#Probably not at all what Arkham is supposed to look like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ailithnight · 2 years ago

Text

*Whoops. Forgot to title and link previous chapters. Fight me, I just woke up.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

"Tim. Tim you have to get me copies of this footage." Tim is not surprised by the request. In fact, the 'Sure' is already on his tongue when he pauses, a thought creeping into his head, seeded by the notification Tim really hopes Jason isn't paying attention to in the bottom corner of the computer.

"One condition."

"Fuck you, I knew you'd want something. What? You want my cookies? Coffee? For Red Hood to go on camera singing praises for Red Robin? I'll fuckin do it. Just send me the god damn clips."

"Nope, nope, and tempting, but no."

"Name your price, Replacement. I'll pay it."

"Swear you aren't going to go rush in and extract the kid until we're done investigating him."

"What!? Fuck that! I told you was pulling him out next chance I get!" Tim lets himself groan in annoyance.

"Look, anyone that could do that-" Tim gestures to the part of the screen where they'd pulled up The Joker's medical reports following the incidents, showing pictures and descriptions of just how thoroughly Daniel had beat his ass 3 weeks in a row, "without getting so much as a scratch or fucking bruise in return, has got something going on. There may well be a reason they sent him to Arkham!"

Jason's eyes narrow at Tim as he all but growls, "No reason is good enough to put-"

"A fifteen year old in Arkham. I fucking know that, Hood. But we still need to know exactly who we're dealing with when we get him out. What his deal is. If his dangerous. What the hell was so wrong with him that someone thought it was a good idea to stick him in there to begin with."

"He could get hurt while we're sitting on our asses trying to satisfy fuckin Bat paranoia!"

"He took down the Joker! Clearly he can take care of himself."

"Then who has been hurting him!?"

"Maybe him fucking self!" Tim knew he was pushing it. The green growing stronger in Jason's eyes was proof. But he needed to buy them some time before Jason made thing exponentially harder by storming the castle. Still, now he needed to calm Jason down before he went into a full rage. So Tim held up his hands placatingly.

"A few days, Jay. Just give us a few more days. I'm already almost through the Arkham reports, and there are only a handful from Chicago and Oracle is probably going to announce any minute now that she got through the communications blackout around his home town. We just need a bit more time to sort out intel so that we actually know how to help him once we get him out."

Finally, after a tense 34 seconds, green fades back into blue and Jason let's out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. But I get to tell the Bat about Daniel's discipline slips. Wanna see his fuckin face when I do."

"Deal." Tim hurriedly puts a comm in as Jason watches with narrowed eyes.

Batman.

Red Robin. Ready to fill me in?

Not yet, you're about to be busy. I isolated a pattern earlier. Exactly 15 minutes before the locks malfunction, there's been a strange power surge. Always written off. But the surge doesn't seem to be coming from the grid. And like I said, exactly 15 minutes later is when the locks malfunction.

Jason huffs as he catches on. Apparently he hadn't thought to question why Tim was so desperate to buy time before.

Robin responds, since he's on stakeout with Bruce. Mostly because Bruce won't let him watch the asylum alone. Much as the kid hates it, the rest of the family agrees. It's only a matter of time before someone in max security manages to take advantage of theses malfunctions. So far Croc is the only one who had, though thankfully he's not one to start shit on his own. But with Joker, Scarecrow, and TwoFace all inside; any one of them, or god forbid all three, could make for a real bad situation.

Tt. So you can tell before a malfunction happens.

Think so. Last power surge was 8 minutes ago.

And you are only telling us now, why Drake?

Codenames.

Cause he spent those 8 convincing me not to go get our kid out yet.

6 minutes. See if you can stop things before they start.

I'm not far out. Want me to join you?

Tt. I doubt we'll need your assistance, Signal. We shall be done before you get here.

No wait. Signal, head in. See if you can get a read on 26B.

You think he might be meta?

Hood?

Jason glares at Tim betrayed.

"I wanted to see his fuckin face."

Tim just waves him off.

"They need to know. You tell them or I do."

Boys

Jason scowls, but relents.

He put the Joker in the infirmary on his 1st, 7th, and 15th days there. All 3 times took no damage himself. Feral child had to be pulled off and still didn't stop struggling till the clown was out of sight.

All 3 assaults followed by panic attacks, though whether about the Joker himself or what Daniel had done to him, we don't know yet.

The comms were silent for a moment.

A 15 year old...

Did what you've never had the balls to old man.

...I've fought the Joker.

Daniel hits first.

Hnn

I will admit, it is impressive that he can take the Joker down alone. Perhaps he will make for a worthy brother after all.

4 minutes.

We're moving in. Thank you Red Robin, Hood.

The fuck are you thanking me for?

For helping. And giving us time to work this out.

ETA 7 minutes out. Be with you shortly.

The advanced warning proved invaluable for Batman and Robin. After alerting the chief of security of their supposed pattern, he had guards already in motion when the doors swung open. Batman took a perch to watch for max security escapees while Robin assisted the guards in keeping inmates corralled. Many didn't even bother to leave their designated areas, having already seen the Bats in the building.

No sign of any max security inmates. Normally, Batman would find this concerning. And while he did file it away to ponder later why no one from max security ever seemed to make it out of that wing, for today he counted the blessing that he would not have to try to keep Robin safe while dealing with someone like the Joker.

Batman tracked motion through the crowds, watching as a black mop of hair moved, seemingly otherwise unnoticed, through the sea of people. He thought to move in to direct the person back towards where people were being herded to, but the small figure merely walked towards the B wing and entered one of the far cells. That gave Bruce a sneaking suspicion of which patient that was. He moved to get a closer look as Signal swooped in.

"Where is he?"

"I believe he just went into his cell. This way." Batman led Signal to the cell he'd seen that tiny person enter. It was indeed 26B and there was indeed a small, too small, frail looking boy lying on the bed there. A red blotch had appeared under his left eye even though Bruce was certain there had been no injury there as the boy had crossed the hall.

Signal froze beside him, breath stuttering. The boy briefly glanced at them through the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a brief frown. Then his eyes turned back to the ceiling and his face smoothed out. Bruce couldn't help but reach out.

"Hello." The boy said nothing. Signal opened and closed his mouth, seeming to try to say something, but unable to get words out. Batman wondered what he must be seeing. "You seem hurt. Do you need help?" Eyes flickered back to him and away just as quickly.

"Nothing you can help with Mr. Batman." And oh, how Bruce hated the kid's voice. So quiet and so so hollow. Bruce's mind flashed to his children, imagining any them speaking with such emptiness. His heart clenched, wondering what could have happened to this boy to have snuffed the life out of him so young.

Duke found his voice again, just as the doors buzzed and swung shut again.

"What are you?" Bruce frowned, looking at his latest. Who was looking, as Bruce tracked his gaze, not at Daniel but at the space just above him. Daniel himself seemed to take interest all of a sudden, breaking away his upward gaze to roll his head and look at them. Confusion plain on his face, the first hint of life shining dimly in his eyes.

"Signal? Signal, what do you see?" Batman asked. Robin materialized beside them. The daytime hero stepped forward, then back, light sparking and fizzling around his fingertips.

"There's something in there with him."

Daniel looked back up, where Signal still had his gazed trained on something Batman couldn't see. Even Robin seemed confused, though he no doubt trusted Signal's meta sight.

"Don't worry," Daniel murmured, "S'just a ghost. She can't hurt you."

This 'ghost' seemed unhappy either with the teen's words or this turn of events. Daniel's head snapped back to the side again, causing Batman and Signal to wince while Robin watched stoically. 4 red scratches appeared on Daniel's right cheek, as though he had been backhanded by someone with clawlike nails. A light chill brushed through him and Signal tensed, then relaxed, his gaze finally turning from the emptiness above Daniel to the boy himself. Batman took that as a sign that the... entity, was gone.

Daniel did not react to the obvious abuse from an invisible assailant. He mechanically turned his head back, once more dead and glazed eyes returning to the cracks in the ceiling of his cell. "You should go now. The guards will come around soon to make sure I'm still here."

