Writing, queers, and social rights

|| Neppy! || Lvl 25 || She/Her || || Writer, Photographer, Dungeon Master, Hugger || || Sapphic, Poly, Queer || || DC, ZZZ, original writing & more fandoms! ||

[neppyshub]

-----------------------Neppy's Hub-------------------------

Main Blog. Mostly writing, art reblogging, and fandom~

I'm Neppy, I'm 25, queer (she/they), and a huge geek. I'm also super extroverted and don't bite, so interact with me

Scroll down for sideblogs (RP), tags, and general info.

--------------------------Writing----------------------------

Writing includes original work AND fan content but you won't find any roleplay on this blog, that's for my sideblogs.

I post here and on my A03: Here.

Original Work:

The World of Oriel is my current project (Wiki coming soon!). It often ties into modern D&D content because I use it for homebrew campaigns and D&D fics!

Frankly, more coming. This blog is to help me start posting and organizing all the ideas.

Fandoms:

You can find a bunch of fanfics on my AO3! Fandoms include:

Overwatch

DC Universe

Baldur's Gate 3

Dungeons and Dragons

Zenless Zone Zero

Fandoms I like but am not actively writing for include the gaming, book, and anime worlds! I mean, RWBY, Halo, HDG, Attack on Titan, Titanfall, Elden Ring, Cyberpunk 2077, and so on.

---------------------------Tags------------------------------

Coming soon! Including Sideblogs, writing, and more.

[neppyshub]

Rifts of the World (Chapter 3)

A Zenless Zone Zero original story!

To start from the beginning, click here for chapter 1!

Chapter 3: Getting the Band Back Together

Main Characters: Hoshimi Miyabi, Trigger Supporting Cast: Seed, Tsukishiro Yanagi, Soukaku, Asaba Harumasa

Thanks for reading!

To Miyabi’s (pleasant) surprise, Trigger was a seamless addition to the squad. Or rather, Trigger was a skilled match for the Void Hunter herself. Miyabi couldn’t help but think about all the training Section 6 had endured to become a cohesive fighting unit. Not to mention the time needed to develop the trust and understanding necessary to get where they are today.

Trigger was different. You didn’t have to know how to work with her for her to work with you. As the group traveled through the Hollow, her protection was ever-present. Sometimes she was dozens of feet behind you and laid out on the ground, electric bullets tearing through enemies you could not see. Other times, she was up close, dodging her own attackers while still finding both the time and angle to kill that one Ethereal charging you. She was similar to Harumasa, with her range and electrical weaponry, except Harumasa was a fighter. Trigger? She was a guardian.

For Miyabi, who could leap ahead at a moment's notice, or had to face threats no one else could, suddenly having someone with the sole objective of protecting her and the skill to do it was...refreshing.

The four of them were led by Trigger to an old plaza. The space was relatively open and cleared, with cracked stone pathways and a dried-up fountain in the middle, but no rubble or Ether crystals to impede them moving forward...or any enemies that may follow.

“This is it.” Trigger’s voice was quiet, her rifle up against her shoulder as she walked toward the fountain, spinning in a lazy circle as she took in the area. “My sensors aren’t good around it. It should be some sort of...blotch above the fountain. Does anyone see it?”

“Oh, we see it alright,” Harumasa replied, eyes widening in disbelief. Everyone else followed his gaze with similar expressions of shock.

Floating right above the fountain was a type of fissure, except instead of being completely invisible, it looked like a living, shifting crack in the air, one which lacked any light or color and seemed to stain reality with dark ink.

“That looks like a black hole,” Soukaku offered in awe. Miyabi realized it was a literal statement. Her young companion was right: The rift seemed to tug at her, trying to suck her in, but far too weak to do more than maintain an eerie pressure.

Yanagi spoke next, putting a hand on Soukaku’s shoulder and frowning. “I’m not sure it is safe to enter that...rift. Everything about it seems to be a warning. We should reach out for a science team.”

“I’m going in.” Trigger turned around, pointing her rifle upwards in a casual stance. Her voice, however, was steel. “My team is in there. I’m not going to leave them. You were sent to help, but if you can’t find the courage, I will go alone.”

Miyabi’s voice cut through the group, sharp as her blade, and unusually harsh. “No. You will not go in alone.” She turned around, facing the three members of her team. “If it were any of you or myself, I believe we would risk anything to save each other. I will do the same for her comrades.”

“Miyabi…” Yanagi frowned, her brow creasing in worry. She sighed, closing her eyes and nodding. “Of course, we understand. This is our mission. Trigger, forgive me. I never meant to say we wouldn’t help them.”

Harumasa stepped forward, strangely serious. “What are your orders, chief?”

Miyabi struggled with emotions. However, this time she felt something familiar: Pride and love. A feeling she had discovered and become accustomed to after years with her beloved teammates. She smiled, just barely, and returned Yanagi’s nod.

“You three will protect the opening of the rift.” She looked over the plaza. “My instincts tell me trouble will come here. Your signal will also give us a way home. Trigger and I will proceed inside and find her teammates. I will take our Bangboo to document everything we see and face.”

Soukaku perked up, reaching behind herself to unsling the bag she was carrying. She unzipped it, pulling out the Section 6 standard Bangboo, Agent Gulliver. Miyabi continued as it booted up.

“Trigger, have these rifts ever closed? Or moved?”

She shook her head, staring at the dark crack in the air. “No, they don’t behave like regular fissures. This one has been here for at least eight hours. However, there are three rifts that we know of in Hollow Zero.” She stepped to the deputy chief, handing her a data card. “If this one did close, there is a chance we could exit the other two.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” Yanagi took it, looking it over carefully. “Alright, chief. We will defend your exit.”

“Trigger, is the signal still strong?” Miyabi asked, turning to their newest ally.

“Yes, Lady Miyabi.”

“Let us be quick.”

Both women faced the rift with a moment's hesitation. As they gathered their courage, the Bangboo, now fully activated, pulled out its sidearm and joined them. Then Miyabi felt Soukaku’s small shape hug her legs from behind, pressing her face in the thirens side.

“Be careful, Miyabi.”

She took a moment to look down, red eyes softening as she ran her fingers through the girl’s white hair, and nodded. Yanagi gently pried her ward off the Void Hunter.

Without another word, both the Chief of Section 6 and the sniper of Obol Squad stepped forward. The familiar tingle of the fissure’s tear in space passed over her skin. Then, unlike fissures, Miyabi felt a sudden disorientation. Her heart and stomach jumped, similar to that feeling one got when a roller coaster dropped, and her head swam with nausea. A moment later, she was standing in a completely new area.

In the distance sat the building Isolde had called the Eiffel Tower. Strewn around it was a city far larger than New Eridu, with ancient buildings that lay in various states of crumbled ruin. A giant cathedral stood like a testament to the Old World, even more impressive than the steel tower. And over it all sat the soft glow of Ether.

“Oh,” Trigger gagged, swaying on her feet. The two lights on her visor turned red. Before Miyabi could speak, she turned away, leaning on her rifle and throwing up. The nausea must have been worse for her ‘eyes’, Miyabi assumed. After a minute, the soldier stood up, wiping her mouth sheepishly. “I’m alright. I’m set now.”

The fox thiren didn’t speak as she surveyed the area again. Even as ruins, it was huge. The buildings made the battlefield a dangerous labyrinth of narrow pathways, which would greatly hamper the sniper and her own movements.

“We will have to move carefully to avoid too much attention.” Miyabi gripped her hilt, glancing at Trigger. “Your rifle will not be as useful in these spaces. We should sneak to your teammate.”

The sniper lifted her wrist, tapping the device on it. “Maybe we don’t have to worry so much about navigating this. Can I link my system to your Bangboo?”

Agent Gulliver, who seemed unaffected by the transition of the rift, let out an approving bleep and waddled over to Trigger. She knelt, pulling a cable from a port on her wristband and plugging it into the little robot. The Bangboo’s visor went from eyes to a loading symbol.

“Take the map information and plot the safest route to Seed’s last known location,” she ordered. “As we get closer, we will either hear her fighting or be able to use short-range communications. Until then, we can stay hidden.”

It must be hard, she thought, to slow down and do things the right way when your people needed you. Miyabi herself was prone to taking action, trusting that her blade was strong enough and her training extensive enough to handle any situation. She had only suggested stealth for Trigger’s benefit and because they did not know where this Seed was.

“We will make this quick,” she promised, taking a deep breath. “Trust that I will guide you through these streets safely, and get both you and your squad out of here.”

“Thank you, Lady Miyabi,” she replied, standing back up and letting the cable slip back to her wrist. She lifted her rifle and stepped to the edge of the building. “Trust that I will have your back.”

No other words were needed.

Once again, they were on the move. For the sake of stealth, Miyabi led them through the cluttered roads of the old city. For now, thankfully, it was devoid of Ethereals. Yet the way everything seemed so human, yet so foreign, did little to comfort the thiren. The street and business signs were in a language, a script, she did not recognize. The vehicles looked nothing like what the old tapes showed. Signs of combat, perhaps centuries old, dotted the landscape. A crater down one street, the missing side of a building with skeletons hanging on the opening, and armored vehicles with large gun barrels that seemed so impractical compared to today’s mechs.

“Lady Miyabi,” Trigger whispered, giving the warrior pause. She looked over, and the sniper was already peering through her scope and around a corner. “Seed’s left a clue, I think. Down the street at my one o’clock.”

Carefully, she slipped across the street to the other wall and pressed herself against it, ears twitching as she peeked over. There on the sidewalk, just where the sniper had said, was what appeared to be a terminal made of scrap. It sparked and flickered with light but hadn’t yet succumbed to the destructive nature of the Hollow. She stepped forward.

Trigger clicked the safety off on her gun, her voice a quiet command. “Wait.”

The sniper carefully scanned the road before them, her thin lips pursed in a frown. She didn’t have to speak to express that something felt wrong. Miyabi shifted back behind the wall, narrowing her eyes and looking for anything out of the ordinary. The street was narrow, paved like the roads of Eridu, with rusting lampposts every twenty feet. A few vehicles dotted the space before them, and one crashed into a building on the left. Above them was clear skies, cracked windows, and-

“There,” Miyabi said, nodding upwards. “Seventy degrees to your left, third building down, five floors upwards.”

Trigger did not hesitate. With expert precision, she brought her rifle to bear and fired. The crack of the rifle seemed deafening in the eerie silence. The bullet tore through a curtain that seemed to be swaying in the wind. Agent Gulliver, standing by Miyabi’s feet, tilted its head in confusion and looked between the two women.

“Eh, nah?” It questioned, confused. Both of them waited silently.

Miyabi’s thumb pushed her sword one inch out of its sheath. Her grip tightened.

There was no wind in this Hollow. Certainly not between all these buildings acting as barriers. The Void Hunter had flinched when Trigger fired so suddenly, but both their instincts had been on point. Ten seconds after being shot, the curtain shimmered, then dissolved into etheric goop. A moment later, half the items on the road began to shimmer.

The lampposts.

The ancient shells of vehicles.

Even a skeleton.

Before their eyes, all these items morphed into shimmering blobs of ether, then began to grow into the more recognizable forms of Ethereals. Nothing they had ever seen in New Eridu, no, these could barely hold their physical form. They formed bodies that seemed to ooze and drip etheric matter to the ground, which then was reabsorbed back into them. Their core, glowing dully, was in the center of their mass behind a constantly falling curtain of goop.

“Unrecognized category of Ethereal confirmed,” Trigger said. Her finger twitched, and another Bang! rang through the street. The bullet soared through several targets before landing a direct hit on the furthest one, shattering its core. The monster screamed, a terrible sound like nails on glass, and the goop fell into a colorless puddle. “Weakness also confirmed: Lady Miyabi, hit the cores.”

“Roger.” Miyabi bent down slightly, glancing up at her opponents. She inhaled deeply. A moment later, she was off, blue flames licking the floor after each step. With barely a grunt, she flashed through the first Ethereal, then slid and sliced the second, and then a third. She jumped back to avoid an attack, and the crack of Trigger’s weapon sounded behind her, taking it down.

They really were just Ethereals.

Encouraged, the Void Hunter took position again and sprinted forward. She hardly noticed the carefully fired bullets of her companion. She could only feel the excitement radiating from Tailless as she cut loose, a whirlwind of steel and foxfire tearing through the street, until she reached the improvised terminal.

With a soft exhale, she sheathed her blade again, as she had done a million times before. Her red eyes, cold as ice, peered over her shoulder. For the first time in these million times, her eyes widened with surprise and her heart skipped a beat.

Not even five seconds after their victory- what she had thought was their victory- the etheric goop was already glowing and shifting. Slowly, the goop was picking itself up, reforming unsteady legs and arms, making a torso that leaked down itself, until the space in the middle formed a new core, shining and bright.

The Ethereal in the middle roared, the sound shattering windows and making the floor rumble, and Miyabi felt the small seed of fear sprout in her stomach.

“Lady Miyabi, retreat!” Trigger yelled. In the span of two seconds, three cracks sounded out, and the three Ethereals closest to Miyabi fell once again. Her eyes flickered upward, watching as those closest to Trigger rushed her. She’d ignored them to give the thiren a few more precious seconds to react.

“No,” Miyabi whispered. “Victory...”

With her back still to the enemy, she lifted her sheath, closing her eyes and gripping the hilt again. She took three seconds to focus, delving deep into her connection with Tailless. It was a dangerous moment; every time she did this, she could feel its bloodlust surge forth. The cursed blade had a thirst to be freed from its special sheath, to take over another wielder and destroy everything in its path.

However, between her training and the specialized nature of her sheath, Miyabi pushed those thoughts out of her mind, as she did every time. She would only slay evil. Luckily for her, that was all this street held.

She exhaled, opening her eyes. “...is the only option.”

Faster than a sniper’s bullet, she crossed the length of the street back to Trigger. Faster than the human or thiren eye could follow, she slashed her blade in dozens of practiced cuts all around her, the light of its blue flames thin and almost neon. She paused right in front of Trigger, who was breathing hard and staring down at the fox in shock.

Another second passed, and the blue lines flared. Cuts more precise than any sword master could ever hope to achieve appeared on the Ethereals bodies. The foxfire flared to life on each wound. With gurgling sounds, the monsters began to slide into dozens of pieces, each one of them, and return to goop on the ground.

“So, that’s the power of a Void Hunter,” Trigger murmured, the lights on her visor a flustered pink. “We should go before they reform.”

Miyabi looked over at the goop covering most of the street and the nearby walls. She shook her head. “They will not return. This time, they are dead.”

“How can you be sure?” She asked, kneeling next to a puddle and looking over it. “Nothing seems to have changed with their bodies.”

The truth? She had let Tailless take charge of the blows. It didn’t make sense, but the blade’s thirst for death meant it could often take on new enemies with little issue. So far, the etheric remains hadn’t stirred, so it must have done its job.

“I can’t explain,” Miyabi said carefully. “But, at least for now, it is handled.”

