Ugh I’m Craving Cottage Pie Sooooo Bad. Yummmmm

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

Master List

Hyperlinks to Major Fics

lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood | lex luthor's guide series - Based on Father-Son Relationships between Lex Luthor and Danny Fenton.

Off With [the Demon's] Head - The hot mess that is the Al Ghul-Wayne family. Includes: Dad!Danny, Young!Ellie, my OG Danny and Ra's Paradox Fic.

what was lost, found again | lost and found series - Where Danny finds Jason digging his way out of his own grave and brings him home.

down the rabbit hole (goes the throne) - No One Knows AU, Major Canon Divergence. Amity Park has many secrets and Batman Inc. are left to discover them.

bloodlines | born from flesh and bone, clay and stardust series - Danny is the biological son of Diana (Wonder Woman) and Bruce Wayne. A prophecy is involved.

billy batson and the phantom - Adventures of Billy Batson and Danny Fenton. Oh, and Vlad is there too, I guess.

all I am to you is a tragedy, right? - In which a grieving Bruce Wayne brings a Danny Fenton from another universe back with him. This has consequences.

Insomniacs Anonymous - Three-way crossover between DC, Danny Phantom, and Miraculous Ladybug. Social media and chat fic. Now with plot!

pay your dues - An exploration of politics in the Infinite Realms, and the debts that must be paid in full.

weekend wonders - A character study into Stephanie Brown and her resolve as a hero, especially when a close friend comes into suspicion.

present, future, past - Time travel fic in which Bruce falls into the future where everything seems perfect, better than he could have hoped it would be. It doesn't last.

trust no one (trust me) - In a world where the GIW are more competent than in the show, Danny draws some unwanted attention. The people he leaves behind search for him.

bones and all - Inspired by horror films, video games, and fiction. A ghost story set in the DPxDC crossover.

Other Ongoing Series

Please note that some fics may overlap on more than one series.

Readable Arrangements - Short Works for DPxDC, mainly romance.

It's All About Presentation - A collection of gift fics.

Writing Problems? I Say Writing Solutions - A collections of works from "Who Wrote That?" games.

Martydom - Stories exploring heavy topics, such as gore, violence, etc. Must check tags for each work.

oh, the (in)humanity - Hazmat Suit AU. Now featuring multiple timelines.

Our Gentle Sin - Centered around a romance between a Danny from another universe, where the end of the world has come and gone, and Bruce Wayne who helps him relearn what it means to be human.

Blood is Thicker Than Water, But So Is Ectoplasm - In which Danny is a clone of Batman.

Co-Written Works

Born to Make History | written alongside NightShiftShenanigans (@nightshiftshenanigans) - Patrol Partner Event; No Capes AU, Ice Skating AU, featuring Enemies to Lovers Danny and Jason.

For more completed works and series, explore here:

I have a little idea. I know some, if not all, will hate me for this idea.

So the Big Three of the League, namely Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman, don't like Captain Marvel. They don't hate him, but they don't particularly like him either.

He is too bright and friendly for Batman. You can see right away that he was brought up well. Marvel has never experienced the darkness of the world, because only people like him always believe in everything good and teach it to others. He has never experienced grief from loss or loneliness. He is a happy man from a happy family. And the fact that Batman cannot find out who Marvel is adds fuel to the fire.

Diana is a little jealous that Marvel is patronized by Zeus, her father. At the same time, Marvel behaves in a mature way that irritates her. After all, what warrior, endowed with the power of the Gods, would behave like a child? She believes that he does not deserve these powers. And she does not believe it when she hears from Marvel that he was endowed with these powers for his pure heart. No one has a pure heart. This is the truth of the world.

Superman is jealous that Marvel was accepted into Fawcett right away when he first appeared. And Clark had to work hard to stop being afraid and start being loved. Moreover, Clark is the last representative of his world, unlike Marvel, which is exactly why it is impossible to understand the weight of the whole world on his shoulders from such knowledge. Even the villains respect Marvel, unlike Superman's villains. And there is not much negative press about Marvel and his heroism, while Superman receives slander almost every day and not only.

