#Gotham Knights did it right

[normal-nightmare]

I'll probably be attacked for this lol but honestly at this point, I wish jaydick would become canon. Way more preferable to dickbabs and... honestly any other Dick ship (or maybe I'm just REALLY picky).

I mean... it's practically canon in Gotham Knights already. Why not go for making it canon in the comics too LOL

[booasaur]

Gotham Knights - 1x07

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

I'm not saying Gotham Knights was a good game or got the characters 100%, but it had it's high points and at the end of the day I view it fondly.

[elizabethjenningz]

👀

[teenagemutantninjafangirl]

I WAS RIGHT HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHH I WAS RIGHTTTTTTT

[desos-records]

suddenly struck with thoughts about the devastating concept of Jason Todd

because he was good. because he had a bleeding heart despite every reason not to. he loved school and was good at it. he was the first to be adopted, with little pretense of guardianship. he did everything he could to be a perfect Robin and live up to an impossible ideal. he only ever wanted Bruce and Dick to like him.

because he met Bruce in the same place and on the same day that Bruce's parents died--the single defining moment of Batman's existence. and he made Batman laugh. he hit the Dark Knight, Terror of Gotham, with a tire iron. he wasn't afraid of the man who turned fear into a weapon.

because he couldn't save his mother from herself, but he tried. because he was too good not to try and save the woman who gave him up. too good to play the Joker's game. the crowbar didn't kill him, the bomb did. he died knowing he wouldn't make it and tried anyway. he died a hero.

because other Robins have died, but none of them put an irrevocable tear in the mythos of Batman. because Jason Todd always dies, in every universe. he dies for the sins of his father. he was put to death by popular vote, sacrificed by the crowd. doomed by the narrative and doomed by the audience. the boy who only ever tried to prove he was good enough--wasn't good enough.

because he has every reason to be angry. because he didn't ask to be murdered, didn't ask to be brought back, and when he did everyone acted like he was better off dead. Bruce tried to kill him and nearly succeeded. he's blamed for his own death and blamed for his resurrection. he can never come home because the house is haunted by his own ghost.

because he's been the hero, the victim, and the villain. because his family and his writers and his universe don't know what to make of him. they don't know how to look his tragedy in the eye. and how can you?

it hurts to look at the hero who cannot be good enough, the victim who will only ever be angry, the villain who can sometimes be right. the audience hates to feel complicit and, in this exceptional case, they are.

[lightningelite]

Cyrax is 100% gonna be assist only in base MK1 & Smokes in but at great cost, it’s so over

[acid-ixx]

prequel: again &. again. (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: prequel, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

read until the end for an author's note.

what hurts more when it comes to neglectful batfam that adopted you after jason's death (that eventually turns a 360 after you have left) is probably the fact that they always had time for you, it's just that they never chose to spend it on you; an extra burden to their family rather than an addition. if they had time to spend, they spend it on anything or anyone else but you. it's not that you don't share interests with them, it's just...! they have way more priorities that push you further back into their list of 'to do's'; though you know you'll always be the last of that list.

bruce has to juggle so many tasks as the billionaire playboy "brucie wayne", a father of an ever growing family, and gotham's dark knight vigilante but somehow, you're aware he could easily fit in one or two more children into his already booked schedule— he just never seems to consider you worthy enough apparently. or maybe it was because you were too silent, you set boundaries compared to your other family who are outspoken about what they want, what they need— but there's one thing for sure that sets you off from your siblings; you're not a vigilante.

you were merely a child of a one night stand; a child raised too well. you were behaved, you never complained, and you were just, you. and being normal (at least in their level of extraordinary talents were you a mere droplet) amongst a family of talented individuals makes you easily a ghost. was bruce to blame with his neglect? definitely. if he was able to balance his life so easily, then maybe as the world's best detective would he notice you packing your things day by day without update. maybe that was why you never once hesitated the moment you stepped outside the manor, permanently.

dick's excuse would always be "sorry, baby bird! but i promised to spar with damian today. ah, but you can watch from the sidelines!" or he would be too busy saving bludhaven to even acknowledge your presence. sure, he smiles at you with those shiny teeth of his, but despite him looking at you, he never notices you for more than a second, right after he would skidadle his way to another sibling's room, bothering them to spend more time with him, never you though. it occurs to you that he has only entered your bedroom once, and that occurrence was years ago. even then, he didn't last a minute inside there before running away once more.

