A Scribe's Stories

A page of fan fiction and any other stories I write!

[ascribesstory]

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

Batman fanfiction:

Series:

The Ache of Betrayal: one/two/three/four/five/six/seven: (Bruce) (Dick)/eight/nine/ten (Final part)

Halloween special: 🪓🔪 Final Girl 🔪🪓: one/two/three/four

Oneshots:

A Bad Night

Lockwood and Co. fanfiction:

Ancient History: one

Doctor Who fanfiction:

Three Timelords: one/two

Hazbin Hotel FanFiction:

Radioapple:

Healing Wounds: one/two/three

Original stories:

Cones

Doodads:

Buttman

SuperBat headcannon

BatFam poison resistance

Batgirl 2000 headcanon

Batman desktop drawing

Bruce's parenting

That One Red Robin Cowl

[ascribesstory]

Healing Wounds (Part Three)

Hazbin fic: (Lucifer x Alastor)

Wooo! Part three!

Trigger warnings: Mentions of murder

Word count: 1,471

Part two/Part four (To be written)

Midnight: Alastor

 “Rosie!  It’s such a surprise to see you here, especially at such a late hour.  Perhaps you’d like me to fetch Charlie?”

Alastor was quite pleased with himself. After Rosie started sending him letters, It quickly became clear that she had no plans to come to him.  She even went as far to avoid the last overlord meeting, and that just wouldn’t do.

As it seems, all it had taken for her to change her mind was his declaration to work with Lucifer.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Actually, I’m here to talk to you, as I’m sure you know.”  She tries to take his arm, but hesitates as Alastor’s ears tilt back.

This shift in their relationship was still new, and she wanted to feel it out before doing anything to agitate the deer demon before her.

She crosses her hands over her skirt and takes a moment to survey the now busy hotel’s occupants.  “Well, I can see why you weren’t answering me with so much to do, I’ve never seen so many people in one place!  But you know, just because our new deal has different rules doesn’t mean you can avoid me like this.”

His tone shifts, tinged with triumph.  “Well, I think it’s quite understandable that after years of being at your beck and call I found myself exploring my new freedom.”

She starts to walk further into the room but pauses after a moment, letting out a weary sigh when she realizes Alastor isn’t going to follow.

“Could you please come along?  I think we should find somewhere a little more private to have this conversation.”

Alastor makes a contemplative noise before planting his cane firmly onto the carpet and leaning on it.  “I think right here is fine!  Anyway, I have to stay close in case The King calls.  I’m sure you can manage to keep your voice down, can’t you?”

Rosie frowns, begrudgingly returning to Alastor’s side in a corner of the hotel’s crowded bar.  “I have something I need your assistance with and we need to discuss this new arrangement you have with The King.  You didn’t make a deal with him, did you?”

He chuckles.  “Please, our dear king may be gullible, but he’s not a complete imbecile."

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence from Rosie before the noise of the hotel rushes to fill the space.  “Oh Alastor…”  She murmurs, barely loud enough for him to hear.  “Will you at least clue me in on this little scheme of yours?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing instead to tilt his head toward the ceiling as if he could see straight through it to the stars.

Rosie continues.  “Anyway, there’s a problem emerging in Cannibal Town.  Something that even you will be interested in.”

This finally pulls his attention back to her.  “I’m listening.”

She’s not unaware of the way his shadow slips closer to her, thinking itself sneaky.  She’s not afraid of the growing darkness behind her though.  In a way, she’s even amused.

“It was first noticed downtown—”  With a flick of her wrist, golden magic struck his shadow, causing sparks and scaring it away. Alastor flinches almost imperceptibly. “—when five of our most prominent residents went missing.”

As Alastor recovers, she leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “They showed up dissected, no trace of their powers remaining in their body.”

Alastor recovers and looks up, eyes lighting up with interest.  “You mean someone is harvesting souls?”

Rosie scoffs.  “Don’t even think about it.  I know you're hungry for power, but even you wouldn’t dissect  people for such… meager amounts of power.

He shrugs.  “True, but it is something to keep in mind.”

Her expression quickly shifts to a smile as one of the subjects of Cannibal Town comes over to talk to her, leaving Alastor to look around.

When his eyes land on Lucifer he straightens his posture, staring at Lucifer’s new companion with barely contained hostility.  Rosie doesn’t notice his departure, and neither does Lucifer notice his approach.

No one notices him at all until he’s right behind Lucifer, his expression promising violence.

Midnight: Lucifer

The night had started off well for Lucifer.  Despite having to deal with the crowd of the hotel, he had managed to find a bit of peace standing next to Alastor.

But then at some point Lucifer had turned around to speak and his companion was gone, leaving him stranded in a room of sinners that despised him.

Charlie and Vaggie had both been preoccupied tending to the guests, and there wasn’t anyone else he had recognized.  So, despite Lucifer's distaste for him, he decided to seek out the mangy cat that usually tended the bar.

But instead he somehow ended up in a conversation with a stunning woman.  And yes, she was a sinner, but something about her was soft and innocent.  She had beautiful round eyes and soft black hair that she seemed to be constantly tucking behind her ear, only for it to fall again.  The only sign that she was a demon at all were the fangs that occasionally caught her lip and the little horns poking out from her hair.

She didn’t even seem to care who he was, instead asking why he was here alone.  And, well, Lucifer couldn’t resist her curious questions or soft understanding smiles.

“You know, it’s really kind of you to let me sit here and go on and on.  Most people get irritated by now.”  He flushes, a little embarrassed with how much he had shared.  Has she even gotten a chance to speak?

She laughs, and his nervousness dissipates.

“Oh it’s alright, I actually enjoyed it.  Most of the guys I meet try to show off, but you’re really genuine.  It’s very sweet.” 

He grins, regaining some confidence.  “I’m glad, but I’ve gone on long enough.  What about you?  Why did you come down to the hotel?”

She turns away from her drink, running a finger along the rim as she directs her lovely eyes back to him.  “Well, after seeing all the overlords and angels work together to save Hell… I don’t know, redemption doesn’t seem so ridiculous.”

He nods, wanting to ask what she had done in life to end up here, but not wanting to be rude.  “Well… You already seem very nice. My guess is that you’re already halfway there!”

She laughs softly, and Lucifer adjusts his cuffs in an attempt to distract from his growing blush.  Though, when she gently takes his hand and puts it on the table, it gets significantly worse.

“Y-You know, I never caught your name?”  He asks, his voice cracking.

“It’s Jade.”  She smiles slyly.  “You know, I would really like it if we could hang out more later.  In private maybe?”

He lights up, missing the way her thumb rubs the back of his hand.  “That would be great!  I could show you my collection of rubber ducks!  Maybe I could even make one that looks like you, if you wanted!”

She covers her mouth with the back of her hand as she laughs. “Oh Lucifer you—”

One moment she’s looking at him with those gleaming eyes of hers, then the next they’ve slid up to something behind him, her face draining of color.

It’s when her expression fully shifts to one of terror that Lucifer turns around, only to be startled by the sight of Alastor standing much too close. His antlers had grown impossibly large, and his eyes!  His eyes and teeth were glowing an old fashioned off white, his shadow eating up any of the light that tried to escape him.

“Lucifer, didn’t I tell you not to wander off?”  He asks in an overly cheery voice, the static thicker than usual.

Lucifer sneers, unable to restrain his annoyance.  Was Alastor actually trying to intimidate him?  “Actually, if you had any sort of memory, you’d know it was you who left me.  But it’s no matter, I’ve been talking to Jade here—”

When Lucifer turns to introduce the woman who had been the subject of his attention for the better part of an hour, he finds an empty chair.  The only evidence she had been there at all was a lipstick stained glass of whisky, still half full.

“She was just here…”

Alastor chuckles, returning to a more relaxed form.  “Well, it doesn’t matter now does it?  Shall we get back to circling the room?  I see a few other familiar faces I’d like to get reacquainted with.”

Lucifer sighs, leaving his untouched drink and standing to join Alastor.

He doesn’t even notice who they walk over to, or what Alastor says to them.  All he can think about is the way Jade had left, what had he done wrong?

He couldn’t smile the rest of the night.

[ascribesstory]

Healing Wounds (Part Two)

Hazbin fic: (Lucifer x Alastor)

HEY! Part two's finally out! I already have some fun plans for part three too :>

Trigger warnings: Shouting, arguments, cursing

Word count: 1,137

Part one/Part three

Putting Lucifer and Alastor in a room together would be a bad idea any day, but forcing them to do so and get along in front of a crowd?

Lucifer honestly didn’t know what his daughter had been thinking when she asked this of him.  He knew it was a bad idea, but how could he refuse when Charlie had pleaded?

Lucifer would admit that the residents of hell didn’t think much of their king, it was obvious to even him.  So why did Charlie even need him here?

According to Charlie, it was to prove that demons and angels, even ones as at odds as him and Alastor could be friends.

Lucifer suspects the only reason Alastor agreed at all was for the chance to torture him without retribution

“Oh yes!  Lucifer and I have become quite chummy while helping Charlie with the Hotel.  In FACT, I would even call us partners!”

While Lucifer was lamenting his life choices, he failed to notice the meeting’s newest arrival.

It was when Alastor went as far as to put his arm around his shoulders that Lucifer realized something was wrong and looked around.

As Lucifer’s eyes landed on Vox, it felt as if the room’s temperature dropped a few degrees.

Lucifer wasn’t entirely sure what exactly he was feeling as his chest tightened and he struggled for breath, but he knew it was not the anger or the outrage that he had been expecting.

“Oh look who got his body back! Has the génocidaire been behaving himself?”  Alastor mocks in a sing-song voice, gesturing with his free hand.

Vox scoffs, crossing his arms.  “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but your interference hasn’t disrupted our plans at all!” He exclaims with a flourish.

His declaration is met with a lackluster response from his partners.  Valentino mutters something as he and Velvette make their way to their chairs, leaving Vox standing by himself.

That doesn’t do the slightest to deter him.

“Anyway, since when have you been chums with anyone, let alone the king of hell?  Last time I checked it was pretty common knowledge that you two can’t stand each other.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to say something— anything really, but finds he cannot manage a single word.  Alastor gives him a strange look, but luckily Charlie jumps in to defend the two.

