It's a Good Thing

Dpxdc

Think of an AU where Danny decides to become one of Gotham’s friendly rogues, preferably with him being Red Robin’s soulmate. I’ve read a few stories like that and loved them, and this idea just popped into my head.

The scenario goes like this: Danny is a huge fanboy of a band that starts a contest to decide where their next concert will take place. Danny decides to guarantee the win by kidnapping a hundred or more fellow fans and forcing them to make a dance video while appearing to be in situations of mortal danger.

At least, that’s how it looks from the outside.

In reality, all the “traps” are just decorations. The hostages know from the beginning that they’re completely safe, and they spend the entire month of their “imprisonment” learning choreography and filming takes until everything is perfect.

Meanwhile, the entire Batfamily is imploding.

Phantom had always been one of the gentlest and kindest rogues in Gotham. Sure, he was mischievous, theatrical, and maybe a little too interested in Red Robin—but no one ever thought he was capable of something like this. Or even capable of planning a scheme on this scale.

Even after the truth comes out—after it’s revealed that none of the hostages were ever in real danger—the Batfamily can’t see him the same way again. The sheer scope, planning, and emotional manipulation convince them that Phantom is far more disturbed than they realized.

In the end, they reclassify him as a high-level threat, placing him on the same tier as the Joker—much to Danny’s confusion and Tim’s quiet horror.

—————————-

Opening Scene: “The Phantom Situation”

The first hostage video drops at 3:17 a.m.

Red Robin is the one who catches it—because of course he is. Gotham never implodes on a decent schedule.

The footage opens on a warehouse drenched in neon lights and fog machines. At least fifty people are lined up behind a masked figure, wrists bound, suspended over what looks like a pit of glowing ectoplasm and spinning saw blades. A countdown clock flashes in the corner.

Batman’s voice goes cold.

“Is that—”

“Phantom,” Nightwing finishes. “That’s Phantom.”

Tim frowns.

Not because Phantom is on-screen. Phantom is always on-screen. The ghost thrives on drama, spectacle, and mild trolling. What doesn’t make sense is the body language. The “hostages” aren’t panicking. One of them is vibing. Another looks like he’s counting beats under his breath.

Then Phantom steps into frame, waving cheerfully.

“Hi Gotham!” he says. “Quick announcement! I need your help. My favorite band is holding a contest to decide where they’ll play their next concert, and honestly? Gotham deserves it.”

Batman’s jaw tightens.

“So,” Phantom continues brightly, “I’ve borrowed a few fans to help me make the perfect dance video. If we lose, well—” He gestures vaguely at the pit. “Oops?”

Tim’s screen lights up with alerts. More videos. Different locations. Different “traps.” Same eerie calm from the people involved.

Oracle’s voice cuts in, sharp. “Bruce. There are over a hundred missing persons reports tied to this.”

The room goes silent.

Jason swears. “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Tim’s pulse starts to race—but not with fear. With something colder.

Because Phantom looks… happy. Focused. Organized.

This isn’t chaos.

This is choreography.

And Phantom—Danny, Tim’s mind supplies without permission—locks eyes with the camera for half a second longer than necessary.

Tim’s chest burns.

Batman straightens. “We treat this as a mass-casualty event. Phantom is no longer a low-level rogue.”

Tim swallows.

Because if they’re right—if Phantom really is capable of this—

Dpxdc

I am deeply enamored with the prompt where Danny gets mistaken for (or correctly identified as) some kind of pit creature—god, angel, demon, mermaid, eldritch problem, take your pick.

The rules are simple:

• Danny is a gremlin.

• Danny either has no idea who the hell keeps bathing in his pool, or

• He knows and is doing something specifically to be annoying.

Now consider this:

Danny discovers the Lazarus Pit.

Naturally, everyone else assumes he’s a creature of the Pit. A guardian. A god. A cursed spirit. A mermaid (he got the look). Danny does absolutely nothing to correct this.

But instead of the usual routes—destroying the League of Assassins, adopting Damian, picking a moral side—Danny just… starts chatting and continues to do so for centuries in their world.

Ra’s al Ghul becomes his pool buddy.