Before the two could pause to discuss or examine Miyabi’s handiwork, another voice cut through the conversation. It was a young woman, her voice dreamy or teasing, it was hard to tell, and coming from Trigger’s earpiece.

“Oh! That really is a special sword! I can see it from here.”

“Seed?” Trigger stood up, looking around immediately. “Seed, come in. Can you see us? Where are you?”

“Right here.”

Miyabi sensed it a moment before it appeared. She turned around, prompting Trigger to do the same, and a moment later, a mech over twice her size materialized from thin air. The olive colored vest over its bulky metal chest had the word “Seed” printed on it. A moment later, it flickered out of existence as a barefoot, worryingly pale, skinny, and pale blue-haired person stepped down onto the ground. She groaned, stretching her arms above her head as if she had been confined for quite a while, and then she smiled from ear to ear.

“Could I take a closer look?”

[neppyshub]

Rifts of the World (Chapter 2)

A Zenless Zone Original Story!

For a better description, read chapter 1 and the story summary here.

Chapter 2: Into the Abyss

Main Characters: Hoshimi Miyabi, Trigger Supporting Cast: Tsukishiro Yanagi, Soukaku, Asaba Harumasa

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2: Into the Abyss

Miyabi could tell her companions didn’t feel confident about this assignment. She wasn’t the brightest when it came to interpreting social cues, interactions, or even recognizing when others expressed their feelings. She knew it. She dedicated a considerable amount of time to ‘conversation training.’

She didn’t need any training to see their worry. Harumasa was clearly handling Soukaku, using his usual and non-serious personality to keep the Oni entertained, while eyeing the chief and her deputy, Yanagi. For her part, Yanagi had been sticking close to the fox Thiren, clearly trying to speak.

But Miyabi wasn’t the brightest in conversation. She knew it. What she was excellent at was the sword. If her team felt unsafe on this mission, with lives on the line, they probably had good reason to. She would soothe their worries with the fury of her blade.

Yanagi didn’t get her chance to speak, not yet, because the Chief of Hollow Special Operations Section 6, Hoshimi Miyabi, sprang ahead by herself. With her sword, Tailless, in hand, she searched for the enemy along their pre-planned route, single-handedly cutting Ethereals to bits. Every alleyway, town square, or ruined building had a blue streak of destruction zipping through it. Roars were silenced halfway, blasts of ether dodged before they could travel halfway to their target. They weren’t so deep in Hollow Zero that she, or any of her team, for that matter, couldn’t handle themselves. Each time her team caught up safely, she bound off again, spreading destruction to the creatures of the Hollow and guiding her people forward.

A moment later, she realized her mistake when her three companions caught up, panting and sweating. Harumasa, in particular, was leaning on his bow like a walking aid, panting heavily.

“Chief,” Yanagi said, forcing composure upon herself, standing straighter and exhaling softly. “You need to slow down. We can’t- can’t keep up with your pace. Even worse, you will be burnt out if we do run into real trouble.”

Her fox ears twitched, a sign of nervousness that betrayed her stoic face. “Apologies, everyone.” She turned away, staring out at the apocalyptic vista. Crumbling skyscrapers and cracked roads, destroyed vehicles and glowing ether crystals. A maze of death holding a new secret. A new threat.

Yanagi stepped forward, gently taking Miyabi’s shoulder, her brow furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong, Chief?”

“I’m...not sure,” she replied, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She did trust these three. With her life, even. But in moments like these, she had to remind herself to show it. To give them the trust they had all earned. Miyabi turns around, meeting their worried gazes. “The revelation of the rifts, the potential for chaos, it has me...worried.”

“I think we’re all worried, chief,” Harumasa chirped, patting his chest and standing tall again. He waved his arms to the group. “I mean, we all understand how this could change things. For better or worse.”

“For...better?” Miyabi’s question came unsurely, red eyes staring blankly at the archer.

It was Soukaku who spoke up, grinning. “Yeah! What if- What if there are other people? Other cities? With their own foods and games and-”

“What Soukaku means,” Yanagi cut in, putting a hand on the child’s shoulder, smiling at her ward. “Is that we all know anything could be out there. It will change things. It can be scary, but...it could be good.”

Good. The thought hadn’t occurred to Miyabi. She had imagined any number of destructive scenes: Ethereals pouring out of rifts from beyond the dark wall, new and more powerful variants such as the miasmic enemies of the Lemnian Hollow, enemy armies from city states that shouldn’t exist, rebel cells that had found the rifts first and used them to make hidden bases and were just waiting to attack New Eridu and kill anyone that dare search for them. Things that, no matter how much she trained, could take her by surprise. Unknown quantities. Scary scenarios.

Her lip twitched. Was she scared?

“Miyabi,” Yanagi said softly, looking down at the thiren and squeezing her shoulder. “We can handle this. But we have a better chance if we stand together. You don’t have to worry about what’s coming next.”

“You...are right,” Miyabi murmured, eyes flickering over the three of them. She felt her shoulders relax a fraction, and a shy smile appeared on her face. “Whatever it is, we can handle it.”

Her reflection was greeted with three equally relieved and amused expressions. Soukaku was grinning ear-to-ear, Harumasa visibly relaxed, and Yanagi smiled reassuringly, nodding in agreement.

Boom!

The moment, so lighthearted and reassuring, lasted all of three seconds before an explosion rocked the ground. Miyabi’s hand immediately gripped her sword hilt, turning around to scan the horizon while her fellows stumbled. In the distance, she could see it. A plume of smoke rising into the sky, coming from the open side of a skyscraper.

“Yanagi,” Miyabi barked, not bothering to turn around.

“I understand. Go.”

The Void Hunter was off in an instant. Her feet left the ground the moment her deputy gave acknowledgment with speed that could only come from years of training and the agility of her animal heritage. The Ethereals in the way were of no concern: She raced past them trusting her teammates to navigate the path safely or take them out as needed. Her only goal was that explosion because it meant someone else was there. It was either a well-armed enemy or, more likely, a member of Obol Squad.

With a slash of her blade, she tore through three Alpecas, what passed as typical fodder for these monsters, in a blink, using the energy from her blow to launch her forward. Her feet landed against the side of the building, and with a grunt, Miyabi was running up the wall, keeping her momentum strong and swift so as not to fall off. Things weren’t allowed to be simple, however, as several Blastcrawlers hurled themselves or fell off the upper floors. Ball-like critters with spindly legs that enjoyed exploding. They glowed red and seemed to pulse with energy, ready to blow.

Inhaling deeply to refocus her thoughts and calm her heart, Miyabi unsheathed her blade and refused to slow down. She slid down, under the first Blastcrawler, allowing it to fall past her and exploding harmlessly somewhere below. The second was clearly more charged up and would explode beside her, so Miyabi continued her run, pulled her blade back and focused, feeling the energy within her, the rhythm that guided her element, Foxfire. With one swing, an arc of blue fire shot out from the blade, cutting right through her enemy. Both halves of the creature fell past her harmlessly. The third was too close and impossible to dodge, but she had already accounted for that. The fox thiren sheathed her blade once more and lifted her metal arm, gripping onto the creature as it fell past her. She kicked off the wall, spinning them both, until she was upright and facing the wall. Then, she kicked off of it with all her might. The Ethereal exploded and the blast sent Miyabi flying upwards without much damage or worry. She sailed through the air, wind whipping her cloak and ears, about to overshoot the floor where the explosion happened.

A flick of her wrist had her blade out one more time. It glowed with blue flames, easily penetrating the stone of the building and acting as a sudden anchor. With a twist of her body she flipped once in the air, pulling herself into the open floor of the damaged structure, and landing into a crouch with her sword in hand.

Miyabi inhaled slowly, slid her blade into its sheath, and then exhaled.

She looked up to take in the situation. The building itself was an old parking garage, a small part of the overall skyscraper and relatively close to the ground, with rusted cars and crystallized ether growing out of the walls. Faded paint on the floor directed her towards the next level with an arrow and a large L3. There were no Ethereals here, but the signs of combat were everywhere: Flickering flames, bullet holes in the walls, and the last remnants of enemies fading back into the ether.

Her ears straightened as more gunshots rang from somewhere above her. The sound was heavy and piercing, definitely a large caliber gun, and given the person’s continued survival, they were either lucky or trained. Likely, the latter, Miyabi assumed.

She jogged ahead, going up the path onto level three and then continuing straight ahead until she hit a staircase. She bounded up the railings, avoiding the steps entirely as she jumped back and forth from rail to rail, until she arrived where the gunfire was loudest.

There was a final door, metal and barely hanging on its hinges, which she immediately slammed her heel into. It went flying, and Miyabi walked on through, scanning the room with burning determination. At first, she saw nothing and was about to climb to the next floor. Then something moved in her periphery. She swung her blade immediately, seeing another Blastcrawler inches from her, and for a moment, the voice in the back of her head said Too late.

Then a blast sounded behind the monster. A bullet sizzling with blue electrical currents pierced the enemy, flying right by Miyabi’s head, and turning the beast to etheric ash immediately. Her red eyes glanced up to see the shooter: A very skinny woman with pale skin, dressed in orange and black, with platinum blonde hair tied into a short ponytail. Definitely a member of the military. Miyabi took three seconds to understand the situation: The soldier was surrounded by basic Ethereals, Aplecas, Blastcrawlers, and Fauns. She used incredible dexterity to jump, twist, spin, and slide around the creatures, firing with a sniper rifle even in close quarters. It occurred to Miyabi that this soldier had spotted her being ambushed and protected her while literally dancing around a mob.

Time to return the favor.

The Void Hunter dashed into the fray, understanding the situation in full, and gritting her teeth as she joined the soldier. It was no contest. The two of them seemed oddly well paired. With more breathing room, the sniper stayed out of range of the Thiren and the Ethereals. Anytime Miyabi gave her back to an enemy, stunned an enemy, or even made them stumble, there was a bullet taking advantage of their confusion or hesitation, and no matter how she moved, there was never a risk of getting shot herself. The two were a tornado of electric and fiery blue, weaving around each other to shoot and cut every monster down.

Minutes later, the battle was done. She sheathed her blade once more, standing tall, and exhaled softly. All around them, the monsters were turning into etheric ash, which itself was quickly disappearing.

“Please identify yourself,” Miyabi said, turning around to face the sniper. She made no attempt to threaten the other, but her hand did not leave the hilt of her blade.

Up close, she could see the details of the woman she’d saved. She wore orange and black sneakers with thick rubber soles, skintight latex pants that rose to a nearly bare and incredibly slender waist. Two straps crossed her torso in a X, most likely to help keep her vest on. The vest only covered her chest and had small pockets and ammunition pouches attached to it. Lastly, the soldier wore a puffy top that only covered her neck, shoulders, and arms down to the elbow, tapering off into more skintight latex and fingerless gloves.

The strangest part was her face plate. It was a smooth metal covering her eyes and the space around them, and had two tiny light indicators underneath where each one would be. Currently, they glowed a soft blue.

The sniper looked over Miyabi for a moment, noting the way she held her blade, and kept still. “Trigger. Sniper for Obol Squad, yes. I take it they sent you after us?”

“Correct.” Miyabi nodded, loosening the grip on her blade. “My team is securing the area around us and will soon join. What can you tell me about the situation?”

Trigger walked over to the edge of the building, staring out over the city, and hummed. “I see them. They’re heading here as we speak. Good, we can’t waste any time.”

“Please, explain.” Miyabi joined her, frowning imperceptibly. She couldn’t see her squad at all.

“My team all fell through different rifts.” Trigger’s voice was severe. The grip on her rifle tightened painfully. Both women shared a look. “I made it back by pure luck. If we don’t find a way to get carrot data to help rescue them, then they’ll be stuck forever, and each moment we waste means they could be fighting any number of new enemies.”

She turned around and began to walk away, towards the staircase, leaving Miyabi with this information. The fox thiren thought for a few moments, then spoke.

“What do you mean by new enemies?”

“The rifts are spawning Ethereals we have never seen before,” Trigger replied, looking over her shoulder. “An army of new soldiers that is threatening to pour out into Hollow Zero and New Eridu.”

Miyabi’s fears had become prophetic. This was exactly what she worried about. And now she had to expose her own team to these dangers.

“You’re right,” she agreed, throat tight, and walking over to the sniper’s side. “We have no time to waste.”

[neppyshub]

Okay, but we can talk about how when I FINALLY download a different gacha game (Wuthering Waves) because I've been off ZZZ forever, I suddenly get obsessed with Zenless again.

I'm playing it. I'm streaming it. I'm writing it. I'm joining the discord server I'm on. The whole nine yards.

Curse you, ADHD with random hyperfixations.

[neppyshub]

Rifts of the World

A Zenless Zone Zero original story!

The New Eridu Defense Force has discovered Rifts: A new phenomenon in Hollow Zero that will surely change the world. With Obol Squad missing, it is up to the members of Section 6 to enter the Hollow, rescue the soldiers, and discover the dangers that await them in the Rift. Major Characters: Hoshimi Miyabi, Soldier 11, Trigger. Minor Characters: Tsukishiro Yanagi, Soukaku, Seed, Orphie, Asaba Harumasa.

Rated: Teen & Up Audiences. TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84375141/chapters/222554636

Chapter 1: Unlikely Alliance

“I don’t know. I don’t like this,” Harumasa, the archer, mumbled. His voice was unusually serious as the elevator, illuminated by one weak light and made of bleak, dark metal, descended. “When was the last time we worked with HIA? When you met Belle?”

“Yes.” Miyabi, the youngest void hunter in history, arguably the strongest fighter in New Eridu, and the most awkward talker ever, replied. “Quite a while ago, now. Really, I was hunting Nineveh, and didn’t see much of the soldiers.”

Harumasa nodded, crossing his arms. “Exactly my point. If they’re asking for our help, then doesn’t that mean we’re facing something just as bad? If not worse?”

Miyabi was often oblivious to the social cues of the world. However, she wasn’t heartless, and she knew her team. Her red eyes turned to the archer, softer than usual. She put a hand on his elbow, as she’d often seen Yanagi do when calming others, and squeezed ever so slightly.

“We will handle it.”

It worked. Harumasa seemed to relax a fraction, even if he also seemed slightly confused by Miyabi’s suddenly tender act. The fox thiren’s ears twitched slightly, a hint of pride in her thoughts.

Social interaction training had paid off.

The elevator finally came to a stop after what felt like forever. The metal doors slid open to reveal a long, dimly lit hallway, with LED lights built into the roof every few feet and white paint on the walls indicating the locations of certain rooms.

Harumasa sighed. “Alright, let’s see why they brought us all the way here.”

It didn’t take much longer to reach the end of the hall and enter the conference room. Miyabi knew where to go; she’d been here once before when HIA had tried to recruit her personally, and it was much as she remembered: A large conference table sat in the middle of the room, going left to right, with around a dozen seats. Behind it, across from the entrance, was a large series of screens tucked tightly together into one large wall. Similar to the last time Miyabi was here, two people were waiting inside.