family matters more than anything to dick. hell, he was enraged at the announcement of jason's death and even beat joker to a bloody pulp when he realized tim fell into his hands. he's ready to defend damian, barbara, steph, cass, and duke with his life. it's his duty and obligation as the family's eldest brother, of course. but were you considered family to him? were you considered a sibling in his eyes, or were you just the resident roommate of the mansion? you question that endlessly because everyone, family and friends, seem to be smitted with dick, but you eventually gave up trying to vye for his attention. it's fine, really, if you were just another civilian to him, because he was just another person to you too. just like in a circus, you would always be the intermission rather than the main event. and with that, you take your leave.

jason was the most forgivable to you, second to tim. he was never there, and he would've probably put effort into spending time with you if not for the fact he despises bruce and the mansion and wouldn't and couldn't last a second stepping into it. he never met you when he was robin, it was only right after his death did he discover were you taken in and that added fact alongside tim being his replacement turned him bitter with resentment. though his hatred for you receded over time, he wouldn't really be caught taking a minute with you because he always sneaks inside the mansion and crime in gotham never seems to lessen. because of that, and your unwillingness to become a vigilante to kick ass with him and the others, he wouldn't be able to fully take an hour with you.

casual talks are unavoidable, though, when at the dead of the night he would be caught sneaking in to eat some leftovers and you were conveniently awake at the same time as him. he'll recommend you some classic literature he read or 'cafes/restaurants that criminals visit the least' lists, but before it would turn into a full conversation, jason would already be wearing his signature mask again, and with a pat on your head and a "talk to you soon, can't guarantee it'll be tomorrow again though, only here for alfred's meals of course," and he'll be gone. you shouldn't have let your hopes high, you wished you didn't because, duh! he wasn't there to talk to you, specifically. you were just there to bide his time! wiping tears away from your eyes, and with a heavy heart, you book an apartment away from the wayne manor with your own atm card; hope irreversibly dead and unable to revive a sliver of faith, even if it was dipped in the lazarus pit would it never come back as the same.

tim drake is always tired. just like bruce, his days are filled with investigation, crime fighting, and worst of all; high school. that's of course that least of his worries the moment he drops out. tim was never the guy to talk much. he only does when he needs to make an impression for others, or when he needs to manipulate people for potential information. his life revolved around fighting, from when he solved the case of bruce wayne and dick grayson being batman and robin respectively, up to his current identity as red robin and occasionally robin. he'll often be found in the batcave working with babs on a case or working alone in his room.

it's no mistake that you were the most distant to him, never once knowing about his interests or even hobbies and vice versa. it was a given that at the very moment you pass a glance at him, you knew it was a 'mind your business' type of relationship with him. if you were a mere ghost to dick, then you were just a spec of dust to tim. it was unfair to assume he would never care for you, he does! only in a way where you were another person to save if you ever were endangered, but would that be enough to stalk you to the point he gains every insight about you? not really. you weren't one of his friends, like kon who he would spend weekly video game challenges with; and you probably don't exist as his sibling in his own little world filled with coffee and computers. yeah, your feelings about leaving him weren't as bitter as the caffeine he drowns in his system, but you were still hurt either way.

damian wayne, from his birth, was taught and raised to prioritize his mission as an al ghul, to be the one continuing the legacy and to shed blood on anyone who opposes. when he was given over to bruce, it took a hell lot of effort to turn a new page and become the next robin. it was, with no doubt, that despite his 'redemption', he would be a tad bit crueler to you than the others. unlike tim, who he persistently bothers, you were untalented, worthless, and a stain on the reputation of the wayne's. even jason, his father's greatest mistake, had more value than you.

maybe it was fine-tuned jealousy, maybe he was mirroring his father and dick's actions towards you with his own sick twist of violence. either way, you would rather avoid the boy, lest you face the wrath of his sword. it wouldn't be wrong if you came to hate him, actually you do, but despite your endless game of cat and mouse with you as the unwilling victim of the chase, your poor heart couldn't fathom the thought of not excusing his actions as that of a child's. you tell yourself everyday, 'just ignore it, he was raised like as to be a menace after all' but you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together. the resentment eventually builds up until you blow up and just, give up. within your final moments in the manor, you figured to leave some belongings that you collected overtime that were supposedly memorabilias that you wish to show off to your family. like his pieces of art, you could only explain your life in the family as black and white and as bleak as the streaks of charcoal that rubs against the pages.