So yeah, the Big Three don't like him a bit. The others can't figure out (especially Barry and Hal) what's wrong with Fawcett's hero that the three of them frown so much when it comes to Captain Marvel.

Meanwhile, Billy is hiding from the rain in the old subway, hugging his stuffed tiger, hoping that he can earn himself at least a dollar.

Very quick fan art for the latest chapter (ch 6) of Better Halves (and other such falsehoods) by @aster-draws

Shits already been great in this fic, but we’re about to go to troupe heaven (I.e. I love ‘there was only one bed’ so much.) I’m so excited for the next chapter

This is horrible, but here you go. Part 4 with Bruce's POV and more misunderstandings. I'll be updating on AO3 exclusively after this part, so catch it there!

Batman’s fingers were steepled, his face a mask of grim tenacity.

He looked through the files again, wanting them to miraculously change their contents. The force of his glare bought nothing about except a wide berth of where he was sitting in the cafeteria of the Watchtower.

There was barely any information on the two that had come through a green portal, toxic and swirling like Lazarus Waters.

One had looked like a stereotypical genie, and she was the one that he had been called to handle at first. She’d caused havoc, appearing anywhere and everywhere in multiple cities in America, granting wishes that bred disorder. The second was a boy, a young man of indiscriminate age. He looked to be between 14 and 17, and Bruce’s attempts to pinpoint his age only hit him with blinding headaches.

Magic. How he hated it. But there was nothing to be done for now, except to grab a member of Justice Dark who was able to figure out what was going on. There was no-one on call at the moment, and so after sending a message to anyone who’d be able to come up, he decided to at least talk to the boy, considering that he’d chased the genie back to wherever they’d come from, to figure out who they were.

He wasn’t satisfied.  The answers that the boy gave them were brief and curt; only giving the bare essentials and refusing to give anymore.

Who was she? A rogue of his.  

What was she? A ghost.

Will she be back? Perhaps.

 Where did you both come from? The Zone.

What species are you? Ghosts.

 How did you get here? Through a portal.

Are you dangerous? He gave a smile here, mischievous but with an edge of danger underneath.

“Wasn’t everyone?” he replied.  

Bruce was determined to get more answers out of the unknown, but at the moment Constantine had come in, drunk and looking like he had been dragged through a bush backwards. One look at the unknown and he paled, grabbing Bruce and speed walking – practically running – to another room.

What? It was starting to unnerve him now, the fact that a single boy was able to unsettle John Constantine, someone who was able to get into Hell without flinching.

“What are you doing?” Constantine hissed at him, fear and anger widening his eyes. He paced back and forth in the room that they found themselves in, his hands grabbing his hair. “That’s the High King of the INFINITE REALMS!”

“What does that mean?” he asked, adding this information to the profile he was building up of the ghost.

“He’s King of all of the dead! Anyone who’s ever died, who will die goes into the Realms, and he’s in charge of all of them.” He sighs then, nervous energy leaving him and slumps down into a chair. “Fuck. Fuck. Alright. You need a crash course in Realms Beings.”

Despite the fact that magic – and how he hated it – was involved, Bruce was able to assimilate the information that had been given to him. He’s given a brief history of the Infinite Realms – and wasn’t that a shock, a dimension that was literally infinite and connected to every one – and the major players of the place.

And then he got into recent history. There wasn’t a hierarchy; instead Monarchy seemed to be passed through combat. And this boy had been able to fight one of the biggest tyrants of Realms history, and had beaten him.

How powerful was he?

“About two decades ago, something happened to him. He was – harsher? He wasn’t as kind as he was, and he decided to take his rule seriously. He was fair – but his reputation tanked because his soulmate died, and he couldn’t feel emotions as strongly.” He takes out a cigarette, and before Bruce can do anything except give him a disapproving look, he lights it, taking a deep drag. “That’s bad for Realms Beings – they’re literally built on emotions, so he was named as something like a persecutor because he was stricter.”

He pauses then, eyes unfocused as he looked at something. “But when I saw him, he looked settled? Like he found something that he was missing.” He shrugs then, dismissing it, and looks at Bruce.

