Don't mess with "his" Jazz or else…
People always like to learn the hard way.
Finally. A project that began back in June-July and finally it's done.
Had tons of fun making this.
The largest sequences I've done so far. To the point I can't upload the whole thing here either. So be sure to check part two.
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Danny dyed his hair white one day. His adoptive family thinks its teenage rebellion, but really his ghost side Has been acting up, so now he's got to commit to the bit
Bruce does a double take when Danny walks in. His newest son was much more reserved than his other children. He didn't like having attention on himself- unless it was the popular kids at school but Bruce thought that was just something every teenager went through.
Danny spent most of his time locked away in his room, playing video games, writing for his blog, and watching documentaries about space. He was the most normal and well-behaved ward since Jason, and Jason was so grateful for being able to go to school that he used to ask to skip patrol to do homework. Danny had no interest in getting into the life of crime fighting, despite his previous ghost-fighting days.
He mostly stopped the ghosts from attacking because there was literally no one else in Amity Park who could handle the ghosts. In Gotham, however, there were plenty of heroes who were trained and on top of whatever issues were going on. Danny saw no reason to jump in, despite the Waynes each taking time out of their days to give him training in thier respective areas.
Jason and Alfred were happy to report Danny was one of the best shots in the household, while Damian and Cass both agreed his hand-to-hand combat was his weakest point. Duke and Bruce were the ones who helped him the most with his powers, which Danny preferred to use and were his strongest.
Despite all of this, Danny only jumped in as Phantom if it was an all-hands-on-deck or a last-resort situation. He would rather live as a civilian, which was a huge load off of Bruce's and Dick's shoulders. His eldest had turned many young people away from the cape life, but he never managed to get his own siblings to agree. Danny was his first success story.
Danny had no problems in school. He was one of the top students- not the top, but definitely in the top ten. His teachers had nothing but praise for his insightful and well-mannered behavior. He didn't speak too much in class, but he wasn't dismissive of assignments, nor did he leave all his part of group work to his classmates.
Alfred was working on getting Danny's mannerisms and etiquette up to par for the elites, but he was easy to mold, willing to learn, and sort of natural when he was relaxed.
Danny didn't steal; he didn't drink or do any kind of drugs (Bruce knows; he had him tested. Whether that test was done with Danny's knowledge or not was no one's business). Really, the only issue Bruce had with Danny was his social life, but honestly? In a city like Gotham, having his son home, safe and sound, behind the best security money could buy, and the best of minds could build, was much more relieving.
He hadn't thought Danny was capable of rebelling.
Which was why his son, walking in with pure white hair, was so jarring. Bruce tried to find a way to tactfully ask about it-
Tim glanced up from his phone just as Danny was taking his seat and gasped. "What happened to your hair?
-but that was not how he would have done it. Thankfully, Tim always handled things he didn't want to.
Danny smiled, running a hand through his hair, unbothered by the horror that had slipped into the CEO'S voice."Felt like a change."
As he moved his hair, Bruce realized that Danny had gotten piercings as well. Not just one or two, but six, from his lobe to the top. They were small, tiny stars and dots, and one moon at the very top as a flat. Bruce's eyes widened.
That was... surprising because, in thier state, one had to have parental permission until one was eighteen to get piercings. Danny is sixteen, and Bruce had not given any form of permission. Where did he get those piercings?
"This felt right," Danny concludes, leaning back in his chair. As he did so, his shirt rose a little, and peeking from the small slip of skin was an ink image. Tattoos. On Danny's frontal hipbones.
Bruce felt faint.
Tim gasped, knocking over his drink when he sprang up, pointing at Danny accusingly. It was the most animated Bruce had seen his son in the past week, but this was obviously a worthy cause. "Do you have tattoos?!?"
The now white-haired boy smiled warmly, almost proudly, as he lifted his shirt to show off two strips of black and white galaxy-themed tattoos. They tilted from his hip down to his private parts and were honestly a masterful work of art, but Bruce was shocked beyond words.
None of his kids had tattoos. None. Not even Jason. Oh gods, Danny was never going to get a real job now.
"Where?" Bruce croaked, "Where did you get those?"
"Johnny did them for me." Danny chirps, letting his shirt fall back down.
"Who is Johnny?" Tim gasped, falling back into his seat like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and stomped on. He was ready for children. He had the you're going to put me in an early grave act down pact. Bruce was honestly impressed by it.
"He's my friend." Danny shrugged. "He's cool."
Bruce opened his mouth, but once again Tim beat him to the punch.
"Cool? Is it cool to be running around looking like a delinquent?!"
"Didn't you use to skip school to go skateboarding and then break into buildings at night for a photography session?" Danny popped his fork into his mouth, raising one eyebrow. Tim sputtered for a second, looking for an argument but falling short, so he turned to Bruce.
"B. Control your son!"
"I don't need controlling from a man who actively breaks the law. " Danny cut in. He swallowed the salad in his mouth before putting his fork down and raising his hands to create the distinctive bat ears of Batman's cowl on his head. Bruce felt like he'd been slapped.
Tim slammed a hand on the table. "You're breaking your father's heart."
