BATFAMILY FICSHOT COLLECTION 🦇

where are you, really? | t. drake

Everything feels wrong here.

There's a stranger beneath your skin.

To them, your flesh that covers your bones feels like a shallow husk, another loose skin suit for them to wear.

You wonder in your weird state of mind if this wasn't the first time they have done something like this.

From how they taunt you at your lucid moments, you are sure you're right.

Where are you? You are in the dark, you answer to yourself. The dark abyss of nothing that swallows you whole. It's fuzzy. Everything is. You don't know how long you've been like this.

Drifting--are you drifting? You feel quite solid though. There's a ground. Your legs are moving, but not on their own. So's your mouth, though you're not speaking. You can't speak at all actually.

It's them, you keep reminding yourself. It's them. Why do you keep forgetting it's them?

You can't hear anything. Most of the time anyway. They only want you to hear what they want you to hear.

Can't feel anything either. Only your feet on the questionable.(metaphorical? Can't think.) ground.

You'd be frustrated if you had feeling.

But you don't, because you don't exist. Not right now.

---

Time is dull here. Where is here? Is there even a here? Right now, you are not here. Or there. Or anywhere.

--

The last thing you remembered was being on patrol. It was chilly for mid-october, but you didn't mind it. Being a vigilante for so long, you get used to the cold. Besides, your suit did provide some warmth to make you at least a little bit more comfortable in your predicament.

The night was normal as it should be in Gotham. You busted a few gangs, solved a case and helped a little girl find her lost cat. It felt great.

And then, you heard whispers. They led you to a warehouse at the end of Gotham pier.

The gigantic door was already opened. You had gone inside into the dark, abandoned room. The only object you saw in there was a lonely chair in the center of the warehouse.

The memory stops there.

You wake up in the Cave's medbay, surrounded by your family and friends. They said you passed out. They ask you if you know why. You try to say something, but something else answers their questions for you.

Your awareness comes in patches after that.

Knowing how to sense magical interference was a part of Robin's training. It was essential, and with his knowledge obtained by studying under Zatara and with his experiences with the magic users in the Justice League, Bruce was pretty thorough. Then how come he never sees the stranger?

Dick was just happy you were still alive. God, if you knew what a ride the stranger would put you through, you'd wish you were dead.

Jason was never in the Manor when the stranger was there. Maybe he could subconsciously sense the stranger wasn't supposed to be there. That something was seriously wrong. But he never said anything about it.

Damian was over at San Francisco with his Titans the whole time. In your suffering, you're just glad at least someone was safe.

Stephanie notices that you're unusually cold. The stranger slips his hand out of hers and changes the subject. The topic change was so smooth and so Tim to her that she said nothing about it.

Cass doesn't know what to think of you, or really, them. She can sense something is wrong, you notice that from one of your semiconscious moments. But she doesn't know what.

There's a stranger in your body. They smile sweetly at your brother, fingers crossed at the back promising to break the promise they vowed to keep. You want to scream. But you can't.

There's a stranger in your body. They kiss Kon goodnight, him not knowing that it's really you, and the migraine he now feels was from the drugged drink that they gave him earlier that night.

There's a stranger in your body. When your family isn't looking, they plan. Unfortunately, you don't know what. They're blocking you from knowing. You wish you knew. At least you could get some anchor to stabilize yourself and stop them. At least to fight back. But the demon inside of you isn't as stupid as the rest.

0There's a stranger in your body. No one has noticed yet, and if someone had, they just only see it as you being tired.

The stranger is great at being you. Even without access to your memories. You can feel their disgusting joy from the bleak prison of wherever you are.

In the dark, you can hear distant screams. You wish you knew who they belonged to.

You feel your fingers trace a familiar weapon. A dagger. It feels wet. Hot, sticky and if you could see, it would be red.

There's a stranger in your body.

You can't do anything.

Thank you, for your cooperation, the Stranger says, its dark laughter carrying through the cold, Gotham night.

You want to scream, but you can't. You are not there.

-

for whumptober day 15 - possession