“I’m telling you Bats, you don’t want to piss him off.” He gets up stretching, and puts out his cigarette.  “Now I’m going to have to be the one to apologise.”

He walks out the room, hands shoved in the pockets of his trench coat, and leaves Bruce to his thoughts.

A boy who’d died too young, and had been a hero based on his comment of ‘his rogue’. He’d perhaps had been forced to fight the tyrant of an entire realm – perhaps not, and had volunteered to do so. Was powerful, and knew it too, seen when he dodged the question of whether he was dangerous or not. Someone who was able to traverse through portals – and were they made through the entire species or were they naturally occurring?  A boy who had lost his soulmate – was that a literal soulmate? – and so couldn’t feel emotions besides being ‘fair’. Had perhaps reunited with him, based on Constantine’s observation of being ‘settled’.

He still didn’t have as many answers as he wanted, but he had the bare minimum. He still had so many questions he wanted answered. 

He walks back into the room, and sees the rest of his team in the room with the boy king. He counts them – Nightwing, Spoiler, Black Bat. He doesn’t see Red Robin or Robin, so he looks across the room to see them talking to the boy. He tenses for a second, before he relaxes at seeing them unthreatened. The boy is floating, looking relaxed, but with an expression of sadness. Damian has his wrist in his grip, talking softly to him.

He pauses. Damian – talking softly?

He looks at Tim and his heart rate ticks up at seeing him looking shocked. Shocked. What had happened for Tim to drop his mask?

He looks at the other two, and his pulse quickens as he sees them looking besotted with each other. What?

But his mind is making connections too quickly for him to acknowledge, despite the stiff appearance he’s exhibiting.

Soulmate. Damian’s shift in nature. Tim’s shocked face. He looks at the others, and sees that they look tense as they watch the three.

He came to a conclusion, but refuses to acknowledge it. No, not his youngest.

He could not be the soulmate of someone he’d just met. He could not be the soulmate of a King of an entire dimension.

He’d seen what had happened to people who had fallen in love too soon in this business. He refused to let it happen to his youngest. Not to his 16 year old.

He catches Tim’s eye from across the room and his heart drops at what he sees written in his face.

Shit.

Dcxdp #22

Danny's human half dying as collateral during a fight. That human half goes into reincarnation and is reborn as Damian Wayne. He isn't born with all of his memories but he definitely feels that something is wrong. they would get their Memories Back at about 8 and have a horrible time dealing with being an assassin. Danny would try to stick to the personality they already had before but there's definitely slip-ups of them being like yeah this is wrong and Talia thinks they take after their father because of it. 

The first thing Danny does when they're not being monitored by their mom or the bat family is to look for Phantom. Phantom to have run away to the ghost Zone and has built a reputation as a merciless ruler. He's a good ruler and he's not a tyrant but  he doesn't have the reputation of kindness. Damien as the moral compass of the duo is really funny to me.

 There's a situation later that involves ghosts which is where Danny/Damian and Phantom meet again. I want there to be a very big misunderstanding that heroes think Phantom is obsessed with Damien but in reality they are literally other halves of a soul. Phantom keeps doing and saying things that no one else would get away with around Damien. Phantom would be saying things like making fun of his height or giving him nicknames but as far as anyone else sees Davian doesn't even flinch.

Danny/Damian and Phantom have lived Separate Lives for a while so they don't automatically fuse into one person. I think they would fuse for a few hours just to feel themselves be one Soul again but they have Separate Lives so they can't stay that way. The bat family is very concerned with Damien continuing to talk to the obsessive ghost that keeps possessing his body.

sorry to bother you, but you had mentioned a Percy/Rachel/Annabeth AU and I was wondering if you had any crumbs of it you would be willing to spare

My thought process is that Percrachelbeth gets together around September post-PJO, it's a touch odd for both Rachel and Annabeth since they were previously antagonistic, but Annabeth realizes she was also snappy because she also liked Rachel. Then Percy vanishes and Annabeth and Rachel get the time to bond and fall in love more, while Percy dreams about them (adorable). Everything happens in HOO, and TOA, and then Rachel's dad dies.