They talk while soaking in the Pit. Ra’s gives long, dramatic monologues about destiny, immortality, and the decay of the world. Danny listens politely, floating upside down, occasionally splashing, responding through some kind of ghostly translation magic that turns his very normal thoughts into something vaguely ominous and prophetic.

Ra’s: “The world must be cleansed to be reborn.”

Danny (meaning): “Yeah, stagnation sucks. You ever try bubble filters?”

Danny (translated): “All cycles end in rot, and rot demands renewal.”

Ra’s is thrilled.

Danny just thinks his pool buddy is neat.

Then one day Danny sees Ra’s with the Batfamily.

Danny, with complete sincerity, assumes this is Ra’s trying to invite his other friends to pool time.

So Danny tries to help.

He attempts to guide one of them into the Pit. It does not go well. There is screaming. There is grappling. There is Batman shouting about unknown entities and containment protocols.

Danny is confused. A little offended.

Still, every time he sees them after that, he tries again.

Not aggressively. Just:

• appearing out of the Pit like a horror movie mermaid,

• holding out a hand,

• ominously intoning (via broken translation magic):

“Enter the waters. The pool is warm. We are bonding.”

The Batfamily is convinced this is a recruitment ritual.

Ra’s is delighted.

Danny is just trying to get his friends to hang out.

——————-

POV: Ra’s al Ghul

In his first centuries, when Ra’s al Ghul was still learning what immortality cost, he met the creature.

Back then, the Lazarus Pit was wilder. Less refined. Less… tamed. Ra’s had only bathed a handful of times when, during one resurrection, the waters did not still.

They shifted.

Something surfaced with him.

Ra’s woke choking on life and madness, and found himself face to face with a being already awake, already watching him with mild curiosity—as if Ra’s were the strange thing in the pool.

The creature was young-looking, but not young. Luminous in the Pit’s glow, hair drifting like ink in water, eyes reflecting death without fear. It did not recoil from the Pit’s frenzy. It was not consumed by it.

It belonged.

Ra’s understood immediately: a child of the Pit, born from death repeated too many times.

The creature spoke.

Ra’s heard:

“You return too soon. The waters remember you.”

What it meant, in a voice filtered through strange translating magic:

“Wow, that was fast. You good, dude?”

Ra’s laughed. He could not help it.

From then on, Ra’s was never alone when he resurrected.

In those early centuries—before the League, before empires rose and fell beneath his feet—the creature would join him in the Pit. Sometimes already there, sometimes arriving halfway through Ra’s rebirth, as if checking on him.

It asked questions. Strange ones.

Why do you do this?

Does it hurt every time?

Do you ever take breaks?

The Pit twisted these into riddles and warnings. Ra’s heard prophecy. Doctrine. Judgment.

Ra’s answered honestly.

He spoke of saving the world, of cleansing corruption, of shepherding humanity forward. The creature listened, chin propped on its hands, occasionally nodding.

It responded with statements like:

“Endless renewal without rest fractures the soul.”

(which meant: “That sounds exhausting.”)

Ra’s took this as sacred counsel.

Centuries passed.

Ra’s refined the Pit. Controlled it. Built rituals, safeguards, entire philosophies around it. Through it all, the creature remained—unchanged, unaging, eternally informal.

Sometimes it vanished for decades. Sometimes centuries. But whenever Ra’s returned to the Pit, there it was again, greeting him like an old friend.

Back again?

—rendered by magic as—

“The cycle resumes.”

When Ra’s finally formed the League, he spoke of the guardian with reverence. He warned his followers not to disturb the waters unnecessarily. It was watched.

They obeyed.

Only much later—much later—did Ra’s bring outsiders to the Pit.

The bats.

——

Ra’s al Ghul has faced the Detective many times.

This encounter is no different: steel, smoke, accusations, inevitability. The Bat stands between Ra’s and the Pit, his allies fanned out behind him, tense and prepared. Ra’s is already calculating angles, exits, casualties.

Violence is imminent.

Then the waters of the Lazarus Pit ripple.

Ra’s freezes.

Slowly—deliberately—the guardian emerges.

Pale glow first. Then eyes. Then the familiar, impossible calm of a being that has watched Ra’s die and rise more times than any mortal ever should.

The Pit-spirit floats at the surface, blinking as it takes in the scene.

The bats.

The weapons.

Ra’s, poised to strike.