“While you were trying to tear everything apart, some people have managed to better themselves!  I personally think their friendship is a great precedent for the future of Heaven and Hell!  Imagine it!  Overlords and angels working together!”

Some of the overlords mutter and others scoff, finding Charlie’s speech ridiculous.  So Vox continues to push, mistaking their doubt for support.

“Hah!  The fact that you think those two are actually friends just shows how stupid you are!  If you think—”

“Enough.”

It wasn’t often Lucifer could hold the attention of a room anymore, but right now he could. For a moment, people could tell why he used to be God’s favorite.

Lucifer wouldn’t just stand by while Vox disrespected his daughter.

“I don’t think your opinions hold any weight here, Vox.  Not only did your plan fail, but you were willing to kill everyone in hell for what?”  He sneered, “Some insane obsession?”

Lucifer could feel Alastor’s hand tightening on his shoulder, but when he looked up Alastor’s smile seemed wider, stretched with unnatural glee.

It was terrifying.

Vox laughs nervously under the disapproving stares of the other overlords.  “I was simply trying to fix things around here! Ask anyone!”

By anyone, he obviously meant one of the Vees, but neither of them rise to his defense.  Velvette doesn’t bother looking up from her phone, and Valentino lifts a hand to his face, muttering in Spanish.

Carmella speaks up, her voice full of steel and blame. “During your stunt, I had warned you that any more use would overload the weapon.  But instead of stopping, you proceeded to charge it up again, putting us all at risk.  You didn’t want to fix anything except your ego.”

The other overlords murmur in agreement and Vox’s screen glitches, but before he can continue, Alastor cuts in.  His smile borders on threatening as he coos,  “I think you should sit down Vincent, before you make a fool of yourself any further.”

Vox looks around, suddenly realizing that no one was going to back him up, that for now, no one was listening to him.  There’s a sour look on his face as he mutters, “I’m right, it’s just a matter of time before you all see that.”

He sits down and Valentino pats him on the shoulder.

After a moment, Zestial speaks up in a slightly irritated tone, addressing Charlie, “As much as I hate to admit it, Vox may have a point.  It is well known throughout hell that your father and Alastor aren’t exactly friends.  Are you not afraid that this will all come off as a bit… desperate?”

“What? Why would it—”

Velvette cuts Charlie off without even looking up from her phone.  “He’s calling you a fraud, honey.  Alastor and Lucifer becoming friends? No one’s gonna believe that crap.”

Before Charlie can protest or Lucifer can defend his daughter, Alastor speaks up again, “Actually, I think the reality of our arrangement will become evident as time goes on.  From here on out, the king and I will be working together at Charlie’s hotel.  With the king’s authority and my influence, I believe we can make a real difference in the relationship between Heaven and Hell.”

Nobody speaks for a moment, even Lucifer is stunned by the seemingly cooperative nature of Alastor’s speech.

Lucifer is the first to break that silence as he continues with more confidence than he felt, “Alastor is right.  From here on out, he and I will be partners in this endeavor.  We will—”

“THAT IS BULLSHIT!”  Vox’s hands slam down on the desk, his screen glitching.  “You think this ridiculous little PARTNERSHIP of yours will do anything for your cause?!  It makes me sick just looking at the two of you!”

Vox stands, eyes narrowing as he glares at Alastor.  “I don’t know what you’re really trying to do, but this is pathetic, and you know it.”

Vox turns on his heel and storms out with Valentino in tow, but Velvette lags behind, still typing on her phone as she stops beside Alastor.  “Ignore him, he’s just pissy that everyone saw his little tantrum last time.”

Alastor chuckles.  “My dear, I have no idea how you put up with him.”

Velvette smirks before following the other two out the door.

The meeting room is silent with a mix of shock, confusion, and unease.  As he looks around, Lucifer wonders if any of this was actually going to work.

[ascribesstory]

Healing Wounds (Part One)

Hazbin fic: (Lucifer x Alastor)

Hello!  Sorry for the hiatus! (I burnt myself out on Batman, but I swear I have more ideas for when the time strikes)  I recently discovered Hazbin Hotel.  Well, the fandom.  Soooo, please accept this Radioapple ship even though I haven’t even watched the show.  :)  Also, this series takes place after the events of season two.

Trigger warnings: Mild injuries

Word count: 969

Part two

The hotel was alive for the first time since it opened.  It was overflowing with voices and movement to the point Lucifer felt almost dizzy with it.

After all, it had been a long time since he’d been around this many people.  Around any amount of people, really.

Every smile is a struggle, every helpful comment was like sandpaper in his throat, and he was bleeding through his bandages.  Again.

After politely excusing himself, he made his way to the only place left in the hotel not being swarmed with guests.

Unfortunately, that happened to be the stairs leading to Alastor's tower.

Unable and unwilling to walk up all those stairs, he sits on the bottom steps. After all, even if he could make his way up there he’d risk running into that damned bellhop.

It was a struggle to even pull off his coat, every movement pulling at each one of the various puncture wounds on his body.

It was times like these that Lucifer missed heaven.  The other angels wouldn’t have left him in such a state.  But thinking it over,  maybe they would have now, after everything he’s done.

For a minute he forgets what he was doing, lost in thoughts of the past and self loathing.

“If I didn’t know any better your majesty, I’d say you were moping!”

That irritating staticky voice was exactly the last thing Lucifer had wanted to hear at the moment.

“To be moping, one must be sad.  As far as I can tell there’s nothing to be sad about!  We stopped Vox’s mega genocide weapon, the hotel is thriving, and everyone’s both alive and well!”

Alastor raises a brow, his eyes pointedly turning their gaze to the growing bloodstain on Lucifer’s button up.

“Well, relatively well.”  he amends, annoyance seeping into his voice.

Alastor laughs, and Lucifer just can’t deal with Alastor's mockery today.  So he pushes himself up off the stairs, his hand moving to his side as he makes his way across the room.

“Oh come on Lucifer.  There are many people you can lie to, but it’s just silly to think that I am one of them.”

Lucifer can’t help but to laugh, hand on the door.  “Oh yes, because you know me so well.”

He pauses as Alastor reappears in front of him,  a rubber duck Lucifer had lost some time ago perched on his palm.

“I notice more things than you think, little king.”

He’s too stunned to notice the nickname as he takes the tiny toy, and by the time he looks back up Alastor had already vanished.  Most likely, he left to make someone else's life miserable.

But the whole thing has made Lucifer feel a little bit better, even if he’s reluctant to admit that it was thanks to a sinner.  Alastor no less.

He stands outside his studio doors.

His chest aches, and he gently puts his hand over it before opening the doors.  Which is the most extreme reaction that Alastor allows himself as he slips into the privacy of his studio.

His shadow helps him, pulling off his coat and bringing his chair, hovering nervously the whole time.

He can’t help the staticky hiss that escapes him as he stiffly lowers himself into the chair.

Normally, being thrown around was nothing for an overlord, especially one as powerful as Alastor.  But with this wretched chest wound …

Even taking off the bandages was a bother to his innards, each movement pulling on his sore joints.  To his dismay, the wound was much worse than the last time he had a chance to look at it.  Whether it was from all those little shocks Vox had so childishly lavished upon him or from almost dying to an angelic weapon again, he didn’t know.

The stitches on the ugly thing had either frayed or snapped, leaving the final few groaning with the effort of keeping his life blood inside him.

As Alastor stitched himself back up, he thought about the next step from here.  He had managed to get out of all his deals, even if his plan with Vox had spiraled a little out of control.  Really, he had never imagined that picture box would be stupid enough to try and kill them all!  In any other circumstance, Alastor would have gotten a good laugh out of it.

He pauses his work when he sees his shadow playing with something he had left on his desk.

“Ha!  Messing with that little toy?  What, you think I should have given back both of them?”

His shadow was holding the other rubber duck Lucifer had “lost” as if inspecting it.  In truth, Alastor had been snatching them to oh so helpfully return whenever he needed the fallen king's favor.

It peeves Alastor as his shadow continues to turn the little toy over in his hands.  “What exactly are you trying to imply?”  He asks his own shadow darkly, knowing it tends to lean toward the more emotional side.

His shadow simply threw the duck at his face, and Alastor’s hand flicked up into the air, catching it faster than the eye could follow.

Alastor’s smile strained as he squeezed the wretched thing, threatening to pop it.  “You think I care about this little thing?  It’s leverage, against a king who’s happy to be used as a tool.”

His shadow tilts its head, not agreeing, but not relenting either.  Alastor sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but do me a favor and don’t bother me with this sort of thing again.”

He doesn't check for his shadow’s response as he shoves the duck into a drawer, going back to fixing up his wound.

After all, he had to be quick about it if he wanted to start his broadcast on time.

[ascribesstory]

When it's not cold enough for a blizzard but there are leaves flying around...

Lizard.

It's a leaf blizzard.

[ascribesstory]

-🪓🔪 Final Girl 🔪🪓-

(1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)

Heya! Took me two days to get this done. Anyway, there might be an afterword tomorrow. Happy Halloween!

Trigger warnings: Fear, haunted house, violence, arguing, blood, dog violence, dead dogs

Word count: 2,342

Max and I sit across from each other on the floor, hiding in one of the dead ends of the maze.  Max leans against the wall while I use a piece of metal debris to try and scratch onto the floor what we remembered of the map.

Somehow, none of us had thought to grab extra, and with Jace gone we were left in the dark.  Figuratively, and literally.

“Do you remember where we were supposed to turn next?  Or—”

“This is such bullshit!”  Max shouts and pushes off the wall.  “What are we supposed to do?  Keep marching blindly ahead and wait for him to kill us as well?”

I sigh and sit back.  “We’ve gone over this, what else can we do?  Sit and wait?”

He turns toward me with wide eyes. “I say we fight back.”

I’m barely able to hold back a scornful laugh before I nod.  “Oh yeah, I’m sure he hasn’t planned for that scenario."

He glares at me.  “It’s not like anything else has worked!  Our friends are dead and I don’t want to join them!”

”I’m not letting anyone else die.”

He scoffs.  “What makes you think you can save anyone?  Sorry Steph, but you’re no hero.”

”And Cass is?”

He shuts up.

I go back to trying to sketch out the map, ignoring his uncomfortable staring.

”What Jace said..“  Struggling with grief, he decides to go a different direction.  “I’m not friends with you just because of Cass.”