Commander Roland. A common face, given his command of Scott Outpost, and their history of working together. As usual, he had his uniform on, his hair combed neatly, and serious but alert eyes. Sitting beside him was someone the chief had never seen: A tall woman, taller than Roland, with soft green hair, wearing a heavy black dress that was clearly not standard issue. It had red accents and gold stitching at the hips, with slits to reveal the skin beneath.

Fashion did not make sense to the chief of Section 6.

“Chief Miyabi,” Roland said first, standing up and fixing his orange and yellow striped tie. “Officer Harumasa. Thank you for joining us. Please, sit.” Roland waved at the chairs and returned to his seat. He sighed, nodding to his companion. “This is Colonel Isolde. A peer of mine.”

“Good morning to you both,” the colonel followed, nodding gently. “We appreciate your timeliness.”

Miyabi didn’t hesitate to pull her seat out and join them, with her companion choosing to stand behind her like a guard. “My team agrees this meeting is very unusual. Please, tell us what has happened.”

“It isn’t exactly what has happened,” Roland admitted, putting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together. “It is what could happen. There is a situation in the Hollows.”

“There’s always a situation in the Hollows,” Harumasa dramatically sighs, his voice taking on that laid-back, playful tone of his. “Come on, tell us what you need. We can handle it, after all.”

Both the commander and colonel shared an uneasy look. It was Isolde who spoke first.

“This is different than the usual issues,” she said. “This isn’t a powerful enemy, such as Nineveh, or a concentration of rebels, nor a threat to the Shiyu towers. This is something of an exploration issue.”

“Exploration?” Miyabi frowns, ever so slightly; to most it might be imperceptible. “I don’t believe the Defense Force has ever called upon Section 6 for simple exploration.”

“There’s no easy way to explain it,” Roland muttered, rubbing his forehead, frustrated. “Rifts are opening up in Hollow Zero. Not fissures. Rifts.”

“Commander,” Isolde chided, her voice as calm and collected as ever. “It isn’t like you to be impatient.”

He shrugged, looking downwards. “We have little time. This situation is delicate and needs to be handled quickly. We need Section 6 on this.”

“Commander Roland,” Miyabi’s voice had turned louder, firmer, and she gripped the hilt of her sword as she stood up. “We can handle this.”

Isolde and Roland shared another look. After a few minutes, he nodded, and she pulled out a remote, pressing a button. The screens behind the table flared to life, depicting a large map of Hollow Zero and marking five specific locations. The commander stood up, clearing his throat and waving an arm to the screens.

“This is our most recent data on the Hollow, used in the carrots of the last squad we sent out,” he explained. “Their mission was to explore these five points to investigate what we are now defining as Hollow rifts. Unlike fissures, we are small tears that can transport you between different parts of a Hollow, at a relatively short distance, and open and close often. The rifts function differently.”

“The squad, under my command, entered the first rift. They reported seeing buildings that shouldn’t exist within this region of the world. Sighs of the different nations, different continents, from the Old World.” She clicked another button, and the screen changed, revealing a blurry image of a tall, steel tower, the bottom curving upwards into a single point. “This was known, a long time ago, as the Eiffel Tower, in the continent of Europe. Even flying it should take several hours to reach, not to mention the Dark Wall.”

Roland continued, pointing at the screen as it changed again. “The Dark Wall is supposed to be impenetrable. To the best of our knowledge, the world beyond it is lost. However, the existence of the rifts, the discovery of the Eiffel Tower, tells us that it isn’t true. There is a world out there, even if it’s small pieces of land such as ours.”

“But…” Harumasa stared, wide-eyed, his usual aloofness replaced with shock. “That- that would mean there could be other people. Survivors of the Hollows. Even cities like New Eridu.”

“It would change everything,” Miyabi finished, staring unblinkingly at the screen.

The room turned silent as the soldiers let their guests absorb this world-changing information. It took the Void Hunter all of five seconds before her back straightened and her eyes hardened.

“What do you need us to do, Commander, Colonel?”

[cpericardium]

hey everyone "I" have something to show "you"

[cpericardium]

[cpericardium]

[neppyshub]

Like, bruh

[neppyshub]

Fairy Tale

Chapter 7, the final chapter, of my story for @casscainweek 2026! Story is focused on my OC, Sol, wrapping up the story going on around Cassandra during this week! AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/217485936#workskin Note: Thanks so much for reading! If you're into my writing my DC universe will continue with "Stray", a Catwoman-centered story, so please give me a follow to see when it's up!

It had been way too good to be true. She should’ve known. After all, when did anything go right in her life?

Sol sighed, sitting on the roof of Wayne Manor, staring at the sunset slowly sinking behind the Gotham skyline. The air was nice, a spring warmth fighting the coolness of the approaching night, and no one was here to bother her. Or maybe she didn’t want to bother them.

Stephanie and Cassandra had been the first straw. She tried to tell herself it didn’t bother her, that this made sense, that it was fine, and she had plenty on her plate already to worry about feelings and jealousy. Then the fights with Batman started all over again. Whatever understanding the two had pretended to have had faded away, leaving them to their usual tension and disagreements. In her mind, Bruce treated her as a child, and in his, she treated him with disrespect and arrogance. Lastly, her powers. Living with them had always been difficult, but she, more and more, felt no one was there to help her. At least, no one was giving her the grace and space she needed to adapt and learn. She couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t get tired, she needed to release them or her mind started to-

“Deep breath,” Sol whispered, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. No spiraling. If she spirals, then the Lazarus energy within her wins, and she becomes a threat. If she becomes a threat, then she loses even more trust with the bats. “Gods dammit.”

Who cares about upsetting them? She’s the one struggling here. She needed to make a choice. Her hand picked up her cellphone for the fifth time, hovering over the call button. This time, she pressed it.

“Hello?” Kate’s voice answered on the other end, serious and tough as always, but she could hear the woman’s edge of concern. It reassured Sol that this was the right thing. “What’s up, Sol?”

“Hi, Kate,” she replied softly, eyes staring daggers at the horizon. If she hesitated too long, she’d cry. “This isn’t working out. This place. The- the team. I tried. I really tried.”

Kate didn’t hesitate. “What do you need?” The question flooded Sol with relief. There was no judgment, no fear of rejection, no interrogation or anxiety.

“I need a place to sleep for the next month while I get settled, three thousand bucks, and for you to look the other way while I siphon my power off.”

“...those first two I can do,” her mentor answered quietly. “I have an idea for your power, if you’ll give it a shot. A good one.”

“I’m hesitant to believe anything will work,” Sol rasped, a tear falling down her cheek. “But I’ll try whatever you want, Kate. I trust you, at least.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sol figured running away so suddenly might be a bad idea. So, he left her belongings and her plans for another day. Next week, she could calmly inform them that she would be moving out on her own again, as she’d always been, to continue her life. If they didn’t like it? Fuck ‘em.

But tonight she had something else. The coordinates Batwoman had given her had led her to a desolate part of the city, a sad and dark spot known as Park Row. She recognized it as a neighborhood to avoid, of course, but not much more than that. On the way there, she had already stopped two robberies and a fight. But now, on the street below her, was one building that stood out, the facade brightly lit with a red cross sign of a hospital. On the front was a placard that said Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Batwoman stood on the clinic's roof, across the street from Sol, and waved her arm to get her attention. She pointed down to the alley, a back entrance it seemed, and disappeared. The younger vigilante wasted no time going over, using a grapple gun to swing across the street and landing on the floor with hardly a sound.

“Sol,” she said with a nod, standing by the back door. “I want you to meet someone.” She knocked three times. The door opened, blinding lights made her glance away for a moment, and when the spots cleared, there was a civilian woman smiling at her. She was older, with silver hair, a white doctor’s coat, and a kind smile. Batwoman stepped aside, nodding to the other woman.

“My name is Doctor Leslie Thompkins,” the woman introduced herself, offering her hand. “Batwoman said you wanted to volunteer, and that you might need some help too.”

“Volunteer?” Sol asked, shaking her hand. The woman smiled and waved her inside.

“Batwoman says you have a unique ability that can help others. She also said it’s become a bit of a bother for you,” Thompkins said, leading both heroes into her clinic. Sol could hear the groaning of patients, the typing away of staff on computers, and the quick steps of the nurses rushing around. “She described your abilities as a tank of water that never stops filling up. Yes?”

Sol scoffed, shooting her mentor a glare. “More like a gasoline tanker trying to reach a spark. When I don’t get release, it gets ugly, doctor. Though I’m not sure why Batwoman would share something so...sensitive with you.”

“We think we have a way to burn some of that fuel for you,” Thompkins replied, keeping her calm demeanor. She opened another door, just a crack, to show her the clinic’s lobby. Dozens of people, criminal and civilian, were crowding the lobby. Most of these people had non-threatening wounds; those that did must have been rushed back. Still, it was clear this clinic was overflowing with patients.

“What the...you’d think this place is a hospital. And why the hell is the mob here? What’s going on?”

“Leslie here runs a completely free clinic that’s open to anyone,” Batwoman explained, putting a hand on Sol’s shoulder. “It’s neutral territory. Super villains and heroes could come for treatment here and feel safe. No one breaks the rules.”

Sol snorted, looking up at Leslie. “Seriously? What if they murdered a bunch of people? Wouldn’t you have a moral responsibility to call the police? Refuse them service?”

“In a city like this one,” Leslie said softly, looking back out the door. “Sometimes if you want to do right by someone, to do real good...it can’t be limited. You can’t be picky. By serving everyone, this place has endured, and more people have been helped than hurt. Even criminals have changed their ways, and heroes have come to understand and help them. It’s coexistence. It won’t work for everyone, but it helps in ways your violent work does not.”

“Thompkins here is, if you couldn’t tell, a pacifist,” Batwoman muttered, crossing her arms and sighing. “So we don’t see eye to eye. But...I like her thinking. And I think you could too.”

“You want me to work here.” The realization was a slap to the face. Her response was quick and immediate. “How the hell am I supposed to patrol, go to school, make money for my place, and volunteer to help a bunch of-”

“You’ll be paid,” Thompkins interrupted, closing the door. “We get funding from Bruce Wayne and city grants, and someone with your powers is more than worth the pay.”

“Besides, I’ll be covering some of the clinic’s expenses too,” Batwoman added, glancing away. “I’d cover your rent too, but you wouldn’t allow that.”

“Still, patrolling is all night, school is during the day. Since I don’t sleep, I could afford weird hours here and there, I guess, but-”

“Listen,” Batwoman said, grabbing Sol’s shoulders and tugging her to the side. She pursed her lips, the whites of her eyes staring into her. “I want you to take a break. Commit to this. School, fixing your life, and this job. You don’t have to do what I do just because Batgirl found you, or Spoiler was your friend.”

That was a shocker. A bucket of cold water that stole the air from her lungs and thoughts from her mind. Kate wanted her to quit being a vigilante? Maybe for good? It was a step further than Sol herself had planned. With her powers, how could she not be a hero, whether she wanted to or not?

Then she looked back to the door, to Thompkins, and her shoulders lost some of their tension.

“...because I don’t have a secret identity, my working here doesn’t compromise anything,” Sol whispered. “Healing these people will help drain some of my powers. At least, you think doing it regularly will help me out. Quitting the hero work gives me my life back. A job, a way to help, and I can focus on school.”

“Yeah,” Batwoman whispered, nodding and squeezing her shoulders. “You fell into this against your will, and it’s killing you, Sol. I’m not going to say this is or isn’t your path. I’ll support you. But take it from me: There are always other ways to serve.”

She didn’t know what felt more like a fairy tale. Everything that had happened to her since the awakening of her powers, or giving all that up. She couldn’t have the family that her friends had. Not among the bats. She couldn’t have Stephanie or Cassandra, not the way she had thought she’d felt for them, not now. She hadn’t felt like she could have a civilian life again, either. Choices? She wanted to laugh. She’d never had a choice in her entire life.

“Okay,” Sol whispered, tears falling down her cheeks, green eyes pulsing with distress. “I’ll give it a shot, Batwoman.”

The tears, she thought, were the goodbye she wouldn’t give the others. The fear of letting them down again. Bruce, Cass, Steph, the others. But Kate believed in her. She was here, the soldier that was supposedly so tough and independent, looking out for her. Smiling.

Sol pressed herself against her mentor, wrapping her in a bear hug and burying her face into Batwoman’s chest.

“Thank you.”

[neppyshub]

Food, Love, Home

Chapter 6 of my story for @casscainweek 2026! This chapter features (finally) the Stephcass conclusion! AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/217257561#workskin

In the end, the case was progressing, but Cassandra remained unsatisfied. Batman himself had interrogated Punchline, getting what he could from the villain, while Stephanie investigated what was clearly Lupita’s safehouse, and Kate ruled out the diversion in Hong Kong. All these places, with their various uses, required setup. Officials, money, workers, and goons meant there were leads to follow. Eventually, the question of where Sol came from

“Stop thinking about it,” Stephanie said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Today is our day off, Cass. To celebrate.”

She was right. The two of them, along with a majority of the family, were gathered in the living room of Wayne Manor, all in their versions of pajamas or lounge wear, waiting for the girl of the hour.

They heard Sol complaining before she appeared, stifling amused laughter. “Kate, I’m seriously fine. As soon as my powers started charging up again, I knew I’d heal. We don’t have to do another check-” She entered the living room, Kate prodding her from behind with a small smile, and for one moment, green eyes flashed and widened in surprise.

“SURPRISE!”

Cassandra couldn’t help but smile. It was a strange sight: A dozen vigilantes standing around a table with a cake, all sharing smiles and grins, and half of them peeled away to pull Sol forward to the group.

“What’s this for? Getting better?” She asked uncertainly, looking around with a polite but confused smile of her own. “You shouldn’t have.”

Jason was the first to answer, leaning on her shoulder. “Nah, kid-”

“Again, I’m older than you.”

“-It’s a celebration for getting your first point in vigilante bingo.”

“...excuse me?” Sol looked around the room again, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, trying to decipher what was clearly a riddle or prank. “Bingo?”

“You beat your first meta,” Stephanie added happily. Cassandra’s chest ached as the blonde released her to hug Sol. “And although it wasn’t technically alone...you also fought off a pack of werewolves before that. So, we’re counting it!”

“It’s a tradition,” Duke sighed, clearly enjoying the experience of explaining this to someone, rather than being the newbie. “My first was sending a villain back to Arkham on my own.”

Cassandra spoke up, crossing her arms and smirking. “Trained by assassins.”

“Came back from the de-” Jason began to chime in, his voice braggish and teasing, until half the room glared at him. Today wasn’t the day for dark jokes.

Then everyone went silent as a new voice spoke behind them. “Let’s keep things lighthearted. We’ve all had to face terrible odds, but Sol...went above and beyond. She deserves a good party.” It was Bruce, wearing an attempt at casual clothes that were Batman sweatpants, a Superman shirt, and sipping out of a Wonder Woman coffee mug. The ridiculous image wasn’t the shocker, but rather him showing up for Sol. The two stared at each other while everyone else held their breath.