when dick was jogging through the desolate halls of the manor, he noticed the place seemed to be more... empty of some sort. and he knows pushing that feeling into the back of his head would only result in more questions than answers. so he decides to enter the spare rooms one by one until he comes across your room (he doesn't know it was yours, though), turning the knob without knocking.

that was when his eyes seem to dilate. his nose catched a faint whiff of bleach (was the room deep-cleaned?), vision seemingly closing in on the few furniture left alongside a diary and other boxes left neatly on your bed, with other smaller trinkets left untouched on your bedside table. he didn't remember you mentioning anything about leaving, hell, he doesn't want to admit his lack of memories about you but—

wait...

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago...?

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this is one of my favorite pieces of writing i have ever done and i like it a lot so i hope whoever reads this likes it too. if you all want to read more of this, then please leave a comment or reblog because i heavily appreciate it and it motivates me further to write this type of content! the reason i have come to a long hiatus is because, as stated, the lack of interaction with content. like i said, i will still write for genshin but i am open to expanding my fandom list. (p.s. i hope you like the way i had to connect their interests or a part of their past to the reader.)

heavily inspired by @klemen-tine's work: Glass Bones and Paper Skin, @gotham-daydreams' work: Not [], and @onmyyan's work: Ain't No Sunshine.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[clockwayswrites]

Danny is a minx and I am not responsible for him.

Okay, so, you all voted and I, um, failed? We didn't get to cuddling. There should be cuddling coming? Idk, darlings, this was my third start on this and Danny took over. I've got no say in this anymore. Canon-typical violence, crude language, cross dressing, discussions of prostitution

---

“You think you can fucking play us like that?!”

The shout carried easily through the crisp fall air. Red Hood sighed and changed direction away from his safe house and towards the noise.

“—fuck you up for that! Give us our fucking money back!”

“Fuck you,” snapped back a voice that Jason had come to recognize over the last several months. Right then the words dripped in fake, but damn convincing, heavy Crime Alley drawl, but Jason knew it all the same. “If yous don’t got it, don’t bet it. If yous don’t got game, don’t play it.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think a little girl like you gets to say how this goes,” a third voice growled.

Hood clung to the edge of the roof just long enough to drop silently into the alleyway next to the dive bar. From the quick glance sent his way he was only noticed by the damn minx, so he leaned casually back against the grimy brick wall and unholstered his gun.

“Right? Yeah! Yeah, bitch! You don’t get to say how this goes!” the first voice shouted again. The guy’s shoulders were squared up as if he was some sort of threat in his overpriced, knock off bomber jacket and ill fitting jeans.

It almost made Jason want to sigh.

Actually, fuck it, Jason gave in and sighed loudly, knowing how it sounded through the modulation of his helmet. Bomber Jacket and his buddy, I Swear This is Real Italian Leather, spun around and then cowered so quick Jason swore they gave themselves whiplash.

“So,” Jason said with every ounce of disinterest he could put in his tone, “how does this go? Because right now, I’m thinking that it’s you two who are gonna be going before I put bullets between your eyes.”

“Right, um, yes Red Hood,” Bomber Jacket cowered and grabbed desperately at his friend’s pleather jacket to pull them out of there.

“And gentleman,” Jason said, making them freeze in their steps, “next time you lose your money to a pretty lady, you leave her the fuck alone about it.”

They nodded frantically as they backed the rest of the way out of alley and then took of running.

“I think you made one of ‘em piss himself,” the minx said, looking from the alley way to Jason with those striking aqua eyes.

Jason just shrugged and holstered his gun. “Probably.”

The short, tight skirt clung to the minx’s legs, pulling up enough with the sashaying steps that Jason had to wonder how everything stayed hidden. He kept still as fingers tipped in bright pink nails walked their way up his chest to the red bat. Aqua peered up from below thick, dark lashes. “And did I hear right? You think I’m a pretty lady?”

