Bat Boys As Conversations I’ve Had With My Siblings:

Duke, you precious man 😌

Duke can see a few moments into the future but will deliver it in the most needlessly cryptic way

Jason and Bruce are arguing. Just before Jason storms off, Duke says, "If you walk out that door, you will experience unforeseeable pain and have no one but yourself to blame"

And Jason's all, "Stay out of this, Narrows"

Then he trips over his shoelace and Duke's like, "Told you so"

Roach my beloved 🪳🧎‍♀️

The headcanon that Jason bakes when he's stressed eatsss

Duke: *wakes up from the feeling of being watched* wha??

*Jason standing over him with a fresh plate of peach cobbler* This is you favorite right?

Duke: um... yea..

Jason: here *sets plate on his lap* taste..

Duke: .... ok..

Bait & Switch, pt. 1

Part 2 >>

Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."

Call of Duty, implied soapghost, hopeful ending cw: torture, angst, MWIII spoilers

---

Soap turns hazy, unfocused eyes toward the screen and watches the man with his face run down the tunnels under the English Channel. The man shoots at Konni soldiers, ferocity and desperation painted over every twitch of his brows and silent shout from his lips. 

It all seems so real.

But it can't be. It's not.

He watches Price and the man with his face cut through the enemy. Watches them attempt to disarm the bomb.

Watches Marakov approach.

Their bodies jerk in succession as Makarov's bullets rip through them both. They hit the ground, and sympathetic pain throbs through Soap's shoulder. 

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. Not his wound. Not him. Just a man with his face bleeding onto dirty concrete on the other side of a black and white screen.

Makarov goes after Price. The man with Soap's face rises up to stab Makarov and–

Makarov blows a hole through the man's head.

It's surreal to watch his own face go blank. To watch the life drain from wide eyes within seconds. To see the others barely pause. Only standing beside the body for a few moments before continuing on because they have a fucking job to do. No time to pause and mourn the perpetual FNG.

Except for Ghost.

Soap's vision darkens on his right side, and he blinks away the sweat or blood – could be either or both but he's too numb to care – as Ghost falls to his knees beside the body of the man with Soap's face. The CCTV cameras are too shitty to see his eyes as he gazes down at the body leaking blood across the floor, but Soap hopes.

Hopes there's real emotion there. Hopes even more that Ghost finally sees it – finally sees that the dead man whose chest he's so tenderly pressing with his hand isn't his *Johnny.*

This time the watery blur appears in both eyes, and he doesn't bother to blink it away. Because he's seen all this before, and it never changes.

The door behind him opens, but he keeps his focus on the screen. He watches his former teammates leave the body behind in their desperation to follow Makarov.

But they won't find him. Soap knows because he recognizes the footsteps behind him as easily as he once recognized Ghost's.

Ghost, who made his gait purposefully distinct to alert Soap to his presence before slipping into Soap's bed late at night and who murmured soft words in his ear, words no one would ever believe the hardened man would say out loud. But he did. He said them to Soap as he took him apart piece by piece like he would a favorite gun, slow and deliberate, before putting him back together with love and care.

A hand slides into his long, filthy hair. Soap braces for the pain, and Makarov doesn't disappoint as he yanks Soap's head back.

"Enjoying the show?"

Soap doesn't respond. He never does, though it enrages Makarov.

On the screen, soldiers fill the tunnel, taking up the space won back by the 141. They set up a perimeter around the bomb.

The dead man remains sprawled on the ground, lifeless and forgotten.

"Look how they just left you behind. Left you to be picked up and brought here to wallow in misery."

A surge of anger burns through him—

But.

No. That's not right. Soap was never in that tunnel.

He's been in this cold, dark room since the mission in Siberia, taken down by a bullet and dragged away before he could radio for help. He has no idea how long he's been here, but he's endured every kind of torture: electrocution, waterboarding, frostbite, knives, pliers, hot pokers, and more. His body is a canvas of scars and burns

Through it all, he held on to his faith with ragged, broken fingers, with bloody teeth sunk into the promise of hope, that his team would find him. That *Ghost* would find him, rescue him from this hell, and wreak havoc on their enemies.

Until Makarov showed him why no one had come for him. Why no one will ever come for him.

A knife flashes in front of his eyes, fluorescent light reflecting off silver. Soap's voice grates through the air like steel against steel.

"Who was he?"

Makarov lets go of his hair, leaving behind a dull throb of residual pain, and rounds the chair Soap is tied to, hands on his hips and a sadistic glint in his eye.

"Him? Oh, just someone who got confused about his role in this lovely little play. Perhaps the serum was a bit too effective at turning him into you, disgusting loyalty and all, hmmm?"

Serum.

Memories resurface slowly. He's had this conversation with Makarov before. A sliver of panic bleeds into his numbness.

Christ have mercy. He's fucking losing it. How long before he stops remembering? How long before he becomes a shell of himself?

Maybe it doesn't matter. After all, no one is coming for him.

When Soap doesn't say anything more, Makarov's glee sours into a frown. The blade flashes in front of his blurred vision once more before pressing against his neck.

"I admit I thought you would be easier to break. You seemed so obedient in Verdansk. You could've ended me, but instead you followed orders like a good little soldier. And here you are."

The knife digs in, but pain is a familiar friend he's learned to ignore. When Soap doesn't react, Makarov sighs.

"I suppose if you won't break on your own, it's time to get experimental."

He brings out a syringe and holds it up as if considering his next action. The liquid inside glows a sickly yellow green, and Soap's stomach churns at the thought of what new pain this torture it might bring. Because he knows Makarov's pause is just for show. There is no escape.