Bruce wanted so badly to say 'Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.' But Batman was more restrained than that. He would get the child out. But he would have a plan first. For now, Bruce placed a hand each on the shoulders of Duke and Damien, guiding them away. Only when they were back outside did Bruce let them go. Only when they were perched on a rooftop half a block away did Batman pause.

"Robin, report."

"No escaped inmates and no sign of any from maximum security."

"Good. Signal, any information on what you saw in there." Duke rubbed at his eyes.

"A ghost, I guess? I don't know. It was weird. She didn't really have an aura. It was more like, an absence of aura. Like she was a black hole, drawing all the light in."

Even behind the domino, Bruce could tell Damien rolled his eyes.

"And what of the patient, Thomas? Was he not the one you were sent to look at?" Batman bit back the reprimand for codenames, more interested in Signal's response. Signal seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head.

"He definitely had a pretty distinct aura. It... felt powerful. But it looked weak. Dim. When the ghost... struck him, it flared up a bit, but died back down almost instantly. I... I get the feeling he was holding it back. Almost like he was afraid of it. Of himself."

"Hnn. Good job Signal. Robin. You two are welcome to head back to the cave. I'll take the rest of this Arkham shift."

At that moment, the comms crackled to life.

Actually B, you may want to come in, also. Arkham should be fine. And I found why they sent the kid there.

#A King in Arkham #DP x DC #my writing #In case ya can't tell #I have no idea what the layout of Arkham is supposed to be #So I'm just kind of imagining a tv stereotypical prison layout #Two story room with double layers cells #Congregating area in the middle #Max security off in its own section #Probably not at all what Arkham is supposed to look like #But I reckon the details can be a bit nebulous for the sake of fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 27 days ago

Text

The Facade of You

I wanted to write him off putting and cocky at the same time, but that sure is a fine line. Reader is a bit of a spitfire when they probably should keep their mouth shut. (And I love that) ~2.3k words

When the Arkham Knight wants something, he gets it. Driven. Focused. Torrent in his mission and desires. You knew it from the moment you met him. Knew it the second you swung the aluminum baseball bat at his head, and he stopped your swing without even a flinch.

This was going to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than it already was.

Most of Gotham had evacuated because of whatever insane plan Scarecrow had crafted. Most, but not all. You had shored yourself up in your apartment, ready to ride out whatever happens from the comfort of your own home.

Was it the smartest decision? Maybe not. But you had survived blizzards in July, streets lined with living plants, and some guy who liked to run around hosting tea parties while wearing a top hat. So, you think you could be forgiven if you thought you could handle some threats of fear gas and anarchy.

And honestly, you probably could have. If not for the figure wearing armor worth more than your whole apartment breaking through your window.

On any other day, you probably would have screamed at the sight of the stranger standing in your living room. But tonight, there's no neighbors to call the cops, no vigilantes with time to spare patrolling the streets to hear you cry for help.

So you swung. Swung your bat right for his weird, glowing helmet with all your strength.

His fingers caught and curled around the metal before you even registered him moving. Everything seemed to go still, your instincts practically screaming at you to flee. You didn't need to see his face to know that he's smirking at you, head tilting like what you did was interesting, but pointless.

The silence stretches as you try to tug the bat from his hold, but the man doesn't even seem to move. No, he only starts to laugh at you, laughs like this is the last he expected, like the entire situation is ridiculous.

It draws a scowl to your face. So what if he's covered head to toe in armor and weapons? He broke into your apartment to what? Revel in your misery? Make fun of you? And you're just supposed to take that?

You open your mouth to confront him, to demand answers, when he laughs again, low and still full of disbelief, "Of course, of course you're still in this damned city. I shouldn't be surprised. Always in places you shouldn't be, aren't you."

He punctuates his words with a low, long drawl of your name, the letters falling off his tongue and through the modulator of his helmet as if he's said them a million times.

He drops his hold on the bat, but it hardly matters when your own grip starts to slack at the sound of your name, "Who are you," You demand, every hair on edge as the stranger starts to pace your apartment, almost as if he's looking for something to occupy himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know," he murmurs, picking up a framed photo, "It's not part of the plan. But I suppose I'm to blame for not expecting this of you."

You step forward, anger clouding your better judgment at the sight of him picking over your things like they're his own, "Put that down."

He turns his head towards you, lifting the photo to your field of vision, "This? It's hardly important."

You grit your teeth at the sight. It is important. More than he could possibly understand. Yours and Jason's smiling face shines from the picture behind the glass, your figures illuminated by the rare summer sun Gotham gets. It's one of the only pictures you have of him, some of the only evidence he was ever in your life.

You lunge forward without warning, dropping your bat in a bid to grab the frame. He easily side steps your desperate attempts. Something seems to shift in the air as he practically purrs, "whoops," and drops the photo from between his fingers.

The breath leaves your lungs as the glass shatters, leaving the photo in a pile of shards and broken wood. Your gaze snaps back to him, outraged, "Who do you think you are? How dare–"

"You can call me The Arkham Knight," he cuts in simply, stepping on the shards– on the photo of Jason– like it's less than nothing.

"What do you want," You hiss, biting back insults over how insane you think he sounds. You match his step forward with your own backward motion, keeping space between you.

"To make Batman pay," he drawls, honest and never slowing his steps towards you, even as you rapidly run out of space between you and the wall.

You shift your free hand to your pocket, trying to fumble for your phone without him noticing, "Then why are you here? I'm not Batman."

He finally stops stalking your every step as your back hits the wall, lingering only an arms length away from you, "No," he relents, "You're not Batman. But he does feel responsible for you."

"He feels responsible for everyone," You protest, fingers tapping blindly across your phone. Your voice shakes, even as you try to hide it. But it's hard not to be intimidated by the man towering over you, by the unblinking whites of his mask shining on your face.

He sighs, like whatever game he's playing suddenly went dull, "It's a shame you were here. Really. It would have been better if you'd left the city."

You press send on your phone. At least, you hope the (ideally) coherent message you're trying to get to Babs without seeing is sending, "Are you going to kill me?"

He recoils like the idea repulses him. It's the first bit of proof you've gotten that he even has feelings outside of whatever front he's been putting up. But he settles back into that lazy, uncaring pose, nodding towards your pocket, "Go ahead, sweet thing. Call Barabra. Call Dick. Call Bruce, even. They won't help you. Even if it wasn't such a busy night, you've never been their priority."

You tense, frozen under his unwavering gaze and the revelation of his words. His jabs don't bother you. He's clearly trying to get under your skin. But, he– The Arkham Knight– knows. Your mind races as your breathing shallows. He knows about Batman– everyone. But how much does he know? How much could he know? Their identities, that secret, it always felt untouchable.

It nearly makes you tremble. Is that why he's here? To get back at them somehow through you? It hardly makes sense if it's true. Jason's the one that cared about you– that wanted you to be okay.

His words feel like a trap. The idea that he wants you to call for help is just another game he's letting you play. But you pull out your phone anyway, your eyes never really leaving him even as you dial a number with trembling fingers.

The line rings. And rings. Then, "Hi, it's Barbara–"

"Babs, I need–" You start, only to be cut off by the continued message.

"I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the tone, and I'll be sure to get back to you!"

Your heart drops, and you don't get the chance to consider your options before the Arkham Knight is plucking your phone out of your hands to end the call. He tosses your only hope of getting help towards your couch.

His voice is mocking, when he speaks again, "See? They can't even save themselves. How could you think they'd bother with you?"

"Why are you here," You ask instead, desperate to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, the fear creeping up your spine.

He hums, and reaches up to grab your chin, turning your face this way and that to study you. "A lapse in judgment. Curiosity. A weakness for the past. It hardly matters," he mutters, more for himself than you, "What matters is what to do with you."

"You could leave me here," you suggest quickly, grabbing at his wrist to keep him still, "Pretend you never saw me. I won't get in the way. I'm– I'm no vigilante. I won't be any trouble."

He scoffs, dropping his hand from your face, "This city would eat you alive. You can't handle what's coming."