“Thanks,” she replied after a moment, green eyes softening. “I knew you guys all had my back, so...it wasn’t that scary.” She smiled, and Bruce returned it, albeit awkwardly.

“Alright!” Kate finally said, grabbing her shoulders and leaning in. “Let’s cut the cake before either of you choke on your words. First slice goes to the werewolf tamer.”

Just like that, the tension broke. People huddled around the cake, walked to their seats, or huddled in pairs to talk. Sol, completely healed and at ease, laughed with her friends and eagerly took her slice of cake. It was a good intermission to the chaos of the last few days.

But there was something Cassandra wanted to finish. Something she couldn’t leave hanging in the air. With quiet determination, she slipped between her siblings and friends, stealing Stephanie’s plate and grabbing the next from Kate. The blonde gasped in mock offense, following her out of the room.

“Excuse you, villain,” Stephanie declared dramatically. “Cake theft is punishable with death!”

Cassandra set both plates down on a small table in the hallway, facing Stephanie with squared shoulders, a straight back, and a look that made her best friend stop in her tracks. They knew each other well enough that the blonde could sense something important coming on. It only made Cass’s heart flutter when she smiled, stepping closer and pushing her bangs back.

“What’s up?”

Here it was. The big moment. Cassandra inhaled deeply, taking Stephanie’s hands. “I love you. Not like Barbara. Not like Bruce. Not like anyone else. You make me feel things I- I cannot control. When we went out as people. I was happy. When you were hurt-” She steps closer, expression bending into one of grief. “-I was scared. Lost. I don’t have a good word for us. I just...want us.”

It had been days since that conversation. Sol’s question: What are they to you? Which had sprung this first conversation. It was followed by her losing control with the werewolves, the second Stephanie had been hurt, and then a light tension as they worked the case.

No more.

“I could think of a few,” Steph whispered, leaning into Cass’s touch. She squeezed her friend’s hand, and Cass could read her like a book. Excitement, anxiety, confusion, impatience, hopefulness- A wonderful and disastrous mix of emotions that made Stephanie the confusing and wonderful person she was. She tugged them both closer. “But I know words and titles don’t do you justice. So…I love you too.”

I love you too.

It felt so stupid to have worried about this. The awkwardness, the tension, the little looks. They loved each other. It was as simple as that. And the pure joy Cassandra felt, more than any moment of her life, was like a bolt of energy through her body. It felt like Sol had overloaded her with Lazarus energy.

“Cass-” Steph gasped, her voice soft and unusually shy, as she closed the distance and captured the blonde's lips in a soft kiss. This initiative was rewarded with a gorgeous whine, as the blonde closed her eyes and moved her free hand across Cass’s face to grip the back of her neck.

The two broke the kiss, foreheads touching as they glanced downwards, grinning and giggling like two stupid girls in one of Cassandra’s old rom coms. They swayed together on their feet, to an invisible tune, taking in the moment together.

“Should we go back to the party?” Stephanie whispered. Cassandra felt her chest rumble and shook her head, much to the others’ amusement. “Maybe another kiss first?”

The two girls giggled and came together again, their lips meeting in fervent but shy exploration, emotions expressed in a way both of them could understand, and no one could ruin this moment.

Not even Sol, who was hiding behind the cracked open door to the living room, with wide green eyes staring from all the way down the hallway. She stepped back, not even daring to close the door lest they hear the click of the knob, and returned to the party with a forced smile.

[neppyshub]

Gotham, Bludhaven, Hong Kong

Chapter 5 for @casscainweek ! It's super late but the entire story is already on AO3 and as of this post ALL chapters are uploaded to this account! This chapter features (perhaps finally) Bruce Wayne alongside Cassandra! It's gooey <3 AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/215611181

Cassandra woke up with a loud and sudden gasp. Her back arched as pain racked her lungs, and she suddenly realized there was a mask on her face, ripping it off and sitting up straight. Immediately, her eyes scanned the room. The Batcave. Two individuals: Sol and-

“Bruce?” Cassandra knew whatever had been done to her must have been bad for him to appear. Looking so concerned, no less. But the real shocker was how he held Sol in an arm, the poor girl dripping sweat and panting, barely able to stand. A glance confirmed a second bed beside hers, with disconnected ECG cables, and other monitors that were now reading zero. Her eyes returned to Bruce to catch the poker face, yet even he couldn’t hide from her abilities. Her heart dropped. “What did you do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Sol wheezed, sighing as the Batman lifted her in his arms. She was so weak she couldn’t lift her limbs, much less protest. “My choice, Cass.”

“What did you choose?” She asked, sliding her legs off the bed and furrowing her brow with concern. “Sol, what did you do? You were healing. You shouldn’t have-”

Sol grinned, her green eyes dull but definitely still glowing. A good sign. “Just do me a favor and figure...all of this…” Her head slumped back before she could finish her sentence, and Bruce, Bruce, managed to look concerned for her. He set her on the bed, quickly and gently re-attaching the monitor cables and tucking her in.

Cassandra never thought she’d see the day those two agreed on something. And it had been to strain Sol to heal her. In an instant, her blood was boiling. She hopped off the bed, stepping up to Bruce with clenched fists. “You knew she couldn’t handle it. You know how her powers work.”

“She promised me she could handle it. And she did,” Bruce replied in that curt, serious tone of his. Not a father figure, but the Batman. Usually, Cassandra agreed with him, unless he was trying to get her to avoid danger. But this, with Sol, was too much.

“If Dick or me tried to push ourselves like- like that, you would never-” Her voice was getting stuck. The anger and anxiety made it harder for her to speak, to express herself as she’d like. “She can’t handle-”

“If you can sacrifice yourself, then why can’t she?” Stephanie said, finally revealing herself. She was in her Batgirl suit, cowl off, arms crossed, and face tight with guilt. In an instant, Cassandra knew she’d helped allow this to happen. She was here and let Sol and Bruce do this. “You were doing badly. Because you pushed me out of that room, Cass. We were worried and Sol...Sol has already handled worse. We had to let her try.”

“I don’t want any of you- any-” Cassandra’s voice caught. God dammit! Why was it so hard to push past the lump in her throat? To say she didn’t want anyone to get hurt for her sake, much less those close to her. Stephanie, Bruce, Sol, and others like Dick meant the world to her. She wasn’t worth-

“Stop it,” Stephanie whispered, closing the distance to hug Cassandra. “I can see what you’re thinking. Stop it right now.”

Cassandra closed her eyes, stifling her tears. It was too much. In only a few days, everything felt like it had begun falling apart. The werewolves, Stephanie almost dying, Sol pushing herself too hard, and now she had been defeated. Ambushed. And what was all that with Dare-

Oh. Oh. Her memories of last night returned. Daredevil. Matthew. The man from another place, who had spent so much time together. The long talk they had shared. The memories instantly made her feel better. Calmer. Suddenly, everything she felt was bottled up didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. He had helped her.

It’s alright. I think...all it’ll take is some faith.

Faith. Cassandra sighed. If she wanted to do what Sol said and figure out what was going on, then maybe, at least temporarily, she needed to have some faith. There would be time for anger afterwards.

“Why did you wake me up?” Cassandra asked, squeezing Stephanie once before pulling back. Her eyes returned to her father. “If I wasn’t dying, then you must have a good reason. Both of you.”

Bruce nodded, giving Sol one last worried glance, which was still very strange. He nodded to the Bat-computer and led the two Batgirls there. “We looked into Lupita. She took an antidote for the fear gas trap, was only partially affected, and I was able to interrogate her.” Stephanie tensed up. If Bruce had done the interrogation, especially after Cass had gotten hurt, it probably hadn’t been pretty. “Whoever set her up with Sol definitely did so on purpose. Oracle combed years' worth of street and security footage to see that Lupita had been keeping a close eye on Sol. She only went to her job two days a week.”

“Apparently, the director of the asylum was getting bribed to not care,” Stephanie added, sighing. “Money always talks.”

“She’s led us to three locations. One here in Gotham, in the Bowery, near Sol's old apartment. Another in Hong Kong. We think this is a dead end, something her handlers set up to make the trail back to them muddier, and then a closer location in Bludhaven.”

“Batwoman is taking Hong Kong-”

“Batwoman?” Even Cassandra Cain wasn’t immune to surprise, or the occasional outburst. Kate Kane was still a very sore spot for her. Stephanie was quick to explain, taking her hand and squeezing it.

“Kate was more of a mentor to Sol than anyone here,” the blonde explained gently. “She’s just as worried and dedicated to her as we are. And since you were out cold, we needed the backup. Almost everyone else is on their own missions.”

“As I was saying,” Bruce continued, clearing his throat. “Batwoman is taking Hong Kong. Stephanie is taking the Gotham location. I’m taking Bludhaven.”

“I’ll go with Stephanie,” Cass immediately said, standing straight and crossing her arms, daring them to deny her.

“No,” they both replied, turning on her. Okay, wow, she hadn’t expected that. But Bruce continued before she could get angry. “If you’re going to join us, then it will be in Bludhaven with me.” Clearly, he knew her too well, because he continued quickly to avoid her arguments. “Gotham is most likely a living space or outpost for Lupita. Hong Kong is likely a diversion. If there is any real danger, it will be in Bludhaven. I want back-up.”

His argument was solid. In fact, most of the family might have reached the same conclusion. Tim Drake, master detective, or Dick Grayson, the most experienced son of the cowl. However, with Bruce, it was always a double-edged sword. He was too smart. By taking her as back-up, she would be held out of the line of fire, close to home and help, and she would be under his supervision.

He was worried. Scared for her, even. The thought, while always sweet, would usually serve to annoy her. Yet after everything that had happened, Cassandra had to admit she felt...relief. It was nice to be cared about. It always was.

“Alright,” the Batgirl agreed, sighing and nodding. “Let’s finish this.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It felt strange to be here without Nightwing, who apparently was on a mission somewhere in South America. It did feel nice to fill in a little bit, Batman and Batgirl swooping into alleyways to stop criminals who practically shit themselves when it was them, not Nightwing, that had come to punish.

What? After all this time, Cassandra had the right to enjoy little bits of her job.

The pair still made sure not to delay their actual purpose for being here for too long. Stephanie had already begun her investigation, supervised by Oracle, and Batwoman had just landed in Hong Kong. Now the two of them found themselves facing a historic building in downtown Bludhaven. Old, like the psych ward, but made of brick. It towered higher and was narrower like a small tower, complete with a bell on top.

“This building used to be a church. The city repurposed it as a shelter. Shut down exactly three years before Sol was admitted to the Elizabeth ward. The city has tried to maintain and reopen it, but a lack of funds or public support continuously stalls the project.” Oracle, vigilant as always, didn’t even need to be asked before providing the information. “Some reports of breaking and entering over the years, a murder, but nothing that would indicate some sinister force using it as a base.”

“Roger, Oracle, we’ll keep you updated on our progress,” Batman spoke into his earpiece, observing the building beside Batgirl from across the street.

It had been a while since the two of them ran a mission together. As in, just them. The moon was hidden behind clouds, making for low visibility. The only part of her mentor that was truly visible was the white skin of his chin and jaw, and the glint of his gold utility belt. Despite how practiced he was at maintaining appearances, stoic nature in body and face, she could read the tension on him even easier than usual. Guilt? Fear? Not for the mission, she realized, but from before. For having Sol heal her.

“We can talk,” Batgirl said quietly. Not a request but permission, given from someone who preferred silence to someone bad at expression. “I’d like that.”

“You won’t like anything I have to say,” he replied, glancing at her before pulling out his grapple gun. The two of them fired across the street, pulling themselves to the roof of the tower and clinging to the wall. “I know you’re mad I allowed her to heal you.”

“Yes.” She didn’t have to say anything else. It wasn’t time yet. Batgirl pulled out a tiny but razor-sharp glass cutter from her belt and easily carved half of a wide circle, then tossed it to Batman, who finished the cut.

He quickly sliced the glass, completing the circle, and pulled out a small suction tool. “It was her idea, but I allowed her. Her pushing her abilities like that, after everything she went through, is my fault.” He attached the tool to the glass, tugging it free. Cassandra pushed off the wall and swung inside, smoothly detaching her grapple from the roof to land without more than a creak. Batman continued as he passed her the piece of glass. “Stephanie didn’t stop us, and you might take that up with her, but it was my call. A call I don’t regret.”

“Continue,” Batgirl said, taking the glass to allow Batman to follow her in, pushing himself off the wall, twisting into a graceful landing, and retracting his grapple. “There’s more.”

“She and I have a difficult relationship,” he continued, footsteps as silent as Batgirl’s, the two walking towards the door. He paused to listen in on the other side, then nodded, opening the door. “You think that makes me more willing to risk her for your safety. For any of you. She’s an outsider. She’s not my child.”

That word made her shiver as she walked into the next room. She did believe those were his thoughts. She also knew they filled him with guilt. A leader shouldn’t be biased like that. Shouldn’t risk lives.

But he did.

“I can’t say I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know it’s not right, Batgirl, but your condition was deteriorating. We didn’t have anything else to give you. She was the only choice, and any of us would have done the same in-”

“I understand.” Not it’s alright, not forgiveness, but understanding. If she could get hurt for Stephanie, risk her life for any of them, if Batman could take a bullet for her, then Sol could strain her powers for them as well. It was her choice. She didn’t have to like it...but in this line of work, she had to accept it. Even if she wished Bruce would have hesitated more. “I do not like it. She doesn’t know what she is doing yet. But...I know her. It wouldn’t matter. And I know you.”

“...alright,” Batman said, scanning the room with her. The two worked in silence for a few moments, opening drawers, looking out the window, scanning the ground and walls for any sign of, well, anything. With a nod from Batman, they opened the door to the stairwell and started making their way down. Batgirl remained silent, knowing her father wasn’t done. He had more to get out. Their eyes met as he opened the next door for her, watching as she scanned the room carefully and nodded.

“Go on,” Batgirl said. Even Batman needed encouragement, from time to time.

“...I’m sorry I can’t get along with her. At least, just yet.”

Those words actually managed to distract the vigilante. She turned around, staring at him with wide eyes hidden behind her mask, heart racing. An apology? For Sol? But he didn’t stop there.

“The fact is, having kids terrifies me,” Batman said, efficiently rummaging through the furniture her, in what appeared to be an office. Despite the clear emotional weight of this talk, he kept the same, even, emotionless voice. “You all know that. We’ve been through the stages of me trying to keep you safe. Out of the line of fire.” He moves to a desk, kneeling to investigate its surface. “Sometimes I still wonder if it was a mistake to let you all risk your lives like this. To be stuck in a cave and symbol. Regardless, it was my choice. Some of you were dropped onto me, but...I chose to take you all in. To teach you. To care.”

Batgirl’s voice is a whisper, pained with realization. “You never chose her.” It felt like a splash of cold water. The way he seemed to immediately reject her, refused to be a main participant in her training, constantly found reasons to hold her back from patrols, and so much more. She had dragged her own stray back home, and everyone had expected Batman to do what he always did: The right thing. I care for her and adopt her. Even worse was the realization that Sol was just as hard-headed as Bruce. She never attempted to get along.