The gleeful grin returns as he jabs the needle into Soap's neck in the same spot he'd just cut him open. The liquid is brutally cold as it enters his blood stream, his muscles seizing from the rapid temperature change.

WIthin seconds, Soap's world tilts sideways. His eyes blur yet again. He blinks and blinks, but the room goes softer with every passing second. His muscles relax, and he slumps forward in his chair, the bonds securing his wrists behind him cutting into his skin, though he can't feel it anymore.

Makarov sounds like he's underwater when he speaks. "Good. Let us begin."

Blackness takes him.

---

When Soap wakes, he's no longer in a dark, cold room. Through the broken out window of his full helmet, he sees strange buildings rising up into a swath of blue sky. Giddiness that borders on panic wells up in his chest.

He's outside. He made it outside. Did he escape? He doesn't remember.

His gaze falls, and the world stops.

He's surrounded by rivers of blood, knife in hand. His heart pounds like he's dying.

And on the ground lies a Ghost, splayed out like a sacrifice, bloodied and beaten and looking up at Soap like he's seen God.

"Johnny?"

Part 2 >>

| welcome to my blog |

You can find my full-written works on ao3 under the name corkinavoid or click this link.

If you want to see more of my prompts and ideas on this blog, check #cork prompts hashtag. #cork adds is for any kinds of additions to someone else's ideas, and #cork writes is generally for everything concerning my writing.

You are free to use any of my prompts as you wish with any alterations or without them, just link/credit/tag me. I'd also be absolutely delighted if you decide to post it elsewhere and send me a link!

Other than that, here's some fun facts about me:

• neurodivergent but not a minor

• English is not my first language

• my favorite ships are Dead Tired and Anger Management, and I'm also deeply in love with Al Ghul Twins trope

| masterpost |

I'm only linking my series here, not all prompts.

Changeling AU: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5], [a fic "Danny! Wait, who's Danny?"], [part 6], [part 7]

Haunted Family AU: [part 1], [a fic "It takes three days to get adopted"], [a fic "A cat walks by herself, but so does a ghost"], [a fic "A new family, an old family, and a never ever happening family walk into a gala"], [part 5]

Mercenary Danny AU: [part 1], [a fic "I'll pay you ten times"], [a fic "I want to hire you"], [a fic "I'm asking you out"]

Multiverse Police/Good!GIW: [part 1], [part 2], [side notes], [part 3], [another part 1], [another part 2]

Fantasy Magic School AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Fiance to a Star'], check the tag # cork writes fantasy for more fun facts and moodboards

Fantasy Royal Fae AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Married to Winter']

Masters Mansion/Socialite Danny: [inspo], [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [a fic 'Coronation'], [a fic 'There Are No Living Here']

John Constantine's Ghost Kids: [part 1], [part 2]

All the al Ghul Twins related posts: [one], [two], [three], [four], [five], [six], [seven]

the thing abt duke thomas is that he is a genius truly gifted kid who had a promising albeit average future ahead of him until tragedy struck and took his parents from him. then all the energy he has diverts and he blocks everything else out and dedicates himself to finding them and also being a huge problem for anyone who'd try to obscure that.

like #1 most underrated thing abt his character is that he is, by definition, a "retired crash out". after age 14 he had no friends, shit grades, was getting into fights so often he was being kicked out of schools AND foster homes. it truly was self made vigilatism and the power of friendship that saved him from tunnel-visioning into an early grave.

ALL THIS TO SAY my favorite thing abt duke thomas pre batman and the signal (hell even during the comic) is how much of an unapologetic asshole he is to everyone indiscriminately in a bad way. He was kind but lil bro was NOT nice. he was selfish and a dickhead even to ppl who cared and were really trying to help him. I really like to think that him getting past that wasn't dc neutering him but the active choice to get better after he finally found a solid support system. that being said, he most definitely code switches and has to CONSISTENTLY hold back from poppin bitches in they mouthes bcs hes past that! he's in his healing arc! <as he'd say.

“Gatorbutt” imagine incorporating this old slang with his current one 🤣

I swear there was a post somewhere saying the same thing. Something along the lines of combining “golly” and “fucking.”

This is extra funny when you remember the narration boxes are Dick's voice message to Bruce. He actually said this to Bruce after Jason became Robin.

MY SHAYLAAAAAAA

you can’t tell me DCeased Jondami weren’t married (which makes what happened to Damian all the more devastating)

Yeah :D

YEAH!! :D

KÖNIG WOULD NOT CALL HORANGI KÄTZCHEN!!!! NOONE DOES THAT THATS THE EQUIVALENT OF CALLING SOMEONE KITTEN!!!!!!

König would coo “hier Mietz Mietz Mietz” (here kitty kitty kitty) whenever he was in the same room as Horangi and wants to talk to him!!!!!!! König LOVES long pet names!!!!!!!!!! And he loves corny ones the most!!!!!!

“Mein Schatziputz”!!!! “Putzibärchen”!!!!!! “Mein geliebster Tieger”!!!!!!!!!!

(He would also probably use “mein edler Ritter” (my noble knight) as a teasing nickname whenever Horangi got defensive over anyone being just the smallest inconvenience to Königs day)

For the love of my sanity, START USING GERMAN AND AUSTRIAN NICKNAMES CORRECTLY😭😭😭😭😭 I don’t think I can handle reading a noun uncapitalized or a VERB OR ADJECTIVE CAPITALIZED DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT DOES TO ME?????????