"And what's it to you," You snarl, sounding braver that you feel and driven by the annoyance course through your veins. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. (Just not necessarily against military trained rouges)

That seems to snap him to attention, and you regret your words immediately. You've essentially given him a reminder that you mean as much to him as the photo he left broken on the floor. And if he wanted to send a message to Batman, it would be easy to start with you.

"It's nothing to me," he hisses back, but even the modulator in his helmet doesn't hide the tightness– the near lie– of his voice, "You're in over your head, doll. If anything, you should be grateful I'm showing you the truth."

Your blood runs cold, your tone sharpens, and your eyes narrow. He doesn't have the right. Jason's the only one that's ever nicknamed you doll. His eyes always seemed to shine when he said it. "Don't call me that," You warn, words dripping with malice.

He honestly snorts at you, unimpressed by your threat, "What's wrong, doll? Hit a sore spot?"

You throw yourself at him, aiming a fist for his dumb helmet as your heart pounds in your ears. If he's going to make an example of you, use you against Batman, you're not going to lay back and just let him pick at your wounds.

He catches you like he expected it, hauling you into the air as you scream obscenities and curses, kicking and hitting your fists against his armor until he dumps you unceremoniously onto the couch. You scramble for your discarded phone, and he's quick to pin you down, his knee braced to your stomach to keep you from moving as he knocks your phone out of reach.

He huffs as if this is just a minor setback, reaching down to fix the wrinkles forming in your clothes every time you struggle, "And here I thought you liked being called doll."

"Not by you," You practically spit, all rationally thrown out the window as you continue to squirm. You bring your nails up to his arm, trying to dig into any weak spots in his armor for a chance to escape, to make him hurt.

"Only by me, sweet thing," he coos, and your world stills to a halt as he clicks the faceplate of his helmet back.

Jason Todd is grinning at you. It's not quite right. His eyes are wilder than you remember, his smile too forced, too tense. There's more scars across his skin than you recall there being. A stark white brand stands out on his cheek. But it's him. Undeniably him.

"Now where'd all your fight go," he questions, fingers trails up to rest on your throat, "no need to look all surprised, doll."

All you can offer is his name falling from your lips, eyes wide, and face shell-shocked.

He tuts, fingers flexing ever so slightly against your pulse, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"They told me you were dead," you choke out, unable to fight the tears threatening to well in your vision.

"They lied," he says simply, as if that answers anything. He lifts his hand from your throat to press his thumb against your lower eyelid, the light pressure forcing your tears to spill onto the fabric of his glove.

"Jason–" You try again, wanting answers, comfort, anything you can latch onto.

He only shushes you, "I don't blame you, sweet thing, for falling for it. That's just what they do. They lie. Change the narrative to fit their twisted perceptions. But I'll help you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. All you need to do, is come with me."

It's a bad idea. You feel it down to your bones. Jason, your Jason, isn't the one digging his knee into your stomach, isn't the one collecting your tears on his glove like they're a trophy. But he is Jason, and he's only ever done what's best for you. So going with him has to be right, has to be what you're supposed to do.

You nod. What else could you do? How could you even think to deny him when his face lights up in the shadow of how he used to smile at you?

He stands, and it takes every bit of strength you have not to surge forward and beg him not to when he clicks his helmet back shut. The Arkham Knight– Jason– offers you a hand, and you don't need a second thought to take it.

You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. He said it himself, he didn't plan for you to even be here. But his grip is steady in yours, and he keeps turning his head to check on you as he leads you across your apartment and to the window.

Relief clouds your mind, the idea that everything could be okay as long as he's back. So you follow him, don't ask questions even as he leads you down the fire escape and towards a suspiciously armored truck.

You don't press, even as he barks orders at the driver that's dressed more like a soldier than a chauffeur.

You let him tell you that you made the right choice. That he's going to fix all of this, that you being here will help in the end. You let him guide you through Gothams ruined streets, far away from your home, from where the memory of him is shattered on the floor.

And if you left your phone ringing over and over again on your couch in a frantic attempt to reach you, you're far too blinded by the echo of the boy you're chasing to care.

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader

718 notes · View notes

help-itrappedmyself · 11 months ago

Text

Danny Punches a Clown part 2 I guess

shoutout to @that-random-fangirl

Masterpost

The batmobile pulls into the batcave as usual once they’re done dealing with the Joker’s hostage situation, but no one is celebrating at a job well done tonight. Because while the Joker is back in Arkham, for now, it wasn’t one of them that stopped him. While the rest of them dealt with the goons downstairs, Batman went up to where the Joker was supposed to be hiding out with the kids, only to find him on the floor with a growing bruise on his face. The kids were nowhere to be seen.

So, Batman sweeped the room, making note of a video that was still recording on the computer. Probably a taunt for him that the Joker never got to release. He pulled all the files from the computer and brought them with him when he left.

The police arrived, the civilians were taken care of, but none of them had any idea what happened in the room the Joker was in. Apparently none of them heard anything, despite the fact the Joker had a gun with him no shots were fired. And none of them knew what happened to the kids.

So the family gathered around the batcomputer to try and find out what had happened. They rewound the video back to the beginning, hoping to at least find out if the kids were okay.

The video opened to the Joker being his usual self, holding his gun, looking like he hadn’t yet gotten punched in the face.

“ Bats! Wonderful to see me isn’t it? I know it's been too long, and I’ve got some presents for you!” Joker turns the camera to show three kids, two no older than six, both blonde and terrified, and one that could be a teenager, probably around twelve to thirteen with black hair and looking bored. The camera swings back to the Joker after a moment. “ Of course, I have a bunch of adults too, but these little kiddos are just for you! I have such plans for them bats!”

“Hey, crazy clown?” They hear, coming from one of the children. Joker stops ranting to look past the computer, probably at the kid who’s speaking and the bats all look at each other in disbelief.“ Look, I’m sure you have some sort of reason for all this hostage-taking and gun-waving, probably even for dressing like that.”

“ Oh, this kid is insane.” Tim mutters.

“ However, I already have one fruitloop in my life and that is more than enough for me, so I’m going to have to leave now.”

The Joker starts laughing, he bends over and wraps his arms around his stomach laughing his normal cackle that has most of the room cringing. They watch as the child, the older one, walks right up to the Joker, who is still laughing, and punches him in the face.

They watch in silence as the Joker falls limp to the floor. Jason whistles. Then the boy turns more toward the camera, but really towards the children as he starts talking to them and they see him fully for the first time. Black hair, blue eyes, looks exhausted and he just punched the Joker in the face. The kids look amongst each other for a moment, all thinking the same thing, before turning back to the screen to see the boy, this tiny boy who called the Joker ‘crazy clown’ and punched him in the face helping the other kids escape out the window.

“ Bruce, no.” Dick mutters. “ We don’t even know who this kid is.”

“ This kid just knocked out the Joker in one punch, if Bruce doesn’t nab him, I will.” Jason states.

Everything devolves into arguing from there, all the kids shouting amongst themselves arguing either for or against the adoption of the kid. It goes on for a while before Bruce speaks up.

“ Let’s just find the kid first.” Bruce says, He’s already pulled up facial recognition and is chatting with Oracle about the CCTV footage by the warehouse. “ All of you go get some rest, I’m going to go see if I can track him.”

“ Hey! If you’re going back out, we’re going back out!” Dick complains. “ We’re concerned about the kid too.”

Bruce starts to argue with him, but is cut off by the sound of motorcycles as Jason and Tim start to head back out, already talking to Oracle about where to start. Dick heads out after them and Damian goes to sit in the batmobile, waiting. Bruce heaves a sigh before climbing in after him.

“ Okay, Oracle what do we have?” Batman asks.

“ I was able to track him into an alley, but nothing after that.”

Now with part 3!

#dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #batman #danny phantom #my writing #I have no idea where this is going really #it has no ending #just middle ideas #dp x dc

2K notes · View notes

greenglowinspooks · 7 months ago

Note

consider: danny son of Joker

All Sharp Angles

—

Danny had always known that he was adopted; far before his parents had actually up and told him, anyways.

He’d just never looked like his family.

Where his parents were soft curves, he was all hard angles. He was lean and slender, almost willowy once he got his growth spurt, where his parents were broader and thicker-built.

