Combining my love of perfume and EAH with this post that has been years in the making. Just an fyi, I haven't smelled all the fragrances; I just went by notes and vibes, so it may not be totally accurate. Who knows, some of these perfumes could be putrid! Luckily, it's not that serious. Enjoy!! More to come!!
Perfume names and more below! ↓
Raven Queen 🐦⬛
1. Muse by YSL
2. La Religieuse by Serge Lutens
3. Black Opium Extreme by YSL
4. The Taste of Fragrance Angel by Mugler
5. De Profundis by Serge Lutens
6. Poison Girl EDT by Dior
7. Féminité du Bois by Serge Lutens
8. Drama Queen Iris by Oriflame
Favourite notes - caramel, cinnamon, incense, vanilla, plum, cacao, citrus, I feel like Raven loves artistic perfumes that tell a story
Apple White 🍎
1. Peony and Blush Suede by Jo Malone
2. Scandal Le Parfum by Jean Paul Gaultier
3. Court Des Senteurs Versailles by Guerlain
4. Hypnotic Poison by Dior
5. Nina by Nina Ricci
6. Apollonia by Xerjoff
7. Eden Juicy Apple by Kayali
8. The Cursed Apple by Mischeif Academy
Favourite notes - apple (duh), white florals, caramel, peony, cinnamon, berries, vanilla, pomegranate, she also most definitely owns the One Direction perfumes
Briar Beauty 🌺
1. Eau Rose by Diptyque
2. Miss Dior Rose n’Roses by Dior
3. Red Roses by Jo Malone
4. Flowerbomb Ruby Orchid by Viktor & Rolf
5. Valentina Pink by Valentino
6. Flower of Immortality by Killian
7. Fantasia Forever by Anna Sui
8. Rock’n’Rose Couture by Valentino
Favourite notes - rose, peony, peach, litchi, strawberry, praline, black currant, anything fruity floral and fun, Briar also definitely wears perfume to bed
Madeline Hatter 🍶
1. Mon Premier Parfum Edition Limitée 2025 (Flacon Mon Printemps) by Lolita Lempicka
2. Jardin de Macarons by Les Soeurs de Noe
3. Bianca by Tocca
4. Sunday by Arielle Shoshana
5. Monday by Arielle Shoshana
6. The Mad Hatter by Mischeif Academy
7. Si Lolita by Lolita Lempicka
8. Earl Grey and Cucumber by Jo Malone
Favourite notes - Earl Grey, tea, matcha, citrus, pink pepper, lavender, milk, toffee, licorice, praline, brown sugar, macarons, madeleines, anything you can find at a tea party
Ashlynn Ella 💐
1. So Scandal! By Jean Paul Gaultier
2. Gucci Flora Gorgeous Gardenia by Gucci
3. Le Muguet 2013 by Guerlain
4. Rosa Alba 1842 by Happ & Stahns
5. A Winter Melody Scented Water by Gucci
6. Good Girl Blush by Carolina Herrera
7. Forever in Love by LoveShackFancy
8. Girl of Now Lovely by Elie Saab
Favourite notes - jasmine, gardenia, peony, pear, citrus, pink pepper, tea, light florals, green notes, I feel like Ashlynn gets headaches often so she prefers lighter fragrances/fragrance water
Favourite notes - iris, violet, lavender, peach, wood (duh), patchouli, musk, vetiver, amber, cypress, I feel like Cedar finds lavender oil calming
Duchess Swan 🩰
1. La Violette by Goutal
2. Addict to Life by Dior
3. Miss Dior Eau Fraiche by Dior
4. Pure Poison by Dior
5. Insolence by Guerlain
6. Prima Ballerina by Guerlain
7. Dior Addict Dior Twist
8. Parlez-Moi d'Amour Encore by John Galliano
Favourite notes - Jasmine, iris, violet, bergamot, gardenia, orange blossom, vanilla, white florals, musk, aquatic and aromatic notes, I know Duchess LOVES Hans Christian Dior (Cedar clocked her fake-Dior-wearing tea)
Chapter 24: You Make It Look So Easy, Leaving Everything Behind
Masterlist
Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 (Here!) / Chapter 25
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
Nature was a force to be reckoned with.
In the physical sense, nature was referred to as the natural world, such as landscapes, plants, weather, and anything that existed independently from human creation. It was also used to describe the inherent and essential part of a person's or object's character.
But, in a more metaphysical sense and meaning, nature was the fundamental laws of the universe. The natural order of things, to be more specific.
Many have tried to go against it, and many have failed in those attempts. Mere mortals with such a small perception of their reality, thinking that they could have escaped from the fate that was written down on paper the moment they took their first breath.
Nothing escaped fate. Every road led to the same end.
To put it in simple words, all that breathes with the air of Life will succumb under the claws of Death.
For eons, Lady Death had accomplished her labor. From the first cry of life that was heard on this earth, she had done what she was meant to do, and she would continue to do so until the last being on this earth whispered its last breath. It was a job older than time, and not just anyone could do it with the same reverence as Lady Death.
Rio Vidal, however, had a different stance on her sacred duty.
Maybe, many years ago, she appreciated her job with more regard and respect. Maybe even loved it, maybe even more than anything. It was part of her. She had been created to perform this specific role, after all.
That had changed when she met Agatha, and all that came after her.
Lady Death wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of love; she had loved plenty of times before Agatha. Every single time, when she became mortal for a day every century, no matter the form she took, she loved someone new. But she had never come to love someone the same way she had loved Agatha Harkness.
One day with her hadn’t been enough. Not months. Not even years. She had come to terms with the fact that there would never be enough time spent with Agatha.
And then Destiny had to remind her why an Endless should never love a mortal.
Her duty was unavoidable. Death came for everyone eventually.
Even her own self-made family.
Rio would never forget the words Agatha hissed at her when the realization dawned on her. She would never forget the curses and cries while she brought their boy into the world. And it would forever be engraved into her being the wails of a mother holding the empty flesh vessel of her child.
Since then, Rio had seen her job in a different light. Instead of the sanctity and all grand prestige she had once thought of her task, all she could feel was a cold, heavy shackle holding her back.
What good did it have being an all-powerful concept when she couldn’t have what she wanted more than anything by her side?
Pointless. Empty. And above it all, lonely.
For years, she had searched for Agatha. Still performing her duty, though with a different approach. Something more detached, even distant. Her siblings had even described her as dull whenever the odd encounter happened while working.
“Your light is sucked out, sister.” Despair had pointed out, sounding even giddy while Desire sulked at her. “You are so lost. And you’ll keep losing yourself. It’s quite the sight!”
Envy wasn’t a sentiment Rio was familiar with. But the more she witnessed humans fulfill their lives with families, and oh so happily, the bitterer she grew towards the sight.
She wanted it. She wanted that life. Live ignorant and happy. Wake up each day with Agatha by her side and just live.
Death wanted a life. And it was the only thing she could never have.
At least, not unless she had somekind of successor.
It wasn’t an unknown practice. Many other beings had done it, and in many different ways, but it was a difficult option.
Not everyone could take on the role of Death of the Endless. And she couldn’t just leave without bringing huge consequences to this universe. The thought of just going more than one day without taking someone from the waking plane was enough to brush off the mere thought of it.
Until the option landed right into her hands.
By a poor, desperate mother, nonetheless.
The universe was a sick, twisted bastard. But it was just what she needed.
Her way out. Her hope. Her freedom.
A ray of sunlight amongst the darkness.
And once again, it had been ripped out of her reach. Because if there was a lesson that Rio should have always kept in mind, it was that you should never trust a mortal human to respect deals.
Death was nothing but patient when her plans had taken a small delay. Ten years were nothing to her. And it would take even more time to teach her successor the ropes of the job, since those bats had dared to meddle with her plans. Without knowing, of course, but that didn’t stop them from being the culprits.
So much talent. So much potential. Dimmed into just a shell of what was meant to be.
For once, she had been grateful that she had let the Maximoff boy live. His sister had done a wonderful job playing her part, even going the extra mile by taking a more emotional stance and role when it came to her successor’s wishes.
All Rio wanted was just at the tips of her fingers. So close she could almost taste it.
“So close, Agatha.” Her words were but a whisper, lost in the wind.
There, where everything had ended and begun, Rio kneeled by the edge of the pool. Her long nails, hovering above the glowing runes that thrummed with the addictive energy she had been chasing for so many years.
She could recognize Agatha’s magic without any of her senses working. Blind. Deaf. It was all engraved into her very own sense of being.
Inclining her upper half over the too still water, Rio grinned with glassy eyes. The lower half of her face reflected on the water strikingly, as only bone could be seen.
“All we ever wanted,” She said. “It’s so close.”
Let her play the mentor. It had worked with the boy, and he had turned out well.
Let her bring the girl to her fullest potential.
Let the city burn for one night.
It’s what they deserved.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
“I think you are being a itty-bitty dramatic.”
“I am not!”
“Yeaaahh, I think you are.”
The teen fumed at Agatha, teeth bared and hands swiping around the air as her pacing came to a stop. With a finger pointed at the too calm woman, who was leaning against a wooden bench with a blank stare, Wayne bristled with a hissing tone.
“You. You did something.” She accused, eyes wild. “You did something, because I know damn fucking well what happened that night!”