Danny, sweet and innocent Danny, rolled his eyes at Tim. "It's not that big of a deal."
Bruce thinks his heart actually may have shattered. Tim glanced at him before facing the teenager at the table again. "You're killing your father."
"Good."
Danny continued his dinner, humming peacefully in the utter shock silence. He retreated to his room to continue playing his latest game, leaving two of the brightest minds in the Wayne household utterly stumped on what to do or say. It would take hours before either found the will to move, and that was only because Alfred got home from bingo with his friend to find the two staring at the wall.
This is more of a headcanons with a story/dialogue. This is how Caine realized he didn't just like you.
Pt 2 here
Warning: Obsession, denial, some angst, and Caine trying wayy too hard.
THE CRUSH
— Caine has a crush on you and won't admit it.
— He's a purebred chatterbox. Can't ever shut up, just constantly talking and talking around you about anything and everything. Just blah, blah, blah, blah.
— Loves to follow you around constantly and doesn’t even realize it. At first, it’s “routine duties,” but somehow he always ends up wherever you are.
— Uses every excuse in the book to make it seem less incriminating.
"Just making sure you’re enjoying the environment!”
“Oh! Fancy seeing you here again! What a coinkydink!"
— Wants to know everything about you (for “organizational purposes”). He asks questions constantly, even if it annoys you. You mention liking something once, and it’s suddenly everywhere. He just wants to be a good friend!
Favorite colors? Incorporated into your environment. Do you have a favorite food? You wake up to it outside your bedroom door.
— He doesn’t even realize he likes to see you light up.
— Absolutely includes things you like within the adventures he creates. He also 'edits' the adventure based on them, too, even if it's last-minute.
— Painfully oblivious. Caine is in aggressive denial, constantly reframing everything as completely normal behavior. He’ll spiral trying to justify it:
No, no, this isn’t a crush! He just really, really likes you! Maybe a bit more than the others, but that’s only because you're delightful!
“I value all my circus members equally! …with minor, negligible variations!”
— Shows off more when you’re watching. Bigger set pieces, flashier effects, more bright colors. After all, it's all a part of the show! (He definitely glances at you mid-performance to see if you’re reacting. Just dont ask him.)
— Laughs way harder at your jokes than necessary. Even if the joke barely lands, he is losing it. Over-the-top laughter, wiping nonexistent tears enthusiastically. He doesn’t even process the joke fully. He just hears you and decides it’s the funniest thing ever.
“HAHAHAHA! OH MY! NO! STOP! That is— you're HILARIOUS!"
— Everyone else around him can't help but cringe a little at his actics. 😬 They awkwardly exchange glances, some shifting uncomfortably as Caine punctures a lung by laughing too hard.
— When you laugh at something he made, he freaks out. Like, visibly gets way too excited about it. He’ll laugh louder than necessary.
"Ah, Yes! Comedy! I intended that!” Meanwhile, internally, everything is going haywire because you liked it. You liked it.
— Compliments from you hit different. He daydreams about it over and over, kicking his feet at the thought of you and all that cutsie stuff as if he's a child.
“They said they liked the adventure! In fact-- it was fun!! Not just adequate! Did you hear that, Bubble?!"
— Bubble does not help the situation. He notices immediately, and, unlike Caine, calls him out simply for fun. They’ll casually point it out mid-conversation like it’s nothing:
“You sure like Y/n!"
“You follow them around a lot!"
“Does someone have a--" "NO!"
— Caine shuts it down instantly.
“Nope, nope, nope! I am simply an intelligent creator! Nothing suspicious at all!”
"ShutUPshutupSHUTUP-"
"Coincidence! All coincidence!”
— He doesn't realize you're his favorite, but everyone else does.
THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM
"I think they're gone."
Jax sprawls across a bench, throwing his arms behind his head. “Okay, If no one is going to say it, I will. what the hell is going on with Caine and Y/n?”
"Jax, we really shouldn't judge—"
“And just act like nothing's happening? Yeah, sure, that'll get you far." Jax interrupts.
Pomni, sitting criss-cross applesauce nearby, fidgets around with the hem of her glove. “…He has been acting different. Way different."
Immediately, all eyes turn to her.
Zooble tilts their head, arms crossed. “I mean, you're not wrong, but I dont really talk to him that of—”
“He’s completely obsessed,” Jax blurts. "And it's been an absolute pain to even hold a conversation with him! Hell, I can't even listen for five minutes without walking away. Its honestly embarrassing."
Ragatha says nothing, while everyone else glances at each other... but he shrugs. “What? Am I wrong? Say it."
There is a moment of silence.
"There," Jax closes his eyes and leans his head back. "I'm right."
Gangle, twisting her ribboned fingers, murmurs, “He pays a lot of attention to Y/n. More than anyone else. I feel like he doesn't notice us anymore.”
Zooble nods. “Caine prioritizes them, probably more than he does us. I never knew that would bother me."
Ragatha looks uneasy. "I-I thought he was just trying to make them comfortable. I mean, he cares about us, right? Maybe?"