She hadn’t chosen him either.

“I’m...sorry,” Batgirl choked out, which caught her mentor's attention. “I did not realize.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud crash below them. Both bats froze, listening intently, but nothing followed it. Still, that was too sudden and loud to be a coincidence. Someone was definitely here. With a nod from Batman, the two returned to the stairwell, swinging from the rail to the door below. Batgirl put her ear to the door while Batman pulled out smoke pellets.

It had been a long time since just the two of them worked together. Despite this, their sync was completely natural. Batgirl kicked the door open, and Batman tossed in the smoke pellets. Following a loud pop, the room filled with smoke, and whoever was in there began to cough. Amateurs, it seemed, without the gear to face them properly. With this in mind, Batman ran in, and she waited. After all, she was his backup. A trump card if someone surprised him. So, she listened as he stomped and thumped around with the others, the occasional yell or shattering of glass joining them. After exactly three minutes, he tapped his boot three times. The all clear. Still, she waited out of sight. No one would know she was nearby unless she wanted them to.

“Oracle,” Batman said, even as he really was only speaking to her. “Three goons. They looked like Joker's men but had something different. The same idea, at least. They were lugging around three cases, which they failed to booby-trap. Someone expected us to come here.” She heard the click of the cases opened and a moment of silence as he examined the contents. “It’s a clue. Not just evidence. Someone wants us to learn a little more about S. There’s evidence of the bribery to her wards director, false identities for her caretaker, extra cash, but nothing indicating who bankrolled all this.”

A creak from the floor beneath them. Both vigilantes pause, one waiting for orders and the other thinking. A moment later, Batman tapped his foot twice, the green light for her to go downstairs and check it out. He’d continue searching the room and making noise. Whoever was down there wouldn’t expect her to attack them. Still, it didn’t mean she had to be stupid about it. If they had been placing traps, then there could be more.

Batgirl quickly made her way to the floor below and immediately pulled a snake camera. A small device she could slide under the door and see the feed on her wristwatch. Once it seemed all clear, from the floor to the handle above the camera, she pulled it back and opened it. Thankfully, it did not creak, and it was dark enough that only someone with powers or night vision would see her. With trained calm, she silently made her way inside, relaxing to the point you’d struggle to catch a heartbeat. She was no more than a shadow. A shadow that could hear the slightest shift of the wooden floor, the nervous and shallow breathing of someone trying to remain quiet, and the inevitable shift as they peaked out from behind a desk, trying to see what had opened the door and slipped right past their sight.

With a whish in the air, a batarang flew out before the woman could think, hitting the gun in her hand and making her fall back with a panicked yelp. Batgirl didn’t hesitate to close the distance, twisting her way around the wicked knife that flew forward to meet her, grabbing the woman’s wrist, twisting and shoving her face-first into the wall.

“You bats are...so annoying…” Punchline, clowned menace, and certified chemical terrorist, groaned. She was in her usual stretchy, purple bodysuit, with knee-height black leather boots and a tight, low-cut leather bodice. Her black hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, her grinning face was made insanely creepier with white concealer, innocent blush, and heavy use of eyeliner. “Can’t let a girl finish a job in peace? Come on.”

“Punchline,” Batgirl said for Oracle and Batman to hear. “What are you doing? Why were you waiting for us?”

“Waiting? Gorgeous, I was setting up.” Her grin only grew, eyes darting to the side in a vain attempt to see her assailant. “I don’t get paid if the job isn’t finished.”

She pulled back and slammed the villain into the wall. “Paid. By who?” Her grip only grew more painful as Punchline giggled and twitched.

“Oops, I shouldn’t have said that. But, hey, the money is really good.” She sighs dramatically, relaxing in the Batgirl’s grip. “Why are you so tilted, Batty?”

Batgirl mentally cursed herself. In her anger, her eagerness to avenge Sol and ensure her safety, she’d let her anger seep. Punchline, despite her looks, was incredibly smart. Smart enough to pick up on it. Smart enough to use it. Batgirl, by contrast, was not smart enough to win a war of words.

“Talk to me,” she hissed in Punchline’s ear. “Or talk to him.” She roughly grabbed the villain by the hair, still holding her twisted wrist, and spun her around to face the doorway where Batman now loomed, remaining in the dim light from the hallway window. All this did was make Punchline cackle with excitement.

“Two for one. Nice.”

Click.

“Looking for this,” Batman said, tossing forward a rather large, round device. It could have been a bomb or a dispenser. Punchline sneered, for once, her cocky attitude was smashed by reality. “If you thought we would fall for your traps twice, you were wrong, Punchline. Only one person could have edited the fear toxin in Elizabeth. Only one person typically bothers to do so.”

The big bat stalked forward, leaning down to glare at her. He let her stir in his presence for a minute, let the weight of these two stalkers settle in around her before speaking. “You’ll tell us what you know. Or else I’ll let Batgirl do the talking. And you made her very, very mad.”

She didn’t wait for permission to emphasize. With a sharp twist, Punchline’s wrist snapped, and the girl howled in pain, not that this made Batgirl release her.

“You’re working for someone,” Batman decided. “You had no reason to set all this up. You don’t do mass casualty events. You use people. The werewolves were far outside your area of expertise.” Batgirl gave a slight nod. Punchline didn’t have to answer: She could feel her tension ever so slightly, see the curl in her lips that tried to hide how fast she was thinking of an excuse. A lie. Batgirl nodded ever so slightly for her counterpart to continue.

“You could do anything for money,” Batman said, narrowing his eyes. The white slits of his cowl did so as well. “Someone else is playing a game and hired you as a pawn. What do they want?”

“Well, Batsy,” she grunted, trying to smile through the pain. “If I told you that I wouldn’t get paid, would I?”

Snap! One of her fingers, making her bite her lip until it bled, and stomp her foot repeatedly. “Fuck! Oooh, I’m going to enjoy killing you one day, girly-” Another snap! Punchline cried out, head falling as she squirmed and shifted uselessly.

“Focus,” Batman ordered, gripping her jaw and making her look up.

“This isn’t really fun anymore,” Punchline panted, eyes fluttering. “Tell me you guys are done.”

“Not even close,” he replied with a growl.

“Nah,” she shook her head slightly. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

An explosion rocked the bottom of the old tower, throwing all three of them to the floor. Punchline took the opportunity to sprint to the door, having been waiting for this moment, and Batgirl growled as she disappeared from view. She pushed herself up, about to run out, when Batman’s arm hooked around her waist.

“No, Batgirl, she’s planned this,” he barked. “It’s either trapped or time for us to fall with the building.”

“We can’t let her- Away-” Her voice choked, as it always did when she got too stressed or angry. But he was right, and she knew it. All she could do was stare at the door as Batman ran with her to the window, smashing it open. A moment later, the two were grappling away.

They’d learn something. Yet this felt less like a victory and more like a cliffhanger. A moment before a big reveal. It wasn’t enough, and she knew it.

But there was nothing she could do.

[ciricearts]

ohh so scaryyy!!

[neppyshub]

I'm adding this to my DC vampires fic because I am a simp for fictional women EDIT: As in, vampire Cassandra. NOT taking the artists work without permission!!

[ashoss]

preordering my yuri.

[a-shithead-who-posts]

YES OMG THIS IS BEAUTIFUL

I NOW SHIP THIS SO HARD

[neppyshub]

Holy shit Yara Flor art?? On my feed???

[neppyshub]

Team Up, Crossover, Costume/Mantle Swap

Chapter 4 of my story for @casscainweek 2026! Story features Cass Cain, Stephanie Brown, and an OC, but THIS chapter has a surprise appearance from Marvel's Daredevil! AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/210148926 NOTE: I know I don't leave notes but this is the first chapter I don't include all THREE prompts. This story is pretty much just the crossover prompt! DC vs Marvel baby!

Sometimes, the world doesn’t make sense, despite all the knowledge one has of it. For example, Cassandra might be, technically, a normal human. A mortal with no actual meta powers, magic, alien blood or heritage, and so on, but she was well aware of the existence of immortals, magic, monsters, and the related. She’d fought them, worked beside them, and studied them in depth just in case she’d ever have to face them.

Still, no one can prepare for anything, no matter how hard they try, and some forces of the universe remain as mysterious as ever. Their motives even more so. Maybe it was to help, or perhaps to harm, but Cassandra Cain was no longer in Gotham.

Her eyes snapped open as consciousness returned. She immediately sat up and glanced around, as if expecting threats, but found herself lying on a stone altar in the back of a church. To her right, extended a red carpet with two rows of pews, set up to fit roughly one-hundred people, until it reached a large wooden door that soared twenty feet high. The walls were carved out of stone and marble, decorated with paintings of religious imagery, stained glass windows, and carved columns, and mirrored on each side. The wall to her left, the back end of the church, had a statue of Jesus standing on a pedestal, looming over her with arms outstretched, and a cross on the wall above his head. He looked anything but merciful in the soft candlelight.

Where am I? Cassandra thought, without moving a muscle. She still wasn’t completely sure she was alone, or who had brought her, and any more noise could warn potential company to her wakefulness. The last thing she remembered was pushing Stephanie out of the room, then those horrible words, and then darkness coming to put a merciful end to that tirade.

Her new greatest fear wasn’t herself. It was her best friend not loving her back. That thought returned to make her heart squeeze itself tight- Driving a pain in her chest worse than any weapon or training ever had. Yet there was no time to think about it. Not until she got back home and made sure Stephanie was safe.

Eventually, once her trained ears were sure no one was around, the vigilante sat up and slid her legs off the altar, tentatively standing up and taking care to avoid the candles on the floor surrounding the stone. The way it was set up, she looked like some sort of Catholic sacrifice, but that didn’t make sense. From her few talks about religion and history, she was pretty sure sacrifices were nailed or burned to the cross. This was more akin to an...offering, she decided. But for whom? And from who?

Hm? Her eyes widened, body tensing with alertness. She wasn’t quite sure what had flagged her instincts; The shift of a flame, the other movement of a shadow, maybe just a change in the air. But she wasn’t alone. Something was watching her.

A wish in the air, barely audible, came from her top left, and she flipped backwards to avoid it. A metal baton clanged against the floor, then the wall, and then stopped as if caught.

Oh yeah, something was definitely here. Her eyes scanned the darkness up at the roof, but this was one of her only weaknesses: She couldn’t read what she couldn’t see. It’s why honing her instincts, training until every reaction was muscle memory and instantaneous, fighting like she didn’t have body reading abilities, was important.

“How did you find this place?” The low rumble of an angry man, coming from somewhere in the shadows. After a moment, it spoke from a new direction. “Whoever sent you...it isn’t worth it. Leave.”

Her training told her to move. Hide in the shadows and play cat and mouse. Her instincts told her that wouldn’t work, although she wasn’t sure why. So, instead of acting with her body, she decided to act differently and speak. “I don’t want to fight.”

“...liar.”

What? She thought to herself, frowning. But as soon as the accusation reached her ears, she realized it was true. The way she held herself, what her instincts screamed at her, the beating of her heart- She would have read it as battle-ready.

“No, I-”

Another wish in the air, from two directions. Cassandra sidestepped the first baton, then ducked sharply under the second, and from the darkness came out a man she could only describe as a devil. His foot slammed into her stomach before she could react, sending her back into the stone altar, and the batons had already bounced back to her hands.

This devil was human. Now that she could tell that much. He stood taller than her, with a sleek suit of red armor, a mask with small devil horns, and two eye slits painted red. His lower jaw was exposed, and his chest had two over-imposed D’s painted in black. An acronym? His body language radiated pure anger, like a dog ready to snap at the slightest movement, his jaw tight, his fists gripping the batons even tighter, every muscle poised to charge.

“You have one chance to give up...but I really hope you don’t,” Daredevil said. Cassandra stood back up, pursing her lips together and raising her fists. She knew he wasn’t going to give her a choice. Either from cruelty or due to this uncontrolled pain and anger, he was going to lash out. She didn’t even have to worry about it either.

She could see him. She could read him.

Daredevil smiled. He raised his batons and closed the distances, swinging down in quick, precise, and clearly trained movements. Cassandra stepped into his range, deftly blocking each attack at the forearms and wrists, ensuring the hard metal never touched her form. He seemed surprised when she blocked and spun, two fists connected with his stomach, sending him three painful feet back. This surprise was returned with the stutter in Cass’s heartbeat, as she realized he barely seemed to register the pain.

Great, she was fighting some sort of masochistic juggernaut. Maybe it’d make him sloppy?

That notion quickly left her mind as he threw both batons, charging in while Cassandra was distracted, dodging them. His training was clearly intense, as he seemed just as skilled with the escrima sticks as Nightwing, and as good at martial arts as any of the heroes Cassandra worked with. Maybe even better than some.

But not better than her. Cassandra easily blocked two kicks to her sides, then grabbed his foot after he spun and aimed a boot at her head, pushing him back. She slid in close, punching his side, ducked a counter, and nailed his jaw, side-stepped a grab, and returned three quick blows to his stomach. She refused, however, to deal a quick and decisive blow. She wouldn’t break his bones. She wouldn’t hospitalize this man. Not unless he gave her no choice.

“You’re good,” he grunted, rolling backwards and to his feet after taking another hit, panting from the exertion. “That’s a neat trick.”

Trick? Her eyes widened as the realization struck. Somehow, he’d figured her out. Was that even possible? Had he encountered someone like her before?

Daredevil ran forward, kneeling and sliding underneath a vicious roundhouse from the Batgirl, grabbing his escrima sticks as he did. He spun to a stand, facing her, and flung his wrists to the sides. Each baton flew into the wall and bounced, zipping over the candles with almost impossible precision, extinguishing the majority of the flames. The little light in the room dulled to a small glow. Daredevil himself had used the new darkness to disappear, and a few moments later, what little candles remained were also snuffed out.

No problem, Cassandra thought to herself, fists up as she inhaled, listening intently. We’re just on equal ground, at worst.

Her opponent was stealthy. But she was stealthier, meaning she heard him right before he could strike. She leaned back, barely avoiding a stick, and then instinctively stepped again as another swiped through the air where her head had been. With a skip, she raised her leg to kick- But faster than should’ve been possible, a boot hit her standing leg, knocking her down. She rolled to the right only to hear both sticks slam into the stone ground where she had been a moment ago, and then jumped to her feet, only for a fist to slam against her jaw.

Spots flashed in sight for a moment before another fist slammed against her. She blocked the third and fourth, only to take a fifth when trying to counter. After that, she jumped and flipped backwards, judging that she was a foot from the wall, but an escrima stick bounced off a nearby column and hit her leg, forcing her to one knee.

Too late, some faraway thought reasoned, if she could anticipate any move via sight, this person must be able to do the same in the dark. He was keeping her on the defensive and blind- A weak position for the Batgirl.

A stick hit her across the face, making her head spin and bringing forth the taste of blood. A fist hit her side, and then she tried to counter, coming up with only air. His voice came through the dark, a low and hateful growl.