Where his father’s hair was a warm, light black, like a cup of coffee, his was dark and cold like an oil spill.

Even his eyes were wrong; sure, his father’s eyes were blue too, but his were far darker. Danny’s were as light and frigid as arctic ice; even before he had died, they had never reflected enough light to seem alive.

So, when his parents finally told him the truth once he turned 15, it was honestly more of a relief than anything else. He wasn’t uniquely strange, he just didn’t look like his parents because he wasn’t related to them.

Still, he couldn’t help but be curious as to where he had come from. Sure, he liked his parents’ stories about the Fenton family and their rich (probably false) history, but he had roots branching elsewhere, too.

So, with money he had earned from washing cars and mowing lawns, he had bought a DNA test for 50 dollars, and sent a vial of blood in to whatever shady company he had bought it from.

The results…

He stared at the letter in shock.

He had already crumpled to the ground; luckily, he had been standing on the plush carpet of his room rather than the kitchen tile when he had opened it.

Father - Unknown

Mother - Dr. Harleen Quinzel

Fuck. Fuck.

That couldn’t be right, could it?

He checked the reviews of the company with manic speed; not a single other person had been named as being related to a rogue.

Could it be a prank?

Surely, the actual Harley Quinn never had time to have a child. Or, if she did, she would’ve been made to keep it by the Joker.

He began to google in a daze.

…

After a few minutes, he had his answer.

The longest time that the Joker had ever been in Arkham was for a year and a month.

He had gone in roughly 9 months before Danny was born, which technically gave Harley the time to have a child, put it up for adoption, and lose some of the baby fat before the Joker came back, all without him ever knowing.

Harley had also been mysteriously inactive for most of that time, too, which only gave more credibility to his theory.

What was he supposed to do with this, though?

It’s not like he could tell anyone. It’s not like it really changed anything in his day to day life, aside from his entire worldview.

Obviously he told Sam and Tucker, as well as Jazz after a few days.

Obviously he didn’t tell his parents.

…

In the end, not much came of it.

It was just another fact of life, another thing eating away at Danny’s mind. Another fear to internalize.

He had gotten so good at ignoring it, in fact, that he didn’t even remember where he came from when he was accepted to Gotham U, and drove a whole day to the only university willing to give him a scholarship.

…Well, as long as he keeps his nose out of trouble, it won’t matter much anyways. After all, what are the odds he actually meets anyone who might be able to figure it out?

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp crossover #dcxdp fic #spook speaks #askbox chats #this was actually originally gonna be much darker #might make the alternate version eventually

863 notes · View notes

sanguineterrain · 10 months ago

Note

for the dc prompts you reblogged:

can i request jason todd x reader "someone likes being pinned down" + A flirting with B while sparring to throw them off their tracks

where reader is also a vigilante??

thank you so much 🩷

very sexy prompts thank u 😌

jason todd x gn!reader. r and robin!jay were friends, r doesn't know jason is alive/red hood but jason knows r is a vigilante. r's alias is 'nocturne' (if that's already in use oh well lmao). fighting/sparring, jason is mega in love with you as usual!!

all fics at @sanguinelibrary

****

"Still blindly following the Bat, huh?"

You land in a crouch on the rooftop, just like how Nightwing taught you. The Red Hood doesn't look at you, digging through two duffel bags. He doesn't even draw his gun, like you've seen him do with virtually every other vigilante in Gotham.

You wait, ready to spring into action. But Hood doesn't stop what he's doing. Slowly, you rise.

"What... do you mean?" you ask.

"I mean, why are you traipsing around Gotham as a bat-adjacent? Who are you s'posed to be anyway? Goth Bat? Alternative Scene Bat?"

"I'm Nocturne," you say, shoulders rising to your ears. Rude. You thought the chunky boots and star over your suit's eye mask were inspired.

Red Hood lifts a hand. "Don't get me wrong, I dig the threads. I'm just surprised B didn't have an aneurysm over the sequins. Then again, Discowing did do it first..."

Your first two meetings with the infamous Red Hood have been similar in that he's never very concerned about you stopping him (ouch), but he also isn't callous or cruel with you like he is with the other vigilantes.

Case in point: the last person who cornered Hood on a roof was Red Robin. Hood shot him in the shoulder before he could land.

In short, he's perplexing as hell.

Batman's forbidden the rest of the team to confront Hood without backup. And you're technically not supposed to be on patrol tonight. But if you can intercept Hood, that'll be a huge win.

Hood keeps on packing the duffels. You hesitate, then step forward.

"Get away from the bags," you say. "I won't ask twice."

Hood looks at you. "Nocturne's a pretty cool name, I'll admit. And I like the boots. But I still think you oughta call it quits."

He zips up the bags, stands, and kicks them to the corner of the roof.

"Because you're just that unstoppable?" you ask, hands curling into fists.

"Yeah. But mostly 'cause I know you're made for so much more than this, sweetheart."

And that is the third and perhaps most bewildering thing about your encounters with Red Hood: you've gotten the creeping feeling that he... likes you.

Which is ridiculous, and if you ever breathed a word of that to anybody, Batman would probably check you into Arkham.

You take another careful step forward. Hood leans against the railing and folds his arms.

"This the part where you apprehend and hogtie me for innocently packing a duffel bag?" he asks.

You glare. "Innocent? I know you're making a weapons delivery because I know you've been waiting for Batman to be off-planet to make it."

"Clever. Told ya you're too good for this," Hood says. "Should be in college with those smarts, not playing maid for Batman."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"I'm advising you as your friendly neighborhood drug lord. Lecturing makes me sound like a guy who's got too much money and too big of a savior complex to understand that the way he fights injustice is fundamentally flawed."

"Sounds personal."

Hood laughs. "Honey, you have no idea."

You strike.

Hood parries your first attack easily, which you expect. The truth is that whoever trained Hood cut no corners and you're still relatively new at vigilantism. It's only by the grace of God that Hood hasn't left you to bleed out on a roof.

You kick his shin, but Hood turns on the instep and blocks. You go for his shoulder, where his armor separates to give him more movement. But Hood's ready for that too, and he catches your arm.

"Gotta keep that right arm up," he says. "Surprised no one's trained that outta you yet."

You elbow Hood in the throat. He coughs and lets go.

"Like that?" you ask, muscles tense with adrenaline.

Hood makes a sound that might be a laugh, still choked from your hit. "Just like that, honeylove. Good job."

"I don't need feedback," you snap, immediately going back in for another hit.

"Sorry. I'll make this quick then. I do have a delivery."

On the next strike, you advance, using a technique Nightwing drilled into your head for bigger opponents. Hood goes down and you land atop him.

"Oh, that's a Nightwing takedown if I've ever seen one," Hood says beneath you.

You're close enough that you can hear his breathing through the decoder. Pride swells in you at taking him down. Not even Batman has managed such a thing.

Hood is warm and big. His shoulder span alone dwarfs you. When you'd seen him from afar, fighting Batman or Nightwing, you'd been terrified.

But now, perhaps stupidly, you feel comfortable. Annoyed, but safe. Something about him reminds you of home. Makes your stomach flip in a good way.

Which is terrifying.

"You're coming with me," you say, reaching for your cuffs.

"If only. Unfortunately, you've forgotten a teensy weensy detail, dearest."

Hood bucks you off, legs first. Your feet fly into the air, which allows him to flip your positions. You wince, preparing for a concussion upon impact as you go down. But Hood cushions your fall and neatly rolls you over. Your back is pressed into the concrete, hands locked over your head. Hood's weight holds down your hips and legs.

He looms over you, easily holding you down. Your face grows hot.

"How did—" You squirm in his grip. "I had you!"

"Weight distribution, sweets. Tell Al—one of the Bats to add weight to your boots. They keep you light on your feet, but you were depending on them too much to hold me down, and we ain't evenly matched there."

You thrash in his grip. "Hood, I swear to fucking—"

"Easy. Don't sweat it, sweetheart. You haven't been doing this for very long. That was a good takedown, regardless. I'm impressed."

"Screw you."

He hums. You can tell he's smiling under the helmet. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't like feedback."