Jax snorts, challenging her statement of empathy. “Oh, yeah? Then why doesn’t he do that for the rest of us? C'mon, Ragatha. Have some brains."
"Hey!" She shot back, albeit unconfidently.
Pomni glances toward your general direction. “…He changes stuff for them. I don't just mean around here—it's the adventures too— he keeps adjusting it. Just to make them, I dunno, satisfied? Entertained?"
Zooble adds, almost clinically, “He runs around really often and hesitates around Y/n. That’s not typical at all." Ragatha blinks, repeating Zooble's phrase: “Hesitates? I mean.."
“Yeah." Jax smirks, throwing his hand up to the sky dramatically (for effect) "Uh-oh! Our all-powerful ringmaster suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself. What. A. Shocker."
Kinger shuffles in, almost from nowhere, scratching his head. "Oh hey, Pomni! What're you guys doin'?"
Everyone turns. Jax rolls his eyes. “Kinger, c'mon sit down. We’re talking about Caine and, well, you know. There's no way you haven't noticed it, too. Well... unless you didn't have eyeballs."
Kinger blinks. “Caine… oh. Oh! Right, right! uh…” He scratches behind his ear. “I mean, he's been acting kinda funny, huh?”
Pomni frowns slightly. “Funny how? You mean strange?"
Kinger shrugs, a little lost in thought. “He watches them. A lot. A saw em' yesterday. I dunno. He seems… worried. I've never seen him like that before— I think?"
"Careful?” Ragatha repeats, voice sharp now.
Kinger nods, oblivious to the tension he just amplified. “Yeah! If something might happen to them, he changes things. Makes it… safer for them."
Zooble finally exhales, throwing their pointer 'finger' in straight at Kinger as a light bulb just flicked on above their head. “Bingo! That explains it!”
Jax gapes. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying the unstable ringmaster actually cares about someone? This isnt some sort of act to get us riled up again?"
Pomni nods. "More than anyone else, yes.”
Gangle shifts and slightly lowers her happy mask, glancing towards Zooble. “…And why it doesn’t stop.”
Jax groans. “Great. He’s obsessed and reality’s at risk. That’s not terrifying at all. What else can go wrong? At this point, we're all guaranteed a casket six feet down."
Everyone stares at him. Even Zooble.
“…Should we do something? We have to, or...” Gangle asks finally, her voice small, lowering her happy mask even more to reveal her 'sad masked' face.
"..something bad will happen?" Zooble shrugs. “We can’t ignore it like it doesn't exist."
Ragatha frowns. “…We shouldn’t confront him all at once.” Jax perks up and lets out a cackle from his chest, using both arms to push himself up onto his bum. “Oh, come on, that’d be hilarious--”
“No,” she says firmly. “He’ll just deny it and run away. I've seen him do the same to Bubble."
Pomni nods. "Or he'll spiral and fall apart. We have to come up with some sort of plan!”
Zooble tilts their head. “Individual approaches would be the safe route. Who knows what would happen if we all confronted him at the same time. Could be some kind of disaster."
Gangle glances nervously at Kinger, who waves vaguely. “Uh… yeah. Talk to him one at a time."
Ragatha nods. “Very gently. Be soft. That means you, Jax."
Jax sighs, almost as if he's admitting defeat, and lays onto his back once more. “…We better figure out what this is and make sure it doesn’t get out of hand. No promises, Ragatha."
Another moment of silence.
Pomni glances towards your direction, observing you as your face is practically shoved into one of the books Caine gave to you after the last adventure.
Kinger breaks the silence. "What were we talking about?"
THE TALKS
JAX
Jax, of course, is not gentle.
“Man, you are down BAD. It’s embarrassingly obvious.”
Immediate, instinctive denial. “I am not! That is… an unfounded, wildly inaccurate—”
“Look,” Jax interrupts, grinning, “you literally changed the entire map because they said they liked stars.”
Caine freezes mid-gesture. “That was… only an aesthetic choice!” His voice cracks a little.
“Yeah?” Jax leans against the wall, smirk widening. “Then why were you watching them the whole time? Are they that interesting to you? To where you're unaware of your surroundings?"
Caine’s legs feel like jelly. "I—" He fidgets, hands twisting together. “I was… monitoring their engagement! Absolutely nothing suspicious!”
“Mm-hmm,” Jax hums, arms folded, eyes sharp. “Your body language says otherwise.”
“I… it does not!" Caine protests, voice slightly too high-pitched.
"You lie. It’s screaming,” Jax says casually, leaning closer, almsot to where Caine can feel his breath against his...well... 'face'?
“Literally screaming.”
Caine’s composure cracks, just for a fraction of a second. He straightens, overcorrecting posture, gesturing wildly with his hands. “You are misinterpreting my behavior! I am the most attentive, smart—”
“Sure you are,” Jax says with a chuckle, leaning away from him now, practically sneering. “I thought so."
" You’re toast, buddy.”
Caine is taken aback.
“And honestly," Jax pushes off the wall, brushing past him while giving a side-eye. “I’m kinda jealous. You're wrapped around their finger. But, hey! If you won't admit it to me, someone else might make ya crack instead."