The creature tilts its head.

“Oh,” it says—though what Ra’s hears is something closer to:

“Conflict stains the waters before it begins.”

Ra’s does not move. He does not dare.

The bats, unfortunately, do.

One of them shifts, weapon raising half an inch.

The creature immediately misunderstands everything.

Its expression softens. Brightens. Recognition dawns.

“You brought friends?” it says, pleased.

Translated as: “The circle widens. New souls approach the threshold.”

Batman reacts instantly.

The creature reacts faster.

It glides closer to the edge of the Pit, extending a hand—not threatening, not aggressive, just inviting. Like one would gesture toward warm water on a cold night.

“Careful,” it says gently. “First time can be rough, but you’ll feel better after.”

Ra’s closes his eyes.

Of course this is happening.

Chaos erupts.

The bats scatter. Someone swears. Someone fires a grappling hook. The creature recoils, startled, nearly slipping back into the Pit.

“Huh,” it says, confused.

Rendered ominously as: “Fear resists transformation.”

Ra’s snaps orders, retreating—not from the bats, but to shield the Pit. He positions himself between them and the guardian, blade lowered but ready.

The creature looks at him, baffled.

“They don’t want to hang out?” it asks.

Ra’s exhales, slow and reverent.

“They are… unprepared,” he says carefully.

The guardian considers this. Nods. Withdraws a little, sinking back into the waters.

“Okay,” it says. “Next time, then.”

The bats escape.

Silence returns.

Ra’s kneels by the Pit, heart still racing—not from battle, but from relief.

“I apologize,” he says quietly.

The creature shrugs, already relaxing.

“It’s fine. You tried.”

And Ra’s al Ghul—immortal, feared, unwavering—accepts, once again, that he is not the most dangerous being in the room.

just another tuesday in Pelican Town 🐔

This is the first chapter of my Stardew comic!

Next chapter ->

Comic Masterlist

Like. Think about it. The farmer arrives in Stardew Valley on the first day of spring. By the first day they're obviously different. By day five the spirits of the forest who haven't been seen by the townsfolk in years or generations are speaking to them. By the second week they've developed a rapport with the wizard that lives outside town.

In the spring they go foraging and find more than even Linus, who's spent so many years learning the ways of the valley. Maybe he knows, when he sees them walking back home. Maybe he looks at them and understands that they're different, chosen somehow.

In the summer they fish in the lakes and the ocean for hours on end, catching fish that even Willy's only ever heard of, fish that he thought were the stuff of legend. They pull up giants from the deep and mutated monstrosities from the sewers.

In the fall, their crops grow incredibly immense; pumpkins twice as tall as a person, big enough that someone could live inside. The farmer cuts it down with an axe without even batting an eye. Does Lewis wonder, when he checks the collection bin that night and finds it full to the brim with pumpkin flesh? What does he think? Does he even leave the money? Does he have the funds to pay the farmer millions of dollars for the massive amounts of wine they sell? Or is it someone--something--else entirely?

In the winter, the farmer delves into the mines. No one in Pelican Town has been down there in decades. No one in living memory has been to the bottom. The farmer gets there within the season. They return to the surface with stories of dwarven ruins and shadow people, stories they only tell to Vincent and Jas, whose retellings will be dismissed by the adults as flights of fancy. People walking by the entrance to the mines sometimes hear the farmer in there, speaking in a language no one can understand. Something speaks back.

The farmer speaks to the the wizard. They speak to the spirit of a bear inside a centuries-old stone. They speak to the shadow people and the dwarves, ancient enemies, and they try to mend the rift. They speak to the Junimos, ancient spirits of the forest and the river and the mountain. They taste the nectar of the stardrops and speak to the valley itself. They change Pelican Town, and they change the valley. Things are waking up.

And what does Evelyn think? She's the oldest person in the valley; she was here when the farmer's grandfather was young. (How old *is* she, anyway? She never seems to age. She doesn't remember the year she was born.) Does she see the farmer and think of their grandfather? Does she try to remember if he was like this too, strange and wild and given the gifts of the forest?