“Hair is nice like this,” Jason said brushing a gloved finger through the black strands that just brushed the edges of the chin. “But surprised your cock isn’t hanging out of that skirt with how short it is.”

Danny let out a started laugh, resting his forehead against Jason’s chest for a moment before he patted it and backed up to a more respectable distance.

“Duct tape and body shapers works miracles.” The fake Gotham accent was gone and replaced with the faint Midwestern drawl that Danny only seemed to let out around Red Hood. “And don’t make that face, the duct tape is outside of the panties.”

“You can’t see my face,” Jason pointed out, a bit grumpily because he had been grimacing at the thought.

“I was still right though,” Danny said with a smug little smiling pulling on his cherry red lips. It was a good color on him. He leaned back against the wall and spread his legs in a way that Jason couldn’t help but follow with this gaze. “Everything is fine down there, Boss, just a little squished. Offer’s still on the table if you want to check out the good. No charge for my darlin’ knight.”

Jason snorted at the continued offer from Danny; it was practically as good as ‘bye’ between them at this point since Danny seemed to offer it every time. “I’m not going to be one of your Johns, Danny.”

“Told you no charge. Could just be two people who like sex,” he offered with a little shrug, but pushed himself off the wall to leave. No, Danny pushed himself up off the wall with a wince.

Jason was at his side in an instant. “One of those fuckers get you?”

“No, so no hunting them down,” Danny said. His voice was confident, but the way he actually leaned on Jason’s offered arm was worrying. “Just a bad John— ex John. That’s why I’m sharking pool instead of working the corner.”

As if Danny had to work an actual corner anymore. He appealed to a very specific type of client that could pay to have something pretty and convincing on their arm and still get what they wanted between the legs and in the sheets.

“You taking anything for it?” Jason asked.

Danny just shrugged. “Nah, Boss, nothing over the counter works on me really.”

“Clinic?”

Danny snorted. “As if. They can test for STDs and that’s about as much as I want a clinic near me.”

Jason resisted the urge to cuss at Danny. He got it. After all, he only trusted Leslie or Alfred really— or a family member in a pinch.

Maybe he could just bluster Danny into getting some help. “Right, come on.”

“What?” Danny asked, digging his heels (and fuck those were some heels) into the ground.

Not willing to put with that right then, Jason just swung his arm under Danny’s legs and scooped him up like he was nothing. Fuck the Johns really had to be able to throw Danny around if they wanted that sort of thing.

“Boss, Hood, what the fuck?!” Danny hissed.

“Safe fucking house is what the fuck so I can check you over.”

“Boss, if you wanted in the skirt—”

“Danny, shut the fuck up and let me make sure you’re alright, alright?” Jason asked, looking down at him.

Danny stared back with a frown. Then his sighed, like it was the biggest concession in the world to make. Finally he rested his head against Jason’s chest. “Fine, Boss, whatever you say.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, more gently than he meant to.

-

Jason had to suck in several careful breaths as he took in the wound splashed across Danny’s ribs. “No fucking John did that to you and if they did—” if they took some sort of hot poker to Danny’s side— “I’ll kill them if they did.”

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny AU- Part 3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4]

“Have you considered anger management classes?”

The Batman turned sharply, cape flaring out as he raised his weary fists in preparation for another fight. Only to pause, as he caught sight of a bedraggled man leaning against the pockmarked, water worn, Gotham variety stone of the abandoned post office. Non-hostile. Scent of booze, not strong enough to be fresh, but prominent enough for him to clock the stranger as a habitual drinker. Young. Sympathy softened Batman’s stance. Still, Batman kept his guard up. Good thing Robin was benched, he was off his game today if he hadn’t noticed the young man.

“Nevermind. You run around as a bat. Clearly anger management classes aren’t on your to do list.”

“What do you want.”

He’s young. Not as young as Robin, but… enough that it made Batman gentle his approach. The young man pushed away from his spot, fearlessly slouching towards him. Casual. Unafraid. How curious. Even Gothamites were wary around him, correctly assuming and witnessing his takedowns of Gotham’s Underbelly.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” The bedraggled young man asked, head tilted neutrally at the bodies strewn around the Batman.

“Hm.”