I look up, trying to keep my own sorrow in check.  “Just help me finish this, okay?”

He sits down next to me, occasionally pitching in.  And about ten minutes later we have a rough idea of how to get to the exit.

”Do you think we can make it?”

I don’t know how to respond, fearing any reassurances would come out sounding fake.  “I don’t know.”

I move to stand, but he grabs my arm.  “Stephanie, wait.  I have an idea.”

Although I was skeptical at first, his plan might actually work.  There was only one problem.

“Getting rid of our last phone sounds like a really bad idea.”  I mention as we scout out the room we’ve picked.  “If we manage to get out we’ll have to find some other way to call for help.”

“We have to get out first.”  He says, brow furrowing as he examines one of the corners.  Ever since our talk he’s seemed to have pulled himself together, concerningly calm.

”… Are you okay?”  I ask, taking a step closer to try and see his reaction.

He looks away.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

I frown slightly, but I don’t push it.  We just don’t have the time right now.

We decide the room is suitable soI take out my phone and pull up the recording we made a few minutes ago.  “Ready for this?”

He nods and walks toward the corner of the room, shooting me a nervous expression.

I hit play and quickly joined him, our prerecorded conversation blasting at full volume.  As we stood there, I couldn't help but worry that we hadn’t made the recording long enough.  Who knows how long it would take Scarecrow to show?

Just as I have that thought, I hear whistling in the distance.  It unnerves me how close he must have been to have instantly heard the recording.

After that it’s not long until we can hear his footsteps, the sound of his metal axe dragging across the wood floor behind him.

And then, feeling completely unprepared, we watch Scarecrow walk in.  He has fresh bloodstains covering up the ones we had first seen, his axe glinting in the dim light.

He steps into the room, the burlap sack he calls a mask limits his field of vision as he looks around.

Max and I stay as still as possible, as quiet as the dead.

Scarecrow puts down his axe and focuses on the phone.  He kneels down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands.

Without a moment's hesitation we run.  We take the hall he had come from, hearing his enraged howl as he realized what we’ve done.

“Faster!”  I hiss, pulling Max along.

“When did you get so fast?!”  Max responds, out of breath as we take the first turn.

So far so good.

Scarecrow couldn’t have caught up yet, but the way sounds reflect off the walls makes it feel as if he’s right behind us.

A thin, eerie voice reaches our ears,  “Little kiddies- Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Max visibly bristles, throwing a glance over his shoulder.  “I don’t see him.”

“If we’re lucky, it’ll stay that way.  Come on!”

We run down the halls, anxious at every turn that we’ll run into a dead end or get turned around somehow.

“Come on little bat!  If you surrender, maybe I’ll let your friend go!  After all, you’ve already lost soooo many!”

Max shoots me a look and I ignore him, focusing on which turn to take next.

Miraculously we don’t get lost, or walk into a trap, or run into any other horrible surprises.  We managed to make it through the maze and to the exit.

The only problem was the hatch.  The only way to reach it was by a ladder, and there was no way we’d both be able to get up and out before Scarecrow caught up to us.

I’m trying to find a way to block the door, but I stop as I see Max pick up a piece of rebar and block it himself.

“What are you doing?!”

“You need to get out of here.”

“We both need to get out!”

He shakes his head.  “I’m not stupid Steph.  I finally pieced it together, you know? Took me long enough. You’re one of Batman's vigilantes.”

I freeze.  “How did you—”

“Scarecrow literally called you one of the bats Steph.”

“... I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I’m shocked by how easily he says it.  “He did this because of me.”  I explain, wondering if he hadn’t understood somehow.

He shakes his head.  “You don’t know that.  Even if he did, that’s still not your fault.”

I frown but nod.  “Well, since you know who I am, you should know what I’m gonna do next.”

He looks back at me, following my movements as I pick up another piece of rebar and join him.

“What?”

I roll out my neck and get into position.  “I’m not leaving this place without you.  We’re both going to get out of here alive, or neither of us are.”

“I’m trying to save you—”

“I don’t need to be saved.”

Nothing more needs to be said as we look down the dark hall, waiting for our foe to step out into the light.

And then…

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

“Is he… coming?”  Max asks, moving his head around to get a better look.

“I thought he was. I mean, he has to know we’re down here.”

We wait a few more minutes before coming to the conclusion that he’s really not going to show.

Max looks relieved but I can’t help but look back up at the hatch.  “He wouldn’t have just given up.”

He follows my gaze.  “He can’t have looped around that quickly…  What do you think is up there?”

I shake my head.  “Nothing good, but we can’t exactly go back now can we?”

Max sighs.  “Why can’t any of this be easy?”

It almost makes me laugh.  Almost.

After another minute of gathering up our courage, I convince Max to let me take the lead and we climb.

I push open the hatch and we climb out into the dark night, the wet grass squishing beneath our sneakers.  Rain was no longer falling from the clouds, but they still managed to block out any light.

“Shit—”  Max almost falls as soon as he gets out, and I have to help him stay upright.

We look around and find that the small area we’re in is surrounded by a wire fence.  There’s complete darkness except for a glowing red bulb by the gate, reflecting off the soaked walls of the house behind us.

“I guess that’s probably the way out…”  He says with the same amount of trepidation that I feel.

I nod and find a button by the light.  “Are you ready?  We might have to run.”

He takes a breath before nodding.  “Let’s go.”

I press the button and there’s a loud buzz.  There’s an audible click as the light turns green and the gate swings open.

We push it the rest of the way open and cautiously start our trek to the front yard.

At first, it seems fine as we make our way across the soggy grass, the sound of crickets and mushy steps the only audible disturbance.

It’s when we’re nearing the corner of the house that the barking starts.

I assume it’s nothing, probably coming from somewhere else.  Then it gets louder, obviously coming our way.

When we’re about to turn the corner I glance back and see a pack of dogs quickly making their way across the yard, leaping and bounding and coming straight toward us.

“Run—  RUN!”  I shout, not bothering with stealth any longer.

Max starts to run and doesn’t look back, but it’s not enough.

By myself, I would have been able to make it to the front yard in plenty of time.  But Max is bigger than me, he can’t run nearly as fast.

Just as the dogs round the corner I see a fire escape.  “Over there!”

We rush over, but the ladder doesn’t hang down far enough for either of us to reach.

Max quickly kneels down and puts his hands out for me to step on, and I follow his lead.  He boosts me up, and I throw the piece of rebar onto the platform before climbing up myself.

I try to ignore the increasing terror as the sound of barking increases, our time running out.

I finally manage to unlock the ladder's sliding mechanism and it falls down.

“Get up!  Get up now!  Come on!”  I shout, watching as Max discards his weapon and starts to climb.

But it’s too late.

The dogs have caught up and one manages to grab his pant leg, tugging hard enough for Max to almost lose his grip.

I grab onto his shirt and try to pull him up. “Kick it off!”

He tries, a look of terror on his face as the rest of the dogs catch up and sink in their teeth, getting more than just cloth.

My grip on his shirt isn’t strong enough to hold him up as the dogs drag him down.  He falls, letting out a pained scream as the dogs converge on him.

His screams are horrific, and enough to push me into action.  I grab my makeshift weapon and jump down.

It’s bloody, and I get my fair share of bites, but by the end half of them run away.

The other half aren’t moving anymore.

I’m shaking and out of breath, covered in blood as I drop my weapon and kneel beside Max.  I plead to everything and nothing as I check his pulse.

He’s alive.

I let out a broken laugh that ends with a sob.  Moving quickly, I haul his unconscious body up, dragging him along.  “Come on, I told you I’d get you out alive.”

I only manage to get to the front lawn before I see him.

Scarecrow.

He’s standing in front of the entrance with a casualness that makes my blood boil.  How many had he killed for this stunt?  How could he just stand there like nothing had happened?

“Crane.”

He doesn’t  say a word, he just lifts his axe to rest it over his shoulder.

“Get out of my way.”  I snarl, holding onto Max just a bit better.

Scarecrow laughs.  “It’s cute to see the little bat try to seem so big.”

I gently lower Max to the ground.  “I don’t have time for any more of your mind games Crane—”

“Haven’t you wondered why nobody’s come to find you yet?”  Scarecrow inquires, taking a step forward.

I don't give any ground.  “They don’t know I’m in danger.”

He laughs.  “Is that what you think?  Or is it possible they’re just sick of saving you?”

His words send a chill down my spine, somehow knowing the worst possible things to say.  “I’m their family.”

“Please.  You’re not even that.  They’re sick of you, they don’t want you around anymore…”

He steps closer again.  “And they’re not coming to save you.”

Without any warning he lurches forward and swings his axe, leaving me only a moment to duck out of the way.

I shout as he manages to trip me, my face hitting the soft ground, fingers digging into the grass and mud for a piece of debris, a rock, something.

He laughs as he stands over me, his axe primed to swing at any moment.

“Goodbye, Stephanie Brown.”

As he swings I propel myself up and forward, knocking him down.

He reaches up to throw me off but I slam my knee into his gut and start punching him in the face.

I keep hitting, and hitting, and hitting until I can feel the skin on my knuckles splitting open.

Someone grabs me from behind and I scream, trying to throw them off with pure adrenaline fueled force.

“Stephanie. Stephanie calm down.  Look at me.”

The steady voice causes me to pause and I look up, seeing Cass’s worried face staring down at my bloody one.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

I shake as she wraps her arms around me and as I realize that I’m safe, that it’s over, and I start to sob.  I collapse into her arms, clinging to her like a lifeline.

The sound of sirens reaches my ears as I look over her shoulder, realizing the sky has started to lighten.

The night was finally over.

[ascribesstory]

-🪓🔪 Final Girl 🔪🪓-

(1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)

FINALLY! Action! Real dialogue! An on screen death! Enjoy :)

Trigger warnings: Fear, haunted house, hanging, dead bodies, violence, arguing, detailed death, blood

Word count: 1,565

The Eleventh Hour

Taking the stairs was taking a lot longer than we had hoped.

We’re too focused on making sure we don’t miss a step and fall into the darkness below to talk about anything. Plus, Jace’s phone had died halfway down, and Max had lost his at some point.  Mine was the only one left, and we wanted to save the battery in case we really needed it.

When we reach the bottom we’re greeted by a pendulum light that flickers to life, bathing the little room in an eerie yellow glow.