Agatha mocked a gasp, putting a hand over her chest. “Little old me? Really? But how? These are your memories, not mine, sweetie.”
“Drop the act!” She yelled, a strange pulse beneath the skin of her palms, crawling up her veins and making her feel more on edge. “You think I don’t remember what happened?! That I would just forget getting dragged away by some- some- some what? A ghost? A demon? What-”
“Yes.” Agatha snaps out, standing at full height and staring down at her. “I do. And I’m sure you have forgotten way more things than you are willing to admit.”
Wayne’s mouth clicked shut, but she didn’t lower her gaze.
The police station was a loud place at night. It was filled with the ringings of phones, criminals getting questioned in rooms, fights breaking out, and doors slamming around the building. People never seemed to stop walking in and out of the place, the halls becoming cramped and busy as workers tried to do their jobs and get through their shifts.
Not far away from the two ghosts, just two benches away, the current memory they found themselves in played out.
A young Dick Grayson sat beside a small and sleepy child, who was drowning on the giant GCPD coat that was wrapped around her. Her heavy head was sliding forward as she fought off the tiredness, despite her half-shut eyes, and gained a couple of laughs from the older boy.
“It’s okay,” He soothed, putting an arm carefully over her small shoulders and letting her put her weight against his side. “Rest for a bit. They’ll take a while to finish.”
The little girl whined in protest, but her eyes were already closed, and it was impossible to reject the body warmth from the boy when she was still so cold from the rain.
Her gut twisted as she watched the scene from the corner of her eye. Wayne could feel the knot growing tighter and tighter until she averted her gaze from the scene. It made her teeth clench and creak, a hollow sensation forming on her chest.
It hurt to look at this. It hurt knowing how it would end up.
“The human mind is a tricky thing.” Agatha retorted. She hadn’t even turned to look at the memory. “And a ghost’s memory is even more complicated.”
Wayne scoffed. “So what are you saying? That when I died, I forgot getting my ass dragged across the street while my mom tried to brand me with a hot poker?”
Agatha clicked her tongue, her eyes wandering off towards the office door behind the girl. “Among other things.”
Wayne frowns as she looks back at the door. The white words engraved on it, glaring down at her, while agitated shadows moved behind the blinds of the curtain that covered the glass window towards the interior of the office.
As she approached the door, bits of the conversation could be heard on the other side of Commissioner Gordon’s office.
“Has the press been informed yet?”
“None. We kept it quiet and quick.”
“Keep it like that. I don’t want any names leaked. Not until I-”
“Master Wayne, you must be aware that it is an impossible task. The family’s vehicle is well known and-”
“Then keep Bianca’s name off-”
“And the girl? What are you-”
The voices became more distant as the conversation flowed. It had come to the point that both Agatha and Wayne had to press their ears to the door to listen better. But it was futile, since it all turned to whispers.
Agatha growled, putting her weight against the door. “I can’t hear shit-”
“You’re crushing me-” Wayne hissed, pushing Agatha back with her head while the woman shoved her down by the shoulders, trying to take up more space so she could hear. The girl adjusted her footing, feeling her body sinking as she fought for space.
A weird sensation around her ankles made her stop fighting altogether.
Wayne furrowed her eyebrows as she looked down to ground, a confused sound coming out of her throat at the view.
The dark, shiny tiles that worked as the floor of the station looked normal. Firm, a bit scratched up from all the constant walking and running. There were even traces of shoe prints all over. Completely plain and normal.
The ones Wayne and Agatha were standing on were a completely different story.
Wayne’s shoes had sunken through the tiles, buried beneath the deteriorating concrete. Tiny cracks spread from where they were standing, leaving behind chunks of rock that crumbled quickly to dust.
Wayne lifted one of her legs, watching how her foot appeared once again and touching the dark dust as it changed to a cream color. Rubbing it between her fingertips and inspecting it up close with a raised eyebrow.
She had seen this material before, a very long time ago. On a short summer vacation with her mom, or back when she used to play on the playground, or even inside her mom’s spell bottles around the house. It wasn’t something she had never seen before, so it wasn’t weird.
What was weird was why would there be sand in here?
Twisting her upper half, Wayne grabbed onto Agatha, making her push harder against the door as she tried to show her the sand.
“Hey, are you seeing this shi-”
Then, the door opened up with a creak, making them fall through it with a yell.
————————》✧《—————————
“This will be your room.”
It was a big space, with a huge bed. Even bigger than the one she had back at home. The walls were painted a tacky wine red color, bare of decoration, untouched by habitation. Grey coverings still covered the windows, as Alfred dusted off the place and put some fresh sheets on the mattress.
The little girl blinked at the state of the room, a frown between her eyebrows as she looked at the darkened corners in the walls. Dick stood right behind her, keeping his hold on her shoulders while Bruce looked anywhere but at her.
The boy’s jaw clenched.
Dick cleared his throat, smiling down as he crouched at her level. “What do you think? It’s big, right?”
The girl stayed quiet for a moment. Then, she cupped her hands around his ear and whispered. “It smells weird.”
By the chuckles coming from the butler and the boy, her version of a whisper was a bit off.
From their sprawled-out position on the mattress, Wayne quickly climbed off from the cursing Agatha and took as much distance from the woman with a grimace on her face. She pretended to look interested in the scene while Agatha glared at her, adjusting her clothes and snarling at the state of the room.
“Money and no taste. A tragic combination.” She criticized with disgust, “No wonder depression is common in the family. You get sad from just looking at this place!”
“The room is from the guest wing,” Wayne explained, voice now low and arms wrapped around herself. “It wasn’t meant to be decorated or extravagant.”
“A bit of life in a room never killed anyone,” Agatha muttered, but the teen paid no mind to her comment.
Her gaze fixed on the tall, silent man, who had his back turned and seemed to be more focused on the speckles of dust floating around the air. His shoulders, tense and firm, as if made out of stone, wavered under her stare. She didn’t look away when he finally, with a very slow turn of his neck, glanced down at her from the corner of his eye.
The dash of dark grey was gone in a blink, his face facing back to the old wardrobe in the corner of the room.
That small clash of eye contact made her feel… strange.
She didn’t know what word could be used to explain the look on his face. It wasn’t something she had seen before. Her mom only gave her happy looks, and her uncle, too. She had only seen happiness, joy, and fondness when it came to them. It was all she had seen when they looked at her.
This man, Bruce, apparently her father, didn’t look at her like that.
“Who would have thought?” Agatha boasted as she circled the man with a hand on her chin. Looking very intrigued in a mocking way, since Wayne was starting to notice how the woman took everything around her in an unserious manner. “A grown ass man, scared to even look at a kid in the eye.”
Wayne couldn’t help but agree with her this time.
Back then, from the eyes of a small, scared, and now alone kid, a grown-up was a figure of authority. Someone who looked out for you. Corrected you. Who was meant to guide you and teach you. Keep you safe.
Now, all Wayne could see was a man who barely knew what he was doing and hadn’t thought things through.
It made her scoff with a laugh. A pressure was being lifted off her chest as she walked towards him, staring at his side profile while Agatha took the empty place by her left side with crossed arms.
He looked so tired. Barely hanging by a thread, with deep eye bags and a growing stubble on his face.
It made her sad. Angry. Too many things at once.
“You can call Alfred for anything you need.” He said with a deep voice, though the words sounded as if he was struggling to push them out of his mouth. “He will get you clothes tomorrow. For now, you’ll use-”
“My old clothes!” Dick butted in with an easy smile, turning her towards him gently. “They are a bit worn, and sure, they’re boy clothes, but it’s just for tonight. You don’t want to sleep in those torn PJs, right?”
The girl slowly nodded, nibbling on her lower lip as the boy patted her head softly. But her eyes wandered off towards the tall man at the other side of the room.
Had she done something wrong?
Had she said anything to make him upset?
Maybe he was angry that he had a stranger in his house. Her mom rarely let people into their home, only her uncle and a few neighbors. And even then, she would try to get them out of there as quickly as possible. Uncle Harv always complained about it, too, but he would leave when her mom insisted.
‘Be careful with who you allow into your sacred place, mi vida. Especially into your home. You never know what they’re bringing with them. Good or bad, always put yourself first. Put your peace first.’
She could feel her eyes burning at the thought of her mother’s voice, but she held the tears back.
Her mom would be alright soon enough, and then, they would go back home. Just the two of them. She just needed to get better first. That’s what the nice old man said at the police station.
“It’s late.” Bruce suddenly said. He quickly turned around and walked towards the door with a frown on his face, coming to a stop for a moment when he reached the spot where Dick and she were standing by.
He looked down at Dick, as if communicating with him through his stare alone. Then, he dared to look at the girl once again.
This time, she could place the emotion written on his gaze.
Bruce’s eyes darted back to Alfred, chest high and jaw tense. “Give her a bath and Dick’s clothes. We will talk tomorrow.”
Without another word or glance, Bruce walked out of the room at a fast pace. His steps were lost amongst the walls of the hall as he disappeared from their sight.
Wayne stomped after him, grasping onto the frame with a wild expression on her face, eyes pinned on his retreating back until he took the corner down the hall. Her fingers tightened, knuckles white as she bit her lip.