She's left in charge of the company, since he apparently had a fit of conscious and left it to her, but surprise! Lex Luthor wants something (a Mcguffin), and thinks Rachel will be easier to manipulate, unaware that Percy and Annabeth are completely down to ruin his life.

The comprehensive takedown of LexCorp begins, and they get an invite to the inauguration of Oliver Queen as Mayor of Star City, which Dick is also invited to.

This is basically more of a Green Arrow/Teen Titans with a splash of Lex Luthor x PJO fic, I'm thinking that Cissie might be a legacy of Apollo, I'm sticking to blonde Percy, but there will be jokes about Annabeth having Dick's taste in redheads which Rachel bears with dignity until she starts ominously predicting people's futures.

This is not a bother, please send me more asks, I love answering them!

DP x DC prompt - Haunted Doll

Danny is injured (due to some reason or another) and needs to take refuge somewhere safe. He ends up occupying a doll to hide from his parents/GIW. That doll is picked up by Jason Todd.

Jason Todd loves that doll.

The rest of his family, not so much.

In short, Danny ends up possessing a doll, unintentionally making it creepy. Jason sees it as a regular, cute doll. The rest of the batfam sees it as an Annabelle-esque creature.

(There's more discussions on the dead on main discord)

Writing Prompt #15 (NSFW, Smut Below)

"Noo," Sam whines, head thunking back against the baseboard.

"Yeth," Danny says, hands gripping her thighs harder.

"No, I mean yes!" Sam says, legs spasming in Danny's solid hold, one hand grabbing his hair to push him further into her. "No to that!" she says, head turning towards the bedside table, where the flip phone is vibrating so hard it's about to fall over the edge. An apt visual metaphor Sam will think about when Sam can think.

Danny's large hands slide under her ass to pull her even deeper onto his tongue and she bites back a shriek as her thighs land on his shoulders. The dip where his trapezius muscle meets the bulge of his delts cradles each leg perfectly as he splays himself flat against the bed with a gentle grind and a harsh groan.

"Danny," Sam moans, hand gripping hair tighter. This does nothing to dissuade the man who, by all accounts, has decided to live between her legs for the past hour and into the next. Rather, if history proves true, all it does is spur him on.

"Danny, the phone—!"

One hand drops a leg as the cell finally falls off the table, snatching it out of midair. Sam recognizes the windup of a throw as his hand angles back and this time she yanks away.

Danny comes up for air with enough resistance to make his protest clear but not enough to hurt her, a frustrated frown already forming.

"Sam," he growls.

Her legs spasm again, and Danny's eyes dip down a split second before his head does.

She yanks again.

"What?" Danny snarls.

"Do not destroy the Justice burner," Sam tries to scold, landing on breathless. Danny blinks at the phone in his hand, as surprised to see it as he is to see himself about to yeet it into the plaster.

"Oh," he says, opening his palm to let it drop unharmed to the floor. "Fine."

"No," Sam says, pulling at his hair and stifling a whimper when he goes with it, biting his lip. "You need to, to answer it. It's the, the,"

"Shhh," Danny says, bending down to nuzzle her stomach, nibbling under her belly button and making her shiver. "Only one thing I need to do—"

"It's the emergency, tone, ah! It's an emergency."

Danny presses an ice cold kiss to the top of her that sends shudders of heat through her body, before a warm tongue trails languidly, lingeringly...

"I'll get there when I get there," he says, muffled. Sam gives in for a minute (or two, or three) before biting back a sob as the phone begins to ring anew.

"They keep calling—fucking fuck!" She arcs up over the arm clamped across her lower belly, using both hands to grab his face and kiss him as she shakes through an orgasm. Her eyes refocus to the soft awe in his, at odds with the smug, lewd smile slowly unfurling on his face.

A smile that immediately drops at someone pounds at their front door.

"Ignore them—" Danny starts.

"They can pick locks."

"—frick and a half!"