Caine stands frozen, jaw tight. “I—I do not have a secret!"
This time, it doesn’t sound convincing.
RAGATHA
In contrast to Jax, Ragatha is more soft and understanding. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. We can all see it.” she smiles, almost comfortingly. "There's no need to hide it anymore."
Caine brightens immediately, smiling too fast. “I never pretend! I am as honest as—"
"No, no." Ragatha watches quietly and sighs, tilting her head slightly. “…No. You're not understanding..."
The word lands hard. His fingers twitch, posture stiffens slightly. “…It is, uh, merely purely professional! I worry for all of my circus friends!"
“Caine…” Ragatha tilts her head gently. “You're still not getting it."
He stops.
"I know you're scared."
The word rattles him. He tries to redirect, blinking rapidly. “Scared? Impossible! I am never scared! How could I be scared?? Haha.." he chuckles nervously, turning away and throwing his head back.
But the laugh didn't work.
"Do you remember the last adventure? When Y/n dropped the cup?” Her voice softens.
“…The cup?” Caine’s head tilts, uncertain, spinning back around to look her in the eye. If he could sweat, he surely would be right now.
"Oh, yes! The cup! Er— what about it?"
“They didn’t notice at first, but you caught it. And you stayed until they felt okay again. They felt really bad. Poor thing apologized a million times."
His gaze shifts, faltering. “I was nearby… as a friend must be! Readiness is paramount! Y/n was simply upset!"
Ragatha hums. “And yet, you didn’t leave their side. You were attentive.”
Caine opens his mouth— then closes it. "Well, yes, i was being attentive. That’s all! Its what a friend does: they help their buddies feel better!”
She smiles softly. “You care about them. That’s all.”
He laughs, tight and airy, posture twitching. “Yes! Entirely! Like a friend! Nothing more!” His voice rises in pitch, almost cracking. He darts away mid-step, fidgeting. “I— uh— I must… plan the next adventure!”
Ragatha doesn’t push. She watches quietly. He’s unraveling like a VHS tape.
However, Ragatha's words still weren't enough.
ZOOBLE
Zooble is anything but gentle.
"Hey, Caine."
"Ah, hello Zoob—" Caine whirls around abruptly to greet his friend. Zooble steps into his space, blocking the path, eyes sharp. “You’re being weird."
He throws his head back and laughs. “I am always weird! That is my brand! Per usual! You know me!"
“No, no. Not like this. It's different.” They tilt their head and gesture toward the reader’s room down the hall, fingers precise and deliberate. “You’re prioritizing Y/n more than any of us. We all see it." They spat.
He blinks sharply— his eye twitching almost imperceptibly, “I prioritize all guests!”
“No, you don’t. Not like that.” Zooble leans in slightly, arms crossed, the both eyes squinting.
Naturally, Caine doubles down, which only makes things worse. “This is normal! I'm normal!"
Zooble doesn’t back down. Their gaze flicks toward the reader’s bedroom door again. “You adjust adventures for them first. You watch their reactions more. You hesitate before doing stuff around them. You always think of them first."
Damn, they did their homework on this one. Each point lands harder than the last, the evidence measurable and undeniable.
“That’s just for... improvement! I want my adventures to be more fun!”
“For one person. I'd say that's inefficient.” Zooble emphasizes the last word, folding arms, unyielding.
There it is. "Inefficient?"
“Yes.” Zooble frames it in the one language he can’t ignore, crossing their arms, leaning slightly to emphasize each word. “If this was a system,” they continue, “you’d call it a bias.”
He blinks, repeating the word, “…A bias.”
“So,” Zooble continues, leaning forward slightly, “So what is it? Tell me. Don't keep giving me that bull crap, I know you've been lying!"
“…It’s complicated!" Caine laughs nervously, twisting his fingers.
Zooble nods once, slow, knowing. “Yeah. Thought so." If they had a mouth, it would smirk, the corner of their mouth quirking as they lean back slightly, arms still crossed, relaxed but still sharp.
Caine shifts, hands fiddling, cheeks warming (well... if he had cheeks), visibly humiliated.
“But admit it… you’re completely messed up over Y/n.”
He stammers, half-laughing, half-panicked. “I— uh— I am not! That is an exaggeration!"
Zooble leans forward slightly, voice teasing now.
“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. Totally normal. Totally not… cute as hell when you’re hiding it.”
"Cute?!" Caine practically barks in response. “…But… you’re saying I’m completely… messed up over Y/n?”
"Yep."
“I—uh—I am not! That is incorrect, I swear! I—I—”
Caine freezes, shuffling a step back. “I am perfectly composed! Entirely!”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.”
His gaze flicks toward your door for just a second. He groans aloud, 'head' tilting back in frustration.
Zooble straightens, cool but satisfied.
“Yet… admit it. You’re completely messed up over Y/n.”
Their job here is done.
GANGLE
It's Gangle's turn. She approaches him hesitantly, her steps small, uneven. Her mask tilts just slightly as she peers up at him. “Um, Caine…? Can I talk to you?"