“Why do you never swing by Crime Alley?”

Batman’s guard faltered at the blunt question, but he regained it quickly.

“I do.”

“You don’t.” The man disagreed amiably. He reached down towards the victims but Batman grabbed his arm in an iron hold before he could rifle through their belongings. The young man laughed and pulled back agreeably. “Is it classism, why you avoid us? The poor isn’t good enough to deserve protection from Gotham’s knight?”

“No. I do this for Gotham. All of Gotham.”

“…Well, there’s always room for improvement, I guess?”

The stranger pulled back and broke Batman’s hold, which had the vigilante sharply focusing onto the man. The stranger was strong, despite how skinny and starved he looked. Few people could casually break his hold and tonight, he added one more to the tally.

“You should tell your sponsor to look into creating job opportunities in Crime Alley. The problem isn’t actually the crooks,” the man told the vigilante, gesturing around them. “That’s just the symptoms. The actual problem is the poverty.”

“I know.”

“And yet, you still avoid Crime Alley.”

“Who are you.”

The man began walking away, throwing a dry “The Crime Alley Drunk, apparently,” behind his shoulder. When Batman took to the roofs to track him, the man had thoroughly slipped away.

“Agent A, did you catch that?”

“Yes, Batman. It appears you’ve gotten the wool pulled over your cowl by a rather mysterious youngster.”

Batman heard a younger snort of laughter. Robin. Who was supposed to be doing homework.

“Please stop making fun of me.” Batman sighed half heartedly.

“Not on your life, B.” Robin chirped.

——

“Ya talked ta Batman?!” Jason crowed at him, excited. Danny had done as promised and met him at the chili dog stand at the correct time, which increased his credibility in Jason’s eyes.

“Sure did. He knocked out like, five guys by himself. It was pretty cool.”

“Fuckin’ woah.”

“Right?” Danny smiled tiredly at the kid. He stayed up all night to pull his shit together, and outright bought an apartment for them to stay in. That safe had a lot of cash, after all. “Come on, kid. We’re heading back to base but before that, we gotta pick up a few things.”

“Like what?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“Like curtains in the color you like, groceries, and blankets and bedding, and general cleaning stuff.” Danny ticked off a finger per item.

“We killin’ someone?”

“What? No!”

“Ya said general cleaning stuff!” Jason defended himself. The raggedy kid peered at Danny cautiously, and brightened when Danny only snorted in amusement.

“Oh my ancients, you Gothamites. No, those are for like, actual cleaning. You know, for the apartment I just got you.”

Danny missed the burn of booze, but when Jason looked at him like the child he’s supposed to be had Gotham’s streets never laid its claim on him, Danny didn’t want to fail the kid.

Even if the kid thought he was buying chemicals to clean up a body. He’s the son of two mad scientists, he knows how to get rid of a body, obviously. As if he’d need chemicals to begin with, honestly. His ghost powers are quite versatile.

“An apartment?”

“Yep. It’s shitty, but it’s got all the utilities and I kind of miss having warm water to shower with.”

Jason straightened and trotted alongside the Alley Drunk with a little more purpose. People avoided them. Danny lead the kid to the apartment, handing him a key and letting him explore the sparsely decorated place.

“So, first thing’s first. You go shower. Then, we’ll go shopping for clothes, register you for school, get your school supplies, and grab some lunch. Not necessarily in that order, but ya know. And cleaning supplies.” Danny grinned.

Jason whipped his head around from where he was closely inspecting the windows for insulation- like Danny would let the actual kid live somewhere with drafty windows- and spluttered. Hope, fear, uncertainty battled across Jason’s face as he tried to say something. Danny watched Jason open and close his mouth several times before he finally managed to whisper something.

“I- I c’n go to school?”

“Yes. You are, in fact, legally required to do so, Jason.”

A pause as the kid grapples with the idea, of something he didn’t think he’d ever get to do. A grin bloomed over his face as he realized Danny’s sincerity.

“Then what are we waitin’ for?!”

“For you to shower. C’mon grubby, the shower’s that way. Towels are in the cabinet, and there’s some extra clothes in here,” Danny tossed Jason the plastic bag of clean kid’s clothes he bought from Gotham’s version of Walmart, a store that somehow had the energy of a Tesco and a Denny’s parking lot.