And does their grandfather haunt the valley? He haunts the farm, still there even after his death; his body died somewhere else, but his spirit could never stay away for long. Does Abigail, using her ouija board on a stormy night, almost drop the planchette when she realizes it's moving on its own? Does Shane, walking to work long before anyone else leaves their house, catch glimpses of a wispy figure floating through the town? Does the farmer know their grandfather came back to the place they both love so much?

Mr. Qi takes interest in the farmer. He's different, too; in a different way, maybe, but the principles are the same. They're both exceptional, and no matter what Qi says about it being hard work and dedication, they both know the truth: the world bends around the both of them, changing to fit their needs. Most people aren't visited by fairies or witches. Most people don't have meteorites crash in their yard. Most people couldn't chop down trees all day without a break or speak to bears and mice and frogs.

The farmer is different. The rules of the world don't work for them the way they work for everyone else. The farmer goes fishing and finds the stuff of fairy tales. The farmer goes mining and fights shadow beasts and flying snakes. The farmer looks at paths the townspeople walk every day and finds buried in the dirt relics of lost civilizations.

The farmer is a violent, irrepressible miracle, chosen by the valley and destined to return to it someday. Even if they'd never received the letter, they would've come home.

Me: *starts a Joja save for shits and giggles*

Also me: *accidentally gives it more lore than my main save*

The l o r e

the flower dance, year one!🌻 (part 1)

new comic look unlocked! the doc is not in this episode and that kinda hurts, but the teen crew's in it and i was hyped to draw them

Look at me

Making a fan comic

Who am I??? Who do I think I am???

A Batfam Ficlet

It started with a question. Bruce was slowly making his way to getting his kids to quit the vigilante life he had never intended for them to have.

When Bruce watched as his son landed on the mat, there was no question that Dick would get the gold. He and his other children who watched Dick Greyson-Wayne compete in the Olympics cheered the loudest in the stadium.

The Wayne family was complete for the first time in a while—all in support of Dick. Bruce offered that they celebrate with a getaway, unfortunately, everyone only had enough time to watch Dick compete.

Still, they all promised that they would spend the winter break together. Bruce thought it'd be nice if they could spend it at the Wayne's family cabin outside of Gotham. It was deep within a forest, the last time Bruce had been there was when his parents were still alive—so yeah, it's been awhile.

The place however was well-maintained, sparkling clean when they arrived and his children all gawked and complained to Bruce why he had only taken them here now.

Despite the cold, the cabin was warm as they all sat around the firepit, wearing cozy sweaters and mugs of hot cocoa or eggnog cupped into their hands for additional warmth.

They all sat around quietly, pondering over Bruce's question. “What do you think you would've been if your life had turned out differently?”

Dick struggled with the question. “I don't know B… maybe I would've been an acrobat too?”

Jason raised his brow, “You wouldn't wanna be an Olympian?” Dick perked and had an ‘Oh yeah’ moment.

“I mean yeah, maybe. But I don't think I'd be able to have that opportunity.” Bruce hummed thoughtfully. “What if you did?” Dick shrugged. “Then yeah. I would've been a full-time athlete.” He grins at Jason. “I’d be all over TV, billboards, advertisements, news articles.”

“Doesn't sound much different from your civilian life now.” Stephanie added. Dick shrugs, “I guess.” Jason snickers and elbows his older brother. “I’d still be seeing your ugly ass face-” He pauses, smile lessening, just a little.

“The difference would be is that I wouldn't know who the fuck you are.”

Dick pauses as well, he didn't respond to it, not really knowing how to.

“Mother, I don't like this hypothetical world you've created.” Damian tilted his head up to look at Bruce, despite already being a pre-teen, he still sits on Bruce's lap and cuddles up to him.

“Yeah, I can't imagine a world where we all don't know each other.” Tim says, playing with the string of his tea bag.

Bruce chuckles. “Fine, imagine it how you would like. I just want to know what all of you would've been doing if…” he smiles softly at his children, “if we weren't so worried about so many things.”

Dick elbows Jason. “ack- guess it's my turn now?” He scratches the back of his neck, struggling with the idea. He wants too many things, unfortunately. “I dunno.. kinda difficult to choose.”

Bruce chooses, "Why choose?” Jason perks up. “You're absolutely right.” Jason takes a deep breath. “I think I’d kill it on stage.”

Tim raises a brow, “You'd be a horrible comedian.” Jason kicks his legs, making Tim spill some of his tea. “Hey!”