Looking around, there wasn't much to see.  Anything that could have been of any use was now broken down and scattered about, leaving a mess of wood and dirt on the floor.  And blood.

“We’re never going to find Rosa this way.”  Jace says, furrowing  their brow as they try to peer down each path.

I move to help Jace, but we’re distracted as the sound of wood being dragged along the floor screeches through the room.  We turn to see Max pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“What are you doing?”  Jace scolds, crossing their arms.

“I’m sitting down.”

“We need to keep looking for Rosa, every minute we waste is another minute Scarecrow has to—”

“Whatever he’s planning, he’s already done it!  Our friend just tried to kill us, why aren’t you freaking out?!”

“Max—”  I try to interject, worried about the shouting giving away our position.

“Of course I’m freaking out!”  Jace seethes, their hands curling into fists.  “But unlike you, I don’t make everything about myself!  Because I am trying to get us out of here!”

I step in. “Both of you need to stop it!”  They both look at me and I take a deep breath.  “We don’t have time to argue like this.  Jace, you’re doing a great job, no one said you weren’t.  And Max, it’s okay to freak out.  Let’s all just… relax for a moment and re-group, okay?”

They both grumble a bit, and we all end up sitting in a loose circle on wobbly chairs, the light above threatening to give out.

There’s a few minutes where none of us talk.  The events of the night take their toll as we finally get a chance to breathe.

“Do you think Cass will find us?”  Max asks, looking at the ground.  “She’d probably know what to do right about now.”

Jace snorts.  “Cassandra would have kicked that guy's ass as soon as she saw his creepy face.”

I grin.  “She would have done a lot more than just kick him, he’d be running for the hills.”

For a few minutes, we go back and forth talking about different scenarios, eventually devolving into a bout of exhausted, hysterical laughter.

After it dies down, there’s another moment of silence.

“Do you think we’re gonna die here?”  Jace asks quietly.

I open my mouth to reassure them, but to my surprise Max speaks up, shaking his head.  “No.  No, we aren’t going to die here.  We’re going to find Rosa, we’re going to get out of here, and we’re going to survive.”

Jace smirks, obviously getting ready to speak when their eyes latch onto something in the corner.

“Hold on.”  They stand, going over to one of the fallen displays and trying to move it.

Max and I quickly go over to help, all of us working together to lift the heavy display and reveal dozens of pamphlets scattered underneath.

“What are those?” Masks asks, tilting his head.

I caught on first.  “Information packets… you think it has a map?”

Jace shrugs.  “Maybe.  It would be better than going in blind at least.  Some light please?”

I nod and turn on the flashlight on my phone, looking over their shoulder as they search through the pages of literature.

We find it in the back.

A two page map of the basement, detailing every path, every dead end, and of course, the exit.

The exit which leads up to the backyard.  To the outside, where we could easily climb the fence and escape.

Max looks alight with hope.  “This is great, all we have to do is get through the maze and we’re home free!”

Jace shakes their head.  “Yeah, but we still have to find Rosa, she could be anywhere in this damn maze.”

I snort.  “Seriously?  Look at the center, there’s a giant room.  It might seem obvious, but Scarecrow’s one for dramatics.  He will have definitely brought her there for some sort of spectacle.”

Max shudders.  “What else could he be planning to do?  I mean, it can’t be any worse than what happened with Eric, right?”

I shake my head.  “No.  It can be.  I’ve seen much worse than anything we’ve encountered here.”

Jace’s eyes narrow.  “What do you mean by that?”

I’ll tell you later— Let’s just get a move on.”  I insist, trying to ignore Jace’s suspicious glare.

Even with the map, navigating the twisting corridors is difficult.  Several times we have to backtrack, trying to figure out which hallway correlated to which.

After almost a half hour of navigating, we made it to the center.

It’s the only place that looks fully intact with fake grass as a floor and pumpkins scattered around.  There were a couple of other props still standing, comically out of place with the current atmosphere.

On the far side there’s a giant plastic tree that forms the archway of the door. It extends up to the ceiling, barren branches stretching out across the room.

Hanging from one of those branches was Rosa, a pumpkin on her head as her body dangled from a rope.

“Oh my God.”  Jace says, looking like they’re going to be sick.

I can’t take my eyes off of her, unable to bring myself to help as Max moves to help Jace  as they throw up.

This was all my fault.

If I had said something when we first arrived, or when something felt off inside—  Hell! I brought Max and Jace down here when I should have tried to get them out and come back in on my own.

My thoughts continue to spiral.  I am Spoiler, I’m one of the bats.  I’m supposed to be able to save these people.

What if Scarecrow did this because of me?

“... hpanie?  Hey, can you hear me?”

I blink and then realize Max had moved to my side while Jace was trying to catch their breath.  “Yeah.”  I swallow, my mouth surprisingly dry.  “Yeah I just… I thought we’d be able to save her.”

Jace stands on shaky legs, their voice hoarse,  “We have to get her down from there.”

I shake my head.  “He… he could have rigged it.  We can’t take the chance.”

“Fuck that!  What if that was you up there?!  I don’t think you’d want to be on display like that!”

“I also wouldn’t want anyone getting themselves killed for me either-”

“Oh please, we both know that—”

“GUYS!”  Max shouts, looking panicked.  “We don’t have time for this, we need to leave!  After that we can focus on having someone get her down from there.”

Jace scoffs.  “Of course you’d take her side.”

There’s a tense moment before Max carefully asks, “What does that mean?”

I scowl at Jace.  “This is not the time for this.  We need to go”

Jace ignores me, looking a bit hysterical.  “Oh come on Max.  We all know you’re just here because of Cass.  That’s the whole reason you’re so nice to Stephanie as well, because you know without her Cassandra wouldn’t even notice you.”

I stiffen and turn toward Max, who starts to blubber.  “T-That’s not true!  Cass is my friend, that’s all-”

“We wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t insisted!”

I suddenly see him in a new light, suddenly realizing why he was always asking after Cass, calling me to invite her along.

Shaking my head, I push it aside for later examination.  “We need to go.”

Jace scoffs.  “Fine!  Fine, we’ll just go and leave—

Max and I watch them step forward onto a lump in the grass that gives way, a mechanical sound indicating that something has activated.

I move faster than I can think, grabbing onto them in the hopes of pulling them away, but I only manage to move an inch before the air is cut with a woosh.

I don’t understand the look of pain on their face at first, the way that their body goes limp in my arms.  Then I feel the blood leaking out of their head, streaming down onto my shoulder and staining my shirt.

Losing my balance, I fall to the ground with them in my lap, watching with a paralyzing sort of terror as their chest stops rising, their eyes no longer focusing on mine.

Max says something but I don’t notice, My mind trying to catch up with what just happened.

 And then, I hear whistling.

He pieces together before I do, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me up.  It shakes me out of my daze.  

“He’s coming—”

“I know.”  I look back the way we came.  “Come on, we can’t go straight for the exit, he’ll be expecting that.”

We start to run, leaving behind the two bodies that were just our friends and try to find a place to hide.

[ascribesstory]

-🪓🔪 Final Girl 🔪🪓-

(1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)

Hi! I wrote and edited this all in one day so please excuse any mistakes!

Trigger warnings: Fear, haunted house, hanging, dead bodies, insanity, violence

Word count: 1,700

The tenth hour

Eric and Rosa

“Eric!  We’re supposed to be finding the others!”  Rosa says, batting at Eric as he continues to try and kiss her neck.

“Oh come on Rosy, no one’s gonna miss us.  We’ll just catch up later.”

Rosa rolls her eyes as she shoves Eric away.  “I’m serious!  What if they get lost or something?”

Eric scoffs and pulls back.  “Fine.  If you’re so worried about it we’ll go find them.  But if we spend all our time running around, don’t blame me."

They continue onward.  Eric leads the way with an air of self importance as Rosa follows close behind, trying to hide her increasing concerns.

Rosa had always hated this horror shit, ever since she was young.  Though, after meeting Eric she had gotten used to stepping outside of her comfort zone.  After all, he’d be doing things like  this with or without her.

“Have you noticed there’s no one else around?  Like, at all?”

Eric shrugs.  “Yeah, so?  Maybe that’s planned.”

“I dunno… it just seems weird is all.”

As they continue onward, Eric doesn’t seem to notice all of the other oddities.  How there were props scattered around haphazardly.  How, despite there being no one around, the sounds of some sort of crowd always seemed to come from around the next corner.

“Eric, I wanna go back.”  Rosa finally says, reaching her limit.  She wanted to go home and cuddle up under a warm blanket.

“Oh come on sweetheart. There’s no real danger, it's all make believe.”

They reach the end of the hall and see one last door hanging open invitingly.  Eric excitedly drags her along when he spots it.  “Come on, I’ll show you!”

She bites her tongue and follows, but her feelings aren’t in the least bit assuaged as she sees what lies within.

Bodies.

Dozens of bodies hanging from the ceiling by ropes around their necks, jack o’lanterns shoved upon their heads.

Not to mention the smell…  It was putrid, like rot and dirt and other nasty things.

Eric snorts.  “Jeez!  Suzie wasn’t joking when she said this was the real deal.  It even smells real!”

Something catches Rosa’s eye, and upon closer examination she calls out with a trembling voice, “Eric…”

He continues, oblivious.  “Maybe the others came through here, though I doubt it.  I can’t really see a way through—”

“ERIC!”

He turns around, his irritated expression falling away into a mix of confusion and concern.  “That’s not…  Their clothes—”

The clothes on the bodies in front of them were the same outfits their friends had been wearing when they went inside without them.

Eric walks up to them and Rosa quickly tries to pull him back.  “Eric, don’t!  We should go and get help!”

He shakes his head.  “We gotta be sure…”

Rosa looks around anxiously as he gets closer, having to reach up to be able to take the pumpkin off.

Rosa makes a distressed sound and looks away and Eric curses.

Katie’s face was revealed, frozen in bloody horror. The expression she had worn in the last moments of her life.

Rosa starts talking, but Eric doesn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears.  “We need to go.”  He says softly, and then again, louder, “ROSA, we need to leave!”

She stumbles along as he pulls her, making a beeline for the exit.  “W-what about the others?”

He shakes his head.  “We need to call somebody, then I’ll go back in.”

