daemon au

[stands_for_hope]

So... daemons. Animal of a different gender from yours = your soul. Tag one of the characters on here with a starter, post your own with or without a request for one of mine or play here as you like.

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Clark Kent | DC Comics

[stands_for_hope]

[Clark has Neoma, a fruit bat who pretty much lives tucked up on his shoulder or hanging off of his messenger bag.]

pretend they look in their 20s ok

[frightening]

Bruce is still not sold about this whole knowing-each-other's-identities thing, but he's allowed himself to be wrestled into accepting it for a small handful of people. He's uncomfortable in this bare-bones center they're tentatively calling the Watchtower (mostly to move away from the unbearably dramatic Hall of Justice title) despite having designed most of its insides.

He's on monitor duty, and when he hears the door slide open behind him he has to force himself to leave his hand where it is-- though he twitches towards his face, wanting to pull the cowl back up. He already knows who I am, he reminds himself, though an answering instinct says Then it's fine if you keep the mask on. He doesn't want to look anxious, though, and stills himself.

(Batman is alone - no daemon; his hard-won ability to be physically distant unnerves people, he knows. That's fine.)

KAY!

[stands_for_hope]

Clark, on the other hand, is feeding his daemon part of a strawberry with one hand as he makes his way in. He and Neoma have figured out ways to deal with the distance, but it's not something he forces himself to do unless a battle situation requires it. Coming in for monitor duty is not one of those times.

"If you're more comfortable," he says with a tip of his chin, "you can pull the cowl up. I just figured it doesn't breathe all that well."

[frightening]

"I don't breathe through my forehead," he says-- snaps, really. Immediately, Bruce hates that he says it or anything at all, and wishes he'd just kept silent. He forces himself to even out his vital signs - spiked slightly with irritation at himself. This is Superman. Clark. Whom he knows. ... Sort of. He's the person he feels least uncomfortable around, anyway.

In the faint reflection of a monitor, Bruce watches the other fighter's daemon eat a strawberry. Until he realizes that's what he's doing, and his gaze twitches elsewhere. Bats are uncommon daemons; most animals that people tend to find 'creepy' or 'spooky' are. He supposes the most powerful being on earth has no reason to cringe away and unconsciously influence the fixed form of his soul, but it's still interesting. Different. He's never known anyone with a daemon of his namesake before.

[stands_for_hope]

Clark just raises an eyebrow at the outburst, because really, Bruce. But a moment later, he settles next to Bruce in the other chair, and glances over at him in a silent question. Everything all right?

He's concerned. After all, Bruce is usually pretty settled in his own skin. He tries to think of what might have set him off before realizing that he hasn't gotten to meet Nee before. But...

He's Batman. Why would he be bothered by--

"This is her usual form," he ventures after a moment, peering over at Bruce. "She's been a fruit bat since I was in high school. Kryptonians aren't any different from anyone else when it comes to daemons. I didn't-- I mean, I hope you don't think I'm trying to make you uncomfortable. With Neoma, I mean."

[frightening]

"It's not that," he says, almost flustered. Clark's daemon is interesting but not his source of discomfort.

"I don't know why I'm here." It's difficult to admit, but he makes himself. At least his anxiousness has dissolved; he's a bit wary still, always has been around people being so comfortable with their daemons, but he hadn't lied. "I don't like being away from Gotham. I'm not like you and Diana."

[stands_for_hope]

"Always so quick to think you're different," slips out of the little bat, which makes Clark turn to her and give her a bit of a look. No need to be rude, after all. But she'd always been quietly outspoken.

Clark has learned to just sigh and go along with it.

"I do wonder what you mean, though. That you're not like either of us."

& more

[frightening]

Weeks go by and somehow, Clark isn't sick of him. Bruce finds himself paralyzed with uncertainty here and there, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but even after they argue terribly in the field and Bruce ends up sitting in his quarters with Caterin against his neck, certain that's it, over, Clark joins him and holds him gently.

It's not that he doesn't have faith in Clark, he tries to explain one night. He doesn't have any faith in himself. Bruce never holds it against anyone when they leave, as it is so deeply understandable.

He's happy, though. Truly, unbelievably happy.

One afternoon he coordinates something carefully, secretly, so quick and simple in the end that it seems almost accidental. Clark is leaving when Dick comes home from a half-day in school, and traffic crosses in the foyer. A four-foot-tall bundle of lanky energy collides with Bruce's legs, bird-shaped daemon zooming around their heads in excited circles.

"Hi Bruce!" he exclaims. "I'm home early, can we-- oh. Hi." Dick doesn't exactly hide behind his adopted father, but stays clinging to him as he looks up at Clark - curious, only a little shy. He likes meeting people.

"Hey, kiddo," is his soft exclamation when Dick first launches at him, and then Bruce leaves his hand against the back of his head, quiet affection. "Dick, This is my friend, Clark Kent. We were visiting this morning."

"Hello." Dick extends one hand, smile on his face - it's clear that he's taking Bruce's relaxed body language and excuse-free introduction as a sign Clark is entirely safe and to be welcomed. "I'm Dick Grayson. It's nice to meet you uh- Mr. Kent." He glances up at Bruce briefly, proud of his manners.

[stands_for_hope]

Neoma is hanging at his hip from her ring, but she opens her wing to take a gander at Dick and his little bird. She's always delighted when someone has a flying daemon. It means more people to fly with.

Honestly, it's a wonder she isn't still curled up with Caterin, but he had been leaving.

Clark, for his part, makes sure to lean back a little, careful not to loom but also not to crouch. Dick is a part of Bruce's life and he deserves to meet the truth of him more than the crouching klutz. He offers a small wave.