Jason clears his throat. “What I meant to say is…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Theatre.” He grins proudly. “Man, I’d kill it on Broadway.” Bruce nods, Jason had always been so creative—he still remembers all the plays that his little Jaybird performed—got them all on video too.

“But I think I'd also wanna do some screenplay writing, or write a script.” He gasps, shaking Tim. “I could be a writer!!” His smiles, still shaking Tim while said brother is trying to free his sweater from Jason's grip.

“What, so you could make your fanfics mainstream?” Tim said as he's finally free from Jason shaking him.

“You read my fanfics?” Everyone stared at them, embarrassed, the boys said no more.

“I think I’d wanna be a game developer.” Duke smiles innocently. “Got any ideas on how you'd want that to go?” Bruce asks. Duke’s cheeks tint red, feeling shy. “I’m not really sure yet, but… I’ve been reading books on how to code, and uh..”

Bruce chuckles. “Why not go to school for it? You haven't even touched your college fund yet.” Duke flinches. “I have a college fund?!” Bruce tilted his head, “Yeah? I set it up the moment I got approved to be your legal guardian.” Bruce knew he could never replace Duke’s parents, and honestly? He was alright with that.

Duke stuttered, no longer knowing what to say, only mumbling a “Thank you” before nudging Cass.

Cass looked at Bruce and took a sip from her hot cocoa, she mumbled “Ballet.” Bruce tilts his head, “What was that, sweetheart?” Cass hid her face with her mug and said, a bit clearer this time. “I want to be a ballerina… I… like it.”

Bruce's heart stuttered for a moment and nodded. “Okay my dear.”

“I like being Spoiler.” Stephanie said, making Bruce tilt his head—though he did try to hide his disappointment that she still wanted to continue her vigilante life. Luckily however, Bruce is anything if not good at hiding his emotions.

“But… I kind of miss my daught- well, she's not my daughter anymore but-” She sighs. “You know what I mean.” Stephanie rambled, watching Bruce watch her thoughtfully.

“I know I did the right thing, but…” She bites her bottom lip, “B, do you think there's a way for me to be in her life without putting her in danger?”

Bruce felt guilty for what he was about to say, but he wanted them to give up the vigilante life so badly… “You seem to like solving things, Steph. You could be a great detective if you wanted.” He smiles, hoping it was reassuring enough. “Plus, you did train with me after all.”

Stephanie huffs, “Having the edge against those in the GCPD would've been unfair.”

Tim hums thoughtfully. “Since when have you been fair?” Stephanie frowns at him, “Shut up, Tim.” She smiles when she feels Cass pat her on the shoulder.

“But, I guess you're right.” She grins. Though being a detective was still dangerous work, it's a little less daunting to be a vigilante.

“Mami, I wish to be a doctor.” Bruce was surprised at that. “Oh?” He couldn't hide his pleased smile this time.

Damian nodded, “Yeah. A pediatrician.” Dick raises a brow at this, “You scare kids your age, what makes you think you'd be able to handle kids who are younger?”

Damian ignores him which makes Jason chuckle. “I…” He looks up at Bruce nervously, but his mother's kind smile and soft gaze allows him to relax. “I want to hang up the suit and become a doctor.” He finally says. Everyone at the fire pit is stunned. Is he serious?

“Your college fund is prepared for any school you want to go to, Dami.” He kisses the crown of Damian's head which makes him relax and melt into Bruce’s embrace.

“What about you, Tim?” Bruce asked, hugging Damian tighter as though he's scared he’d lose the only child that he has who's actually sure of hanging up the cape and storing away the mask.

Tim glances at Bruce, when Jason starts speaking about what he wanted to be, Tim was already able to clock Bruce’s intentions.

Tim held Bruce’s gaze and shrugged. “I'm not sure, mom.” He takes a sip from his tea. “I've never imagined a future where I'm not where I am now.” He frowns into the cup, staring at his reflection in the greenish-brown liquid.

Bruce smiles—albeit pained, he refuses to show it—”That’s okay, Tim.”

Tim couldn't help the feeling that he's disappointing Bruce though, but really, what is his ideal life? If he weren't Bruce Wayne's son, he would've been expected to run his family's company.