“You come to my one place of peace,” he said, right next to her ear, tanking her punches almost on purpose, before snapping her head up with an escrima stick. “You disturb me in my suffering.” Another hit of the stick and Cassandra fell again, lifting her hand to grab his wrist and stop the next blow, only for the other stick to slam into her ribs. “All I want is to be alone and at peace!”

Something about those words clicked into Cassandra’s brain. Once upon a time, she thought being completely alone would be peace. She’d felt like a tool of pure violence, and the guilt she suffered obviously still affected her. She remembered how Sol looked at her when she’d nearly killed the werewolf.

This devil sounded just like she did at her worst. It was self-hatred. It was depression, guilt, and desperation. He tanked her hits to feel pain. He fought to maybe, hopefully, never open his eyes again. He wasn’t trying to lose, but maybe he wished it so.

Not so long ago, she could have related.

“Being alone is hurting you,” Cassandra snapped, grabbing one wrist as he struck her, then the other as he tried to free himself. She pulled herself back against the ground, bringing him along. Her feet pushed against his stomach and launched him over and back, into the wall. She might not be able to see. She might not be able to read. But she was the best fighter on the planet. She didn’t need those benefits.

While he grunted, the air knocked out of him, she turned and pounced. The two began to wrestle. He clearly knew wrestling, judo, and other combat styles. But Cassandra knew nearly every martial art. She was flexible, smaller than the man, and it seemed less beaten. Had he been smart, he would’ve taken into account his prior injuries and not challenged her so directly. Now, she could guide herself with touch, and whatever way he had to detect her wouldn’t help.

“You want someone to finish you,” she continued, voice tight as he tried to lock his legs around her, only for the Batgirl to knee a joint, roll to the side, and pull him into an armbar. “You feel like a bad person. You are angry, overwhelmed, and in pain.”

“You don’t know me,” Daredevil growled, gasping as she pulled his arm taut, his free arm grasping at her leg. “Don’t you dare-”

“I don’t think you are a bad man!” She cut in, raising her voice. “Please, let me talk to you!”

She never thought that was how she’d end a fight. With words rather than action. Certainly, she had him pinned and could win now, with a twist she could snap his arm, and from there she could finish him. A part of her wanted to do just that- Follow her training, deal with the threat, and move on. But he was in pain the same way she was, and this time she wanted to help. To live up to the type of hero she was supposed to be, and not the scary vigilante or murderous weapon she’d shown the other night.

Thankfully, Daredevil seemed to pause. Panting tiredly, he loosened himself a bit, tilting his head as if to listen rather than look at her. “Now you want to talk?”

“Since the beginning,” she said, holding back a sound of indignation.

Ten minutes later, and with a very awkward introduction, the two sat down at opposite ends of a pew, right at the front and near the altar. Daredevil had taken the time to re-light the candles and say a small prayer. It was a strange pairing- a nineteen-year-old girl dressed in civilian clothes with a grown man in devilish armor, inside a church with shadows dancing across the face of Jesus Christ.

“So, your powers let you read people,” he said, an attempt to start things off. “But with sight. You somehow know what people will do.”

“And you can do the same with hearing,” Cassandra replied, glancing over at the man. “Is it super hearing? I am perfectly quiet, but you knew I was here.”

“It’s better than non-supers,” he admitted, nodding. “But it isn’t necessarily a superpower. Just something I developed between my blindness and special training.”

“Makes sense. My...sight was trained the same way. But instead of no sight, I had no voice.”

The two fell back into silence for another two minutes, neither quite good at this, especially not after the battle. Cassandra decided to take the lead.

“I know how you feel.” Her voice was calm and soft, considering her words with care. “It might sound weird, because I do not know you, but...the way your body spoke, the way you spoke, and fought-”

“It was all too similar,” he finished with a dry chuckle, leaning back in the pew. “You’re really young. I’m sorry you can relate.”

“I’m sorry you’re still in so much pain.”

More silence, this time with a tinge of comfort. Daredevil continued. “This isn’t my usual church. It’s...a home away from home. Abandoned, fixed up so I can come and wallow in my sins. How did you end up here?”

“I’m not sure. I was caught in a trap and blacked out. When I woke up, I was here.” Cassandra looked up, voice slightly louder. “Is this Elizabeth? New Jers-”

“Hell’s Kitchen, New York.”

Not an impossible distance to cross, but who had brought her here?

“Are you from Elizabeth?” Daredevil asked.

“No, Gotham.”

“Gotham? Where is that?”

Well, that opened up an entirely new can of worms. The man’s head tilted again, registering the change in Cassandra’s heartbeat, and he sighed, continuing without being prompted. “Not here, I take it. But somehow you’re safe, away from your trap, and here with me.”

“Why?” The girl’s voice is quiet again. Confused.

“Divine intervention, maybe,” he whispered, looking up to the statue of Jesus, guiding the Batgirl’s attention there. She wasn’t religious, but she knew divine intervention could happen. It would explain her instinctual confusion, as if even the air here were different, and her body could tell. “I needed someone to keep me from breaking tonight. What did you need?”

“I...I’m not sure,” she admitted. “A lot of things have happened lately, with people I care about. I...struggle. With people. Emotions. How they work. What I want.”

“Maybe we can talk about it.” An offer was being given to her with no small sense of relief. He wanted to do this; they both needed it, and despite being strangers, there was a sense of kinship.

“Okay.”

And so they did. For what felt like hours, they traded stories, doubts, and feelings. Daredevil turned out to be surprisingly good at this sort of thing, gently dissecting her concerns and confusions, asking questions in a way that didn’t feel intrusive or embarrassing. Likewise, Cassandra understood his pain and tried to guide him to a path that could help him step away from it and ease the burden of guilt. Not to reassure a man she did not know, but to explain how she (mostly) surpassed her guilt, and guide him to ways he could work on that as well. It wasn’t perfect, and both had the feeling it could not last, but it was nice. Until, finally, Cassandra yawned.

“...I think it’s time I go,” Daredevil said, his voice soft.

“But I don’t know…” Another yawn, the strangely tired drooping of her eyes, like something was pulling her under. “...how to get home yet.”

“It’s alright. I think...all it’ll take is some faith.”

Daredevil had closed the distance without her noticing, which should have been odd enough to set off alarm bells, but she just slumped against him as he picked her up in his arms. The man gently walked over to the altar, setting her down.

“If you ever find yourself back in my Hell’s Kitchen, come find me. I promise,” he chuckled, sounding only slightly guilty. “I won’t attack you again.”

“I’m glad we talked,” Cassandra mumbled, eyes hardly opened. “Daredevil.”

“Matthew,” he supplied, squeezing her shoulder. She wanted to reply, to give her own name in return, but the darkness was squeezing in around her.

“Good luck, Batgirl.”

[neppyshub]

Detective, Civilian Life, Fear Toxin

Chapter 3 of my story for @casscainweek 2026! Features Cassandra, with Stephanie as a costar, and an OC as a side character! AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/208892586#workskin

“I don’t like this.”

“You can sit it out until dark. I’ll just go in alone-”

“No.”

The werewolf attack from two nights ago had left questions unanswered. At the top of the lists for the two Batgirls was the issue of Sol. She had handled herself too well for a first real mission. Not simply pushing through the pain to heal others with her powers drained, but showing real skill. Her accuracy with the batarangs, how fearlessly she faced off Cassandra, and then the ambush outside.

She fought like she’d trained her whole life for it. That’s what Oracle had said when she’d shown Steph and Cass the videos from street cameras and bystanders she’d spliced together. They watched the moment her voice had been cut off, leaving them both worried sick, and the actions that followed. Civilians bitten by Lupus had begun to turn, almost at the same time, and one had surprised Sol. As she wrestled it on the ground, taking claw and tooth, her earpiece was damaged. Then she kicked it off and threw an explosive batarang, forcing it back. When she stood, four baby werewolves faced her.

It should have been game over. Yet, Sol stood up with pulsing green eyes and pulled out more batarangs. Without a single kill, she spent the entire time the Batgirls were inside fighting on her own. Slowly, but surely, she would wrestle or grab a wolf, eyes flashing as she tried to heal them, and they would actually collapse and turn human. From what Cassandra could see, she had used Judo, Capoeira, Aikido, and more.

Not something a civilian girl from Gotham University should just know. Not a fight she should have won.

“I hope we figure something out,” Stephanie said, her voice unusually soft and insecure. She spoke to fill the anxious silence, more than anything else, and brought Cassandra to an even more pressing thought: Herself.

She had been ready to kill for Stephanie, and would never know if she’d actually have done it, thanks to Sol. But regardless of the sin, the anger had been there, the want. All for her best friend. It brought back that comment from a week ago, and the question that prompted it.

I love you.

What are they to you?

Her brown eyes looked up to Steph, blonde hair flowing freely over her shoulders, blue eyes shadowed with concern, skin fair, smooth, and perfect. She was only wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a purple (of course) hoodie, yet to Cassandra she was the warmth on this chilled day.

I love you. There it was, again, that invasive thought. So often had those words returned, the vigilante wasn’t quite sure what to make of them. Now, here they were. Together. Walking, talking, and pretending to just hang out as civilians. Even if this was really an investigation, when had this last happened? Just the two of them?

“It will be okay,” Cassandra said, taking her friend's hand. The blonde snapped her eyes over, glancing over at Cass, who had opted for leggings, sneakers as well, and a yellow and black Gotham Knights varsity jacket Dick had given her. Her short black hair was loose, tickling her ears each time a gust of wind pushed by them.

“I’m her best friend,” Stephanie said quietly, squeezing Cass’s hand as she walked and talked. “I have more people in my life. But Sol? That was it, for the longest time, it was me. And I...didn’t do that justice. I should have seen something. I should have known. I could have brought her in sooner. Investigated.”

“No,” Cass said again, simple but firm. “Not your fault.”

“A meta human, with complete amnesia about the first sixteen years of her life, with training.” Stephanie scoffed, stepping closer to Cassandra but not meeting her eyes. “I should have noticed something.”

The quiet one recognized this: One of those annoying things ‘normal’ people did, when they tried to act angry or solitary, but really wanted reassurance, or help. The way she did not look at her and blamed herself, mixed with the sudden closeness and the tightness of their hand.

“That’s why we are doing this,” Cassandra said softly, shifting her arm to go around Stephanie’s waist in a protective manner. “To find out the truth and help her. Your friend. To figure it out.”

“There’s a lot for us to figure out, huh?”

At those words, soft and sweet, from Stephanie reached Cassandra’s ears, and those blue eyes looked deep into her brown ones, the girl meant to be a weapon felt something new: A blush. No, not the pink cheeks she’d gotten for Superboy once upon a time, but a full-on overheating of the body. Red bloomed from her ears and cheeks, crawling down her neck, until it reached the racing heartbeat in her chest.

I love you.

And then the two arrived, the moment interrupted by duty.

Before them stood the Elizabeth Home of Psychiatric Wellness. Located in Elizabeth, New Jersey, it’s the only place anyone could track Sol, too, and only those she had decided to share the information with, as there was no mention of her on paper or online. The building itself looked colonial, made of large dark stones that went up four stories, and pointed spires that shot up past the rooftop on all four corners. A rusting but once beautiful wrought iron fence protected the property, with spikes at the top, and a closed gate with a security guard impeded their progress.

“How can I help you two young ladies?” He asked, barely looking up. “Visiting someone?”

“Actually, looking for information on a former patient. She’s a friend,” Stephanie said, truthfully and cheerfully, that innate charm seeping outwards to the lame guard. She tugged Cassandra forward, nodding, and the silent one pulled out a small photo of Sol- A rare case of her smiling, her eyes still brown, from a Polaroid Steph had taken long ago. She looked tired and annoyed, but it was her.

“Go on in.”

“That was easy,” Cassandra whispered as the two walked through the gate, still holding Stephanie’s waist.

“A lot of these places aren’t very serious,” the blonde whispered back, as the two walked through a massive mahogany door into your typical clinic: Sterile, white hallways, flickering LED lights, and people dressed in scrubs. “Sol only remembers the last three months of her stay: Waking up to be discharged. The stuff she told me...wasn’t pretty.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That if this one lady, Lupita, hadn’t been here, she might have woken up in a worse state.” Stephanie frowned, the thought clicking. “If we find her first, we can probably get some information. Sol said she was supposed to be a personal caretaker. Feedings, cleanings, so on. This lady was there when Sol woke up.”

“I think we found her.”

The two had been walking deeper into the building, down a hallway, when Cassandra heard a jostle and looked into the open door next to her. Inside was a patient's room- a simple wooden floor, a small bed, black curtains parted so sunlight could pour in through a barred window. Caught mid-look was a woman slightly shorter than both heroines, with black hair, scrubs, scrawled on eyebrows and lips with too much red lipstick. A hand went up to her chest, but Cassandra caught it: A name tag that said ‘Lupita.’

“Are you Lupita?” Stephanie immediately asked, stepping in front of Cassandra, whom she knew to be too intimidating, even now. “We’re here to ask about an old patient. Um, Sol?”

“I sorry,” she replied, glancing between the two of them nervously. “I don’ know. No English.”

“Nosotras,” Stephanie repeats, slowly, her words awkward but clear. “Queremos preguntar sobre Sol.” When Cassandra gave her a puzzled look, she simply smiled and shrugged. “One of my best friends speaks Spanish, and it’s useful to know.”

“Supongo que no puedo pretender”, Lupita sighed.

Cassandra didn’t understand her, but the confusion on Stephanie’s face mixed with Lupita’s now serious expression, and the way her left hand shifted behind her, was enough to make her spring into action. Without thinking, Cassandra pushed Stephanie out of the room and kicked Lupita square in the stomach.

Click!

She fell and revealed the small device that made that sound. The door automatically slammed, and the vigilante turned around, seeing her friend running up just one second too late.

“Cass! Cass!” Stephanie yelled, pulling on the handle and then pounding on the glass. Nothing.

“Who are you?” Cassandra snapped, spinning back around and planting her foot on Lupita’s chest, heart racing. Already, her head was getting dizzy. A trap, clear as day, for anyone who might investigate Sol. “Who hired you?”

“Ay, mija,” Lupita sighed, smiling pitifully. “Neither of us will be alive for it to matter.”

Uh oh, Cassandra thought, as one knee suddenly gave out. She touched the pulse point on her throat, confirming her heart was skyrocketing, and felt her brow for sweat. Then her vision began to swim and morph.

“Fear Toxin,” Cassandra croaked. Then she turned to the door, louder. “Fear Toxin!”

But Stephanie, the door, and the room were already gone. Instead, everything had been absorbed by darkness. Not the comfortable kind, not the ally she was used to, but a goopy and thick kind that seemed to drown her, allowing no quick movement or easy escape.

I can handle this, she thought to herself, trying to control her breathing. I’ve trained for this. They’d all prepared for this eventuality, whether they’d been unlucky enough to experience fear toxin or not. It would show her her greatest fear. Herself. She knew that. All she had to do-

“Love?”