Rosa looks as if she’s about to protest, but as they reach the exit, they find it completely boarded off.  “What the hell?!”  Eric starts to pull at the door frantically while Rosa keeps a lookout.

“Rosa, check that window okay?  See if you can get it open.”

She nods, shaking as she rushes over to one of the larger windows and pulls on it.  After a moment she turns and shouts, “It won’t open!”

“Try harder!”

As she turns back to the window, she can see her panicked expression reflected back at her in the window.  Eyes wide, clothes in disarray, her hair falling out of its ponytail…

And the figure standing behind her.

Stephanie, Jace, and Max

“Stephanie, don’t you think it’s better to stay here?  Someone will come by eventually.”  Max reasons, prompted by the makeshift weapon I’d made out of a chair leg and shoved into his hands.

I shake my head.  “No.  It’s unlikely anyone outside knows what’s going on here, and we don’t want Scarecrow finding us.”

“And what, encountering him in the halls and trying to fight him is better?”  Jace counters, mostly back to normal.

I shake my head.  “Not really.  But we can’t stay here, we’re sitting ducks.  Eric and Rosa have no idea what’s going on and I doubt we have enough time to get a window open here.  Our best option is to find those two and get out of here.”

“What about the gas?  I don’t feel anything yet, but there’s nothing stopping us from getting hit with another dose.” Max speaks up, looking at the door apprehensively

“You won’t feel anything right now, in low doses it just amplifies the fear you already have, it doesn’t cause it.  So as long as we don’t run into more we’ll be fine.”

I rip off another chair leg.  “And if you’re afraid of being gassed, we’re currently in an enclosed space with only one way out.  Logistically, we’ll be safer out there.”

Max nods, and Jace starts to talk about the best way to go about finding Rosa and Eric.

I listen to them, but my attention is split.   What had brought Scarecrow here in the first place? What did he want from us?

I really didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“So, we all agree then?  We’ll try to look around and catch up to them before Scarecrow does?”

I nod.  “That sounds good to me.”

Max still looks hesitant but he nods.   “Yeah, sure.”

Jace moves aside when I head for the door, letting me take the lead.

I look back, ”Is everyone ready?”

I open the door, quietly looking around.  I take a minute to make sure the coast is clear before I step out and wave to the others to follow me.

As they step out I move ahead, making my way back to where we first saw Scarecrow.  The gas had cleared by now and there was indeed a way forward.

”What if he left some sort of trap?”  Max asks, heading up the back.

I look around.  “We’ll just have to be careful where we step and keep a lookout.”

Jace uses their phone as a flashlight and I keep my chair leg primed to hit anything that would dare to jump out as we continue onward.

The halls continued to be empty except for the occasional noise, which we decided is coming from hidden speakers.

Each room that we go through has a different spooky theme, props scattered around with spooky music playing in the background.  Under other circumstances, it would have been hilarious when a rigged jumpscare made us scream, but instead it left us all feeling sick.

As we get closer to the other side, we start hearing someone talking in the distance.  At first we thought we might be hearing Eric and Rosa, but there were too many different voices.

”Do you think those are the missing staff members?”  Jace asks, trying to use their light to get a better look down the hall.

I shake my head.  “I don’t know.  I guess all we can do is go check—“

”There’s someone down there!”  Max suddenly says, straining to look past without pushing between us.

Jace holds their phone up higher, trying to shine a light directly onto the person.

“Eric?”

There was no sign of Rosa, but it was clearly Eric on the floor, slumped against the wall.

“Is he dead?”  Max whispers.

“I don’t know.”  I reply, equally quiet.

Jace and Max are too nervous to move, but despite my nerves it’s easy for me to walk over and kneel down.

I can’t tell if he’s breathing, so I carefully reach out and press two fingers to the pulse point in his neck.

It’s warm.  Pulsing, alive.

I let out a sigh of relief as his eyes began to crack open, though not enough to clearly see his eyes.

“Eric— hey, Eric, are you with me?” I ask, putting down the chair leg to help him up.

As soon as my hands touch his shoulders, I know something’s very wrong.  His eyes grow wide, bulging as his pinprick pupils lock onto me.

Then he lunges.

I vaguely register Max and Jace’s shouting as Eric pins me down, his expression crazed as his hands reach for my throat.

Without a thought I kick into gear, grabbing him and flipping us so I can pin him.  “Eric, can you hear me?!  You need to calm down!”

He doesn’t respond, struggling to throw me off, making these almost feral sounds.  After a few moments he goes completely limp.

The other two finally reach us. Max helps me up as Jace hesitantly checks his pulse again, and shakes their head with a look of terror.

“What was wrong with him?”  Max asks, aghast.

“Fear gas, I’m guessing.  Some new strain.”

“He tried to kill you!”

“He was afraid.”

Jace stands up, breaking in.  “We… We can’t talk about this right now.  We have to keep going.”

“We have to get out of here!”  Max shouts.  “Eric is gone, we need to get out and save ourselves!”

“Rosa might still be out there.”  I argue, grabbing his arm.  “You need to calm down and focus.”

He looks as if he wants to argue further, but instead he takes a few breaths.  “Fine.  But after we find Rosa, we’re finding a way out of here.”

I nod.

“Hey guys, I think I know where Rosa might be.”  Jace says, their voice full of dread.

Max and I both look over, joining her in front of the double doors leading to the basement, a message smeared across them in a glossy red liquid,

“Come find us :)”

[ascribesstory]

-🪓🔪 Final Girl 🔪🪓-

(1/4) (2/4) (3/4) (4/4)

Hey everyone!  I know I haven't posted a lot, but I’ve been running low on inspiration.  Anyway, I’ve been wanting to write more about the girls in Gotham's universe and I suddenly remembered that final girl stereotype in slasher horror.  I thought it would be fun to combine the two, so this is a little less focused on being accurate to canon, especially since I’ve been having trouble getting my hands on the comics that aren’t strictly Batman.

WOO! Stephanie protag! Lets go!

Trigger warnings: Fear, haunted house, more gore tags in later episodes

Word count: 1,671

The Ninth Hour

Fear.

It was something everyone has felt at one time, something so ingrained into the human psyche that some use it as a form of entertainment.

Those in Gotham know better.  At least, most do.

A haunted house had popped up in the worse side of Gotham, renovated out of an actual abandoned house.  It hadn’t been that hard to shape it into exactly what I needed.

It was just a matter of waiting, really.   One of them would come.  After all, there were so many, and he only needs one.

At last his wish came true.  The small blond one had come with some friends, and he knew he had the opportunity every criminal in Gotham dreams of.

To kill a bat.

“Can’t we wait a few more minutes?  Cass said she’d be here!”  I insist, knowing everyone was growing antsy.

“Steph, Sometimes Cass doesn’t show at all.  We can’t wait all night!”

“Yeah, and if we don’t go in now we won’t have time to explore the whole house!”

“Did you guys hear that they made the basement into a huge maze?  Suzie said they even have live actors-”

“Guys!”  I reclaim their attention.  “We’ll put it to a vote, raise your hand if you want to wait for Cass.”

Maxwell raises a hesitant hand, looking around a bit sheepishly.

“Alright, and who says we go in?”

Everyone else's hands shoot up.

I sigh.  “Fine, give me a moment to text her and I’ll catch up.”

Everyone heads inside except Max, Jace, Rosa, and Eric, who stay out with me while I send Cass a text telling her we’d be inside.

“Alright, let’s go.”  I conclude, and they start to chatter happily, leaving me to trail behind.

“Finally,”  Rosa said, “It’s freezing out here!  If you’d told me we’d be standing in the cold for the better part of an hour I’d have packed a coat.”

Eric snorts.  “Oh yeah, because you haven’t walked out into a blizzard in short shorts before.”

Rosa shoves him, and Jace groans.  “Come on!  I have to be home by midnight or my parents will literally kill me.”

As we near the entrance Max slows down to walk beside me.  “So, did Cass say why she can’t come?”

While I knew that Cassandra had picked up a patrol with Bruce, I couldn’t exactly reveal that so I shrug and pass it off casually,  “Just that she’s busy, you know how she is.”

Max nods, looking a bit uncomfortable.  “Yeah it’s just that—”

I stop hearing his side of the conversation as I see a couple of makeshift scarecrows, carved pumpkins for heads.  Something about it is off-putting, but I can’t put my finger on why.

As we enter I’m brought back to the conversation only to realize Max is staring at me.  “Sorry, what?”

Rosa screams up ahead, making us all jump and look ahead as a scare actor laughs and Rosa clutches at her heart.  “Ugh!  Why’d I even let you guys talk me into this again?!?”

Eric smirks.  “Aw, is someone afraid of a little bit of danger?”

I roll my eyes, annoyed.  “Don’t be a jerk Eric.  Hey Rosa, are you okay?”

She nods, glaring at Eric as she tries to rub warmth back into her arms.  “We should just catch up with the others, get through this stupid place.”

I look around, and the others seem to notice the configuration of the halls at the same time I do.  There’s no clear way forward, halls that branch off and open doors leading to God knows where. 

“Shit, which way did they go?”  Jace asks, taking off their sunglasses to get a better look down each hall.

“We could ask that guy—”  Rosa starts, but I shake my head.  “He’s already wandered off, we’re on our own.”

I take one more look around, noticing there are only really two different main ways they could have gone.  “Hey, how about we split up into groups?  We could find them faster and maybe get a bit of an idea of the layout?”

“Isn’t it horror movie rule number one that you don’t split up?”  Max teases, starting to shake off his earlier nervous energy and return to his normal self.

Jace rolls their eyes.  “That’s only if there’s actually any danger.  That is, unless you’re afraid?”

He scoffs and says,  “As if.  I’m fine splitting up if Steph is.”

I glare at him.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on Steph, we all know you’re the scaredy-cat of the group!”

Before I can retort, Jace speaks up, splitting us off into groups of two and three.

Jace, Max, and myself would go left, while Eric and Rosa would go right.

“Why do I have to go with Eric?”  Rosa almost whines, shooting Eric a look when he chuckles.

None of us reply.  It was old news that the two had started dating. Though, until they said something, the rest of us had agreed not to mention it.

“Let’s just get going.”  Jace says encouragingly. So with a few more half hearted complaints, our group splits into two.

To our surprise there weren’t many more scare actors after that first one.  We could see spots where they should have been stationed, but no sign of them or where they went.