"Hey, Dick. Bruce mentioned he was hoping we'd get to meet sometime soon." He leans down to offer a hand. "It's my pleasure." The smile comes next. "Looking forward to a few more hours of daylight to enjoy out of class?"

[frightening]

Dick's daemon isn't settled yet, given his age, but he's so fanciful and prone to climbing around acrobatically that she frequently takes the shape of something winged, or a small monkey. He does give the bat a look, but knows it's impolite to stare - instead he beams and shakes Clark's hand.

"Of course! I want to go horseback riding-- if that's okay," he adds quickly, another hopeful look up at Bruce, who nods and pats his shoulder. Dick grins again. "I'll go get ready! Oh, um, see you!" He waves at Clark and then speeds off, colorful bird chirping overhead.

Bruce lets him go, and gives Clark a watchful look after. So, that's his boy.

[stands_for_hope]

Clark looks back, tilting his head a little, wondering how he ever thought that would explode, but gently. After all, he'd heard enough and seen enough about Dick to know he was a wonderful child. Bruce was a fabulous father. And Clark liked to think he wasn't too terrible, really. Softening even that, he reaches out and takes Bruce's hand.

"Welp," Clark says, "my suspicions have been confirmed." A half-breath pause for effect. "He's a lovely little boy. Also, he is not made of kryptonite. Which is good, really."

He tips his head towards the spot where Dick ran off.

"Are we joining him?"

Yes, he'd been leaving, but he hadn't been leaving for anything dire. He could find another moment in the day to get his article done.

[frightening]

"I'm not worried about you disliking each other." Bruce takes Clark's hand, looks at it. "I don't want him to feel like I'm being taken away from him." It's a difficult concept, because Bruce struggles with the idea of anyone needing him around, but he understands it with Dick. His gaze flicks up to Clark's.

"If you want to. It's about him, though."

Horseback riding, the whole day now-- Bruce is free, he doesn't have any company work or backlog of time-sensitive cases. Until the little boy is shuffled away for homework and bed, Wayne Manor and for all intents and purposes the entire world, revolves around him. Bruce hopes that's understandable and Clark won't think he's ignoring him. Which is probably a ridiculous worry, but he has no idea how to go about dating or parenting, and a combination of them is almost making him bluescreen.

[stands_for_hope]

"Well," Clark offers, "if it's about him, why don't we see if he wouldn't mind me joining in. And if he doesn't mind, I will."

And... that's it. That's all there is to it. Because Dick is a kid. And children need to be the priority, especially adopted children. And Clark would never take that away from any child.

Sanderson Hawkins | DC Comics

[granularity]

[Sandy's got Itziara, a sandfish who happily burrows through and around HIM as she likes. Usually she'll pop up on his shoulder.]

[barkingmad]

[Ari has a raven named Daedalus who prefers to keep his distance, to hang back and observe. Until decides he likes you and then he's in your face, picking your pockets and untying your shoelaces. Setting of your choosing.]

[granularity]

He's over for coffee, as is their way, and Itzy's finally decided that she can explore a little. She's clearly not sure if she's happy with this place, but there's something about Ari's apartment that at least smells right and has her skittering around to explore more than she ever has since the cage.

"Sorry," he says with a faint smile down at his little daemon, "she's feeling adventurous."

[barkingmad]

Daedalus watches the tiny lizard with a glittering black eye from where he's comfortably ensconced on the windowsill. His black feathers are all fluffed up and he's nestled down as if to sleep, but one eye tracks the rapid movement of his counterpart with as much interest as he's feigning not to have.

"It's all right," Ari says, bringing two mugs back from the kitchen. She hands him his coffee, done up the way he likes, and then settles in the chair opposite him. "She's more than welcome. Right, Dade?"

The bird huffs and shivers in his ruff. "Of course," he croaks.

[granularity]

Itzy skitters up the back of the couch to hiss out a quick 'thank you' before she goes to investigate the rest of the room. She's shy, doesn't generally talk to people without being spoken to first.

"I appreciate it."

He takes the coffee (black, with three sugars) and lets his hand skim her arm in thanks.

[barkingmad]

Her fingertips linger on his and she gives him a smile that someone else might describe as wry. But this smile, it reaches her eyes. Beside her, the raven sighs, his feathers falling back to smooth.

"You know you're both always welcome here," Dade says. Human words sound like graveled silk on his tongue. "Any hour of the day."

"Yes, thank you, I'm sure he knows that," Ari adds, her gaze dropping to her mug. It's the steam making her cheeks color. Must be. "Itzy, there's a little box in the window you might like."

The little box is made of terracotta, warmed by the sun, filled with a soft white sand. The flower in it is fake, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Liir Thropp | Wicked Cycle

[nevermorethroppish]

[Liir has Lyric, a tiny dragon the size of a large cat who likes to climb around him like he's a cat post.]

Re: Liir Thropp | Wicked Cycle

[fifeandjump]

A tall blond man started making soft whickering noises at Lyric and held out a small treat to him.

[nevermorethroppish]

"You're spoiling her," Liir said from his writing. He'd been at it for far too many hours.

[fifeandjump]

"Dragons require spoiling and bribery."

He asserted again as his own dæmon climbed up Liir's back. He scooped Lyric up and scratched under her frill.

[nevermorethroppish]

And Liir, like clockwork something very automatic reached back and scritched behind an ear. Lyric, for her part, trilled happily and curled her tail around Trism's arm.

[fifeandjump]

Trism leaned down and kissed Liir's cheek and patted both dæmons.

"Your daughter is awake. You should come out and join us."