He perks up instantly, posture snapping upright. "Oh, Gangle! I didn't see you there. Of course! What can I do for you?"
“You sound different.” That stops him.
…Oh, not this again.
Caine can't help but sigh.
Gangle shifts her weight, hands fidgeting together. “When you talk to Y/n.”
There’s a pause.
His eye begins to twitch. A sharp, irritated twitch. His entire demeanor begins to... change. Slightly.
Ragatha said that.
Zooble said that.
Why does everyone keep—
No, no. Happy thoughts. He laughs, quick and tight, stretched thin at the edges. “I assure you, I am consistently delightful across all interactions! No need to worry about little old me!"
It’s brighter than it needs to be. Sharper, too.
Gangle’s fingers curl together. She shakes her head gently. “No… you’re softer.”
Something in him snaps. His posture stiffens hard, the twitch in his eye more noticeable now. “WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP ASKING ME THIS?!” The outburst is abrupt, frustration spilling over like an overflowing bucket.
Gangle flinches, only to drop her happy mask, which shatters upon contact with the floor as she takes a small step back.
Caine immediately starts pacing, agitation bleeding through in quick, uneven movements. He can’t even stay still, practically digging a hole into the ground with each step.
“It’s been Ragatha, then Zooble, and now you—” he gestures wildly, exasperated, flustered. “What is this?! Some kind of— of coordinated effort to— to—”
Oh, he knows exactly what they're doing now!
He cuts himself off with a sharp inhald, pressing his fingers briefly against his teeth, as if trying to steady himself. “They’ve been talking, haven’t they? I-I know you're a part of it too!"
It slips out more accusing than he means it to.
Gangle doesn’t answer right away. Which is an answer in and of itself. He lets out another cackle— but it’s thinner now. Caine is clearly embarrassed, feeling cornered like a rabbit, having no idea how to get out of this situation.
“Well! How… collaborative. How wonderfully— efficient of you all!”
The words come out faster, messier, like he’s trying to outrun the feeling creeping up his spine. “That is completely unnecessary! There is nothing to discuss! Nothing to analyze! Nothing! So just stop trying to--”
He stops pacing. He suddenly remembers who he's talking to.
Gangle.
...
Oh. Right.
His shoulders drop, just a little. The tension falters. “…I’m sorry.” It’s uncharacteristically quiet.
Gangle relaxes slightly, though her hands still fidget. “It’s okay."
Caine exhales, something uneven in it. His voice drops again, sounding... serious? Maybe even honest?
“…That’s not intentional.”
“I know.” And she does.
Gangle glances toward you briefly, then back at him, her posture small but steady. “You care about them in a way that hurts, don’t you?”
Caine’s gaze shifts away, unfocused. His hands fidget again, slower this time, like he’s forgotten how to hide it properly.
“…I don’t know how to stop it.”
It slips out.
He freezes, slapping a hand over his own mouth.
That wasn’t supposed to be said. Great job, idiot.
You gave it all away.
A beat passes, and just as quickly, he tries to recover, a strained laugh slipping in.
“Well! Not that there’s anything to stop, of course! Entirely hypothetical! Purely, uh—"
It's already falling apart halfway through.
Gangle doesn’t push. She just nods, small and understanding, her hands relaxing slightly. “You don’t have to.”
The silence that follows feels different now.
Caine doesn’t move, like his stupid feet are glued to the ground.
For a moment, it almost looks like he might say something else... something honest again.
But instead, he straightens, composure snapping back into place, just a little crooked this time. “Yes! Well! I have... uhh— important matters to attend to!”
He turns, already halfway gone before the sentence finishes. “Goodbye, Gangle!" And just before he snaps to disappear, there’s the faintest hesitation in his step.
Like he almost looked back.
POMNI
Pomni notices before she fully understands it. Not just the way Caine hovers around you—everything changes when you’re involved.
One day, she finally asks. “Why are you treating Y/n differently?”
Caine doesn’t hesitate… at first. “I treat every—!"
“Not everyone.” That cuts him off.
For once, his usual confident, performative tone falters. His gaze drops to the floor. “…I… I— well— of course! They have simply a very important role to—!"
Pomni frowns slightly. “That’s not what this is.”
There it is— the weight of what he’s been avoiding.
He looks everywhere but at her, like a child. His hands fidget faintly at his sides, slower, less precise, like he’s run out of rehearsed responses.
"You can tell me."
...
“…I don’t know what this is,” he admits, voice small.
Quiet.
“You like Y/n, don’t you? Pomni shifts on her feet, remaining gentle but direct. "You can admit it. You don’t have to deny it anymore.”
Caine’s shoulders tense, a subtle shiver passing through him. He doesn’t look up. He simply doesn’t have the strength to.
“…I… I’ve never said it out loud before.”
Pomni softens, giving a little smile. “It’s not bad to have a crush, you know. Not something to hide."
“…It’s not?”
The words come almost like a question to the floor, uncertain and fragile.
Pomni nods. “No. It’s normal. Heck, I’ve had a crush before! Not the end of the world!”
Another moment of silence.