Hood strokes the inside of your wrist. You aren't sure he's aware he's doing it. His grip is firm but light. He's not trying to hurt you. Your pulse is in your throat.

For a moment, you're both still. Hood seems caught in a trance, like even Superman couldn't tear him away from this moment. From you. And it's not that you're afraid, you're just... you're...

"How do you know so much about me?" you blurt, because it's puzzled the whole team. "You been spying on me?"

"'Course not. Unlike your boss, I respect privacy. No, I did research. I recognized you from when you'd hang around that second Robin. Shrimpy little guy. What'd ya even see in him?"

The grief overtakes you before you can control your mouth.

"You don't know anything about me or him," you spit. "Don't fucking talk about him. He had more skill and goodness in his pinkie than you'll have in a lifetime. And you could learn a thing from him about changing a city. He'd tell you that fear alone never works."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks.

"Where's your distress signal?"

"Why would I tell—"

Hood shifts over you, cutting off your reply. He pulls a ziptie around your wrists. They're not even a little tight. You could probably slip out of them if you had five minutes.

"I know you're not s'posed to be out tonight," he whispers in your ear. "'S not your patrol night. Good thing you're my favorite."

You nearly swallow your tongue. "How do you—I don't—"

"Uh-huh. So you be good from now on, yeah? Wouldn't wanna have to keep tying you up like this."

You lift your chin. "We'll switch positions soon enough."

Hood snorts. "Okay, I know you heard how that soun—"

"I heard it," you say grumpily. "Just get on with it. Jerk."

"As you wish. Distress signal?"

"Collar."

Hood presses the button under your collar. Your breath hitches as his gloved fingers graze your neck.

"Oh? Does somebody like getting pinned down?"

"In your dreams."

Hood laughs. He zipties your ankles last, then sits you upright against the railing.

"Not too tight, are they?" he asks. "I know you've got a circulation problem."

You squint. "You seem to know a lot about me. Not fair that I don't know much about you, Hood."

"'S just business, honeylove," he says, scooping up his duffel. "Now I don't wanna see you in a suit anymore, comprende?"

"Or you'll what? Shoot me?"

Hood pauses, eerily still. He turns those glowing white eyes upon you. Your heart picks up.

"No," he says, so serious it startles you. "But someone else might. And I don't want you to face the same fate as your good friend Robin."

He vaults over the railing before you can respond. Your head thunks lightly as you lean back and wonder if you're really just business to the Red Hood.

(pt 2)

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #jason todd #dc #inbox #blurb

860 notes · View notes

demonic0angel · 24 days ago

Note

Ma'am, I need more of Dan/Wraith in Arkham 😭 and maybe him managing to get out and meeting Dick again. Pretty please with strawberry cream on top 🥹🥹

(I’m lowkey surprised by how many people like this AU XD It got rather long lmao)

Part 1, part 2

Selina stared at the man that was sitting in her living room alongside her best friends. Harley was happily chattering his ear off, with Ivy interjecting now and then. The man, Wraith, patiently listened to Harley’s ranting, with only a little objecting whenever she went off-topic too much. He did not breathe and he rarely blinked, similar to a statue.

Or she supposed he was more like a phantom, with his abilities that he had used to help them all escape Arkham when they had attracted too many guards’ attentions.

Although he was creepy and he made the temperature of her living room drop several times, he had helped them all and he was very polite. She couldn’t find any real fault in him except the way her instincts wanted her to not look at him directly, like a haunted painting.

��So now that we’re free, what do you wanna do?” Harley asked. Selina focused back on the conversation, as Wraith hummed and Ivy and Harley turned to look at her with various levels of eagerness.

“There’s a new jewelry exhibit opening up tomorrow. Want to take some diamonds?” Selina asked, speaking up as she glanced at Wraith.

Wraith hummed. “Thank you, but I think I’ll decline. If any of you need help, I am willing to offer my services, but—”

“Is Nightwing still in Gotham?” Harley asked, interrupting Wraith, who glared at her.

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. He’s still visiting.”

“Actually, I would love to assist you three in any way. My powers are at your service. What time are we going to the exhibit tomorrow?” Wraith suddenly said, looking very eager. Selina blinked at the whiplash before looking at Harley and Ivy, who both looked amused.

It was Ivy who mouthed the words, ‘He likes Nightwing,’ to her, which made her hold back a laugh.

She could remember that little Robin that used to cheerfully break someone’s face with a flying somersault, and that same little boy had grown up into a vigilante with almost flying abilities with the way he moved and fought. Wraith was a criminal, since he was in Arkham, but he didn’t seem too bad. In a way, it reminded her of her and Bruce.

“Well. I think Ivy and Harley can take the other vigilantes, right? I can take Batman and you’ll take Nightwing?” Selina said. Wraith perked up and nodded happily.

How cute. She was so not telling Bruce about this beforehand, so she could laugh about his expression later.

A day passed, and the four of them traveled to the museum when it was night. By now, news of Harley and Ivy being broken out was already known, so security had gotten a little more strict. Still, it was nothing with all of their expertise and Wraith’s unexplained meta abilities. They snuck in easily and looted all of the gold, gems, jewelry, and antiques they saw.

“Where’s your bag?” Selina asked, as she eyed Wraith holding some pearls and gems without a bag to contain it. He was dressed in a dark leather suit that had been originally Bruce’s cat suit— it was nice to hope that he would join her one day— but was now repurposed for Wraith. Her question was answered with a small smile from Wraith as he shoved his hand into his chest, making the gems disappear. Her eyebrows rose but she just gave a nod and moved on.

After that, the bigger and heavier items were given to Wraith to keep. Selina was almost a little worried by how much they trusted him, but Harley didn’t seem to notice and only she and Ivy had some anxiety about it. However, Wraith didn’t seem to care either, and listened to their expertise without any hesitation. It was probably because he was younger than them by at least a decade, she realized.

He was extremely fascinating, and Selina suddenly understood why Harley was so interested in him like a scientist towards a petri dish.

The Gotham heroes finally arrived, just as they loaded up everything in the car. Wraith perked up when he saw Nightwing amongst the vigilantes coming towards them.

Selina couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden cheer on his usually bored or blank expression.

“Okay, Harley, Ivy, you two go back to the hideout. Wraith, you can take me away if we need to, right?” Selina asked, smiling as she recalled Wraith’s intangibility and invisibility abilities yesterday.

Wraith nodded and the other two drove off without hesitation, leaving Selina and Wraith facing the Gotham vigilantes. Wraith wagged his clawed fingers in a greeting at Nightwing, smirking broadly.

“Hello, Nightwing. It’s good to see you again,” he purred. Selina was watching the spectacle gleefully, occasionally glancing at Batman’s covered expression, wondering if she was going to see a good show today.

Nightwing faltered in his steps before he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. However, he answered pleasantly, “Hello, Wraith. I see you’ve befriended the Sirens.”

“Mhm. They helped me a lot so I could see you again.”

Nightwing’s cheeks darkened but through the shadows, Selina felt like she could see a bit of red on his face. “I see. Well, I’ll have to ask you guys to give up the jewelry you stole. We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

“Please do the hard way,” Wraith purred again, even throatier than before. Selina had to choke on her giggles as Batman stiffened in horror, staring between his oldest son and the criminal.

Nightwing coughed and took out his escrima sticks. “Well, you’re under arrest, Wraith. Surrender and we won’t have to—”

“Oh my god, just fight him! Stop flirting!” Spoiler screamed and then they all flew into action. Selina took out her whip, but before she could make a move, Wraith darted at her, wrapped his arms around her, and then turned invisible before they flew off through the walls.

Selina blinked rapidly as she watched the museum grow smaller and smaller into the distance. “… you could fly the entire time?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, I’m very strong.” There was a touch of deep arrogance in Wraith’s voice. Then he sighed, “But I was told not to make too much trouble. So it’s better to make an early escape than stick around.”

“I would’ve thought that you would’ve stayed to flirt with Nightwing some more,” Selina teased.

“It’s weird to flirt in front of his siblings,” Wraith said in distaste as they flew over the building roofs and past the clouds to Selina’s hideout. “I’ll find another day to fight him without voyeurs around.”