“They probably all just went on break or something?”  Max says with a shrug, looking to us for reassurance.

Jace just nods, more focused on leading the way than anything else.

As we walk through the halls and the lack of other people persists, a knot starts to form in my stomach.  It’s not unlike the feeling I would often get on patrol when I knew someone was watching me.

As we venture deeper into the house, the feeling doesn’t fade and I speak up, “Maybe we should just call them?  I mean, maybe something happened and they had to leave?”

Max shakes his head.  “Then why didn’t they call us?  We’ll find them, let’s just keep looking.”

Jace stops suddenly and we look up.

“Holy shit, is that…”

I don’t even have to wait for Jace to finish their sentence as my fears are suddenly actualized.

Scarecrow.

He’s just standing there, fully in costume as the light above him swings, occasionally glinting off the bloody axe he held.

“Th-That’s just a costume, right?”  Max asks, sounding appropriately nervous.

On the other hand, Jace just shakes their head, regaining their composure much too quickly.  “yeah, It’s probably just some sick joke by one of the actors.”

Jace goes to take a step forward and I quickly reach out, grabbing their arm.  “Jace, I really don’t think we should risk it.  I say we head back and get the others.  Call someone— the cops maybe?”

Jace shakes their head.

This really wasn’t turning out to be a good night.

“Just hold on, I’ll ask him if he knows where everyone else is, and if anything happens we’ll just run.  I mean, with all that shit he’s wearing I doubt he can gain much speed.”

“Jace don’t be stupid—”  Max tries to chime in, but Jace is determined and steps forward.

“Hey, actor guy!  What’s going on?  Why has everyone left?”

He just tilts his head and I finally step forward to forcefully pull Jace back, but that’s obviously what Scarecrow had been waiting for.

With a mechanical hiss the smoke machines start up, but the mist that comes out is tinged a sickly green and smells like rot.

“RUN!”  I shout, not bothering to try to convince them as I start shoving. This shakes them out of their shocked stupor and we start sprinting back the way we came.

I feel sick and uneasy, a sign the gas has started to kick in.  So instead of letting them keep barreling toward the exit and into what was likely a trap, I yank open one of the side doors and herd them in.

As we get inside I quickly case the room and, finding it safe, I block the door with furniture.

“Steph what the hell?!  Why aren't we-”  Jace starts but I cut her off with a gesture, listening with an ear against the door.

I can hear the scrape of an axe dragging against the floor, and I realize Scarecrow is taking his time.  Waiting for the gas to fully kick in.

I turn to them.  “Listen, we don’t have much time.  That green stuff we breathed in?  Fear gas.  So we need to stay calm and find a way out of here.”

“Fear gas?!  What the hell Steph, how are we supposed to—”  Max starts but I raise my hands, frustrated.

“If it was a strong dose we wouldn’t have even gotten this far, so all it’s going to do is make our fears worse and possibly cause a couple of hallucinations.  But we can handle all this if we just stay calm.”

They both look nervous as hell and I splay out my hands.  “Just breathe with me, okay?  In and out…”

I take the time to make sure they’re both calm, and I’m glad I do because they start to make sense again.

“Should we try to go out the window?”  Jace asks, but Max is already over there tugging on it.  “Busted.”

“Or nailed shut.”  I suggest while trying to get a phone signal.

Jace turns to me.  “What are you suggesting?  That this was all planned?”  They try a different window.  “I mean why now?  This place has been open for weeks!”

“Maybe because it’s Halloween?”  Max suggests as Jace gives up on the other window.

“Yeah, probably.”  I say, hoping I don’t sound as guilty as I feel.  Yes, my identity as Spoiler was a secret, and I see no reason for Scarecrow to target me, but it was all too convenient.

I notice as the hand on the clock ticks over to ten, and realize we had a long night ahead of us.

[ascribesstory]

A Bad Night

A quick little oneshot I had in my head. sorry I've been so inactive, I had someone's Birthday this month and I've been planning For Inktober on another account. My content might come at a slower pace, but thank you all for sticking around and reading my stories :)

Trigger warnings: mentioned arguing, crying, sad orphan vibes

Word count: 243

Bruce was having a bad night.

An argument with Dick, an absolute blowout with Jason, and another endless night of crime.

if you knew all of that, his being on edge was to be expected.  But when Damian had approached him, furious about not being allowed to patrol that night, he hadn’t known.

It didn’t excuse the way Bruce yelled, or the way he had spoken with such careless regard to his son’s feelings, but it was a reason.

This was how Bruce examined things.  When Bruce did something wrong, he’d examine it as Batman.  When Batman did something wrong, he’d be Bruce.  It’s easier to understand a situation from the outside, so that’s what he does, he makes himself an outsider.

But when he approached Damian's door, ready to bluntly apologize and rush off as he always did, he was surprised to hear his son crying.

Bruce Wayne had never been good with crying children.  Batman was even worse.

So Bruce found himself in a situation where he needed to be someone new.  Someone who knew how to comfort a child.

He always failed at this.  It always came out as stilted, or uncaring, or worst of all he would get angry all over again at his incapacity to understand.

So when he opens the door and looks in on his crying son, he puts away his masks.

For tonight, he’s just himself. 

For tonight, he could be the father he lost.

[ascribesstory]

The Ache of Betrayal: Part Ten FINAL PART

AHHHH OKAY, this one took me FOREVER to write. I just couldn't decide how to end it. Anyway, I hope you all like mushy Bruce 'cause that's what you're getting!

Trigger warnings: Guns, that one crowbar, violence, blood, the Joker

Word count: 1,178

Part nine

I push Damian behind me despite his protests, hiding him from view as the joker strides in.

The amount of blood staining his clothes had increased significantly since I last saw him.  His hair slicked back with it, droplets sliding down his face like beads of sweat.

He grins and rests on the crowbar like it’s a cane.  “Hey, I have a question for you Kid!  What’d the bird say to the clown?”

My lips turn down into a snarl.  “Like I give a fuck about your jokes-”

“Nothing! Cause he was afoul!”

He waits for a response, but gets none.  “Wow, tough crowd.”

“How did you find us?”  I demand, hoping to stall for time.  Even if Bruce couldn’t save me, he would still come for Damian.

The Joker scoffs.  “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you hiding behind my men like a child behind a tree?!  Honestly, when you were brought back did they leave that fleshy mass you call a brain behind?”

 “Sorry to disappoint.”  I sneer sarcastically.

Damian steps out from behind me and grabs my arm. “Hood, stand down.  You’re in no condition to fight this battle.  Let me handle it, I won’t let that clown lay another finger on you.”

I grind my teeth, preparing to remind him how he handled our previous opponent, but the Joker suddenly doubles over in a fit of crazed giggles.

“Aw, is the little Robin worried about his big brother?  You should be more worried about yourself kiddo!  After all, there are a lot of things I’ve been itching to try out on the newest addition.  I wonder how the big bad Bat would react to seeing his youngest bird skinned alive?”

That’s the final straw, and I once again put myself between Damian and the Joker.  “If you think I’ll let you anywhere near him, you’re crazier than I thought.”

The joker’s lips tilt down as much as they can, the edges still tugging upwards.  “Oh you party pooper!  Well, it’s no worry.”  He grins and twirls the crowbar in his hand.  “I’ve never had trouble making my own fun.”

I cock the gun and aim it at his face.  “Damian, run.”  I order as I watch the joker take a little hop forward, letting the crowbar hit the concrete with a crack that makes me flinch.

“What?!  You can’t expect me to leave you with him-”

“Damian, this is not the time to argue!  Go get Batman!”

He hesitates for another moment, glancing over at the Joker who’s watching our debate like it's the preview to a movie he’s dying to watch.

Finally he relents.  “Tt.  Just don’t die before I return.”  He turns and runs off.

After he’s gone, the Joker takes a step closer.  “Come on little bird, you’re not going to shoot me.  What would Daddy Bats say?

I readjust my grip on the gun, my fingers sticking slightly from the blood and sweat.  “I’m not the same kid you blew up all those years ago.”

He cackles.  “Oh, is that what you think?  That just because you’ve taken on a new identity and strayed from your father’s oh so righteous path, that you’re no longer a scared little kid vying for approval?  For a family?”

A chill runs down my spine as he spreads his arms in an inviting gesture, his grip on the crowbar loose.  “Then why, pray tell, haven't you shot me yet?”

My hands begin to tremble as he takes another step closer, tightening his grip.  “One last question for you little bird…”

Another step, and he’s close- too close.  “Back hand-”  He flips the crowbar around,  “Or forehand?”

I lunge out of the way just in the nick of time, rewarded with the sound of metal crashing against concrete instead of my skull.

Pain floods my body once more as I hit the ground, slowing my movements and leaving me open.  

I needed to move now, before he had the chance to swing again.  I spin around, hoping for a knee shot, but I’m not fast enough.

The crowbar hits my shoulder with a sickening crack, causing me to drop the gun.

Then it collides with my back, sending me sprawling.

By the time I situate myself, he’s already standing over me, aiming for my head.

He sighs dramatically.  “Too bad, I was hoping to have some more fun before taking you out again.  Well, any last words you want me to pass on to dear old Dad?”  He grins.

I struggle to breathe with each painful breath, and study him.  This stupid clown gets to kill me twice?  No, at the very least I won’t give him the satisfaction of torturing Bruce with whatever I would have said.

He shrugs as I stay silent.  “Oh well— nighty-night!”

I turn my head away and close my eyes, bracing for death, but instead I suddenly feel something whoosh past me, a crash and shout quickly following it.

I hesitantly opened my eyes to see that the Joker was gone.

 Instead, Spoiler stands there, extending her hand to help me upright.  “Hey?  Hey, Jay?  You’re alright, we’ve got you.”

I turn as I hear the sound of fists hitting flesh, but all I get to see before Stephanie pulls me away Orphan getting ready to throw another punch.

“Will she—”

“He’ll live.”  Stephanie says darkly.  “But he’ll wish he didn’t.”

Stephanie helps me limp along, and about half way down the hallway Cassandra catches up and takes my other arm over her shoulders.

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to.  I can feel her concern as her eyes scan my body.  “It hurts like hell, but I’m not gonna die.”

Her head dips in a nod and she returns her focus to helping Stephanie carry me.