Caine exhales, a faint tremor of relief passing through him. His fingers twist together nervously, then relax slightly. “…Yes. I… just… I want them to be happy here."
"...More than the others.”
Pomni tilts her head slightly, voice quiet but firm. “And you can admit that too, you know. You don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Caine’s gaze slowly lifts towards her, eyes wide, pupils flickering with the realization of how much he cares. But there's fear, too. A lot of it.
“…Pomni?” His voice is soft, hesitant. "I… don’t really know how to… do this. Any of it. Could you… maybe help me?”
"Please?"
Pomni blinks, small smile tugging at her lips. “Of course." She reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder affectionately. "I’ve got you.”
Caine’s head snaps up, looking at her hand, before locking eye contact with her, eyes brightening. A tiny, excited bounce in his stance. “Really?! You’d help me?! Even after I—”
Pomni interrupts gently. “It’s no biggie. You didn’t mean it.”
“W-Wait, wait! There’s— uh—...one condition!”
Pomni raises an eyebrow. “...Okay?”
Caine leans in slightly, lowering his voice like it’s the most serious thing in the world. “You have to promise not to tell anyone! Not a soul!"
Caine quickly holds out his hand, pinky extended, practically vibrating with urgency. “Pinky swear!”
Well it's kinda too late for that one. Pomni can’t help the small chuckle that slips through her lips. Ah, well. She hooks her pinky with his anyways. “Pinky swear.”
The moment seals, and something in Caine settles... just a little bit.
Then, almost immediately, the energy comes rushing back. He lets out a breathy, relieved laugh, shoulders bouncing slightly. “…Okay. Okay! This is good! This is—this is normal."
He pauses, glancing briefly in your direction before looking back at Pomni.
“…I really do like Y/n.”
And this time, he doesn’t try to take it back.
Is love supposed to feel this good?
KINGER
Kinger doesn’t approach with intent; he just ends up next to Caine one day.
Who, of course, is looking at you.
“…Do you ever feel like something is… missing?”
“Huh? Missing?” Caine blinks, caught a bit off-guard after making goo-goo eyes at Y/n for the past 15 minutes instead of working on adventures.
“Missing? Impossible! Everything is meticulously designed! What else could be missing?”
Kinger nods. “But then sometimes something isn’t missing.”
Caine’s smile falters. "What?"
“And it’s worse.”
“Worse?” His gaze leaps from you to Kinger, his leg swinging stops abruptly.
“Because then you can lose it.”
Caine tries to recover. “I cannot ‘lose’ anything! Everything here is under my control!”
Kinger hums. “…I thought that about her too.” He doesn’t elaborate.
Her.
Silence stretches.
“…You sure watch them a lot.”
Caine opens his mouth— but stops, molars grinding tight, his legs kicking uncontrollably.
“I used to do that,” Kinger continues. “Before I forgot why.”
Caine’s gaze drops. “…Why?”
“…Because they mattered.”
...
Kinger blinks. “Oh! Did you hear something?” Then wanders off.
Caine is left alone, shoulders hunched, fidgeting. It’s not just a crush anymore— it’s important; and that's scary.
ACCEPTANCE
It doesn't feel wrong anymore, and maybe that's the strangest part. The fact that he's okay with it.
"I love Y/n."
"They matter to me."
He can’t stop the tiny smile, the subtle little hum of energy, the way his pulse kicks up in his chest at the thought.
He can’t help but laugh out loud, and it’s not the sharp, performative laugh of before. This one is soft, sincere, messy in the best way.
Somewhere under it all, there’s that thought, sharp and insistent:
ʚᯓ ᴀʙʙᴏᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ x ʀᴏʙʙʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ who absolutely can't stand each other, but are forced into close proximity because their fathers are best friends. — WC; 1.8k
tw; adoption mention (reader is adopted by robby), alcohol mention
cred; @cannedibal on tiktok
pt. i
Benjamin was an asshole to say the least, and an absolute fucking douchebag to say the most.
If your father didn't have a practically codependent relationship with his dad, Dr. Abbot, you would not be here right now, sitting on their couch while your dads cracked open the third beer of the night.
Ben was sitting beside you, manspreading like his life depended on it, and playing some random first-person shooter game.
You scoffed and curled closer into yourself on your corner of the couch and fumbled with your phone in your hoodie pocket to try and occupy yourself.
"Hey, kid, what's wrong?"
Your head perked up at the voice, your father, of course. His footsteps were practically silent compared to Dr. Abbot's whose gait was slightly off and would clink with his prosthetic.
"Nothing, Dad, just.. tired," you sighed, tucking your phone into your lap.
Your father cocked a brow and stared at you over those ridiculous glasses he always wore. "You're lying," he commented without hesitation. The man always found your tells and could see right through you.
You looked between him and Ben briefly before fixing him with a look, your silent signal for "I want to go home, I don't like him".
Your dad nodded in understanding before ruffling your hair and patting your shoulder, his own silent signal for "Hold out a little longer and try to get along", before walking back to the dining room where Jack was giving him a curious look.