“Cobarde.” She hissed, shoulders up and tense. “Eres un cobar-”
Her words came to a stop as she jumped a couple of steps back with a gasp. Her hands collapsed over each other, pressed against her chest as she glanced between them and the part of the door frame where she was holding onto.
It had felt like an electric current. Almost like a small shock, going from the center of her palm and spreading out through her fingers. There was a sort of warmth to it as well, but it was gone the moment she had leaped away from the door frame.
There was nothing on the wooden surface. Not even the traces of her fingertips.
What was it? What was happening? This place was so fucking weird.
“Would you look at that?” Agatha said with a pleased look on her face as she approached her. “Took you long enough to take notice of your little talent.”
Wayne looked down at her hands again, feeling her mouth dry up. She blinked and shook her head slowly, putting her weight against the surface behind her with a heavy breath.
“That can’t be right-” She whispered. “It’s not- it can’t just-”
Agatha rolled her eyes with a groan. “Don’t tell me you thought you lost your magic when you became a ghost? You can’t be that clue-”
“No!” Wayne cut in, eyes wide and mouth slack. “It’s not that! I know that part, it’s just that I didn’t- my magic just-”
“Just what?!”
“I lost it.” She blurted. “I lost it years ago.”
Even as Dick grumbled under his breath, his brows furrowed, and giving Alfred a quick piece of his mind, the little girl could only keep her eyes on the frame of the door. Her little fingers curled over each other, and her cold feet fidgeted inside the huge socks Dick had put on her.
All she could think about was the sadness in Bruce’s eyes.
Maybe… he was sad that she was here? But why? Why would he be sad? What did she do to make him sad? Or is he sad about her mom not being here? Did he want to see her mom instead? She didn’t understand it, but-
She didn’t want him to be sad. She didn’t like seeing people sad-
Agatha gaped at her, a genuine reaction that had Wayne grimace as she crossed her arms and hid her hands from the woman’s view.
She mouthed silently, taking a moment to clear her thoughts with a deep breath, with her eyes closed. “Excuse me, I think I heard that wrong. Repeat that?”
“I lost it.” She shrugged. “One day, they were just gone.”
“No, no. You’re wrong.” Agatha chided, looking somewhat stressed. “Magic doesn’t just get lost. Blocked? That can happen! Stolen? Of course! But lose it? It’s part of you! You were born with it!”
Wayne sighed, her head thunking with the door frame as she looked up with a tight expression. “Stolen. Blocked. Lost. Whatever. It’s just gone, okay? The only thing close to having it back was when I became a ghost, and even then, it was just normal haunting stuff! Nothing related to my magic.”
“Was it, though?” Agatha questioned. “Because, from what I know, you are not exactly normal.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Wayne claimed, glaring at her.
But Agatha was not looking at her. Her attention had gone back to the still unfolding memory.
More exactly, to the dark shadow looming over the little girl.
A cold sensation wrapped around her shoulders from behind. She startled, jumping a bit and looking around with confusion, since Dick and Alfred were a couple of feet away from her, talking in hushed voices and looking at her every once in a while.
And just as it had appeared, it was gone again. Leaving behind the feeling of fingers hovering over her skin in the form of goosebumps.
How weird. Maybe she really needed to change out of those clothes quickly. It was getting really cold in here.
Alfred cleared his throat, giving Dick a pointed look as he approached the little girl and offered her his gloved hand.
“Let’s start with a warm bath, shall we?” He said, smiling when she wrapped her fingers around his palm. “You must be very cold, and that’s unacceptable under my care.”
When only the two of them remained, Agatha released a sigh. She glanced around the room with a raised brow until her eyes locked on the silent girl, who was staring at the wall where the shadow had appeared just a few moments ago.
If Billy had been difficult, this girl would be on a whole new level. At least the boy was willing to just go along with what was put on his path… at some point.
Dent, well, she needs way more guidance than Agatha was prepared for.
Good thing she likes a challenge.
“Your definition of normal,” Agatha pressed, walking through the frame and into the hall, twirling around to face the girl, “is something that we will have to redefine.”
Agatha waved her over, making her way through the hall without waiting for her to follow.
Wayne didn’t give the room another glance and went after her.
————————》✧《—————————
Click! Flash! Click! Flash!
“Fuck!” The two of them curse out, covering their eyes at the bright flashes of cameras clicking all around them. Wayne took a small peek in between her fingers, groaning as she realized what memory they were now in.
“Just my damn luck.” She muttered, feeling the small headache spreading from the assault of bright lights. Agatha’s loud complaints at least lifted her spirits, despite the dread that curled around her stomach when her vision became clearer, and she was able to take in her surroundings.
Gotham Zoo was a place she avoided like the plague from the very first time she had stepped on its floor. While the exhibitions of the animals were quite fun to look at, all that she could recall from that place was the smell of alcohol, the mix of expensive perfumes, a bunch of sneering looks, and strangers pinching her cheeks until her eyes watered.
And worst of it all, those damn camera flashes.
Her head was pounding. It could be because of the slick back bun that Dick had done for her that night on her hair, tied too tightly, and had been a pain to do since he continued to pull at her curls every time he brushed it up. It had taken almost an hour to make it decent-looking by adding a small lilac bow, and then calling it a day.
There was also the crazy number of people who continued to touch her out of nowhere. Most of them were elderly women, who wrapped their wrinkly fingers littered with rings around her cheeks and pulled. Others ‘playfully’ pinched her over her dress, sometimes pulling at her skin painfully, before ignoring her completely, just so they could talk with her father on the side.
And then there was the paparazzi.
They were loud. Constantly yelling over each other to the point that it was impossible to figure out what they were saying. With their big cameras and even brighter flashes, which made her want to crawl under a table and hide.
She had almost done it, if it wasn’t for her father’s words before the event.
‘Please, be at your best behaviour. Many people will be watching, and all I need is for you to be calm and smile at them. It’ll be over before you know it.’
He had held her hand when he said that, making sure that she was presentable before they slipped out of the long, elegant car that Alfred had driven them in. She had remained perfectly still as he adjusted the puffy sleeves of her dress and nodded with a wide smile, expecting one in return.
All she had gotten was a silent glance from his part.
“Mr. Wayne, she is adorable!” A woman with purple lipstick squealed, hanging onto his arm without even looking at the little girl. “That dress makes her look like a little doll! Where did you get it?”
Another woman stuck to his other side, holding a cup of that yellowish liquid that made her gag when she had taken a sip from Dick’s unsupervised cup, giggling in a pitched voice. “Oh yes! You have impeccable taste, Mr. Wayne. Such a fortunate girl!”
The little girl had a completely different opinion about said dress. Still, Alfred had told her that it wasn’t nice to call a designer dress a ‘cupcake monstrosity’, so she just pouted in silence while the ladies continued to claw at her father.
“Watching now,” Wayne sighed. “That dress was awful. What was he even thinking about by putting me on that thing?!”
Agatha snorted, tilting her head to the left and then to the right with a grimace. As if trying to figure out what she was looking at. She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and sighed. “It looks dreadful… and itchy.”
“I was ready to scratch it off my skin at any given moment.” The girl added, eyes soft as she crouched down to the level of the uncomfortable little version of herself. “The dress. My hair. My shoes. Everything just… felt wrong. I hated it. I wanted to just cry and yell at them to take me home.”
“And why didn’t you?” Agatha asked, sounding less snarky.
Wayne looked at the girl, a pained smile at the expectation written all over her tiny features as she looked at the back of the man before her. She released a deep breath, biting the inside of her cheek before answering.
“Because I wanted him to look at me.”
“Hey, want a break?”
Dick’s voice caught her attention, almost tripping over her tiny heels as she twirled around to look up at him, which had gotten a laugh out of him.
He was nicely dressed, matching a smirk as he greeted people who passed by or called out to him. But that smirk softened as he looked down at her, grabbing her hand and walking her as far away as he could from the forming crowd around Bruce.
“These ladies can get a bit intense.” He explained in a hushed voice when they were far away from the group, settling by the giant fountain, where only a few couples were walking around. “For now, how about we get you something to eat, and maybe we can sneak-”
“Richard! Look at you!”
A boisterous voice called, making Dick straighten up and turn around with a wide smile, stepping in front of her as if hiding her from the view of whoever was making their way towards them.
The little girl couldn’t help but pout and take cover from behind Dick’s long legs, gripping the material of his suit as a woman with heavy makeup pulled him into a conversation. Then, from a distance, a new wave of camera flashes had her flinching and pushing her face against Dick’s leg, hiding from the view the best she could as her fingers went up to grab onto her necklace.
But her fingers found nothing around her neck. Just bare skin.
…Right. She didn’t have her necklace tonight. It didn’t go along with her dress.
It had become the norm to always wear the sun necklace. Even while sleeping. Most of the time, Alfred had to talk her out of bathing with it, but she always put it back on without fail.
Because, on the nights when the corners of her big old room were too dark and the shadows reached out to her, holding onto the necklace was enough to keep them away. It was always warm, and it helped her go to bed by herself when going to Dick’s room was too scary for her.
But tonight, she didn’t have it with her because her father asked her not to.
Biting her thumbnail, she could only wait for Dick to finish talking, while her tiny chest pounded and her eyes welled up with tears.
