog #Sonic OC #STH #TheAngryComet ART #Character Redesign #Character Design #Underground Rewrite #Sonic Underground Reprise #If Sonic can get extra siblings so can Amy #fan relatives #expanding the family tree #Character Sheet #furry art

[rawliverandgoronspice]

What's your ranking for favorite iterations of zelda characters??

thanks for the ask!! much appreciated <3

hmmm... if we're talking proper list, I think it would go like this:

Link

Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask/TP (he's just very. he went through a lot ok ;;)

Hero of the Wind, so WW/PH (love how expressive and aggressively brave he is at all times)

Twilight Princess (I don't know I just really like this grassroot countryboy who cares deeply for his folks, I love his quiet and purposeful Strongman Stance, and Midna allows him to shine a lot by being the voice to his silent disapproval, very fun dynamic these two share)

Hero of the Wild, BotW/TotK (he's a gremlin of improvisation and raw brute nerve, which is honestly very funny, and I kind of like the very rare glimpses of characterization we get through the other characters)

Skyward Sword Link (he's just. I know we throw himbo around a lot, but, genuinely, he looks so. content, all of the time)

Spirit Tracks Link (I haven't played the game unfortunately, but I always like Toon Link's expressiveness)

Minish Cap Link (I'm biased I played this game a lot when I was a child)

Link's Awakening Link (I know it's the same Link as another one but I can't remember which --anyway what a trip bro)

A Link to the Past Link (love the tuft of pink whatever in his hair)

A Link Between Worlds Link (I don't dislike him he just doesn't really have a ton of character from what I remember)

CDI Link (do I need to say more)

Oracles Link (I never finished these games u_u)

Other Links I have not played as (so Four Sword and FSA, and Zelda 1 and 2 --I have played Zelda 1 a bit, but, you know)

Cartoon Link (leave Zelda alone I'm begging you)

Zelda

OoT Zelda (she's so interestinggggggg what is WRONG with you girlboy guy plagued with nightmares and a pathologic guilty urge to make sure everything is correct and just and right)

WW/PH Tetra (she's so cool!! I wish we would get to do more adventures with her, but conceptually I think she's really great)

Spirit Tracks Zelda (she's just a fun time and we get to do stuff with her and that's amazing. love her!)

Skyward Sword Zelda (bittersweet stuff. I wish she was more of herself tbh, and less in a crystal, but she's cool)

Zelda of the Wild (if she was not thrown into the garbage bin in TotK in terms of character arc, she'd be under OoT Zelda I think)

TP Zelda (love her somber resignation and quiet resilience, and whatever is going on between her and Midna)

Minish Cap Zelda (she's just really cute)

A Link To The Past Zelda (she's... there, but the sequences she's connected to are very memorable)

(genuinely cannot remember whether she is in the Oracle Games?? it's been a hot while)

A Link Between World (for everything I like about the game, it's a shame she's barely a character in it tbh)

CDI Zelda (she's a *savage*)

Cartoon Zelda (much prefer her to Link!!)

Other Zeldas I have not played and do not know that much about

Ganon(dorf)

Wind Waker Ganondorf (yeah)

Twilight Princess Ganondorf (okay I know it's pretty controversial to put him above OoT, especially since he's barely in the game and perhaps shouldn't have been, but I *cannot* resist his arthouse swagger and understated/probably-not-actually-there tragedy. If that helps, they're both on the exact same level, and they're the same guy anyway!)

OoT Ganondorf (the one and only --wish the game was less Like This re: everything gerudo, but he's just iconic and a king and we love him so much. My favorite iteration to ponder upon --I'm mostly commenting regarding in-game execution)

BotW Ganon (okay this one is even Worse in terms of placement justification, but I just. It's the fact that malice is being called "rancor" in French, and just how fundamental and "part of the natural world" his hatred became. I think it's great subtle worldbuilding and it just works for me)

TotK Ganondorf (looking fly, being as internally incoherent as humanely possible (derogatory), punching spines, and! having genuinely cool and thrilling moments and a really fun final battle in spite of The Mess)

A Link to the Past Ganon (he's just creepy and overwhelming in a really cool way, he actually made me feel pretty uneasy and powerless as a kid)

Oracle Games (now that's just fucked up, really bad morning alarm clock rang too early also my moms died for this bullshit kind of energy)

Cadence of Hyrule (I know including that game is pushing it but little guy!!!!!!! he's such a little guy!!!!!! with his little organ!!!!!!!!!!! i love he;;;;)

FSA Ganondorf (I hear he's cool but I unfortunately never played the game myself, and I should really look into it)

A Link Between World Yuganon (can you imagine trying to fight for the ultimate agency, and then failing and then being used as a vessel for other shitty wizards without any regard for who you were and what you were trying to achieve isn't that messed up kind of unfortunately talking about ganon without getting sad is an impossible feat to me)

love both CDI and Cartoon Ganon, they're great and strangely goopy in their own way and I appreciate them very much for their contributions to the Culture

I think he's there in Four Swords??? okay

Impa

Skyward Sword Impa (I like her behavior and her commitment, and her design, both old and young, is the best she's ever had imo)

Ocarina of Time Impa (she's *barely* in that game honestly. And Yet. your influence. your secrets. your buffness also not gonna lie.)

Hyrule Warriors Impa (just realized I did not put HW Ganondorf/Zelda/Link in the list, but I haven't spent enough time with them to have strong opinions honestly --but Impa being a strong general fighting the hard battles is a weak spot of mine u_u)

BotW/TotK Impa (I love grandma Impa!!! love her little roadtrip in TotK, wish it had been expanded upon and she had been more involved in the Zelda search, but. not so fun fact but I cannot stand the design of her young version in Age of Calamity --she looks so generically moe it's borderline unforgivable, what is up!! with all the nothing dollface sheikah babes!! honestly!!!)

I like all the old women Impas --but I'm kind of craving another, slightly edgier take on the character again honestly

and that's it I think!!! thanks for asking!!!

#asks #thoughts #zelda #impa #ganondorf #link #thanks for the ask!!! #turns out. making lists is a good distraction #so thank you!!!