The room was suddenly solid again. She was standing. A light shone from a doorway with a back-lit figure, but Cassandra would recognize that voice and that silhouette anywhere.

“Stephanie,” she said softly, lifting a hand between them, as if unsure whether to ward her off or pull her close. The toxin was clouding her mind; she knew it, but that didn’t make it any easier to remember what was real. Besides, why was Steph here? Cassandra knew her biggest fear.

“Spoiler alert,” Stephanie said with a too-wide grin. “I don’t love you.”

Oh no. Not that word. Not that thought. She wasn’t ready for-.

“First, you were jealous of Tim,” Stephanie cooed, stepping closer, forcing Cassandra to step back. “Boy Wonder and I had it good for so long. We were so close. Who knows, if it wasn’t for Bruce, maybe we would’ve stayed together. I still have feelings for him.”

Each word felt like a cut on Cassandra’s skin. She shook her head, retreating another step, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her skull.

“No. We’ve talked about that. I know the truth,” she said, swallowing hard and looking away, reassuring herself. There was a way out of this. She just had to use calm logic, and-

“What’s pretty fucked up,” the fear-toxin Steph spoke on. “Is being jealous of my child. The one I never got to know. The first thing you said was you’d never had a kiss. You couldn’t even look at me.”

“That wasn’t because-”

“-because you saw me badly, no.” Stephanie pressed a hand to Cassandra’s heart, as if feeling the frantic beat herself. She leaned in, whispering in her ear. “You were just jealous I was with someone else. Cared more about that than my pain, than my child, than me.”

“Stephanie, please-”

“There’s also Sol,” the blonde continued, the sound of each slow step punctuated in Cassandra’s mind, making her panic intensify. “We are best friends. The only real person in my day life, in college, a normal person with normal problems. I know you see the way I look at her.”

“Stop it-”

“You can’t even be too mad at it, can you?” Stephanie chuckled, sighing and running a hand through her hair. “While you got all jealous and knocked her while she was down, Sol stayed strong. She did good. You admire that. You like who she is. So, she’s gotta be good for me, right?”

“I’m begging you-!”

“Sol would treat me right. She’d always worry about me. Always say the right thing, ask the right question, and get me what I need. She’s the opposite of you, a weapon with no emotion.”

“I said stop!” Cassandra yelled, grabbing her friend by the throat and wrist, spinning and pinning her hard into the wall instead, panting harshly. “I am not afraid of you! Of this! I- I don’t- We are-”

“I’m only around you because I have no choice,” Stephanie choked, grasping at her throat. She grins again, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re a monster. How could I love you?”

Cassandra screams. At the words, at the pain she’s putting Stephanie through, at the irrational fear coursing through her heart. She was ready for herself, ready for her murderous side, ready for the past that had been so unfairly given to her. Not this. She couldn’t beat or wake up from this, and in the back, some small part of her mind reminded her she was still potentially awake somewhere, hurting someone in her panic.

So if she couldn’t beat it, she could only avoid it.

Cassandra turned and ran out of the door, into the light, and didn’t stop. Not as it grew stronger. Not as everything around her disappeared. She ran, and ran, and ran until everything finally went dark.

Until all she was aware of were the tears streaming down her face.

[neppyshub]

Blood, Wolves, Ghosts

Fic #2 made for @casscainweek 2026! I suddenly got very sick, but still had to work so we are one day behind. Tomorrow, we publish chapter 3 and 4!

The reason, which may be apparent here, is that all 7 stories are supposed to be vaguely connected! AO3 Link: Posting tomorrow. Sorry, it's bedtime.

If you like: Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Original Characters, or StephCass ship, angst, protectiveness, etc, this is for you! Enjoy~!

Something people don’t tell you about ghosts?

Is that they never leave.

No, not the lowercase g ghost, like a spirit or ghoul (although Cassandra knew them to exist), but more so the metaphorical ghosts. The nightmares of her past, the wolves howling in the trees, the blood on her hands. You can alleviate the guilt, you can push away the past, you can grow older, wiser, and better than you once were. But nothing disappears. It just becomes manageable. Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

The trio had been sent under Oracle’s supervision on a mission. Cassandra and Stephanie as the Batgirls (not confusing at all, in the field), and Sol. It wasn’t her first fight or outing, but it was her first official mission, approved by Batman and Oracle, with the nod of Red Robin and Robin. She had been rescued by Cassandra six months ago and, although her natural skill was suspicious and she clearly didn’t like Bruce (or want to be family), she was skilled. Not to mention her powers.

“Placeholder.” Oracle’s voice in the comms. It was Stephanie’s idea to call Sol by that call-sign, much to the newbie’s chagrin. “I know you have eyes on. Stay out here, keep sharp, and help as many of them as you can. I’m managing traffic to direct ambulances to you as fast as possible.”

“Roger that,” Sol said. No jokes, no pretend confidence, only serious neutrality. Sure, she carried herself seriously, but the sight ahead ruined even Stephanie’s playful crime-fighting mood.

Dozens of civilians were strewn across the floor, in varying conditions. Some dead, some groaning in pain, and blood everywhere. The newbie ran straight ahead, wearing a very basic mix of clothes: a skintight latex suit, similar to that of some other family members, with the lower half hidden behind black cargo pants and cargo boots, the top hugging her curves, chest, and broad shoulders. A face mask covered her jaw and mouth, curls were tied back into a bun, and glowing green eyes grew brighter with silent panic.

“Oracle,” Stephanie said, her voice small.

“I know, BG2. But we had no choice. Look at it."

The three veterans understood the meaning of this simple exchange: Stephanie was worried. Sol could not be ready for this, whatever it was, simple or not. Not just because her powers were relatively unknown, but because she hadn’t ever seen such a terrible scenario. To her credit, she slid down on her knees to the nearest wounded, eyes pulsing as her bare hands touched the bloodied bodies.

“Footsteps leading into the building,” Sol said, a foot pinning her patient’s arm down as she pressed painfully into the wound. Who said healing was a pleasant process? “I count thirty...eight injuries. Some fatalities. Tell EMS we need blood- Like, a lot of fucking blood. I have no clue if I make up for that when I touch them.”

“She’s got it, Batgirls. Go in.”

Now this was the dream.

Not the slaughter, of course, or the morbid pit in both girls' stomachs at the scene they had left behind. Working together, alone, as they often did. For Cass, who originally was awkward and unsure of Stephanie, anxious to have a peer, the blonde was her ride or die. Not because she’d taken the Batgirl mantle so well, but before that. She’d earned her trust. And…

Love. Cassandra pushed the thought aside as the two walked deeper into the building, a nightclub, but since she had made that idiotic declaration without understanding what it could mean, things had been different.

“BG2,” Stephanie whispered, pointing a tiny flashlight ahead. A trail of bloody prints, not feet like Sol had seen outside, but larger, with grooves in the ground as if made by claws. “Meta situation, maybe? Looks like it went deeper into the club.”

“Dark?” Cass asked.

Both shared a nod and shut off any light or device. The quiet hiss of their grappling hooks tugged them up to steel beams and girders, clearly kept for the retro look, and beside the moonlight leaking in through a few windows, both girls moved as if completely invisible.

“Sol, to all-”

“You can’t use your real name, Placeholder, even if you’re missing records.”

“BG2, I’m gonna end you. Anyways, there’s something weird about these victims. It ain’t gunshot wounds, knives, burns, nothing normal. It looks like a really big fucking dog decided to have dinner, and never stopped biting.”

A glint of blonde in the moonlight. Cassandra leaned into view, watching Steph, who just shrugged. This wasn’t anything they had seen before.

“I’m looking for anything on our database, for now, keep-”

“Fuck! Oracle, they’re not-” The three heroines listen as Sol’s interrupted, grunting and struggling with something. “-EVAC THE- HIJO DE PUTA-” With a defiant cry and what sounds like a fall, her comm goes offline. Stephanie’s eyes go wide with concern. After all, Sol was her civilian best friend before everything happened, and she was forced into the life.

“Girls, I’m working on it and sending backup. But you two need to find the source of our problem before this gets bigger. Sol will be fine.”

Maybe they would have argued, retreated to save their newest, most vulnerable companion- Until the snarl came. From deeper within the building, echoing against the walls from far away, and reaching beyond the two young vigilantes. Enough to make Cassandra sink back into the shadows, and Stephanie shiver as she listened.

They weren’t hunting the problem. It was hunting them.

Whatever it was lunged past the window, a black blur in the sliver of moonlight, straight for Stephanie. The blonde leapt with a quick-second reaction time, in a perfect arc to catch one of her partner’s hands and be swung onto another girder. The growl appeared again, low and frustrated, bouncing all around the room rather than in one direction. Stephanie tapped her cowl, activating night vision, and Cassandra followed.

It provided little help. The thing left from spot to spot with enough speed to remain a blur, hiding behind walls and furniture and junk as if it knew it was being watched. All they could see now was the green glow of night vision and its shadow.

“...it smells like dog,” Stephanie whispered, rising carefully.

“Dog!” Cassandra yelled, heart skipping a beat as both Batgirls jumped off their spot, again. Because this time, in a ray of moonlight, they could see the dripping maw of what attacked them. The teeth as large as a hand, eyes full of wild bloodlust, fur and muscle, and limbs twisted into a vaguely humanoid form.

“Oracle, what are we dealing with here? Please tell me it isn’t a werewolf!”

“It’s a werewolf. Your imagery coincides with that of one Anthony Lupus, who has fought Batman a couple of times, and the magician Constantine. But don’t hurt him-”

“He killed!” Cassandra growled, voice low and deadly itself as she rolled out of the way of a lunge, again, and dropped three small pellets to the ground. They blew into a cloud of smoke, surprising the werewolf, who stumbled back into Stephanie. The blonde swung her bo staff for the back of the legs, forcing the creature down in a howl of pain.

“He’s feral, Oracle,” Stephanie said. “I mean, how do we even stop this without hurting him?”

“Anthony Lupus has lived in self-imposed exhile for years to avoid hurting people,” Oracle said, as all three fighters began a deadly game of tag, dodging and weaving from each other, both Batgirls swapping spots and pulling each other along, as if they always knew where the other would be. “It’s more likely someone is manipulating him.”

“How do we stop it?” Cassandra barked, reluctant but obedient. She understood not being in control, being used, even if the memory of those corpses made her blood boil, and the worry over Sol caused impatience.

“Just keep him busy until back-up arrives. Batman has stopped him before, with silver.”

“Great,” Stephanie huffed, ducking under a claw and throwing more smoke bombs. “Keep the wolfman busy! We need a raise, BG1.”

“Focus,” Cassandra barked, throwing three batarangs as the beast ignored the smoke bombs and lunged for her friend. They barely pierced the skin, but the three consecutive explosions knocked him on his side. “He’s after you.”

She couldn’t tell why or how, but she was sure. The beast barely looked at Cassandra, reacted only to lash back or take an opportunity, but wasn’t really gunning for the hero. Steph, on the other hand, was already sweating, forced to jump back and forth, roll, counter, and fight, even as Cassandra dove in, helped her escape, or tried to draw attention.

“I can lead him up to the roof, maybe we can drop- GAH!”

Hesitation. Stephanie was an amazing warrior, better than the one Cassandra had met, but she was good. She worried, she got distracted, she felt mercy. Cass was no killer, but in battle, she wasn’t a saint either. Not like Steph. The girl searching for solutions, always wanting to help, and getting distracted so easily. And when Cassandra heard that pained cry, saw the long claws digging into the blonde heroine’s gut, the werewolf standing tall and victorious in moonlight, she lost it.

No more words. No more thoughts. Just the trained weapon she once was. Cassandra pulled six batarangs and hurled them at the monster, who released Stephanie and tried to dodge. Its form was quick but not agile enough, avoiding two and roaring as another four blasted it in rapid succession. She grapple-hooked upwards- only for a moment- and as Lupus charged underneath her, she released the gadget and spun into a downwards kick, knocking its head into concrete. Still, her opponent growled and swiped at her, but she simply flipped backwards twice and landed close to the ground, wielding three more batarangs in her right hand.

This time, when he charged, the Batgirl didn’t throw explosives and run. Steph was bleeding out, and she had to win this. Now. With her ability to read bodies and predict movements, she didn’t care about taking risks; she knew she’d win. Even if somehow she got injured. And so, they danced. Lunges, pirouettes, flips, and bends. Each time the maw or claws got close, Cassandra was just out of reach, sliding in ever closer to slash with her batarangs, like claws of her own. Blood, smelling disgusting and definitely not human, began to stain the floor in droves.

ROAR! Slash!

Chomp! Stab!

Stomp! Cleave!

Each attack from the wolf missed while the heroine connected. Until slowly, finally, it collapsed to the ground, breathing hard. It roared halfheartedly, in pain not defiance, as large muscles began to convulse and shrink, loud cries turning into weak little whimpers, which turned into desperate panting and human pleas for help. Until, finally, Anthony Lupus lay naked before her. A large, muscular, Caucasian man with a mane of brown hair and hair across his torso and arms. He lay on the ground, eyes hazy from everything tonight, and coughed.

“...help-”

Yet, Cassandra wasn’t done. It was like something had taken over the moment she saw the terrible blow hit Stephanie. Her best friend. The woman she had said she loved. Batgirl looms over Lupus, then lifts him by the throat and wields a Batarang.

“No, please,” he choked, knees trembling, unable to even stand alone. His blue eyes widened with fear.

Cassandra had been in bad moments before. She’d been mind-controlled, manipulated, forced, and even chosen some of her torments. She killed her mother, Shiva, because she saw no other way and knew she could revive her. She killed than man when she was eight, something she still felt guilt over, and hurt plenty of people before reaching Gotham and learning to be better. She’d never caved on her own, though, not even when her biological father, David Cain, hung at her mercy.

But...the sight of Stephanie Brown’s fear, the blood dripping from her gut, the whimper of pain as she shook in the air, grasping at the claws...it made Cassandra angry. Possibly angrier than she’s ever been. For Stephanie? She would die. And right now, it felt like she’d kill too. Despite always resisting the impulse, even when others thought it was justified.

Maybe she would have resisted it now, on her own again. But the sound of a blade slicing through the air caught her attention. She leaned back and held Lupus still, watching a Batarang fly right in front of her mask without concern. Her head turned to see Sol, bloodied and battered, but standing.

The newbie’s face mask was long gone. Her cargo pants were torn to shreds, revealing cuts in her skintight suit but no wounds, presumably having healed herself. She was missing a boot, and her chocolate curls looked wild- As if she’d wrestled with the wind and lost. She raised another batarang, panting tiredly.

“Drop the werewolf, Batgirl,” Sol said firmly. Even though her hand was trembling. Even though she could barely stay afoot. Even though, at her best, she could never get close to beating Cassandra Cain. “Don’t make me ask again.”