She wanted to go home. She wanted her necklace. She didn’t want to be here. It was too loud. Too bright. Everyone smelled too strongly. Her head hurt. Her skin was itching. Her feet throbed. She wanted to scream. She wanted her mom. She wanted her bed, and it was so cold-
A nearby flash made her whine, pull hard at Dick’s jacket, hoping that he would notice her and take her away from there. But instead, all she got was his hand wiping back and batting her away from him. His attention was still on the woman talking to him.
Tired of getting ignored, she let go of him and stomped towards the fountain. Trying to hide from the cameras as tears began to spill, falling on the water and mixing with the ripples.
Wayne hovered over the girl, shoulders slumped, and a tight expression on her face.
It was dreadful to see it. She could feel all those emotions, flowing underneath her skin as if she were experiencing it all over again. The tension. The pain. The need to run and hide and never come back out again. The anger at the cameras and wanting to just break them with a flick of a hand. And then, just cry and scream. Scream until her throat gave out. Scream until the air left her lungs.
Scream until someone notices her.
But she didn’t. She didn’t do that. She didn’t do what she wanted or what she needed.
Because, for some reason, she felt that doing that would make him ignore her even more. That acting out would make him hate her, or think she was too much. Too childish. Too immature. Too needy.
So she held back. All the needs. All the wants. All of that turned into one objective.
Be the daughter her father expected her to be.
Proper. Mature for her age. Agreeable. Quiet.
Like him.
It seemed useless now. It had been from the very beginning.
She would never be what he wanted. She would never fit in. She wasn’t supposed to. And all it took was her death to realize it.
“Do I really have to see everything?” She muttered. “Rewatch my whole life, making an idiot out of myself… for what?”
Agatha remained silent for a moment. Pondering over her words and trying to find the right answer. Her arms crossed over her chest, lips twisting from side to side while the girl glanced at her. With a click of her tongue, she opened her mouth to answer.
But a scream stopped her in her tracks.
It had been just a second. Maybe a couple more than that, but it had been fast.
She was only watching the water, wishing she were back at home. Wanting the event to be over and get into her room. Hide under the bed or under the covers to never come out of there again. Have her hands wrapped around the only thing she has as a reminder of her mom with her.
The next thing she knows is a cold grip around her arm and being pulled under the water.
It was hard to see. Just blurred bubbles and cold water around her. Her throat stinging as she struggled to breathe. A sharp sensation that scratched against her skin until she was pulled out of the fountain.
Getting out of the water was somehow worse.
The cameras were going insane. She was freezing, and her lungs burned as she coughed and cried. Dick’s voice screamed against her ears, his grip on her bringing more pain than comfort as he ran off with her in his arms.
Before she hid against his shoulder, the last thing she saw was the pitiful looks of the guests and cynical smiles behind flashes.
“There!” Wayne exclaimed, coming closer to the fountain and searching around the water with a panicked expression. “That’s not how I remember it! I fell into the water because I tripped! Why is it different now?”
“As I have said before,” Agatha nagged with a bored tone, rolling her shoulders as she glanced down at the water. “You are a ghost now, and your memories could be hazy since you-”
“Your teaching methods are beyond questionable, Agatha Harkness.”
A deep, rumbling voice echoed from behind the elder witch. All of her snark and flair faded in a glimpse as she turned around to face the newcomer, her eyes wide and lips tight.
Wayne slowly straightened up, lips parted in amazement.
Before her was a figure of legend, who was only heard as a bedtime story for children. With wild, spiked black hair and two white dots like stars in his eyes, draped in a dark cloak. Staring down with a blank expression at a very tense Agatha.
And he wasn’t alone.
Taking the being’s right side, a tall boy stood with an exasperated frown directed at Agatha. His dark eyes, resembling a glare that Wayne had become overly familiar with, softened when he looked at her.
“Sorry,” He uttered, separating himself from the duo and approaching Wayne with an easy smile. “It took us a while to reach you. I hope Agatha hasn’t gotten too much on your nerves.”
“Hey! I am a delight to be around!” The woman protested, pointing at the boy.
“My sister is the only one who can agree on that.” The man declared, making Agatha huff and turn up her nose at him. The man then stared at the girl, the corner of his eyes crinkling and his features becoming softer.
“This is Lord Morpheus. He guided me here.” The boy explained. Then, he offered his hand, which Wayne took without hesitation.
Her head sparkled with voices the moment they made contact.
‘A twin,’ a final thought muses.
‘I always wanted a twin.’
‘Please, let me have that life next time.’
‘So where does she go?’
‘I don't know!’
‘Find her a place.’
‘t's black. There's nothing. I can't find a place.’
‘Don't give me that. 120 bodies empty out every minute. Find one.’
‘It's underwater! There's a girl. It's a prank. They tricked her!’
‘She's gonna drown. It's a bad place.’
‘It usually is.’
‘And the people, the family, there's no one to love her! She's got no one!’
‘Agatha, am I killing this girl so my sister can live?’
‘No, Billy. Sometimes… children die.’
The two gasp. Their hands gripped around each other with white knuckles. Cheeks wet with tears.
Billy laughs wetly. “Guess we don’t need introductions, right?”
Wayne laughs, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeves.“Not really. But it’s nice to finally meet you, Billy.”
The two laugh, grinning with mirth and excitement.
Agatha can only groan and hope that these two don’t complicate her plans.
Morpheus’ twitching lips say otherwise.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
John didn’t like panic.
There were several times in his life when he had felt panic, and in all of those situations, shit got worse because of it. The feeling of dread invaded his lungs and veins. Cold sweat running down his forehead, and the tightness around his throat was enough to make him hate panic altogether.
Thankfully, he had found a solution to said problem. And that was being drunk all the time.
Being drunk erased all worries, all the overthinking thoughts, and endless possibilities of situations going wrong. The damn thing was formulated to slow down the brain, so it was a fucking holy grail for him. A slow brain meant his nerves wouldn’t spike up, and he wouldn’t hesitate to make risky choices. And in a job like his, all the choices were high stakes, so it worked perfectly for him.
Courage liquid in a bottle, the best invention by mankind.
It really sucked that Zatanna didn’t see it that way.
“Where is it, John?! Where did you put them?!”
Her voice, even while angry and distant from having ventured deep into his small library, was like a siren call to a sailor. Not even the scrambling of books being thrown around, and probably powerful items, clattering to the ground, could drown out Zatanna’s voice. He could find her while blind if her voice was his only guide.
“Sober up, you asshole! This is an emergency!”
‘Music to my ears,’ He hummed to himself, hovering at the door with a smirk. His half-closed eyes trailed after the pacing form of the woman, who looked more stressed by the second. “I'd rather watch from here. Appreciating the view, and all.”
Zatanna threw him a sharp glare, hair whipping around behind her. The twitching of her brow was enough to let him know she was getting even more pissed off.
Too bad, it was his free week. And that meant getting drunk as hell so he could catch up on his sleep. It’s on her for storming into his place when he already had plans.
“The sigils,” She demanded. “Where are the sigils?”
John sighed, lifting his flask to take a sip. “You are gonna have to be more specific, love. The whole fucking place is covered in them.”
Zatanna crossed her arms and smiled with tight lips.
“The sigils we made for Wanda’s kids.”
John choked on his drink, coughing up and throwing to the ground his flask to grab onto the door frame. He hit his chest with his fist, croaking his words between coughs while giving Zatanna a disbelieving glare.
“What? The kids from the Hex?” He questioned. “Zee, those things vanished when-”
“When the Hex was lifted.” She cut in, a glint in her eyes as she stepped in front of John. “I know, but we made copies of those sigils. Remember?”
“Just barely,” He muttered. “Sigils are tricky things. The caster forgets about them after making them, and the kids are-”
“But we remembered.”
John paused. His deep frown slackened as his head began to piece things together, bit by bit.
The Hex was a trippy experience. John was very happy not to talk about it and just let it fade in the back of his head. The whole damn mission had been mindblowing, and he would rather forget about those moments he acted like the perfect sitcom character (even if he had a bit of a guilty pleasure for having spent those small moments where he acted like Zee’s husband. But he buried those thoughts immediately-).
The Scarlet Witch had been a fearsome contrincant. One that couldn’t be defeated by magic or fighting.
Who could fight against grief? Not him. There was no way he could ever win that fight.
Zee had done most of the work, and all because she had a heart. A level of empathy that John did not have and probably never would. She had offered a shoulder to cry on for Wanda and gave her the space to heal. Away from judging eyes and high-morale individuals who thought she was a danger to the world.
It certainly helped that a certain Endless had been interested in lending a hand to the grieving witch. John would have never thought of sending Wanda to The Dreaming
as an option if Morpheus hadn’t swooped in out of fucking nowhere.
Cheeky asshat. He had been watching the whole thing happen, and he knew it.
But what had taken most of his attention was the twins.
John had seen many things. Many odd things. And those kids were near the top of his list.
He knew the Scarlet Witch was meant to be this being of grandiose power, but he hadn’t thought of how far that term went. The Hex had been just a small taste of it, and even then, the fact that Wanda had done it fully unconsciously was terrifying to think of.
Then came creating life. Created souls. By just her own will and thoughts… and maybe a bit of dreams.