“Fuc- I mean- yeah! On it!”

——

Clearing out the drafts- feel free to continue ^^

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[hoodielord]

The king of the Infinite Realms and his two Red Knights

King Phantom sat on his throne, listening to the pleas and demands of his people. Many for Gotham asking for justice. Many ask for justice against the Joker. The ghosts plead with the king to end the clown. Beside him, his two knights stand. To his right Red Huntress's hands tighten on her blaster as she listens. And to his left Red Hood stood frozen but close enough you could see the slight tremble. The ghost that was speaking remembers her death but very little of her life. She tells the king of the Joker and how she worked for him.

“I hated it I know I did something bad but couldn't make it right, I should have. I lured someone …someone important... to him and I watched him nearly beat them to death. The joker then locked us in together and set explosives.” The woman was crying and struggling to make it through. “That person I led there he …he tried to save me even if I led him there he tried to shield me from the explosion.”

“I know I shouldn't ask for anything but I want to ask that you make sure that person knows that I'm sorry and to tell them ‘thank you’” 

Beside Phantom Hood shook slightly trying his best to hold himself together.

“Despite your pericous actions I will see to your request.”

The ghost's image flickered and she smiled as tears streamed down her face.

“Thank you.”and then she was gone.

The throne room cleared, Phantom relaxed into his throne as his knights did the same. 

“ It never gets easier, does it ghost boy?”

“No…no it doesn't.”

After a moment's pause. Phantom speaks again.

“Hood….Jason." Danny calls in a gentle voice. 

Jason turns to face Danny. His face was hidden by the helm but Danny could tell he was close to a panic attack. Danny and Val gently walked toward Jason trying to usher him to sit down.

“That was…that was my mom, my biological mom. She..she apologized?”

“Some ghosts are remorseful for their actions and want to repent.” Danny sat on the ground next to Jason and Val on the other side. 

“The Joker was the one to kill us but she she helped.”

“The Joker is enough of a threat to ghosts as well given his brushes with death. He fall within my jurisdiction. And even if he didn't,”

“  We would have still ended him for you.” Val finishes Danny’s sentence.

Jason removes his helm and stares at them. “He wont let you.”

“Killing the joker wouldn’t be hard.” 

“No I talking about Batman he wont let you kill the Joker.”

“As I said the Joker is soaked in so much death that he falls under my jurisdiction.” Danny smiles, his features stretch his form becoming more eldricth as it shifts.

Val smacks him on the side of his head. “Enough of that save it for the Joker”

“Ow Val.” Danny rubs his head as Jason snickers at the two of them.

“ You deserved it, you royal pain in my ass.”

[porcalinecunt]

ak!jason craving his back alley surgeon (ftm) so much that it physically hurts not to just fuck him right in the middle of their session ,,

021 𐙚 KINKTOBER — 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 the arkham knight remained touch starved for too long, so he turns to his nagging yet stupidly cute back alley surgeon! ~

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ AK! JASON TODD X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader. dubcon. rough oral sex. throat breeding. throat bulge. fingerings. touch starved jason. past mentions of torture/injuries.

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ ] i do NOT know how to write endings ;-; but omg anon, i RAN to write this the moment i saw this request! ak!jason todd lives in my head rent free :<

he forgot what normal touch felt like, if it even existed in the desolate gotham city.

and you can’t blame him, the last thing he ever felt were the joker’s ghostly white hands tearing at his skin with any rusty metal he could get his hands on. the burning hot iron engraving a capital J on his cheek.

getting shot on camera in a snuff was somehow the least worst thing that happened to the knight.

naturally, the acidic lake of the lazerous pit only harden his outer shell, rendering him mentally cut off to the concept of affection. hell, he wouldn’t even let the nurses within militia grounds even touch him. grumbling that he can take care it himself with a simple twist of a broken limb or a faulty cauterized wound.

or a visit to your back alley clinic.

after a hellish night of shockwaves and stitches, jason properly met you after you saved his life from a particularly lethal mission. unlike the kind nurses though, you were cold and a little vile. spouting exhausted quips about how ‘braindead’ and ‘reckless’ he was, and how he was a pain in your ass. ah, a vile little bitch. the arkham knight thought.