We don’t have a chance to talk about much else as Bruce turns into the hall, out of breath and covered in blood.

He freezes as he sees the three of us.

After quickly glancing at the girls and making sure they aren’t injured, he looks at me.

I force a smirk.  “Sorry, you can’t get rid of me the same way twice.”

He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t scold me, he just crosses the distance and takes me into his arms.  He pulls me to his chest, and I’m shocked to feel his tears wetting my already disgusting hair.

I stiffen, unsure as to what brought this on.  “Are you… okay?”

“I’m sorry— My little Jaybird, I’m so, so sorry.”  He puts his hand on the back of my head and rocks me slightly.  “I almost lost you again, because I didn’t believe you.  I was just so damn scared.  I shouldn’t have let you deal with it on your own.”

He continues to hold me, and I let him for a few minutes longer before I pull back to look at him.  At some point he had removed his mask, and it felt so strange to see Bruce so open…

“It’s okay.”  I hugged him back.

“We’re okay.”

[ascribesstory]

That One Red Robin Cowl

This is my headcanon on everyone’s responses to that one Red Robin suit that Tim made.

Bruce is supportive: It looks great son, now if you could stop falling asleep at your desk-

Dick is overly nice: That is amazing! I wish I had you around when I designed the Nightwing costume! How about we go get something to eat?

Jason and Cass are… silent.

Duke and Stephanie see it at the same time.

Duke: Wow! That’s great- isn’t it? Stephanie: Yeah! It’s great Tim!

Damian’s the only one to say what everyone is thinking: You went from looking like a teenager to an eighty year old bald man who has stolen the body of a child.

It takes the family weeks to reconcile Tim, and it's only Alfred's supportive words and baked goods that convince him. Even then, he stops wearing the cowl.

[ascribesstory]

Bruce, exasperated: I don't understand why all my children choose to resolve their anger through violence, I taught them better than this! Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, and Damian watching their father bash the joker's teeth in, stab him in the shoulder, and push him into the lake after Joker called him a loser: Yeah, a total mystery.

[ascribesstory]

Ancient History: Part one: The Tomb

Hi! I promise I'll finish my Batman series next post, but this is going to be my next series for a bit! It's a Lockwood and Co. fan fiction! I hope you all like it! :) This takes place after the end of the series, sort of an alternate ending where ghosts don't entirely disappear, they just become fewer.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of blood and stabbing

Words: 1,694

Part two: (yet to be written)

Lucy Carlyle is the protag

I stand among a crowd of the elite, a glass of sparkling champagne in hand as I take in the old fashioned style that seems to reflect in everyone’s choice of dress.

Classical music that sounds eerily familiar fills the gaps between the lively chatter of the crowd as I talk to a young man about my age.  I find his smile achingly reminiscent of a boy I used to know, but when I search my mind, I have no recollection of his name.

Or mine, for that matter.

As I’m lost in thought, the man steps up beside me and places a hand on my arm.  Something in the air shifts, becoming unbearably rotten.  The music morphs into discordant bars, and the voices around us grow hushed as their gazes turn upon us.

Even as I want to run, I find an unfamiliar part of me propelling me onward, to follow as he leads me away.  To take the dagger hidden in my skirts and imbed it inside him, pushing it further and further into his chest until I see his poisoned blood spill over my hands.

As I trail behind him, I find myself split in two, arguing over my purpose here.  So I think back on what led me to this moment, and try to make sense of it all.

Barnes wasn’t very happy, but that was normal for the usually sour DEPRAC inspector.  Not only had he been complaining about standing in the rain for almost two hours when we arrived, but now he was dealing with an extremely hyper Lockwood to boot.

This morning he had managed to get his hands on some of George’s coffee, and since then he’d been prattling nonstop.

But as it was, it gave George and I a chance to explore the recently uncovered tomb of a witch.

Well, at least that’s what the papers are claiming.  As George puts it, witches never existed.  He believes that they were only people who had made extraordinary advancements in science, which had been mistaken for magic. He says this despite the claims Lockwood made about a witchy great great grandmother.

The tomb itself seems to disagree with George’s theories.  We find muddy sticks bound with twine hanging from the ceiling, instructions in an ancient dialect sprawled along the walls.

And then there was the coffin.  Empty, save for some toppled bits of dirt.

“I thought Barnes said a visitor was spotted around here?”  I ask, keeping an eye out.

Adjusting his glasses, even George seemed uneasy.  “Well, yes.  But it's possible the ghost doesn’t even belong to this tomb!  It was probably just the most likely spot and DEPRAC took a swing.  There’s obviously a story here anyhow, see these engravings?  They resemble the Chinese alphabet but the shapes are all wrong…  This has to be some ancient language.  I heard this graveyard dates back before recorded history."

George continues to babble, excitedly theorizing as he records the walls with an old style polaroid camera.

After some time he quiets down, focusing on the photos.  With no sign of a ghost, I find myself idly tracing my fingers along the walls, slowly making my way around the inside of the room.  The silence was deafening, only broken by the faint clicks and whir of George’s polaroid and the hiss of cool stone gliding beneath my fingers.

It was strange not to hear even a whisper here, and for a moment I considered what George said. There were no signs of any visitor, or even human activity here, it was unlikely we’d find anything useful.

I’m ready to tell George we should get back before Barnes returns, but my eyes are drawn back to that empty stone coffin once more.

Compared to everything around it, it was simple. A plain stone box with no carvings on its sides, not even a chip or sign of ware.  As if no one had dared to disturb it.

As I get closer, I notice an almost complete absence of sound. My feet no longer scrape and thud against the ground, the occasional sounds of George's camera now silent.

The lid had already been removed and placed on the floor, carefully laid against its companion.  The inside was just as plain as the outside except for a rectangular piece set into the stone, slightly below the rest of the base.

Without really thinking about the action, I lean in and plant a hand on it, pushing until I feel it shift.  The stone gives way easily, falling into the hidden compartment below, scraping against the edges noisily.

The sound cuts through the silence like thunder, but I don’t flinch.  I don’t even hesitate as I reach in and push the stone aside. An old book bound in brittle leather lays below, the gold lettering on the front resembling the runes lining the walls.

Before my fingers can even graze the cover, I’m abruptly torn from my trance.  George jostles me as he pushes me aside, leaning over the edge to look in. 

“Lucy, this is incredible!  If this isn’t a source, this book will help me decipher the language!  For all we know this was the final resting place of some sort of royal or someone else of high standing from thousands of years ago!”

I scoff and cross my arms, the remnants of my daze falling away like dust under a breeze.  “What happened to your theory that this place belonged to some sort of hidden scientific genius?”

George shakes his head.  “No— The fact that this hasn’t been touched means that whoever was laid to rest here was respected enough that no one entered.  To steal, or even check for a body.”

“Still, that wouldn’t explain all the weird decorations.”  I argue.  After all, there are other reasons why people may have stayed away.

“Who knows what they really are- They could have decayed with time.”  He retorts as he wraps up the book in a protective film.

He’s probably right, but we’ve been to a lot of strange temples before, and none of them had made me feel this uneasy.

Before we can discuss it any further, Barne’s voice echoes down the stairwell, irritation clear even though his words aren’t.

I watch George quickly pocket the book and replace the stone before coming to stand next to me innocently.

When Barnes hits the final step George and I are standing side by side, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“...Lockwood?”  Barnes calls out, keeping half an eye on us.

Lockwood stumbles in, looking more deranged than usual.  He hastily tries to fix his jacket while his hair sticks up randomly in places.  “Rightie-O! Come on, let's go! I’m sure inspector Barnes is very busy.”  He spins on his heel and quickly makes his way back up the stairs.

As we ascend George and I have to restrain ourselves, at least until we’re back above ground.

By the time we reach the night sky again, Lockwood seems to have caught on.  “What is it?  It’s my hair, isn’t it?  I knew I should have run a comb through it.” 

My lips purse with the effort of holding back my laugh.  “Rightie-O?”

Anthony pauses for a minute as George and I start laughing, but finally grins and shrugs.  “What?  You told me to cut back on the accents.”

“So you decided you needed to replace them.  With goofy catchphrases?”

“They are not goofy, they are delightfully catchy.”

After George and I manage to settle down, we head back to the agency and share what we had found.

Apparently DEPRAC thought the grave belonged to some sort of old-time legend, someone who they weren’t sure had ever existed.  Barnes had decided with no activity, that the call about a visitor was some sort of prank, and that there was never a ghost to begin with.

After Lockwood had finished explaining his side, we told him what we had found inside the tomb.

I won’t claim he was happy we stole from a tomb that might be cursed.  But I think he’s resigned himself to the fact that when both George and I put our combined efforts into our shenanigans, he can’t do very much to stop us.

So after we get back to the agency Lockwood makes some tea while George and I sit at the thinking cloth and examine the book.  Well, George examines it, wearing enough hazard gear you’d think he was worried about catching the plague.

“George, just open the book.”  I finally push after twenty minutes of George’s nervous chattering, explaining all the dangers we posed to this priceless artifact just by breathing on it.

“Fine, just stay back.  We can’t risk one of your hairs falling onto it.”  He scolds, turning down the lights.

“Oh?  Are you implying something?”  I cross my arms, watching as he carefully lifts the cover.

“I’m not saying anything, I just noticed that I don’t find Holly's hair in my biscuits half the time.”

I stiffen, parting my lips to retort, but I freeze.

As soon as George opens the book I’m hit with a tidal wave of voices.  None of them are particularly loud, in fact they only whisper, but it felt as if they were clogging my ears and swirling around my head.

The world spins and I feel myself falling.  The last thing I hear is the soft voice of a woman laughing.

That’s the last thing I remember before showing up here.  But for some reason it doesn’t mesh with the narrative.  I know I came to this party, and I know I traveled quite some way to be here specifically.  So why does my every thought contradict the next?

I no longer have time to contemplate these matters as the man’s hand touches my shoulder, gently guiding me into a sitting room.

This is the moment, as he closes the door, that I pull out my knife.

He turns and I push the knife up into the boy’s heart, his mouth forming a cute little surprised O.

I lean up, smiling madly, “Goodbye Timothy Lockwood.”

[ascribesstory]

I have been reading Batgirl (2000), and now Cass is definitely my current character obsession! So here's a headcanon :)

When Cass first joined the BatFam and wasn't able to speak, she bonded through "training". Which meant her love language was violence.