Because it wasn’t just any life. They were fully conscious beings with minds, thoughts, and wants. They thought for themselves and were able to grow up as a normal human, with just a bit of accelerated physical growth.
Something like this couldn’t just go around unchecked.
At that time, they didn’t know the weight of the situation. All they did was cast some tracking sigils over the twins when Wanda was too preoccupied with the neighbors and arguing with that speedster brother of hers.
Tracking sigils are different from normal sigils. Usually, the caster forgets about performing a sigil until its purpose is done, but tracking sigils are a bit complex in that matter.
As an example, let’s say you put a tracking sigil on someone. Once that is done, you make a copy of said sigil to keep on yourself. Depending on its intention, the caster forgets about said sigil until its purpose is done. Since most magicians and witches prefer a more direct approach, these types of sigils are pretty much unused due to their contradicting nature.
But, in their case, these sigils served as a last resort. A small safety net if things went south.
John thought that would be the last of it when the Hex came down, taking the twins with it. They were directly linked to its magic, and there was no way they could have lived outside of it. So those sigils were just gone and forgotten, never fulfilling their purpose.
And now, John fucking remembers those blasted things, and it means one fucking thing.
The man had dove down to the furthest bookshelf in the room, crouching with a groan to take out a couple of books. Shaking them open and cursing to himself until two pieces of paper fell out from a small notebook.
The ink on the worn papers was chipping away, bit by bit. The paper was slowly crumbling under his fingers.
“Bloody hell,” He breathed, not even feeling Zatanna’s hold over his arm as she stared with wide eyes at the papers. “How? I was sure they went down with the hex…”
“So did I,” She took one of them, carefully and with a tight voice. “But with my last visit to Westview, I started to suspect something was up.”
John frowned at her. “What happened?”
“Agatha is dead.” She admitted. “Something happened in that town again, and it took me a while to get some answers. But I got some interesting… testimonies from a neighbor.”
He really didn’t like it when Zee had that look on her.
Without waiting for his response, Zatanna continued to explain. “A boy had been seen hanging around her house for a couple of days. Maybe two or three days. But the last time they saw him, he was floating around the backyard while some kind of fight was happening.”
John took a deep breath, leaning against the wall standing behind him and sliding down until he reached the ground. His hand goes through his hair, trying to smooth out the upcoming headache.
So much for being drunk, right?
“So, what?” He fretted, eyes lost. “They made it out? How? When?”
The woman shrugged, worrying her lip in between her teeth. “I just have a theory, but it could be far-fetched.”
“It’s a start. What you got?” He passed his hand down his face, scratching the growing stubble on his chin.
“There was an accident the day the Hex went down. A boy from Eastview got amnesia after his parents crashed their car just a couple of miles from Westview. The doctors said that his heart stopped on impact, but he came back by the time the ambulance arrived.”
“Are you thinking possession?” He pressed. “Or something like that?”
Zatanna nodded slowly. “Sounds crazy, but it’s what I got. I haven’t managed to find him yet, but I did talk to his parents. The two of them agree that he had changed a lot after the accident, but it could be a coincidence.”
John blinked once. Then twice. Then he groaned into his hand, his fingers pressing against his eyes as he muttered curses under his breath. Zatanna crouched down, growing worried at the reaction.
“What? What’s wrong?”
The blonde shook his head, still covering his face. “No. I really don’t want to go down that line of thought.”
“Huh? What are you-”
“No. Not tonight, Zee.”
“John, the hell-”
“I need so much whisky right now. There’s no chance I’m doing this awake.”
Like hell he was going think about having to explain this clusterfuck to the League. And much less, explain to the Bat what type of magical bullshit was happening in his territory.
There was a chance he could be wrong, sure. But John had learned that with his shitty luck, anything was possible.
Fuck his life, seriously.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
Having siblings wasn’t something she had really wished for, but she was always grateful for having Pietro and Wanda in her life.
It hadn’t mattered how their first encounter had ended with several broken ribs on all of them and a very pissed off teenager getting dragged against her will to avoid meeting her biological father. And it took several long months for her not to throw the nearest fork at their faces whenever they tried to talk to her.
They had a rocky start, but it had smoothed down as they started to spend more time with each other.
Pietro had been easy to get along with. His clear excitement over having a younger sister and getting to have someone willing to play his video games had been enough to get on Lorna’s good side. Though she had to learn the hard way that while Pietro had a soft spot for her, he would not hold back on cheating his way through the games just to win.
He was funny, charismatic, and annoying in the ways she had imagined an older brother could be.
Their father was more complex. He had been the reason why Pietro and Wanda had taken her away from her home, claiming that he was searching for her to recruit her for his cause. From what she had gathered, Erik hadn’t been a good man to her siblings. At least not when they were under his care, and without knowing they were his children. They left him to join a more noble cause, and that’s how they found her.
She didn’t get to meet him for a long time, not until Wanda asked her if she wanted to do so. And her answer led to Pietro’s cold shoulder for almost a month, until she threw him into the institute’s pool and yelled at him for being an asshole.
Erik Lhensherr was a complicated man. With weight on his shoulders, but still open to fixing what he had broken with what was offered to him. And a heart soft enough for his children.
Still, he was a hard ass, and Lorna wished he could take a nap and chill out.
And then, there was Wanda.
Wanda was just… Wanda. Strong. Kind. With a heart that felt too much.
She had been intimidating at first. Her goth phase had been quite the sight, and it didn’t take long for Lorna to follow it. Pietro teased her relentlessly when he started to notice the fake piercings and the smudged eyeliner on her, getting pulled by his own earring when he flustered Lorna too much.
Wanda took a different approach. Just by sitting her down and helping her with her makeup, while explaining to her that she didn’t have to look exactly like her.
“You’ll find your own thing, Lorna. You don’t have to be someone or something else when you are just enough by being you. In the meantime, let me help you out.”
Wanda could argue about it all the times she wanted, but there was no way of denying that she had been Lorna’s role model. All Lorna ever aspired to be and become.
But even with all this admiration, Lorna was mad at Wanda.
For three long years, Lorna could barely look at pictures of Wanda without feeling the need to wreck everything in her sight.
For three long years, Lorna screamed her throat hoarse when she was all alone in her room during Wanda’s birthday.
For three long years, she had to watch Pietro become a husk of his old self and run himself ragged until he crashed on her dorm.
For three long years, she avoided her father’s calls, wanting her to come at his side, where she would be safe and within his reach.
For three long years, Lorna had lost her sister, and she could only be angry at her for leaving them behind.
Not many knew the real reason why she had chosen to study in Gotham. Only the Professor and Pietro were aware that she needed to go somewhere she wouldn’t think of the painful emptiness that she felt when walking around familiar places. Somewhere away from the Institute. And from Genosha.
Gotham had been difficult at first. It had been nerve-racking moving into a place that was known to be against people of her kind. But that slowly turned into a drive to prove that she could thrive amongst this dark and hostile city.
After all, only the strong of will would dare to study medicine in a city like this.
Becoming a doctor wasn’t something she had thought of doing back when she was a teenager. Being completely honest, Lorna thought she would just continue to fight as part of the X-Men, and that would be it. Nothing more and nothing less.
However, that changed after she met the Morlocks.
She had crossed paths with them in the past, when Ororo would take the students to bring supplies and first aid to their base in the sewers of New York. And that had been an eye-opening experience for Lorna.
Many mutants were denied healthcare when the gene test came back positive. And it was even worse when it was a physical mutation. Most of them ended up homeless by being denied or fired from jobs and living establishments. And even when it came to shelters, there was a large percentage of mutants getting kicked out of them. It all led to them hiding in the sewers and finding the small community of Morlocks, which sadly grew at an alarming rate.
This wasn’t something she could fight with her powers or her fists.
But what she could do was bring them some help. As a medic.
From check-ups to treating viruses and injuries, anything that could help them with what she had at hand. Anything to help them feel safe and bring them at least some semblance of safety and care.
And the mutants in Gotham needed plenty of that.
The Morlock Camp in Gotham was the largest one in terms of numbers. And with a large population of sick people due to the contaminated air and water from the city. A normal Gothamite was used to it; they had over-the-counter meds and access to healthcare. These mutants didn’t, and it was a huge problem.
And to make it worse, adding a cave-in incident with multiple injuries of all types of degrees was the perfect recipe to drive Lorna insane.
“Careful, careful.” She urged Colossus, as he lowered down a whimpering old man lying on a broken door, putting him next to a sleeping patient. The old man huffed when he was on the firm ground, patting the metal boy on the arm as a thank you.
Colossus rose, glancing around the improvised triage he had helped Lorna form and then looking back at her. “Anything else, Doctor?”
Lorna shook her head, searching with a frown at the front of the tunnel where the medical station was. “Not for now, just keep an eye over here while I check for more supplies.”
“Understood.” He agreed, nodding and then making his way through the sea of resting patients.
The woman sighed deeply as she walked toward the train car, slipping off her blue gloves with ease and stretching her cramping fingers until her knuckles cracked.
“What a fucking day.” She muttered. “At least Callisto is not on my ass-”
“Just relax! Keep those shoulders down!”
“I am relaxed!”
“Then why are your shoulders so tense?”
“Because I’m cold! I can feel a breeze on my neck, and I don’t like it!”