yet, he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. oh no, despite the sharp tongue, your shockingly soft hands revive a need jason thought he abandoned after his death. he found himself looking forward to the checkups, to your palms resting against his scarred chest and broad shoulders. fingers pressing against his more delicate spots, allowing his mind to wander to the nastiest places.

how delicate was the rest of you?

a question that got him gripping the metal table as you did another checkup on him, making sure he didn’t measly tear off any of the wrapping or bandaids.

jason’s breath hitched once your fingers ghosted over his abs, his chest and his thighs. it didn’t help that with every slight move, he grew harder and harder in his pants. you were fucking teasing him, even if it wasn’t intentional. his boner was growing more obvious and it was like you were purposely playing dumb, agitating the knight.

“shit..fuck it.”

he uttered, sitting up despite your failed attempts to keep him down.

“mister todd, what are you?!- HEY!”

a harsh push threw you far back, stumbling onto the dirty sofa chair while jason quickly followed. you could barley process what was going on when the sound of a belt buckle made you freeze.

“sorry doc, got a problem i can’t fix on my own..”

jason muttered as his pants dropped to his ankles along with his boxers, revealing his ‘problem’. you couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at his ridiculous girth and his swollen tip leaking precum as it ran down to the base.

“mister todd..—“

“please. c’mon doc..”

he was practically begging, a tone that went straight into your soaked cunt. you had to hold back from straight up palming yourself through your pants. a defeated sigh left your lungs as you leaned forward off the couch and onto your knees. a risky kitty lick snapped the rope of control in jason, a heavy metal hand clasping the back of your head, forcing his dick into your jaw.

he was too big, way too big. your poor mouth was practically stuffed with cock as the knight didn’t let you pull back for a moment. “nose, doc..breath through your nose.” jason sighed, slowing pushing further and further until he was nestled into your throat. a static groan leaked through his gritted teeth, a sound that made you flinch with anticipation.

with eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t even look at him as he pulls his length back only to shove it right back into the jugular, slowly picking up his already relentless pace. the sloshing noises of your spit and his cum mixing filled your ears until your patient’s groans practically drowned out.

gobs of the nasty mix spilled off his soaked dick and through your swollen lips, along with tears that blurred your vision and salted the taste of the knight’s girth. it was all humiliating in the best way possible, you were fucking getting off to it. made you wonder how long he was imagining this very scenario.

“get up.” he suddenly commands with a booming tone, pulling you off his cock with a handful of your hair. “w-wha..?”

“you fuckin’ heard me. get up or i’ll fuck that cunt of yours.”

barley a promise, knowing how fickle the knight is. yet you still followed his command, standing up as he pushed you down onto the metal operation table with your front facing the ceiling. jason, dick still hard and bobbing around as he walked to where your head hung off the edge.

“gonna make you extra useful doc, if you’re okay with that..” he asked with a ragged breath. you were too fucked out to give a proper answer other then a pathetic “uh huh…” with your tongue stuck out. you couldn’t even get another sound out before he stuffs your mouth full once again, this time, with a desperation for an orgasm.

gripping the sides of the metal table, jason thrusts his dick in and out of your throat, a small bulge forming yet visible enough for him to admire.

“atta boy, you’re not bad f’ a doctor..shit..!”

he laughed, listening to your whines and gagging as you rub your thighs together for a source of friction. all this time, you were left neglected as jason used your throat as a free fleshlight. with shaking hands, you reached down through the band of your pants and ran your fingers through your needy little pussy.

“mmm..mister todd..”

you muttered, fucking your fingers into your soaked cunt as you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. he was gonna cum.

“mouf..cum in m’mouf..!” you weakly uttered, earning a mocking coo from the knight. “yeah? you want me to cum in your mouth? ‘course doc..” he panted, his pace growing more relentless somehow.

“consider this returning the favor, f’ being so good to me.”

with a couple more thrusts and some jerkin’ off, a white hot liquid spurted in your mouth and down your throat. heavy and salty was all you can taste as he practically bred your throat full.

jason pulled himself out, watching as gobs of his cum and your spit spill out from your lips and all over your fucked out face. he wished he could take a picture of it just to have something to jerk off to when he can’t sleep.

“so..see you next week?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.