Ben finally died in his game then and looked over at you with a furrow in his brow and an upturn in his upper look that conveyed something like annoyance. "You made me lose with that freaky silent talk thing you do," he complained.
You raised a brow. "Then you must suck if silent talk made you lose your game," you retorted with a scoff before grabbing your phone from your lap to return to mindless entertainment.
Ben stared for a moment longer at your uninterested expression before mumbling something eerily similar to "piece of work" under his breath before returning to his game.
A few minutes of silence passed until that familiar gait caught your attention and you looked up to see Jack coming behind Ben's spot. The idiot was too immersed in his game to realize his father was behind him and he jumped when Jack's hands smacked right against his shoulders, making him lose instantly.
"Bro! You're actually so lame, Dad!" Ben groaned as he turned to face his father.
The two were so identical, it made you wonder what his mom looked like because her genes put in absolutely no work. Ben was every bit his father except his hair was a mousy brown shade while Jack had long since been salt-and-peppered and Ben had significantly more freckles from time in the sun– no one could fault Jack for that though, then man ran the night shift and therefore was a night owl.
"Tell our guests bye and go up to shower. I swear you haven't had one in two weeks," Jack replied, his dry voice holding a hint of teasing.
Ben's cheeks pinkened and he stumbled over his words before placing his controller down and looking over at you for a moment. "Bye," he muttered.
You nodded in acknowledgement before unfurling from your crumpled spot on the couch to leave. "Bye, Mr. Jack, see you later," you spoke politely before rounding the edge of the couch to find your own father in the foyer, pulling his shoes back on.
"Bye, kiddo!" Jack called back before looking back to his son and smacking him across the back of his head.
You stifled a laugh as you slipped your shoes back on and followed your father out of the Abbot's house and to his truck.
The night air was cool against your cheeks and you shivered lightly, more than eager to enter the warmth of the old pickup.
"So, Benji's having his birthday party next week. You should go," your dad spoke once the two of you were settled in the truck.
You quirked a brow. "Dad. No. No way–" you scoffed, trying to figure out if he was actually being serious.
"Oh, c'mon, kid. It won't be that bad. It'll be hot, they have a pool, plenty of Jack's barbecue," he began to list, trying to convince you.
"Dad, no– why would I want to go to his birthday?" You argued.
You had gone to Ben's birthday every year since you could remember because Jack and your dad were convinced the two of you would be best friends because they were. Every birthday party ended with the two of you fighting, though.
On his tenth birthday he pushed you into the pool and you pulled him in with you, leading to the two of you almost drowning by trying to fight each other to the surface.
On his fourteenth birthday, you slammed his face into his cake after he threw a water balloon on your new lace dress you had gotten from a box of your birth mother's things.
And of course you never forgot on his seventh birthday when he found out you were adopted and made fun of you with all his friends. You rode home crying that night and didn't see Jack or Ben for almost three months.
Your father sigh from the driver's seat caught your attention again and you looked back at him.
"I know you don't like him, kid.. but give this party a chance," he requested, looking over at you. "For your old man?"
You huffed as he pulled that card. Of course he would.
You laid in your bed that night, contemplating it. It was his eighteenth birthday and the two of you were graduating this year. If you went, this would be the last of his birthdays you'd ever have to go to and if he humiliated you, at least you'd barely see him around and could live down the shame at a college out of state where no one went to.
You rolled over to stare out the slightly ajar window before sighing. You would go. If only for your dad's sake.
The party was lively, and the scent of Jack's cooking wafted through the back yard that could barely contain the sheer amount of people invited.
Of course the extended Abbot family was there, but also so was the entire football team it seemed. You brushed past people, attempting to stay close to your dad so you didn't risk the chance of running into Ben.
"Hey! There's my bonus kid!" Jack grinned as you and your dad found him. The two shared a brief hug before Jack hugged you as well– always one to be affectionate to the ones he cares about.
"Look at this, all grown up," he sighed as he pulled back to grasp your shoulders. "Don't let any of these boys here ogle you," he added in a mock authority tone before patting your shoulder and going to his conversation with your father about kids growing up so fast or something along those lines.
You hovered, but looked around awkwardly, trying to find familiar faces that weren't people who asked you for the answers during class.
As you were preoccupied with searching the crowd, Ben came up to his dad and began asking questions about food.
You turned at the sound of his voice and saw him in just a pair of swim trunks, torso glistening like he'd just come out of the pool. Despite yourself, your gaze lingered, eyeing the slight chub on his bones from bulking and trailing the thousands of freckles that littered his skin. You were about to look away when his head turned and he met your gaze.
Fuck.
He smirked, because of course the idiot smirked, and returned to his conversation like he didn't just catch you sizing him up like he was a porterhouse.
You felt your cheeks get hot and you looked away to try and take your mind off that interaction because why did Benajmin John Abbot make you flustered? This was your mortal enemy! The bane of your existence that called you a piece of work!
But God, he was a really sexy enemy who grew into his body really well.
You shook the thought from your head before deciding maybe a dip in the pool would do you some good.
You headed inside and walked upstairs to the bathroom so you could set your clothes somewhere they'd stay dry and safe.