The loud exchange was just a couple of meters away from the medical station, with a small crowd of giggling and laughing kids watching the red-suited hero trying to coach a frowning girl.
The man was standing behind her, pushing down her shoulders as she scowled at the crowd. Especially at a maniac grining blonde boy, who was barely on his feet from laughing so hard. The girl pointed at him, almost hissing at him.
“You’ll pay for that, Johnny!” She yelled, but still let Flash move her around so she could face an empty tunnel.
The boy, Johnny, squawked a laugh, holding his stomach. “It’s not that bad! Hair grows, babe!”
The girl growled at him, but Flash just twisted her head forward and started talking to her in a hushed voice.
Lorna’s legs had already taken her towards the group. Finding a close spot by one of the girls, the one with black spiked hair and asian features (Jubilee, if she recalled right), she scanned over the small group.
The dirty, thin robes they had arrived in were gone, replaced by used but clean clothes that seemed to be their own sizes. They even had shoes, though they were pretty worn. Some of the morlocks must have given it to them. The camp had some boxes filled with clothes, stolen from donation centers or taken from laundry lines up on the streets.
Good. Now she just had to burn those robes. That would make her day way better.
It didn’t take long for Lorna’s attention to move towards the chattering duo.
She had seen Wally plenty of times in his suit, but that didn’t stop her from admiring it. The quirk of her lips was impossible to stop at the memory of him revealing his identity by pure accident. She had screamed his ear off for giving his identity away so easily, but that ridiculous smile of his and his stupid puppy eyes were enough to stop her from throwing him off her apartment’s balcony.
What an idiot, god. She really needs to raise her standards.
Now, the girl certainly looked different from before.
She wasn’t sure where and when they must have gotten it, but it was clear that Wally had managed to find some compression clothes for her. The stretched fabric covered her arms and legs, the dark clothing standing out from beneath the graphic band shirt and the ripped pants she wore over them.
The hair was the most drastic change. There had been an awkward cut from behind that screamed Laura all over when Lorna had first met her. Nothing a pair of scissors and trusted hands couldn’t fix.
Now, the hair had been paired up. It reached a bit above her shoulders, with some strands longer than others. Not the worst Lorna had seen, but it could definitely do some shaping.
But what took her breath away was a very familiar frown on the girl’s face as she listened to Wally’s instructions.
It recalled her to-
“Don’t frown so much. You’ll get wrinkles early.”
“What’s so bad about wrinkles?”
“Nothing really. But I prefer it when you don’t look so grumpy!”
“You frown all the time, too, Wanda.”
“Well, it’s kind of a family thing.”
“...You are right. We kinda have the same frown.”
“That’s because we have Dad’s face.”
“And that’s why he has so many wrinkles?”
“Exactly. Let’s avoid that fate, okay?”
A cold, harsh wind snapped her away from her head. Her curls covered her face, leaving strings of green blocking her vision while the kids screamed and hollered in excitement.
“Oh, c’mon, man!” Johny’s voice echoed down the tunnel behind them.
Jubilee fell to the ground laughing, followed by the rest of the group as they stared at the blonde boy, who had somehow ended up tangled on christmas lights and hanging upside down from a hook on the top of the tunnel.
The girl, who was grinning brightly as she circled the boy, pushed him a bit by the shoulder so he could spin. “Didn’t see that coming, right?”
A growling chuckle from deep inside the tunnel made her grin harder.
“Nice work!” Wally called, dashing to her side to pat her on the back. “Now, we do need to get him down before-”
“You can do that on your own.”
Maximoff snapped her head towards the doctor, feeling a tightness around her gut as the woman approached them and pinned her down with her stern stare.
Lorna glanced at Wally, giving him a knowing look before tilting her head towards the wide-eyed teen.
“How about you help me out with the triage?”
Maximoff pointed at herself, looking between Lorna and the red speedster, gulping loudly when the man just shrugged helplessly.
“Me? Why?”
Lorna’s eyes sharpened.
“I think it’s about time we talked. Alone.”
Maximoff tried to smile to ease her nerves.
It did not work.
━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━
Author's note: HELLOOOO THERE!!! How's everyone doing? Hope you guys are doing great!! Here's the awaited chapter for those who keep up with this silly story.
God, so many things keep on happening buT I WILL NOT STOP POSTING EVER!!! Took me plenty to get it out but it is HERE and I'm so happy I did it!
Let me know what you guys think, you know I love to yap and I love watching your comments and thoughts and I can't wait to see what y'all think. We are so close to THE TWINS MEETING FINALLY!!!
Lots of love and hugs,
GG✨
Yandere Platonic Batfamily x Neglected Coraline Reader
Chapter 4 - The House
Master list
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Word Count - 5.0K
Warning: Breaking & Entering and Stalking
Jason and Cass weren't built for daytime missions. Both of their suits were primarily black with splotches of bright color. They weren't the best outfits for sneaking through the backyards of different houses in the expensive side of Gotham, even if a steady stream of rain was cloaking them. Thankfully, the neighborhood was empty, with parents either at their jobs or out in town spending money while their kids were at school.
They snuck through the trees behind the houses, keeping a safe distance to avoid the security cameras. If these houses even had them.
This whole area was unfamiliar territory for both of them. It was never on either of their patrol routes, since this area doesn't have much crime. These were the wealthy houses; the police were always quick to respond to calls. Why risk breaking into one of these houses when you can break into one of the thousands of apartments with much less security, which the police only respond to calls to half the time?
They continued on their path, avoiding twinges, lost tennis balls, and large puddles, till they reached their target. The house was large, like all the others on the streets, with Victorian-style architecture. The bright pink of the walls clashed horribly with the grey of the roof, and the dark brown chimney drew people's eyes right to old roof shingles that had seen better days. There was a large staircase that wrapped around the side of the building, looking moments away from crumbling to dust. The stairs were a completely different color than the patio that surrounded the front of the house.
Unfortunately, there were no trees or bushes around the property, leaving them completely exposed as they crept towards the house. Their eyes searched frantically for any cameras, yet they found nothing. The other houses around were close, but they had trees and fences around their homes, so the two were safe from anyone else getting a video of them breaking into this house.
The two made it to the house quickly, not making a sound as they pressed their bodies against the stone foundation of the house, which looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the house was first built, at the back of the property. Wordlessly, Jason headed for the back door while Cass elegantly climbed up onto one of the window seals.
No shock, the back door was locked. Jason huffed, pulling out his lock-picking kit from his pants, already dreading the next ten minutes of trying to perfectly align all the key pins. Only for Cass to let out a short whistle, showing that she managed to find an unlocked window on the second floor.
Jason nodded up at her, giving her the go-ahead to slip inside, leaving him standing as his clothes got soaked. His eyes no longer constantly zipped back and forth, scanning for a security system or an entrance; instead, he took in the state of the house, and it was much worse up close. The paint was slowly chipping off, and the gutters looked rusted over. There seemed to be another door inside that led into the basement. If weird shit was happening, it was most likely going on down there. The bizarre shit like making dolls that looked like little kids.
What was he doing here? He should be at the Manor to finish packing up his bike, so he would be ready for tomorrow and capturing the Riddler. Yet, here he is breaking into some random wealthy family's house, cause Steph had a bad feeling about a doll you found.
A fuzzy image of you passed in his mind. It had been a long time since he's seen you in person, so the details are hazy. But even the thought of you, that sweet kid he only met in passing, being in danger made his chest tight.
Before the feeling could get any worse, Cass opened the door, letting Jason step inside. The interior wasn't much better than the exterior, with bland, lifeless walls that managed to suck all the energy out of him. The whole place was old and boring, with windows that desperately needed cleaning and open moving boxes scattered around, as if someone was still in the middle of unpacking.
The back door led into the kitchen, which looked like a beige mom designed it, minus the horrid blue and white tiled floor. A single light hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room, right above a circular table with five plastic folding chairs around it. He thought these people were rich? Why the hell are they living in this falling-apart home with cheap plastic furniture? A bunch of weirdos. Weirdos that might have made the doll that you found.
They left the kitchen, starting their search for... Well, they didn't know what, but something that would hopefully make this whole doll mystery make some sense.
The two spread out, with Jason going left and Cass going right. Jason ended up in the bland, bluish grey living room that made him wish he had gone the other direction. The room had a set of couches that all had a thin layer of dust on them. There was a prominent fire place with an orient mantle that had a matching layer of dust. A creepy painting hung right above the fireplace of a sad little boy with an ice cream splatter on the ground. The thing had been in that spot for so long that it looked like it was part of the wall.
He strode around the room, mindlessly looking for anything out of place. Then, a small line in the wall caught his attention. Looking closer, someone had covered up a small door with wallpaper, leaving only three thin stripes and the keyhole to show where the hatch was.
This could be what they were looking for. He placed his hand on the door, trying to figure out how to open it, only for the hatch to swing open from the slightest touch. And instead of finding anything useful, the door revealed a wall of brick. Judging by the age of the bricks and the grout, it wasn't even recently covered up to hide something. The builders of the house likely created this door by accident, realized it didn't fit the plan, and decided to cover it with wallpaper rather than remove it.
He huffed, once again questioning what the hell he was doing here and hoping that Cass was having better luck than he was.
