Short DPXDC Prompts #567

Short DPXDC Prompts #567

Danny possesses one of the many Bats in the Batcave and the Batfam, completely unaware that this bat is actually a whole ass person, just treat Danny as a strangely human acclimated bat that they see as a pet.

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

Someone make Dan Mora draw Jason more please I'm begging

Dan Mora on Instagram

 sub au for my Danny has Talia au

 Damian finds out he has siblings as in Elle and Dan because of time travel shenanigans. It's an accidental future time travel Damien has taken over as phantom, Ellie with the hero name Wrath and Dan as banshee.

The bat family is meeting the future bat family and Damian off-handedly mentioned Ellie and Dan. The family expects these two to be future adoptees when he drops the fact that they're on a mission with his mom. They start asking if Talia is now an ally and Damian says technically but they're on a mother-child bonding trip that they've Disguised as a mission. It's after this that Damian drops another bomb on the fact that both of them are his full-blooded biological siblings.

The bat family starts asking where the hell they are in their timeline. Older Damien looks his father dead in the eyes and shrugs. He has Danny's chaos.

I think it would be really funny for them just to find out how the three of his kids are doing in whatever timeline this is happening.

Damien is a hero named Phantom that the family later learns is taken from Talia's hero name that they didn't know she had and he uses Lazarus Magic( it's ghost Zone/ infinite realms Magic).

The daughter Bruce didn't know he had is a antihero named Wrath who he later finds out accidentally became a chaos God.( all of Talia and Bruce children have the potential to become gods but he does not know that)

A son using the code name banshee that Bruce was not expecting that nonchalantly talks about The Times They were evil And the fact they've probably ended the world multiple times.

He’s a musician

Can we talk about how if jason and jazz got married and had a family (most of their kids would prolly be adopted), jazz would be the super successful breadwinner of the family and jason would perfectly fill the role of domestic housewife. He would mother hen SO HARD and he would love every minute of it. Three of his kids would climb him like a jungle gym while he did house chores like vacuuming and dishes and he would unironically drive a minivan everywhere. Jason = ideal housewife plz and ty

Jason? Housewife? I mean I can tell where you’re coming from fanon version of the guy but if you wanna do comic version of Jason, the dude would rather help Bruce on a mission than stay at home all day. Let me see what I can do because I mostly know Jason from when he was straight up a villain in comics.

Ok so he never really had a good father figure that shows what a dads meant to do. All of the stuff he knows is from asking friends on what to do, parenting books, Alfred, and books he’s read as a kid. Jason would be positively floundering with raising a bunch of kids at first. He’s good with kids so he does that just fine but dealing with kids for a long period of time? That takes some work. He doesn’t know what a normal kid is meant to do and what he can tell them. He grew up on Crime Alley and then became a billionaires ward. That’s quite the wild childhood living situation. What age do kids normally learn how to cook? How to lie? How to defend themselves? What are normal hobbies people have? All of these questions just swirl in Jason’s brain as he does his best to give his kids a normal life.

Jazz is the breadwinner while Jason is getting a solid 40% cut from mobs in his territory? I’d love a job that pays that much. I don’t think she’d be the breadwinner but Jazz definitely does a normal 9-5 job while Jason does stuff more at night. Jason staying with their kids during the day while Jazz is out of the house makes sense in that case. He spoils the hell out of his kids. He’s a massive pushover and does everything be can to prevent his kids from turning out like him.

He absolutely wouldn’t fit into your stereotypical role of housewife stuff. Still, imagining a 6ft tall 225lbs man of pure muscle and scars taking his kids to a local park and sitting on a park bench watching his kids run around and play while absentmindedly flipping a butterfly knife open and closed at incredible speed. Or threatening a kid who’s bullying his child with a whole ass Glock and then instantly switching to caring for his kid who got punched and checking them for injuries is some lovely mental imagery.

Additionally: Jason going to parent teacher conferences and forcing the school to implement disability accommodations classes for the teachers because one of his kids slightly mentioned that his teacher didn’t let him have extra time to work on his test like they should have. Casually cleaning his teeth with one of the scariest fucking knives you’ve ever seen while meeting with one of his kids friends parents. Bullying the principal to invite a mystery guest speaker to his kids schools for an Anti Drug PSA and low and behold, Red Hood walks into the school gymnasium and does a fucking incredible one man play and an almost poetic speech on the effects of drugs and how it can impact your families.

When his kids realize that they can simply climb on him and he doesn’t mind their weight they start doing it constantly. They scramble up his legs onto his shoulders and just sit there while Jason cooks dinner. The only sign that Jason acknowledges the kids presence is to warn them to not put their feet near the stove and to ruffle their hair when they get settled on his shoulders.

Jason not only has a mini van, it’s one of the most decked out mini vans to ever exist. This thing is built like a covert batmobile. You could take on an army of tanks with this car but he simply uses it to weave around traffic like a madman driving his kid to ice skating school.

Jason absolutely isn’t the ideal housewife but he’s a housewife that you Do Not wish to fuck with. You touch his kids and that’s the last thing you’ll ever do.