But now that he's Bruce’s son, he's CEO of Wayne Enterprises. “Maybe I would've gone to business?” He shrugs. “Someone has to manage W.E. if Damian's going to be a doctor.”

“And it's not like mom could take care of it forever.” Bruce sighs, he feels bad for Tim, but at the same time, he can't really afford to be a hypocrite. Instead, he smiled at Tim softly and nodded. “Maybe you'll find something that could be worth your time, Timbit.”

Tim shrugs. “Eh, maybe.”

“What about you, ma?” Jason asked, which caught Bruce off-guard. “Huh? What about me?”

Dick smiles, “If you weren't the one putting on the cowl, what would've you been?”

Bruce wore the same expression as Tim when he was thinking about his life. “I don't see a world where I'm not Batman, Dickbin.” He smiles emphatically. “Someone has to do it.”

Tim hummed and nodded as he finished his tea, setting it aside on a table.

“Yeah, but what if it wasn't you?” Stephanie asked as she started petting Cass’s hair who was slowly drifting off, head trying not to fall on her lap.

Bruce couldn't answer the question. The logical route would've been similar to Tim’s question, that he'd be running Wayne Enterprises and that he'd still be adopting them all.

The kids’ question was left unanswered and the conversation drifted elsewhere.

But when the lights had dimmed and everyone went to sleep, Bruce found himself standing on the shoreline of the frozen lake.

The moon was at its highest peak, bright and luminous, Bruce tied his laces together and moved forward. The feeling of the cold, crisp air made him shiver slightly, but the sensation was not unwelcomed.

It brought him a sense of nostalgia as his feet moved their way through the thick ice, legs criss-crossing and turning. It felt weird to skate without music so he ended up humming a tune from one of Cass’ ballet performances.

Thinking about Cass and Dick’s performances, Bruce thought about it for a moment. He's as flexible as they are, he's performed numerous stunts for missions, jumped off buildings, swung on grapple hooks, and most of all… he's alone tonight. Here, where only the stars and the moon could judge him.

Bruce prepared to take a few steps back, hands behind him as he expertly skated backwards. He looked at the vast lake before him, seemingly endless, there's a determined glint in his eyes, lips curving upward into a small, confident smile.

If he fails, he can just laugh at himself—it’ll be a good time nonetheless.

He skates forward, slowly gaining speed before—his heart was pounding, arms graceful and expressive, it was unwise to close his eyes but he just couldn't help himself. The chill air felt nice, the sound of ice was comforting, he spun with a leg raised, speed gradually picking up as he attempted to do similar arm positions that he practiced with Cass.

When the spin had slowed, he skated further into the lake, he couldn't hear much of anything aside from his fast-paced heart after managing to successfully do that spin. It's been so long.

When he attempted a toe loop, he was still able to catch himself properly, slowing down his pace to gather himself. After his parents died, his interest in figure skating significantly dwindled—but in an attempt to rehabilitate himself, he started going back to the ice rinks, picking up his lessons where he left them, but he only learned up until the axle before he decided he couldn't do it anymore and gave up.

Bruce, in an attempt to redeem himself, began preparing for the jump. Skating forward and lifting one knee off the ice, Bruce attempted to vault himself into the air and try that damned 1.5 spin. He wasn't able to land properly and ended up landing ass-first into the ice block.

Laughing to himself as he promised, he gets up and attempts it a few more times, until finally, on the fifth try, he lands it perfectly.

With adrenaline rushing through his veins, he decided to get a little cocky and try the beilman spin that he's always wanted to do but the coach kept telling him that he wasn't ready yet.

Screw it. He decides, as he lifts his right leg off the ice and his hands prepare to grab and pull the blade upward from behind himself and rotates on the edge of his standing leg.

If it weren't for his strength and flexibility, Bruce was sure he'd stumble and fall again. Ah, but thankfully he trains hard to continue being Batman. After all, if not him then who?

When Bruce’s high slowed and he was able to look at his surroundings again, the quiet night looked fuller. He looked across the lake and there he saw his son, standing by the snowy shore with a pair of ice skates in his hand.

Bruce smiles softly and skates back towards him. “You brought the skates that I bought you.” Tim nodded as he started putting them on. “Do you know how to skate?”