Cass had entered an office space. The walls were just as barren as the other rooms, but the numerous boxes stacked around the place made it hard to see. Tens of moving and filing boxes were pushed against the walls, leaving room in the middle of the space for a large wooden desk, a warren office chair, and a computer with its tower shoved haphazardly under the desk.
The desktop was just as chaotic looking as the rest of the room, with stacks of paper scattered in nonsensical piles that left just enough room for the monitor and keyboard. Her eyes roamed the desk, lifting up some of the files to see the ones below it.
They were all different files and information from various court cases. Whoever owned this office clearly didn't care about safety or organization, as people's sensitive data was left exposed for anyone to see. Private documents about cases that haven't reached the courtroom were sitting under documents from years ago. At the very bottom, she even found the recently signed deed to the property.
Gosh, it's the 21st century, who has this many papers? The person who owns the place is in desperate need of a scanner. But that's beside the point; there was nothing in here (or if there was, it was buried somewhere in these mountains of paper, and looking through the rest of the house would take less time than searching through one of those boxes).
So, the two vigilantes met back up in front of the house and headed up the large staircase to the second floor. Once again, they split up, each taking a door and heading inside.
Cass stepped into the main bedroom and felt a chill run up her spine. The room was cleaner than the office space, but the energy that consumed the room was a suffocating sense of grief. Something about the space felt like it was being weighted down by a cold silence. It felt wrong stepping further into the room, like she was invading someone's tomb.
A large bed rested against the back wall; only half the bed was made, while the other half had the covers messily tossed aside. The nightstand next to the messy side of the bed had empty glasses of water and a charging cable that fell onto the floor. On the other side, the nightstand had a thin layer of dust, perfectly even and untouched.
Boxes were stacked on top of each other with clothes half hanging out. She ran her hand over one of the partly closed boxes, which had a cuff of a shirt draped over the side resting on the box below.
Her thoughts couldn't help but drift back to when you first moved into the Manor. You were in your room, finishing up the unpacking of your belongings. Alfred was in the attic stacking boxes while Cass went up and down the latter, taking the boxes from the hallway and giving them to the butler. She carried up the last two, catching a glimpse of the neat black handwriting on the side: kitchen and kitchen fragile.
Calling the situation ironic seemed cruel, but it also fit. Moving to the Manor didn't take very long because your mother had already packed up the house. Apparently, your mother had saved up enough money to be able to buy an apartment out of Gotham. She lined up a job and everything. The two of you were days away from leaving this city forever.
It's awful to think that if you had only left a few days earlier, then you would have never been dragged into the Riddler's attack, and your mother would still be alive.
A few days after that, Cass had entered the library wishing to read a book Jason recommended to her. She only stopped in her tracks when she saw you sitting at one of the tables set up. Your eyes were fixed on the screen in front of you, giving off a bored glare. Given everything that had just happened, the family didn't want to drop you into a new school, but you still needed to finish your classes. So, Bruce signed you up for online courses until the next school year.
It seemed like Alfred had gotten you a laptop for school and set it all up for you, leaving you to do your work alone in the library while he helped Bruce with his never-ending workload. You mindlessly clicked through the digital textbook to get to the answer section. Coping and pasting the question, you answered all the questions and moved onto the next textbook portion.
Her previous goal was quickly forgotten as she turned her attention to you. With your shrimp-like posture and glazed-over eyes, you were clearly bored out of your mind. However, she could see the tension in your shoulders, showing how uncomfortable you were in this new space. On instinct, she tried to step forward, to help you or at least be by your side. However, she stopped herself from getting too close, falling further back into the shadows.
Her presence would only disturb you. You probably don't even want to see her anyway. The family was the reason your life got messed up. You especially didn't want to be around her. She could barely communicate, always struggling to find the right words to say, to the point she never ends up responding. She would only make you more tense, and you didn't deserve that.
You were a victim, you need some support, and that wasn't her. Dick, Steph, Duke, or Babs would be much better fits to help you. The only thing she's good at is fighting.
She stayed in that same spot, watching you work as time ticked by. It felt like she blinked, yet somehow hours passed as you finished up your work for the day. You slammed the laptop shut, rushing out of the room, right past where she was hiding to find Alfred.
For the next two weeks, she would settle into the same spot and watch you work with the same disinterest as always. Whenever Alfred entered the room, you would pretend to be working, only to completely stop caring the moment he left.
Then, one day, as you closed the laptop to take a break and grab lunch, you realized something. Hopping out of the chair, you started on your standard path only to stop dead in your tracks. The two of you locked eyes, trading equally surprised looks. Panic wasn't a common thing Cass felt, yet she couldn't stop her heart rate from increasing, as her feet moved faster than lightning. Within seconds, she was out of the room, rushing down the hall to hide in another room.
She avoided the library for a few days, fearing running into you and facing you. When she finally built up the courage to return, she sneaked in only to find you weren't there. She found out from Alfred that you started to do your school work in your room.
A part of her was sadden by the news. Now she couldn't look over your shoulder as you worked. However, this was probably the best option. Now you have a lower chance of running into her. You had a lower risk of getting hurt because of her.
But now, with Steph's worry about your safety, she's starting to rethink her earlier conclusion. Maybe sticking around you would bring you more good than harm. Perhaps if she were less worried, this wouldn't have happened, and she wouldn't have to break into some random family's home.
In the next room over was a child's room with a twin-size bed pushed against the wall. From the bedpost hung paper dragonflies pinned to a clothes line with clips. A few toys lined the shelves, and an open suitcase laid in the center of the room. Jason stood next to the bed, right in front of a worn nightstand.
He was still as he held a photo in his gloved hands. The photo was of a family with the father standing next to his two eldest children. The middle kid was standing in front of them with their hands behind their back. Finally, the mother was sitting on a chair with a giant smile and her youngest kid on her lap. The boy, whom Jason assumed was the friend who started all this mess, had an ear-to-ear smile.
They all looked happy, even though they were having to pose for this photo. They were a happy family. The kind of family you should have had.
You should have had an everyday life like this, yet because of this messed-up city, you were deprived of that. Existing in this hellish city was a risk, everyone in the country knew that. So the Bats were trying their hardest to keep you away from the cruelty that thrived in town. However, Jason, as always, had to fucked that all up!
You would have only been at the Manor for a week when Jason came trudging into the house through one of the back entrances. His bone ached after another night of long patrol, because of course, the Riddler couldn't just hold hostage a bunch of innocents. No, that was just a distraction, so he could stage the biggest Arkham break out to date. He could feel the countless bruises littering his skin because bulletproof wasn't a lie, but it sure as hell doesn't fully absorb the blow.
After such a long night, he wanted nothing more than to dive into Alfred's leftovers with a cold drink and sleep for a day straight. Taking off his gloves and cracking open the fridge, he saw the countless ingredients that were shipped weekly for meals and the Tupperware he had been thinking about the whole ride over. He took off his helmet for the first time in hours, letting the cold air brush his skin.
Tucking his helmet under his arms, he ripped the top open, not caring to heat it up since he just needed food in his stomach. Kicking the door closed, he started to shove food in his mouth with his bare hands. Only to stop in his tracks as he caught sight of you.
You were standing by the sink, holding an empty glass cup. He watched the cogs in your head turn, and the light going off over your head. You tried to say something, but he ran out of the room before you could get a word out.
Shamefully, Jason trudged down to the cave and confessed that he hadn't realized you were in the kitchen, revealing their secrets to you. Bruce didn't even have to say anything to show his disappointment; his extra furrowed brow and stern glare were more than enough. The next day, Alfred sat you down and explained everything. Jason never found out how you reacted after that. He didn't want to know. He couldn't bear to see the judgmental look in your eyes.
They were the reason you were stuck in that haunted house instead of back at your apartment with your mother. So, knowing that your mother's killers were not only living under the same roof as you, but also hiding it from you. He couldn't bear to see the hatred you have to carry for them.
There's no other way you could feel about them, especially him. With the ample scars on his face, he had no doubt that he scares you. He had a child go into a full-on ugly sob after seeing his face. Then, to find out he's the infamous killer Red Hood. Well, the idea of building a relationship with you crumpled to pieces.
You were a kid. A normal kid, who didn't need anything of this hero and villain crap messing up your life. You didn't need a monster like him near you.
Though a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if you were actually in danger because of this doll, then maybe having someone like him around you would have stopped that from happening.
Both vigilantes were jolted out of their thoughts as the front door slammed open, followed by the sound of shoes clicking through the halls. Silently, the two snuck out of the rooms and climbed down the steps as they overheard the stranger's phone call. "Where did he say it was?"
They were partway down the curved staircase, and could see one of the older siblings whom Jason had seen in the family photo. She strode into the office, her phone stapled to her ear. She was so focused on her conversation that she didn't notice the two shadows following behind her.
She stopped in front of the desk, searching through the mess of paper, moving one parchment aside to reveal three more underneath. "No, I haven't found it. His office is a mess! How the hell has he been living like this?" She huffed, turning around to lean on the desk. Only then did she notice the two other people in the room.