Sam's hit with wind that sends her hair whipping across her face as Danny speeds through the wall. She scrambles up herself, almost tumbling off the bed in her haste.

"Danny!" Damian Wayne says, bursting into their living room. "We require your assist—what was that?" he asks as Sam slams the bedroom door closed.

"Two words: security. deposit." Danny says, blocking the entryway.

"The door's fine," Tim says, leaning against the frame. Danny would poke fun at the teen's posing if he wasn't two seconds from punting him out the window. "Just because we don't often use a gentle touch doesn't mean we don't know how."

"Um," Dick says, uncharacteristically subdued. His eyes bounce from Danny to the bedroom door behind him. "Sorry to barge in like this."

"What? Of course we're not! You were ignoring a Justice League communication! It is all hands on deck!"

"You know if you keep showing up like this my landlord is going to seriously raise my rent right? I'm up for renewal in two months." Danny crosses his arms, willing his teeth to remain un-fanglike. "When I told you my identity it wasn't so you could visit whenever."

"Our mistake," Tim snarks, "next time we can drop by in full costume. Landlord will definitely like that one."

"How about you don't drop by at all?" Danny says, smiling and by the way both boys flinch back, failing to unfang. It's a testament to the relationship he's cultivated with them that that's all they do, startled rather than fearful.

"Okay, okay, Phantom, Danny, seriously, we're sorry about this," Dick says, shouldering in front of the two boys. "Definitely didn't mean to intrude, or interrupt—"

"Interrupt? Interrupt what?" Damian asks.

"Nothing!" "Nothing." Dick and Danny say simultaneously, Dick in a loud cry while Danny says it firmly, glowering. Tim blinks, shoulders dropping.

"Oh," he says, eyes bouncing to the bedroom. "Oh." His face flushes red. "Um."

Danny turns ever so slowly to stare accusingly at Dick, who's buried his face in his hands.

"Interesting," Damian says, leaning forward. "I was unaware you could turn your legs into a tail while still in human form. Is this something you do often?"

"It better not be," Danny says.

"O-kay!" Dick all but shrieks. "Phantom, we'll see you when we see you!"

Danny grunts.

"Um, it is important for what it's worth," Tim offers weakly, "Yeah, he's got it," Dick hisses at him, shoving him and Damian out the door as the one behind Danny creaks open.

"Grayson," Sam says. To her credit, only the way her hair is teased up indicates anything amiss. She tosses the Justice burner, still ringing, to Danny. "The world better be on fire."

Dick winces. "Take it up with Batman!" he yanks the front door shut behind him, and they listen to the sound of his footsteps fading before Danny takes one very purposeful step back towards Sam.

"Danny."

"Sam."

"The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back."

Danny deliberates.

"Deal." And he's gone.

Sam stretches til she hears her back pop, heads for the kitchen and pulls out a bag of popcorn. She opens the microwave door then reconsiders, shutting it. He won't be gone that long, after all.

Mae's Writing

Mae's Writing

Hi! I’m Mae, a freelance writer. Welcome to my carrd, and take a look around! If you have any questions, send an email!

Hi all! I’m doing a valentines discount, which will be available until the 12th February.

Want to commission a poem for your SO?

Want to confess to your crush?

Want a love letter written?

Then commission me!

After moving to Gotham and having to deal with a stressful job, Danny has started taking walks around the city as a way to destress.

Since he knows that he could get mugged, he just becomes intangible and invisible while listening to some loud music on his phone.

Unfortunately for him, his control on his Invisibility keeps slipping when he gets lost in his music, and the people of Gotham keep seeing a semi-translucent ghost man walking around at night aimlessly.

Some thugs think it’s just a meta with invisibility and try to mug him, but pass right through and he disappears completely. This convinces them that he is a ghost, since having both invisibility, and intangibility would be too big a coincidence. Not to mention he never reacts to them whatsoever.

The Bat’s get word that a Ghost has been stalking the streets of Gotham, and he looks scarily like Bruce Wayne from the little they have been able to see from him. Now Batman thinks his dad may have come back as a ghost.

Danny is oblivious to all of this. He just likes his nightly strolls.