Selina burst into laughter. Yeah, she could completely understand why Ivy and Harley wanted to take him in now. He really was quite interesting.

341 notes · View notes

taro-pdf · 3 months ago

Text

DCxDP: De-aged Danny is a Eldritch Little Ball of Mischief

This was not how Danny envisioned his evening going. Who knew that not only did an immortal ancient fae not only live in the infinite realms, but it also really didn’t like it when Danny told it that it couldn’t go around usurping other Kings’ kingdoms for funsies? Not Danny. Until about an hour ago that is. When the Observents observed the imbalance, they had told him about it. Apparently it was important enough to literally bury him in envelopes. Well, it wouldn’t be a bad thing to get away from paperwork for a while, Danny had thought. It turned out to be a much more difficult task than he’d anticipated.

Lucky for Danny, he’d just won the not-so-little spat and the fae capitulated in the end, agreeing to maintain but not expand the boundaries of its haunt. Unlucky for Danny, there was a different neverborn fast approaching, and from its posture, it was not wanting to just have tea. Taking just enough time to send out a “hurt/portaling away/talk later/careful” core message to his Fraid, Danny pushed the ectoplasm in front of him to the side and willed the Realms to take him somewhere safe.

The swirling green energy was a relief. The Realms all but pushed him inside, and he fell through time and space, getting smaller and smaller to conserve the little ectoplasm he had left. He slid to the ground with a sigh. All he saw before the world faded was an overcast sky framed by the edges of apartment buildings.

****

Danny slowly woke up. The first thing he noticed was the gravel he lay on. It shifted beneath as he rolled over, bits clinging to his skin where he had been touching the ground. The second thing he noticed was the smell. The third thing he noticed was that there was a lot of noise coming from somewhere. He wrinkled his nose and sat up, rubbing at his eyes with his tiny hands.

Tiny hands?

Danny looked at his hands. They were indeed tiny.

He opened and closed his tiny baby hands experimentally. They made adorable little fists, but weren’t they supposed to make big fists? How big were his hands supposed to be again? He looked at his body. His hands seemed to be the right size compared to the rest of himself, so he decided to not worry about it.

What he would worry about was his immediate comfort, and the thing bothering him most was Why Did It Smell So Bad. He pushed himself into a sitting position and then floated just of the ground. He frowned at the metal wall in front of himself. Taking a few steps back, he saw it was a dumpster… which explained the smell, at least. So what was the noise?

Peering around the dumpster, Danny saw a very small, colorful car, and the door opened to reveal a clown who shouldn’t be able to fit into such a small place. He laughed maniacally, just loud enough to cover the sounds of distress from nearby people.

“Well, well, well, Batsy! Seems your little Arkham fun house can’t hold all this FUN!” Arms spread wide, a clown extricated himself from the car and walked forward, eyes fixed on something above him. “I think someone needs to remind Gotham how to live a little, wouldn’t you agree? Why don’t you all SMILE for me?”

He threw his head back and cackled. The sound sent shivers through Danny’s body and made him flatten his ears. Ears? He glanced up and didn’t see anything. When he patted his head with his tiny adorable hands, though, he found that he did indeed have soft pointy ears. Which was… something that he probably should have feelings about.

The sound of confetti popping drew his attention away from his (maybe new) ears back to the events outside. The bystanders were smiling now, tears streaming down their cheeks. Another pop of confetti, and their smiles stretched wider. They didn’t seem to be actually smiling. Danny watched as less colorful clowns brought more people up the laughing one. He reached into the car and pulled out another confetti popper. Danny frowned. It wasn’t right to make people feel scared, and it wasn’t right to make them smile if they didn’t want to, either. Danny may be small, but at least he knew that! He started forward. The clown was big but no matter how big you were, sharp teeth still hurt. Danny licked his lips. His teeth were very sharp. Changing his tail to less noticeable little legs and little feet, he crept forward.

As he opened his mouth to BITE that horrible no good very bad clown, he was snatched up and yote! Yote from one pair of big hands to another! They wrapped up his writhing form in a firm, one armed hug and then swung him away from the clown, away from the ground, and onto the roof, where he was unceremoniously plopped down. He blinked.

He blinked again. There were other people on the roof. Some were crying. Some were smiling. Some were standing and looking over the edge. Person Who Grabbed him was one of those. Person Dressed Like A Traffic Light was another.

“He doesn’t seem affected, but he might bite,” said grabbed.

“Tt. I will be able to handle the small child. What do you take me for?” Traffic Light uncrossed his arms, pulled something from his belt, and threw it with practiced ease. Danny heard a “oof” and then thud as someone’s body thumped to the ground. Traffic Light had hurt someone!

“No! Don’t hurt!” Danny lunged for Traffic Light’s elbow, only to be grabbed by Grabbed again!

“Woah, little one!” Grabbed wore a mask, but Danny could still see his smile. “We’re taking care of the bad clowns. They are hurting people, and we want them to stop.”

“Ok,” said Danny. He didn’t like the clowns. They could get very hurt for all he cared.

(started a long time ago and unfinished)

#DPxDC #DCxDP #De-aged Danny #DCU #Danny Phantom #my writing

293 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 21 days ago

Text

BRUCE WAYNE | BATFAMILY (generalized fanon)

—

Going to Carnival w/ Bruce + some of the other bats (Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

Headcanons

SFW, established relationship(s), BATMOM, vigilante coordination, fluff, vacation, caribbean setting, civilian shenanigans, dancing, ✨the Fox Family ✨ -caribbean!reader

Mind my choppy ass yanking; it’s the story of my life, just go with it. Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (Pic source — Batman Vs Robin & Justice League: War DCAMU)

In true Bruce fashion he does extensive research for the occasion. He wants everything to go perfectly and can’t help but to obsess like the Batman he is.

He has to plan every last detail to make sure you have a brilliant time on your trip, obviously, but he also needs to make sure things with the rest of the Bats, Wayne Enterprises, the Justice League, and Arkham and Blackgate facilities will be okay while he’s gone. Gotham cannot fucking explode, implode, none of that shit while he’s on vacation; Bruce would never forgive himself.

Before you leave you give Bruce strict instructions that there is to be no working during your trip unless an emergency comes up. Predominantly - not wanting to disrupt what Dick has going on away from Gotham without good reason - you ask Jason to pull on the cowl for a day or two, to expand his usual patrol route as Red Hood, to keep in active contact with Stephanie (and maybe Kate), and to coordinate more closely with Barbara while Bruce is away.

In return for them picking up Bruce’s slack (more than usual, considering your husband has blind spots in his vigilantism that you are under no delusions about) you promise everyone something.

Steph her first handcrafted silver sterling bangle, Jason some fresh preserved lemongrass (some of which you’ll have to smuggle probably; but Bruce had a private jet for a reason and bringing regional herbs back to the States for his crime lord son, as someone who amounts to a long standing criminal himself, was by far the least illegal thing he’d done ever), to cover Barbara’s shifts as Oracle on coms for a few days while she’s away with the Birds of Prey, and to bring Kate back an island made covah/muumuu (in maroon) for the favor she was doing you.

Kate’s involvement at all is mostly due to her having been in the city by chance as Bruce was setting his vacation plans in motion; her and Luke happening to have just finished up their own mission overseas.

Superman is also aware that Bats is out of the country and is keeping an ear out (though he isn’t supposed to intervene without Jason or Babs asking with the exception of anything catastrophic happening so Superman isn’t indisposed without good reason). Neither you, nor Bruce, had needed to ask him either. Clark had heard all about how much Bruce was driving himself and, as a result, you up the wall for your (much needed in Bruce’s case) vacation from Lois after you’d spent half of Girl’s Night with her, Tanya, and Iris bemoaning your partner’s paranoia.

He’s straight up bemused when he's informed about Batman being “indisposed” for a week, but agrees to look out for the gloomy city while he’s away, and is smirking when he reminds Bruce to try letting that stick go lax for once while he’s in the tropics with you.

Bruce flushes to his ears and you laugh until you start to hack up a lung, hanging off of him as he holds you up by the waist and glares at his best friend. Clark plays dump like a master though, and eventually Bruce just has to grumble about him as you drag him back to the car to finish some last minute planning in Gotham.