The woman let out a blood-curdling scream as her phone slipped from her finger and collided with the floor. Fear flashed in her eye, only to be replaced by recognition. Her body had tensed from the surprise, now relaxed as she reached down for her phone. Her fingers combed through her hair as she sighed into the phone. "I'm fine. I was just startled." Her hand slid down to the desk, confusion now completely painted across her features. "What are you doing here? Did someone try to break in?"
"No," Jason stepped forward. "We just wanna know where your youngest brother is. We gotta talk with him."
"Why? What did he do?"
"Nothing, we just wanna know where he's been the last week." Then they can figure out where the doll came from and put this to rest.
"He's been at school."
Jason and Cass both paused at her response. There was nothing in her voice that sounded like she was lying. But, she had to be. How could she not know her brother has been missing classes? "No, he hasn't."
"Yeah, he-." She paused, raising her phone once again to her ear. "You drove Wyatt to school today, right?" Another pause, but now they could see the panic rising in her as she put the call on hold and started to call up another. "Did you take Wyatt to school today?" Another pause, another frantic attempt to call someone else.
The two vigilantes couldn't believe it. How could this woman seriously not realize her younger brother was missing? How could she ignore someone so much that they could vanish for a week without anyone noticing? What a terrible sibling. . .
The same horrified expression the woman was wearing was now matched by Jason and Cass as the two locked eyes.
They're not great siblings to you, but they would be able to tell if you went missing. They would know! How could they not? . . .
Something inside both of them clicked as they came to the same conclusion at the same time: nothing like this would ever happen to you.
The vigilante life isn't always about fighting super villains; sometimes it's about helping an elderly couple get inside with their groceries because they had to park far away from their condominium. Not as exciting as bunching mobsters in the face, yet just as rewarding. Well, usually it was for Duke. But today, his thoughts were elsewhere.
His conversation this morning with you was about as awkward as he had feared. You didn't know how to talk with him, and he didn't know how to speak with you. Which is stupid, cause he's usually so chatty and good with people. Yet the second, he has to make conversation with you, his mind just blanks.
No. 'Has to' aren't the right words. That makes it sound like he was forced to interact with you. Which is 100% not true. He was trying to talk to you because no one else was.
He always found it kind of strange how the whole family seemed to ignore you. The people who accepted him with open arms are the same ones who can't face you. He assumed that they were putting distance between themselves and you to keep you safe. Being a Wayne is dangerous after all, and you had no way to defend yourself.
So, he followed the pattern and only talked with you in passing. Did he feel bad about ignoring you? Yeah. But it was for your own good. It was keeping you safe.
He was mindlessly going through his patrol routine, jumping from building to building while the rain crashed against his suit. Only to have his attention drawn to the sound of a car door slamming. Looking over, he spotted a middle-aged man in a nice suit rushing out of his car and over to the police station.
At the same time, two people were coming out of the station. None of them cared about the rain as they met up. Duke approached the three, and the two who had exited the station appeared to be bringing the older man up to speed. But, it clearly wasn't good news as the older man buried his face in the palm of his hand.
Duke ran up to three, with an award-winning smile. "Hey there! Is, uh, everything okay?" This whole thing with you has really taken a toll on him; he can't even talk normally now.
The older man just folded into himself, wrapping his other arm around his torso, clutching his abdomen. At the same time, the woman rested her hand on his shoulder. The last person, a younger-looking man, turned to Duke, his voice shook as he spoke, trying to hold back his tears. "Our younger brother is missing." He stepped closer to Duke, desperation reflected in his eyes. "Do you know anything? We don't know how long he's been gone. He should have been in school right now."
Duke stopped his rambling as he placed his hands on the other man's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll help you find him. Where does he go to school?"
"Gotham Academy."
"Alright, now can you give me a description of what he looks like?"
It didn't take long for Duke to gather the information he needed before heading to the school. However, again, he couldn't focus on the task at hand, not with his thoughts racing about you.
Could this have been what was causing your lack of sleep? Were you worried about this missing student? Did you know them, or was a rumor floating around that someone was missing?
His mind raced as he finally made it to the school, staying hidden as he watched the front door open and a wave of kids rush out. He jumped onto one of the branches of a nearby tree, making his way to a spot that would keep him out of view, but also give him the ability to see the building, when he stumbled into a familiar face.
Steph, in her Spoiler costume, had made herself at home in the tree line, not letting the rain bother her as she took her focus away from the crowd of kids to wave Duke over. "Dude, what are you doing here? I thought your route had you on the other side of town?"
"What am I? What are you doing here? I'm the only one out during the day."
"I came here to keep an eye on," out of all the names she could have said, yours was the last one he was expecting. And speak of the devil, at that very moment, you shuffled your way out of the building. As you walked, your head hung low and your shoulders were shagging.
Even from their distance, Duke could see the frown plastered on your face, and it felt like someone stabbed him in the heart. You looked so upset.
You reminded him so much of himself when his parents were first infected with Joker gas. He, too, lost his family to a villain's plan and ended up under the Waynes' roof. Which makes his heart hurt even more that he never made a connection with you. He just wanted to jump down and pull you into his arms, to let you know that you're not alone in this.
He had fallen into a complete panic now. His thoughts raced with concern and guilt, completely clouding his thoughts as words just started falling from his mouth. "Why? What happen? Are they okay? The other night, Alfred (the cat) was screaming at my door, and he basically dragged me over to their room. And everything seemed fine, but Alfred is smart, so there had to be a reason he brought me over there-."
His words were cut off as Steph placed her hands on his shoulder, grounding him back to reality. "Breath, dude. It's gonna be okay." He took in a deep breath, his mind returning to normal speeds.
She was right. Now that everyone else was on the case, there was nothing to worry about.
Returning to the real world, both looked over to see you already in the car and Damian climbing in. Soon, Alfred started up the car, and the three of you began the drive back to the Manor. With that, Steph got up from her perch, keeping her eyes on the moving vehicle.
"Looks like I'm heading back-,"
Before she could leave, Duke grabbed her wrist, determination in his eyes. "I'm coming too!"
"Are you sure? You think Bruce is gonna be mad?"
"I-I don't know, but I don't care!" He needed to stop caring so much about what others were doing. He's gonna look after you no matter what.
Steph nodded, and the two started jumping through the trees, making their way back to the cave.
A yellow shining portal appeared near the outskirts of Gotham as a man with blonde hair and a large tan trench coat stepped out. The spell vanished behind him, leaving him alone as the rain extinguished his cigarette. He grumbled, keeping the now-wet cigar between his lips as he made his way into the city.
Gosh, did he fucking hate this stupid city. The place smelt of shit that has been cooking out in the sun and fresh road kill. But what he hated more was the lecture he was going to get if that overgrown furry found out he had set foot into his city.
To be fair, if he had the choice, he won't be here.
However, the trail he's been following, a trail of disappearances that had been plaguing him for weeks, has led him right to Gotham. He could just leave it to the Bats and get back to the countless other people who needed his help. Yet, he couldn't leave this mission. Not when so many kids have already gone missing.
I'm so happy I got this chapter out on time! School has been kicking my butt, and I was really worried I was gonna have to push this back. In the end, I'm not in love with this chapter, but I struggle with liking anything I make.
Also, this chapter isn't 6.3K! I know this is shorter than usual. Going into a chapter, I know what beats I want to hit; I just don't know how long those chunks are going to be.
I managed to remember to put a warning at the beginning of the chapter. I feel like most people know what to except when reading a yandere story, but it doesn't hurt to have a warning.
Anyway, we've got three more yanderes in this chapter. Only two more to go! I'm so excited to write Bruce and Damian's fall. I want to talk about it so much, but I don't want to spoil the story.
I also wanna ramble about Jason and Cass, because they had to turn yandere at the same time. I feel like their motivations were just too similar not too.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And see you in two weeks for the next chapter!
ATTENTION ALL GIRLS AND LADIES: if you walk from home, school, office or anywhere and you are alone and you come across a little boy crying holding a piece of paper with an address on it, DO NOT TAKE HIM THERE! take him straight to the police station for this is the new 'gang' way of rape. The incident is getting worse. Warn your families. Reblog this so this message can get accross to everyone.
This isn’t a big thing in England (that I’m aware of) but I’m still reblogging this because I have American mutuals and followers! Please please stay safe guys
quick google search says this a hoax. several police departments have issues statements saying they haven’t had any incidents resembling this method of rape.
considering in India in my city alone the girls kidnapping has been estimated over 37,000... yes I am afraid for my fellow sisters and myself to be in this world
Bleak. Repetitive- not Bursts of color and Vibrancy of Freedom?
The means to Move with the currents Flow with Trees Movement , to remain and forever Moving?
To Have Screams of Laughter around fires As our Joys ring out into the hallowed nights-
Oh it would be Nice dream, Even if We were In cities with Weights of Smoke and fluorescent lights- To Travel through Tunnels Deep bellow the City? If alone never alone neath where dark
To Stand tall on the moving Trains feel the wind Push against you.... Feel weightless for once
With no Deadline
With no Rush of Time never being enough
With no thoughts of being.. enough
Just you And your People Residing in the world..
Maybe They would travel through Plains? Or Mountains. Or Abandoned Places Where either civilization once thrived or..Left to rot
But along the way , They would share stories no matter how Ridiculous or Far stretched. They Singing Thoughts now aloud
They would either call it their best time of their lives Or still grow Old Living in that Same tale