In that moment, with dull green eyes staring at the Batgirl warily, conviction in her voice, surrender nowhere to be seen, Cassandra realized two things: Sol would be a hero. But also, she had reverted to what she once was, in the girl’s eyes. Sol couldn’t know that Cassandra had always held back, hadn’t seen every challenge she’d overcome, every effort to avoid killing. If anything, she understood why Cass would kill this man, and it worried her more. Because she understood. Because she thought Cassandra would do it.

So, Cassandra dropped the man and stared at Sol. After a few moments, the healer limped over to Lupus, falling to her knees, and tossed the batarang aside.

“Go help BG2,” Sol said gruffly. “I’ll save her. Just keep her awake.”

Stephanie. How Sol, so new and green, kept herself so composed was beyond Cassandra. Even worse, in her sudden rage and protective instincts, she had forgotten Stephanie. Her heart raced with fear and guilt, immediately dashing to her friend, pulling off her mask, and looking over the blonde.

“Steph,” Cass croaked, putting both hands on her sternum, where the claws had sunk deep. She whimpered in pain, eyes half open. How long had Cassandra taken to beat the wolf? A minute? Two? She should have helped her friend, should have made a better plan, should have saved-

“Cassandra.”

That word alone, soft and beautiful, brought her spiral of panic under control. Cassandra felt tears slide down her cheeks as Stephanie reached up, cupping her face.

“It’s alright,” Stephanie whispered, smiling softly. “I’m going to be fine.”

But no, she was dying, and Sol was drained to the bone.

“Move.”

The moment she finished that thought, Sol spoke, her command deep and menacing, almost a different person entirely. She struggled to push Cassandra aside, breathing labored and face pale, and the Batgirl fell softly onto her hands, barely able to allow herself even that distance from her best friend.

The newbie didn’t say another word, not to reassure her patient or Cassandra. She fell to one knee, hugging herself with one arm and pressing the other to Stephanie’s body. With a deep inhale and closing her eyes, she focused.

The air seemed to still. The silence grew until even the sirens outside felt muted. Slowly, but surely, an almost imperceptible green glow appeared at the edge of Stephanie’s wound. Sol exhaled shakily as she worked, eyes remaining closed as two lone tears cut down her cheeks, and yet she did not falter. Whatever pain she felt, pain Cass could see written all over her body, was not enough to stop her. Then she opened her eyes, the glow stopped, and Stephanie sighed in relief. The blonde’s head fell limp, unconscious, suit stained with blood but flesh stitched anew.

“I’m...amazing…” Sol slurred, her green eyes lacking any glow whatsoever, for the first time since she gained her powers, as far as Cassandra knew. Then the budding vigilante slumped over, right into Batgirl’s trembling arms.

What the hell had happened?

A simple mission had turned into this: Two friends down and beaten, the blood of three people on her hands, and the ghost of her past looming over her with serious intent.

She had been ready to kill at a moment's notice when she thought Steph would die. Maybe she wouldn’t have, but now she’ll never know.

Something they don’t tell you about ghosts, Cassandra thought again. Is that they never leave.

[bambistjames]

non-writers will never understand the mental illness of writing an entire conversation in your head while doing dishes and then forgetting every word the second you open a blank doc

[neppyshub]

sigh the amount of original scenes, fan scenes, character x character, character x oc stuff that has been lost to my mind.

[neppyshub]

Daughter, Sister, Friend.

A quick fic made for @casscainweek 2026~! Features Cass, Babs, Stephanie (wink), and my OC Sol. Enjoy~! AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78390616/chapters/205497691

What are they to you?

The question had been posed hours ago. Cassandra Cain, Batgirl—possibly the strongest human fighter alive—was puzzled. She stared at the punching bag in the Batcave, ignoring her family members. As she punched, she pondered. Care was obvious. She would die for the others—not just as a hero. Dick, Tim, Damien…Alfred, Bruce, Barbara, Stephanie—

Cassandra froze, hitting the bag too hard. It swung back and toppled the stand to the floor. Others looked over as she stood, breathing hard, fist still outstretched.

She cared about all of them, but…Barbara and Stephanie. The thought of something happening to those two? It made a tight, little knot of pain appear in her sternum, which rose up to her the space behind her eyes, threatening to force tears out. If she imagined it long enough- A car accident, a gunshot, a funeral- she might very well cry. Then there was the guilt: Why didn’t she react that way to the others? To Bruce, at the very least?

“Cass, you alright?” Dick asked, having walked over. He was as put-together, friendly, and handsome as ever, but not what she needed right now.

“Barbara,” the Batgirl said curtly, looking over at her brother. Her way of asking a question, really.

“I…think she’s upstairs, actually. She visited last night and hasn’t left for work- Hey!”

The heroine was already rushing out of the cave, throwing a hand over her back as a ‘thanks’ while Dick stared on with confusion. But Cassandra didn’t have time for the confusing world of speech and social cues- When something that felt this important stabbed itself into her brain, it would become her sole focus. How to talk about this, however, was the question she had as she stormed down the hallways past dozens of rooms in the manor, bee-lining for the kitchen. As she imagined, there was her mentor sitting beside Alfred, who insisted on sending her away with some sort of treat.

Mentor. That was the word that had just come to mind. But was it sufficient? Did one cry over the mere thought of a mentor passing? Was it more? Appropriate? Too much?

“Cass…” Barbara said slowly, raising an eyebrow, watching her friend frozen at the entrance of the kitchen with wide eyes and confusion. “Are you alright?”

“What are we?”

The question hit like a sledgehammer. Both Alfred and Barbara stared at Cassandra, then shared a look of concern, if not for her, then for themselves, because how does one answer that? Alfred speaks first, clearing his throat politely and turning to the counter.

“If you would like a word in private, then I will be happy to leave, Miss Cain, but please sit down and enjoy the snacks.” The butler turns back around with a plate of cookies, smelling warm and chocolatey, and sets them on the table. Barbara put her bag down (work be damned) and rolled herself up to the table, grabbing a cookie and waving it to the empty seat, as if telling her protege to join her.

“Stay,” Cassandra said to Alfred, sitting down. She added quietly. “Please.”

Again, the two adults shared a glance before Alfred joined the table, hands neatly pressed together on its surface. No one spoke at first. Where to start?

“Maybe you could explain yourself a little better, Cass,” Barbara suggested, smiling unsurely. “What do you mean, what are we?”

“What do you think we are? What do you call me?”

“Uh…my friend,” Barbara says, looking down at the plate of cookies. “My family. Someone I love fiercely, and whom I can’t imagine my life without.” She’s smiling now, glasses falling down her nose, staring at the younger Batgirl. She takes a cookie, turning it in her hand. “You are someone I’m immensely proud of, and I’d do anything for you.”

“I…like that,” Cassandra admitted slowly, her ears turning pink at the barrage of compliments. “But does that mean…family? Friends? Something else? Mother?”

“You want a word, Miss Cain?” Alfred smiled in that way of his: Soft and amused but never belittling. Never sarcastic, impatient, or surprised. Reassuring, as he always was. Happy to take over as Barbara choked on her cookie at the word ‘mother’. “If I may, when two people are close- Be it a relationship, friendship, parent-child, comrades-in-arms, or any other mix, there are few single words that do those feelings justice. Fewer still that apply to situations such as ours, where nothing is cut and dry.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t just be my friend, or sister, or protege. You’re…so much more than that. Even though we don’t have words for it. I could say the same about other people I love, like Dick.” Barbara smiles wider, biting her cookie happily, the tension erased. “But if anyone ever asks, I guess you can just call us family.”

“It is a good word,” Alfred agreed pointedly, pushing the plate closer to Cassandra.

“…if I feel a lot for you,” Cassandra says quietly, taking a cookie but not biting it quite yet. She looks down at it, avoiding the two adults, a hint of shame appearing on her face. “But feel…different. For others. People I should love. Is it…fake? Bad?”

“Of course not, Cass.” Barbara leans over the table, taking the younger one’s hand in both of hers, still smiling ear to ear. “It’s just different for everyone. You can love someone differently, grieve differently, spend time or enjoy it differently. But, at least in this house, we all know how you feel. Even those you might not be as close to. You are a loving person, Cassandra Cain.”

For the first time since the question was posed, the vigilante feels herself relax. She looked between Alfred and Barbara, both supportive in their own ways, both watching her with patience and calm, both loved by her, and she smiled. She squeezed Barbara’s hand before pulling away.

“Thank you. I need to find someone now.”

As Cassandra stood up and walked over, smiling at them both (and grabbing a small handful of cookies), she did notice one thing: Barbara never denied the maternal role. Was that the word she was looking for? Mother? Or were they right, and there was no perfect word? Did she even like the idea of being a daughter? Despite the answers she’d gotten, so much still felt confusing.

Tap tap tap!

Tap tap tap tap!

TAPTAPTAPTAP-!

“Calm down, I’m here!” Stephanie Brown hissed, throwing the windows open like this was just another night, looking mildly concerned but not surprised. “You could have texted me! My mom is asleep, Cass.”

“Needed to talk.”

Stephanie stared at her for a slow five seconds, completely puzzled, because Cassandra rarely sounded so serious during her nighttime visits; she was usually very careful, and she was dressed in normal clothes, not her suit or even a black shirt for stealth. Her hair was ruffled, as if she’d run here.

“Alright, come on in.”

“What are we?”

Once again, Cassandra asked her question bluntly, standing right by the window as if to make a quick escape, crossing her arms and staring at her friend. The blonde, for her part, freezes. She doesn’t look over her shoulder or turn around. The tension in her shoulders is obvious, the slight tilt of her head, as if trying to discreetly recover her breath, meaning her heart was racing.

It was a completely different reaction from Barbara.

“What, um, what do you mean?” Stephanie asked, chuckling halfheartedly and grabbing her phone from the bed, scrolling through it. That definitely wasn’t like her. Not with Cassandra. “We’re…friends, right?”

“No.” Cassandra’s reply is firm. It left no rule for discussion, simply a fact to her. It’s the sudden spin from the blonde, the way her blue eyes widen, how her hand grips her phone too tightly, that tells Cassandra she said the wrong thing. So she fixes it: “I love you.”

Now that they were facing each other, there was no hiding how much Cassandra had not fixed things. She watches with shock as those blue eyes widen further, her body completely freezes, her cheeks turn bright red, and her phone falls out of her hand. She easily sees: Shock. Confusion. Fluster.

Fluster?

Cassandra stares at her, cheeks also growing warmer from embarrassment, because Barbara hadn’t reacted this way at all. She’d said it easily and honestly. So why would Stephanie react this way?

“What do you mean by that exactly?” Stephanie asked quietly, not daring to move an inch. Racked with concern, Cassandra wanted nothing more than to hold her, to give her friend the reassurance she usually needed. But she stays still.

“When I think of something bad happening to you,” Cassandra starts, touching her sternum. “It hurts. Right here. You and Barbara. No one else. I felt bad because I do…care about others. But you two…it is different.”

“Oh,” Stephanie says, still staring. She doesn’t relax, but to Cassandra, the little inkling of curiosity is profoundly obvious. “Is it different between Babs and me, too?”

“I don’t know.”

The honest truth. Her eyes left Stephanie for a moment, thinking on the question. Was it different? Both invoked pain. She was comfortable with both of them. They both meant everything to her. But…only Stephanie appeared in her mind. Only Stephanie could share a bed with her after watching movies. Only Stephanie could see her glare and still smile like a radiant sun-

“Yes, it is different,” she decided, before her thoughts strayed any further.

“Well…” Stephanie smiled at that answer, still flustered but clearly much happier. Her usual goofiness was gone, replaced with a gentle joy as she started nervously playing with a blonde curl. “I don’t know what we are, I guess. Friends doesn’t feel right, does it?”

“No.”

“Then…what do you want to call me?”

That was it. What did she, Cassandra Cain, want to say? And really, she didn’t need words. It was her choice how she felt. As long as she showed them, in her way, it clearly didn’t matter. It’s what Cassandra herself wanted. It made more sense to her than any incomplete title or tag ever could.

“Thank you,” Cassandra says, surging forward and wrapping her arms around Stephanie tightly. “One more person to see.”

“Wait-!”

Just like that, the headstrong and objective vigilante was gone. She had her answers, but what she didn’t see was Stephanie fall onto her bed, sighing, looking completely lost.

“…do you love me?” Stephanie whispered to herself.

It was late by the time Cassandra returned to the manner. She had donned her suit. A full black ensemble with a yellow utility belt, bat logo on her chest, and thick soled boots for extra height and protection. Only her mask was off, revealing a determined and confident expression. She knew where her person was: In the cave, training, as she always did alone while the others patrolled.

“Cass!”

As soon as the elevator doors hissed up Sol turned around from the weights she was using, dropping them and jogging over. She was the newest stray brought to the manor. Not exactly family but also not someone they could let go. Not yet. The two had their fair share of issues, and now Cassandra realized she may have been unfair to the other girl. Time to fix that.

“I’ve been looking for all day,” Sol said, standing straight with her hands planted on her hips. She was wearing sweatpants and a black tank top with sneakers. Her tan skin, seen on broad shoulders and tan arms, was exposed. Her chocolate curls were short but also finally growing out, and her eyes glowed green with the power of the Lazarus Pit. Or, at least, that was the working theory. “Can we talk?”

Her body showed all the information Cassandra couldn’t possibly pick up via social cues. The smile, so warm and real, was an expert mask for anxiety. The shifting, for such a high-energy person, hid fear. The green eyes pulsed. Not just anxiety, Sol was trying to hide the dullness of her glow that often came about when she felt bad or down.

“Me too.” It hurt Cassandra to see her so wound up. Hiding in plain sight, because anyone else would struggle to notice what she just saw. She holds her hands behind her back, exhaling deeply. “I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” Sol interrupts.”

What?

“It was unfair of me to question your relationships, especially knowing how hard socializing was and can be for you.” The green-eyed girl inhaled deeply, as if gathering her courage. “I was mad. At everything. You too, for some of the stuff you’ve done, but…more so, everything else. And I’m tired, Cassandra, really fucking tired. So I jumped on you, and it wasn’t just wrong, it was cruel.” Sol looked away, body shivering as she held back tears, scoffing at herself for it. “You don’t need to explain how you feel to anyone. ‘Least of all me. What you have with your people is obvious, and don’t let me ruin that ‘cause I’m a yapper.”

“You confuse me,” Cassandra said, grabbing the other girl’s arms so she would be quiet, stepping closer. They’re the same height, and Sol tenses as Cassandra leans in closer. “But you are good. I like challenge. I like…honesty. I’m sorry. I treated you badly. I was jealous.” The words weren’t easy. Cassandra didn’t usually feel wrong, and talking about it was strange. “Your question…made me learn. A lot. About people. Thank you.”

“Jealous?”

That was an entirely different can of worms to open up. So, Cassandra simply opted to hug Sol, then she released her and put her mask on, walking backwards towards the exit.

“We train tomorrow.”

Not a question, or suggestion, but a promise. She wouldn’t ignore or compete with this girl anymore. They were friends, right? Cassandra knew it was time they both started acting like it, and unlike most of her experiences with people, she was going to take the first step.

[juzosuke]