Really, far too much work goes into just Bruce alone taking this trip with you. You can’t even imagine the hassle getting the other Bats you're close to down to your island for a visit will be.

You only get stopped by a handful of people during the trip as a whole (mostly visiting Americans), but the majority of people don’t recognize Bruce since he’s Gotham royalty. Because of this he doesn’t have to put on the Brucie persona outside of whatever expensive suite you’re staying in, and he doesn’t have to be Batman during the trip either, which helps him relax significantly better since he can just be Bruce. Like this he gets to be a regular person more than he’d usually get the opportunity to be when spending mundane civilian time as a couple (and as a family) in public.

The moment Damian sees more than two wild dogs Bruce and you have to pull out the ‘no picking up strays’ lecture because even through the rear view mirror you can see the glint in his eyes.

Bruce plans for Damian (and Duke, if he’s able to pull him away) to attend Children’s Parade. If Duke comes he squints at you the second the announcer explains which event exactly he’s at, but you just stare at him right back and remind him that he is a child and that he needs to get up out your face and go do child shit already.

Damian is rather worse, but you lead the group closer to the steelpan players warming up and soon his complaining is drowned out by the beginnings of music. He stops speaking to glower at you and you only raise a brow alongside Bruce before he eventually gives in with a huff. Duke pats him on the back and leads him away to ‘go do child shit’.

Damian likes the parade, even at fourteen he’s not too old for that much despite the clear interest he tries to play off. And while he’s not going to be mystified by the Moko Jumbies (which you didn’t expect him to be) the fourteen year old does fully lock onto them when they come walking by and playing around on their stilts and decked in their colorful clothing and madras.

Cass agrees to come (mostly because she likes you, and also because Duke pouted about it) and ends up loving the majorettes. She follows every single group and cheers within her own limits the entire time.

Cass follows so closely to the steelpan players during their performance that you’re genuinely worried for her eardrums until you glance at Bruce worryingly and he gestures to his ears in explanation. Ear plugs; shed be alright.

Cass (and Luke) leave to go deal with some business that needs her that the Outsiders are dealing with, and instructs you fully to keep Bruce out of the loop until you get back from the trip, poking fun at Bruce before she leaves to go flaunt her expertise.

Duke is disappointed she’s going and that he won’t be able to meet up with the Outsiders again, but when you try nudging him to leave he shoots you down. They didn’t need him, he reasons. Plus, it was rare he ever got a true break from being Signal so he planned on taking advantage of the occasion— and vehemently stomping down the misplaced guilt he was feeling bcs of that with some help from Bruce.

Duke doesn’t tell you, and neither does Damian, but your youngest isn’t as aggrieved as he *thinks* he should be about the break from fighting villains and running around on rooftops that he’s taking either, even more so than Duke right then.

After Cass is gone you guys lose Duke and Dami for a solid three hours. Most every call to them is answered, but only with a cryptic reassurance that they aren’t doing anything illegal. When they finally do come back they keep mum about what they were up to but smell suspiciously of soot.

Bruce fully suspects that they managed to get into the building where the fireworks and pyrotechnics are being kept. You give the boys a stern look but make Bruce let it go since nothing actually managed to go up in flames, and because you’re sure they had a good reason (*cue mom glare*).

Duke might not be your son but he still helps Damian bribe you with some of the foods you haven’t been able to have as authentically in Gotham until you convince Bruce to let them run off again.

Shock of all shocks (not) Damian prefers coconut tarts.

Duke wants to like the pineapple tarts — because it’s “on brand” — but it’s the guava that wins him over.

Unlike his son Bruce is not a fan of any of the tarts, but you’ve long realized that he likes less obtrusive sweet things like banana fritters more.

Damian and Duke at random intervals intercept you and Bruce walking around to inquire about certain murals, art installations, or statues that you’re passing.

Duke also steadily extracts a promise from you to put together a playlist with all the soca music playing around ayo during the parade in it for him to listen to whenever he’s in a music mood. Shazam just wasn’t moving fast enough for him to collect the songs himself while also running around.

By the end of the night (ayo have been out since Carnival started) Duke has his face painted, there’s confetti in his hair, and he’s legitimately ready to go to sleep due to how hard he'd been ramping all over the place. In comparison, Damian’s neck is decorated with beaded necklace after beaded necklace, he’s eaten more tarts than you could keep track of, and is still as ready to conquer the night as ever.

Neither boy particularly likes the fireworks, though Duke is more forgiving since he’s mostly just tired. Bruce likes seeing the way you light up though. While you don’t stay all the way through the show you do stay for a good while because Bruce loves you and wants you to enjoy yourself.

You and Bruce attend Adult’s Parade on your own. Though you’re sure that the boys are getting up to trouble, also running off from where you’re all staying, since you only really have Lucious and Tanya free enough to verbally check up on and keep an eye on Damian and Duke (and their trackers). Lucious had volunteered to keep closer track of their positions during his months long leave — rather than Barbara having to do so when she needed to focus more on coordinating everyone back in Gotham — and Tanya hadn’t minded. It wasn’t like checking in actually stopped her and her husband from doing anything. Bruce promises them a care package anyway.

Bruce wouldn’t really like dancing in the parade circuit or being a part of a troop. He’d much rather prefer the other days of Carnival to attend with you specifically: live concert days, cultural nights, art galleries, and most especially touring any of the island's historical sights.

He’s not as generally excited about the food, but he does love (if you’re inclined) how partial you are to the options presented by all the food vendors and is more than willing to indulge you.

If there’s one available he’ll sign you guys up for a sightseeing relay race as a surprise. How good or bad of a surprise you view the race through your island’s various monuments and beaches depends on you. Honestly, there’s a high chance you didn’t even know they held a race for the event season.

All of these things are just a much more mellow way for Bruce to connect with you and for you both to share in your culture.

He will, however, absolutely not deny you going to dance with a troop at all despite participating in the parade not being his thing. Depending on what you want he either won’t or will come (and if he doesn’t it’s bcs you’ve gone with your friends or whatever), but if he does come Bruce will under no circumstances dance in front of so many people when he’s not having to put on the Brucie persona (which he certainly doesn’t want to put on whilst on vacation).

Mostly Bruce just goes with you but doesn’t dance (it’s hard to follow/track people on the sidelines behind gates and/or between people sitting or standing on the sides of the street to watch the parade).

Mostly lets you dress him begrudgingly. Though he does like matching with you he still isn’t used to being dressed so loudly and inconspicuously.

Bruce is dressed for the weather (only in all red) and wearing shades. His hair is all fluffy without any product in it and he’s wearing fishnets and streams of ribbons that match the ones you’re wearing with your full getup of colorful billowing fabrics, short clothes, and sequin adornments in matching with your troop/section of the parade and the band you’re dancing with.

He’s perfectly happy to hold onto things for you and others if need be and is otherwise not broody or anything. Even just getting him to have a little bounce in his step while walking with you is a win that’s easy to come by.

Bruce is also an absolute sight in fishnets. If the tabloid and gossip mags could see his abs in the colorful sleeveless fishnet “shirt” he’s got on under his short sleeve button up they’d be losing their minds as much as you are. He looks very nice and you tell him as much when you’re pinning and draping streams of colorful madras and printed fabric to the shoulders of his shirt.

In turn Bruce literally pauses mid call, earpiece in, when you come out of the bathroom dressed in your Carnival gear (or outfit, if you’re not a part of a more strict troop). In your shorts and colorful ribbons and ting you’re a vision and he nearly forgets to end his call before crowding you for a kiss.

The ribbons you’re wearing, and that you’ve pinned to Bruce as well, are traditionally reminiscent of maypole ribbons that your forebears had stripped the poles of in order to wear them in celebration of their freedom.

As opposed to wearing comfortable sneakers you’re in the pair of practical combat boots Bruce got you that you’ve decorated to be on theme with the rest of your getup. He is also in those same boots in his own size.