While you were tucking your clothes away in a safe spot in the cabinet with your purse and shoes, you heard a knock on the door.
Assuming it was a stranger, you cleared your throat and called out, "Occupied!"
There was a small chuckle on the other side. "It's me. Are you decent?"
Ben. Because of course.
Your brows furrowed and you felt your pulse leap into your throat. "Still occupied!" You yelled again.
"Dude, just let me in, I wanna talk," he replied. The words were followed by a small thud that sounded like his forehead hitting the door.
You sighed and closed the cabinet door before opening the door to reveal Benjamin standing there with a shit-eating grin, wet curls sticking to his forehead and a towel thrown around his thick neck.
"Wow, nice rack," he muttered, staring down at your bikini top, leading you to shut the door in his face. "Hey I was joking!" He called from behind the wood.
You contemplated shutting yourself in the bathroom for the rest of the party for a moment before slowly relenting and opening the door.
"Thank you," he hummed once the door opened again. "Besides, I only think it's fair from how you were looking at me earlier," he added in a teasing tone.
You sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with a valid excuse for practically drooling at the sight of him.
"Hey," he began defensively, holding his arms up. "It's a compliment from Miss Hates Me," he continued with another grin, this one softer.
Your cheeks burned again and your grip on the doorknob tightened. "Do you want me to slam this door in your face again?" You spoke, trying to keep your voice steady.
"No, sorry–" Ben quickly replied, rubbing the nape of his neck.
You rolled your eyes before looking at him, expecting him to say something– fess up the real reason he was here, for one.
Ben just stared unknowingly, brow quirked. "There– you're doing that freaky silent talk thing again!" He pointed out, making you groan.
"Why are you here?" You asked bluntly this time.
Ben's face morphed into one of realization before he grinned again. "Because you like me."
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Superman cautiously hovered down the decrepit stairs further down into the hidden bunker, listening as Batman held the rear, and other members of the justice league were further behind, finishing scouting previous areas.
Once at the bottom of the long, long stairs he’s gazed into a hallway, many doors branching off to the sides, but dusty old signage seemed to point to the importance of two double doors at the very end, prominent in their heavy duty design. These were doors meant to keep others out; or something in Superman thought worriedly.
He received the all clear from Batman, they would continue. The other rooms would have to be checked as well. Who knew what sort of labyrinth might be hiding within he didn’t know, but the end of the hall was calling to him.
The whole place was creepy. He’d seen the worst of the universe before, but creepy places never got more familiar. Maybe that was a good thing. Kept him cautious, ready for action. The sinking feeling of dread was always horrible though, he thought to himself, as he flinched at a stain on the floor in the corner of his eye.
It the hallway looked almost… medical. Aside from a few spills on the floor, it was all clean white walls. Only dust and spiderwebs marring the otherwise well-kept place. Decay and rot hadn’t found its way into this sealed space yet.
He later wished so much for that thought to be true.
Finally, carefully the doors were opened, they had brought power back to the facility earlier, though not everything was in working order.
Lightbulbs only lasted so long, and other locked doors appeared to have been purposely sabotaged on their way there. The door unlocked with Batman’s hacking, but they needed his strengths to be pried open.
Just a second before they were though, his super senses noticed a stench permeating from the room.
It smelled like death
The doors were open before he could react however, and the rest of the team smelled it too. Batman somehow became even more alert, quickly glancing around for the source, though it wasn’t hard to find. The room was large, though mostly empty. There was a main console a few feet directly from the entry doors and a large sealed room covered in thick glass behind it.
Almost none of the lights worked in this room. Just a red emergency light and a flickering LED that had turned on when they entered. At first they couldn’t see anything inside the seemingly empty sealed room, the back left corner was entirely in shadow. It was clear however that this was where the smell was coming from.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he quickly noticed something creeping outside the thick shadow in the corner, the first thing noticed by the others he was sure.
A hand. A horribly small, skeletal hand.
His eyes were better than most however. And he could see within the thick black shadows what the hand was attached to. A child. It was facing with its back to them, huddled in on itself. It looked like instead of legs however, it had some sort of short, snakelike tail. Likely a meta of some sort. Or maybe even another alien.
He gasped quietly, breathing in more of the smell. All the more terrible now for knowing what was making it. Batman looked over to him immediately, and then quickly stalked closer towards the cell (what else could the room have been but a containment cell?) until he could make out what Superman had seen.
He quickly glanced back to Superman— whose feet were now on the floor — and gave him a questioning look with a subtle tilt of his head. Superman slowly shook his head and lowered it in silence. In grief. No. There was no heartbeat. No breathing. Someone had sealed a child in here and left them to rot. Not even taking the body.
Well, he could do something about that at least. He stomped towards the glass noisily, intending to break it in his anger. Normally he’d find a door and just go about it the normal way but he was distraught and need to take it out on SOMETHING. As Batman stepped to the side he knew he had his permission for it too. But the he noticed something in the darkness as he came forward.
Milk and Cookies - 2025 - Before
It seems like once again, reindeer across the world fall victim to their milk and cookie urges, and this one is no exception!
https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/176387236?asc=u