“No.” Tim says, “But you can teach me.” He says confidently as he tries to stand up but stumbles forward, luckily Bruce was there to catch him. He always did.

Dick: -i will tell you one thing about my childhood, and that is i have never once called Bruce dad.

Jason: i did call him daddy once when i was thirteen, but it was to piss him off.

Dick, fondly: oh yeah, i remember that.

Jason: yeah i used a real sexy sultry voice and did it in front of four potential WE investors and he wouldn't let me patrol with him for a week.

Tim: Jason, you're a horrible human being.

Jason: no, what was horrible was when Bruce was visibly displeased with me trying to cat-call him in public, i said 'alright fine, be unappreciative, i'll find a new man', and then i turned to Dick and called him daddy to piss Bruce off further, and without missing a beat Dick matched my tone of voice and went *coy, flirtatious tone* 'well hello to you too, baby boy, you wanna come home with me?'

Tim: *bursts out laughing*

Dick: listen- LISTEN. we had a PACT. we PROMISED each other that if one of us started a bit at a gala, the the other HAD TO CARRY IT ON WITHOUT QUESTION. I WAS TRAPPED.

Jason: yeah Bruce was like, really mad at us the next day, because some of the newspapers started printing us on the front pages with theories that i was like- brought in as the Wayne-Family-Concubine or something.

Dick, sombre: the pack omega.

Jason: the pa-*loud cackles* *struggling to breath* you- you piece of shit- *wheeze*

Tim: *uncontrollable laughing*

Dick: i'm just saying-

Jason: *cackling* fucking- don't say that shit out loud. don't bring forth that idea. don't let the people of Gotham hear that shit and add it to their Gotham-elite fanfiction headcanons,

Dick: *wheezes* I HAVE THE GET THE IDEA OUT THERE SOMEHOW HOOD, IT'S A SEVERELY LACKING TROPE.

Jason: FUCK YOU-!

Tim, through giggles: you guys are such fucking weirdos,

Damian, deadly serious: if... you... two... start talking... about fucking fanfiction again... i am going to cut off your legs and drop you both in the harbour.

Tim: *cackling*

Dick: this child is not down with the ao3 culture.

Jason: wait till he finds out what a lemon is,

Damian: i can swing to your location in under five minutes. fucking try me.

Jason: -this coming from the anime enjoyer is insane, by the way.

STAR Labs Annual Picnic — Central City Park

Barry spots Danny across the lawn.

“Danny! Hey, you made it!”

Danny jogs over, slightly out of breath.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. Leodan was… nervous.”

There’s a small child attached to Danny’s leg like a particularly hostile koala.

Danny gently pats the kid’s head.

Barry beams. “Aw, is this your son? Nice to meet you, champ!”

The child peeks out.

Squints at Barry.

“You look stupid.”

And immediately buries his face back into Danny’s leg.

There is a beat of silence.

Barry blinks. “…I’m sorry?”

Danny laughs nervously.

“Leodan, honey, Barry is Daddy’s boss.”

The child freezes.

Slowly peeks back out.

“He’s your boss?” he asks suspiciously. “Not another creepy rich guy who wants you to call him ‘dad’ and won’t leave you alone?”

The entire world stops.

Barry.exe crashes.

Danny coughs. “Nope! Just my boss.”

Barry, rapidly filing that statement into Deeply Concerning Information To Revisit Later, forces a smile.

“Uh. Yeah. Your dad’s just my friend. And employee. That’s it.”

Leodan’s face goes bright red.

He hides again.

“…Oh. Sorry I said you look stupid.”

Barry waves weakly. “It’s fine.”

Across the park, Cisco is watching this unfold like it’s live television.

Barry kneels slightly so he’s eye-level with the kid.

“So. Leodan. You, uh… pretty protective of your dad?”

Leodan narrows his eyes.

“Yes.”

Danny ruffles his hair fondly.

“He’s just looking out for me.”

Barry forces another smile.

Internally:

Who is the creepy rich guy. Why does he want Danny to call him dad. Why is this a recurring problem.

Later that evening, Barry is absolutely running a background check.

Leodan sits on Danny’s shoulders, glaring at anyone who gets too close.