Dick hanging out with friends: Suddenly a knife flies past Dick's head and he barely steps out of the way in time While everyone's freaking out, Dick's just like: Oh no, this is normal. That's my baby sister. Everyone freaks out more, and he just explains: "It means she likes me."

When she tries it with Bruce, he just picks her up and carries her back to the bat cave over his shoulder while she's like:

>:(

And keeps trying to stab him

[ascribesstory]

The Ache of Betrayal: Part Nine

Ughh. I hate this part, but no matter how I edited it I couldn't make it better :( Also the delay was because it was my birthday! yayyyy. Anyway, please excuse how late this is and enjoy two brothers bonding through violence!

Trigger warnings: Mentioned torture, dislocation, guns, fighting, mentions of Arkham Asylum.

Word count: 1,928

Part eight/Part ten (final part)

It had been easier than expected to leave the room unnoticed.  After the Joker’s horrific performance, he had ordered everyone to search the building.

Everyone had split into groups of three or more.  After I left with one, I didn't wait long to knock them out.

I make my way toward the front of the building.  If Bruce and Damian really are here, I needed to find them before the fake Red Hood found them.  Or worse, The Joker.

That imposter himself had come to visit me himself more than a few times.  He was the most sadistic of them all, preening about how special he was as he cut into me.

About how I had never been fit to hold any title, the Red Hood, or Robin.

My rage builds as I think about it.  Fuck Bruce’s rules, if I saw him again, I was going to show him exactly how I got to be the biggest crime lord in Gotham.

But that can wait.  Getting away from this place was my first priority.

I just hope my family hasn't given up looking for me yet.

Speaking of family, I hear the muffled, angry, high pitched tones of my little brother echoing from down from one of the hallways. 

Trying to listen, I quickly find that from this distance I can’t make out any words, but I hear the distinct sound of bodies being thrown around.  That’s enough for me to decide to head down there.

I make it down the hall as fast as I possibly can, only to find Damian had already taken out at least a dozen goons.

He whirls around, ready to fight me as well until he sees my face.  “Todd?”  His voice lacks its usual bite, and if I really was trying to read something into it, maybe even a hint of concern.

“In the flesh- or what's left of it.”  I attempt to smirk, but my cracked lips protest the movement.

“Not funny.”  He hisses and quickly rushes over.  “What’s your status?”

I give him a one shouldered shrug.  “Broken bones, cuts, burns, you know.  Just the usual menagerie of injuries.  I think we should focus more on avoiding being caught by my copycat.”

“Copycat?”  Damain asks, cocking a brow and muttering, “That explains how Father knew you weren’t behind the murders.”

I scoff indignantly as we start down a hall, Damain slowing his gait to match mine.  “What?  He didn’t tell you?  Typical Batman.”

Damian watches me for a moment too long.  I take a break to catch my breath, half collapsing against the wall when I do.  “What?” I snap, exhaustion clear in my voice.

It takes another second for Damian to stop, standing about two yards away when he finally speaks up.  “Father has been…  Since he found out you were taken again, by the Joker no less, he’s not been himself.

What he says sounds too much like the rumors I heard earlier.  I’m hesitant to speak my mind, but I force the words out anyway,  “Did he hurt anyone?”

Damian looks away, and I feel a mix of feelings in my gut.  None of them are the validation I always thought I’d feel if Bruce fought for me, the vindication for my own actions.

Instead, what I felt plaguing my heart was guilt.

I’m lost in my thoughts for a moment too long, I don’t notice the movement behind him until too late. By then I’m unable to stop the imposter from grabbing Damian and holding a dagger to the pulse point in his neck.

Even with all the training of The League and Batman, Damian couldn’t break the imposter’s hold without risking his life.  I knew it, and from the way Damian stills, it’s clear he knows it too.

“Well well well, looks like I found myself two little birdies all on their lonesome!”

I roll my eyes.  “Wow, cliched villain much?  You couldn’t even find original words, you had to copy someone else for those too.”

The imposter’s smile drops and he leans forward, hissing right next to Damians ear, “How’d you like to die because your friend here can’t keep his mouth shut, kiddo?”

I try to ignore the way Damian’s brow pinches or the way he shifts to lessen the pressure of metal at his throat.

“Okay, listen.  There’s no need to over react, I’ll come with you, just let the kid go.”  I raise my hands and keep my face neutral, refusing to let him see how worried I truly was.

Knowing this psycho, if he realized I cared he’d probably slit Damian’s throat just to watch me suffer.

The imposter relaxes a little.  “huh, you’d really do that wouldn’t you?  Just to see this kid safe.”

I shrug, ignoring how it pulls on my wounds.  “I would for any kid, he’s nothing special.”

Damian doesn’t react and I try to tell myself that he knows that I don’t mean any of it.  Despite that, I promise myself that after all this is over, I’ll make sure the kid knows the truth.

The imposter smirks before quickly pressing two fingers where he previously held the blade to Damian’s neck, pressing them in until the kid passes out.

A spark of panic runs through me as he throws Damian to the side, but I’m prevented from checking on him by the draw of a gun.

“Here’s how this is going to work.  Our last fight wasn’t exactly on even footing, with all those toys the Joker provided me with, so you and I are going to fight again. Whoever is still alive by the end will be worthy of the name Red Hood.

I can’t help but scoff at the absurdity of it all.  “Even footing?  You think this here, is even footing?  I’ve been tortured for weeks!”

He rolls his eyes.  “Fine, let’s make it even then.”

I don’t even get the chance to think about looking away as he grabs his shoulder and pushes it out of place with a sickening pop.

His only sign of discomfort is a wince, and I stare at him for a moment.  I’d had my fair share of dislocations, they’re fucking painful.

“So?  Are we doing this?”  He sneers, gun still in hand.

I take a moment to look at Damian.  the kid wouldn’t be waking up for a while, and I couldn’t stall enough to give him a chance anyway.

I dip my head in a silent nod, and he grins victoriously.  He unloads his gun and throws it to the side.  “Come on then, let’s get started.”

Even with a dislocated shoulder, he still definitely had the advantage.  Any attack I might try would probably end with him throwing me across the room.

So instead I just smirk.  “What, you want me to attack you?  You started this, it seems only fair that you get to make the first move.”

He scoffs and stretches his neck.  “How generous of you.  Alright,  I’ll play ball.  Let’s see how long you can avoid your inevitable death.”

As expected he moves with a speed I have no hopes of matching, but years of training under the bat has me moving on instinct.  I drop to the ground and roll out of the way, pushing myself into a crouch and kicking the back of his knee.

It hurts me more than it hurts him, but my goal wasn’t to win.  No, there was no way in hell I was going to beat him.

I had just needed a head start to that gun.

As he falls I don’t waste a single second, throwing myself across the room and grabbing the gun.

My hands shake but I still manage to reload the gun, whipping around to aim just in the nick of time.

He stopped, having already made it halfway towards me while I had struggled.  His eyes narrow, clearly debating whether he’d still be able to fight with a bullet in his chest.

“Don’t think about it.”  I growl, steadying my aim.  “What did you think was going to happen here?  You like to tell me how small I am, how insignificant, but what the fuck kind of man threatens a child?”

I lift the gun to point at his head.  “I would choose, any day, to be insignificant if it meant not being like you.”

Just as I finish saying it, I cock the trigger, ready to kill him and be done with it.

But I hesitate.

He’s smiling.

How much progress have I made this past year?  My family had given me a second chance, and I was going to waste it on this pathetic excuse of a man?

“What’s your name?”

His smile falters and he blinks.  “Excuse me?”

I poke his head with the gun.  “Your name stupid, do you remember it?  Or have you been pretending to be someone else for so long you don’t have your own identity anymore?”

He pauses, obviously offended, but he nods.  “Yeah, of course I do, It’s Karlos.”

“Well, Karlos.  I better not cross paths with you again.  And if I ever find you imitating me again, or  anyone else, I’m not going to fight you.  I’m just gonna take you to Arkham.”

I smirk.  “And even though we both know you’re sane, I will make sure they don’t.  And all this glory you’re looking for will be viewed as the insane delusion of a sick man.”

His face twists into one of disgust and horror.  He tries to bluff, pretending the idea doesn't scare him. “Why do you think any of this will work?  It would be safer just to kill me instead of taking that risk.”

I shake my head.  “No, then you’d get what you want.  I know you’re afraid, because I’ve had that same fear every day since I came back to Gotham.  Because everyone is afraid of being abandoned.”

Grinning, I hit his head with the butt of the gun, causing him to crumple.  “But good luck getting anyone else to understand that.”

Before I rest, I take a moment to tie up Karlos.  What a stupid name—

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

My shoulders tense as I hear Damian’s voice.  How long had he been awake for?

“That was just a bit, just a way to scare him straight.  I doubt after this we’ll be hearing from him again.”

“Father would never send you to an asylum, let alone Arkham.”

After Damain says it, I can’t bring myself to respond.  My hand automatically drifts up to the scar around my neck, something that, for the most part, I can forget about.

But not when Damian thinks Bruce wouldn’t hurt his kids, wouldn’t hurt us.

“He’s done worse.”

Before Damian can question me further I force myself to stand back up.  “We should get going before more goons find us, otherwise you might be fighting beside a corpse.”

“Well!  It seems you still haven’t lost that attitude Boy Blunder!”

As the Joker steps in, crowbar slung over his shoulder. I can’t help but internally scream at how shitty my luck was.  Karlos over here must have radioed him or sent some sort of signal at some point.

Now that I think about it, Joker had probably been keeping an eye on this loose cannon the whole time.  The joker was insane, not an idiot.

Damian was already on his feet, some random scrap of wood in his hand in place of a weapon. We are so dead.

[ascribesstory]

(My headcannon on the BatFam's poison resistance)

Jason and Damian are playing a game where they test each others resistance to poisons while the others make bets.

Dick: So we're all in agreement about Damian winning? Jason: No loyalty. Duke: I bet on you Jason Jason: Then you're gonna lose lol.

While they're talking Bruce just... mixes all of them together and downs the concoction.

Bruce: I've had vodka stronger than this.

Everyone is horrified except Alfred, who watched Bruce do this a hundred times when he first finished his training as a 'party trick' and already placed his bet on Bruce.