Barry has never been more concerned about an employee in his life,

I've been inspired by @noscribs-deactivated20260212 and @tytoadox transformer art and AUs

For my submas transformers I used New York subway trains with as their alt mode. these trains don't have much colour variation so I thought graffiti could do that job

Extra stuff under the cut

He just thinks maybe Lord Greyson didnt think things through completely, because Jason? Is a GIFT.

(Sending Jason was Jason's idea. He's been besotted with the pretty young king for years)

Ok so I was replaying Assassin's Creed: Revelations and now I'm actively losing my goddamn mind (as expected.) 

Not because it's a bad game.

Not because it's sad.

But because UBISOFT BROKE THEIR OWN GAME and just said "oops lol" and walked away like we wouldn't notice that they LOBOTOMIZED THE STORYLINE MID-SENTENCE.

Let me explain.

AC: Brotherhood ends with Desmond just straight up ganking Lucy (rip girl but also WHAT) and collapsing into a coma. 

Ok. Cool. Fine. I'm traumatized but following.

He wakes up on Animus Island and here, Desmond meets Clay (sweet memory ghost, digital son, Clay Kaczmarek I love you) who is like:

"Hey bro :) Your mind is literally mashed potatoes. You need to finish Ezio's memories, finish Altair's memories. Get a Synch Nexus and also REMEMBER YOUR OWN LIFE or you're gonna dissolve into digital soup like me lol."

Cool. Awesome. Love the stakes. That sounds like a story arc, BUT HERE'S THE THING.

You can't.

YOU LITERALLY CANNOT.

Mechanically? Sure. To reach a Synch Nexus and beat the game, all Desmond needs to do is finish the Altair and Ezio memory sequences. That's it. That's what the game tracks.

BUT NARRATIVELY? Emotionally? Psychologically? The Synch Nexus is also about Desmond remembering who he is. That's what the Desmond's Journey gates are for.

They're not just bonus missions. They're literal memory obelisks meant to ground Desmond in his own identity. His past, his sense of self, and all the trauma he never got to process.

Ubisoft built that structure—then torched the damn bridge.

So Clay is like:

"Go relive your own memories or your brain will liquefy." And Ubisoft said: "Lol no. Eat glass."

Because if you're playing AC:Revelations post 2024, post multiplayer removal era, then congrats! When you try to walk into those big glowing obelisk gates that holds Desmond's memories, you know what happens?

You get the black loading screen of death. Forever. 

It's not a bug. It's not a fluke. It's the direct result of Ubisoft gutting the multiplayer component of their damn game without fixing the single player fallout and what did that multiplayer contain?

The GODDAMN UNLOCK TRIGGERS FOR DESMOND'S JOURNEY. 

And instead of, you know, patching the damn thing, they just… moved on.

Built ships in Black Flag.

Let Ezio flirt with librarians.

All while Desmond's character development is now LOCKED FOREVER BEHIND THEIR INCOMPETENCE.

The cure is canonically in the game but physically inaccessible AND THEY NEVER FUCKING FIXED IT. You walk into Desmond's memory gates and the Animus SHOVES A PILLOW OVER YOUR FACE FOREVER.

So naturally, I lost my goddamn mind.

“Leonardo would love this.”

“I should go see if Malik has need of me.”

“I should go back to Davenport and check on everyone.”

He spent years with them, he cared for them. Do you think he ever sees a white feather and thinks about his mom Maria? Does he ever look at a plane and feel joyous laughter bubble up because

“Leonardo, look at what they’ve done! Flying machines just like you built!”

Does he smell a new tea Shaun buys and for a moment go “Malik would like this.”

And everytime it happens he has to remind himself that they’re not there.

Oh the grief he would feel at each moment. They’re dead, they’ve been dead for centuries and yet he feels like he just lost them. And he did, because just a month ago he was sitting on a bench with Leonardo talking about weapons. It wasn’t that long ago that Malik cursed him for drawing too much attention to him. It was even sooner that he watched two of his friends get married.

And oh, doesn’t that grief feel stolen? It’s such a raw feeling. An emotion that burrows in your chest. It makes your head feel too heavy for your shoulders and your throat feel like it’s closing. But it’s not his is it?

He grieves for friends and family who don’t even know he exists. He never met them, and wouldn’t that make it so much worse? The feeling of wrongness makes grief so much more powerful does it not?