Alternatively, if you’re wearing feathers and an intricate headpiece then Bruce is wearing an approximation of your costume too. He’s still dressed in an expensive pair of board shorts and a linen short sleeve button down, but now he’d be in all black with his only pops of bright colors being from the parts of his outfit that match what you’re wearing. You’re both wearing matching arm/leg bracers & the same feathers you used have been adorned to make a little crown at the back of his head like the one you’re wearing.

Bruce is decked out with jewel accents and sequins too and you're almost shocked at how much he’s indulged you by the time you're finished getting him ready.

To match with the brightly colored boot covers you’re wearing to match the main feathers of your troop’s costumes you give him similarly colored ribbons to tie to the tops of his boots. It’s cute, and you tell Bruce as much just so you can see him blush.

No matter how you’re dressed Bruce stays compliant as you help get him together; letting you talk in circles at his continued prompting about the history steeped into the event you’re getting ready for. His voice is soft as he leads you into explaining the reasons behind the various things you’re decorating him with for the celebration.

Because Bruce isn’t fully matching with the troop he stays at the back of the line (though this does depend on how strict the troop is). You move throughout as you please while dancing and looking uniform with the other women you’re with, but you still gravitate back into Bruce’s orbit intermittently as well.

Bruce absolutely lets you dance on him even though he’s not dancing himself, and he also brings wipes for whenever you drop down to your hands to wukup with your hands to the ground and ass to the air or lose your balance while dancing low to the ground and have to catch yourself.

He loves watching, and he is both happy you’re happy and very eager to get you alone again. You don’t have to hold back or tamp yourself down with Bruce.

If you’re less built for long term walking, or older and been with Bruce for a hot minute, you’re going to end up on Bruce’s back at some point, your knees just aren’t up for the journey the way your spirit is. He’s happy to carry you, and it’s his insistence when he sees you starting to limp or asking for whatever walking aid you might have that gets you hanging off his shoulders in the first place.

You are absolutely no less wutless up there, however, and Bruce only laughs and hikes you up more securely as you cheer and wukup and wine your waist as he’s carrying you. This was a celebration of freedom and emancipation after all, you were going to be as excited and hype as you could possibly be.

From your new vantage point you kiss him on the cheek too and he’s smiling ear to ear the whole time.

When you go to the other events outside of the parades Bruce is more of an active participant.

At concerts Bruce hums. He’s not somehow immune to music or anything, and he tends to hum whenever he lets his mind wander no matter how scarcely he actually allows himself to relax that thoroughly even when you’re back in Gotham. So you’re not shocked when he starts humming while you’re enjoying the live concert music.

When he becomes attuned enough to the rhythms he sways, movements unhurried and gentle, and pulls you closer until you’re both rocking. His arms wrapped around your middle, his warmth at your back, and voice in your ear are a greater balm to your spirit than most anything else on the entire planet and you let Bruce support a lot of your weight as you sing along to the musical acts you're familiar with.

He’s stiff as a board the second you try dragging him into full blown dancing, however. You only laugh at him staring at you like you’re about to announce he’s Batman to the whole of the island, and you know it’s about time you guys find some place to sit down (and hopefully eat) since you’ve been out since daybreak.

Bruce’s tolerance is high nuh raas, so it is near impossible to get his backside drunk by any normal means. Due to this you don’t really end up drunk either, you just end up feeding him sips of half shots of different flavors of rum and have a blast as he rates them while ayo laugh together and listen to people pound melee around you and eat your dinner.

Come to find out Bruce cannot stand coconut rum. You’re thinking coconut and him just don’t agree, and vow to crack one open fresh so he can try some coconut jelly as the real test of his preference.

Throughout the entire trip Bruce actually likes the tan he develops, no matter how used you both are to his Gotham pallor.

The darker, richer, sheen to the brown plains of your skin that you develop over the course of the trip throws Bruce similarly into a tailspin as his tan does you. He loves it, and your new shine coupled with just how much more radiant your excitement at being back in your element has made you has him calling you all variations of beautiful more often than is even his usual (which is saying something because your husband can’t get enough of you and makes a point of never letting you forget).

You also catch Bruce checking in on everyone’s nighttime activities back in Gotham two days in and can only sigh as you press his computer closed and cock your eyebrow at him. He at least has the sense to look embarrassed, grunting a short excuse before he apologizes. The rest of your trip goes on without a hitch after that, however (as far as you know).

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I’m nervous about this one, I’m not even going to lie, but whatever.

Anyway, I have other characters I want to put in this type of scenario as well so let me know if there’s anything specific you’d maybe like to see. This isn’t all encompassing either, but just what’s come to me by now.

Also, I want to write for the Foxes, but I’ve got to read up on them more before then so it’ll be a while. Also also, we’re going to pretend like all of these characters’ lives are actually stable — and that Tanya in particular doesn’t despise masked vigilantes because I’m allowed to want that (tho that might only be Future State timeline shit so idk).

This fic has a series tag so if you’d like to read the other festival/carnival entries then clicking on that tag would be how you’d find them.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean words of the Day (ie: the glossary):

“Ayo” (pronounced “īˈyō” 2 syllables) — meaning and use equivalent to “you all” or “y’all”. There’s also a greater origin to where the word as a whole comes from but I’m not going to get into all of that rn.

“Nuh Raas” — I don’t really have a direct translation for this one; the most I can do is compare its use to “like fuck” or “as hell” and other comparative sayings like those. It’s a way to further exaggerate something; think “very”.

EX: “Bruce’s tolerance is very high.” = “Bruce’s tolerance is high nuh raas.” 🤷🏾‍♀️

“Pound Melee” — the action of gossiping; seriously talking other people’s business or talking shit.

“Wutless” — Meaning ‘troublesome’; a

Caribbean slang, also means to not care profoundly about anything, and just having a hell of a time not caring what anyone says or thinks of you. (def taken from here, though I spelt it differently bcs that how I hear it)

*remember, though, that dialects are regional so the words in this glossary aren’t used by every caribbean*

134 notes · View notes

nemesis-writer · 6 days ago

Text

Five Minutes (Chapter 1)

Masterlist No choice TW: Neglect, mentions of blood, mental illness

10 days later...

"So who is she?", Duke asks.

"She's a criminal now." Tim replies, he gets up just to drink a beer.

"No she isn't" Jason retorts.

"Then what is she?" Duke asks.

"She's a child, or should I say was a child", Jason interjects.

"She's just being temperamental and probably just throwing a tantrum." Damian jibes.

"She killed all yakuza leaders with a katana," Jason retorts.

"She's definitely not Bruce's child, because there's no way that Bruce could do that." Duke jokes.

"She is. I took a paternity test." Bruce replies.

"She's getting smarter and better. She was supposed to be in the fortress where we keep the people who are too mentally insane to go to Arkham." Cassandra adds.

"I checked the security cameras of all the places she's been in and she has the ability to manipulate a person in to doing her malicious acts. Must be why she's able to escape every time by using someone else for her bidding. " Tim reveals.

Asylum, 10/11/2017,

"Hello, my name is chief Lawson, FBI. I'm here to ask you where you hid the bodies."

"Rotting apples with wasps feasting. Brown bananas with flies retreating. A fox in the night is ripping black bin bags open. Cats are eating a chicken casket after Sunday dinner. A white owl is gobbling a slaughtered mouse, happy, sitting on the evening fence. The brown rat is running for the bushes after stealing bread. A giant cow jawbone is found in the dirty ground. The tired young man died on the motorway bridge and was found. Zombied humans are eating out of plastic bins. Death is everywhere! Take a look inside – don’t be ignorant about what you find." She sings but keeps her back faced to the FBI.

"You're not really helping here lady." Lawson said.

"It's in the song, but if you don't listen then I can't help you." Eurus said.

She starts to stand up and go towards the glass.

"Step forward and touch the glass officer." Eurus feints.

"No, you give me answers lady."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? This is bullet-proof glass sweetheart." Eurus replies, "I'll touch it if you want."

The officer steps forward and touches the glass on for her to grab his neck and choke him to death.

End of recording...

"Lawson was supposed to be one of the best FBI detectives." Bruce says.

"He was. She's evolving and the longer we let her evolve, the more people will die." Stephanie adds.

"Why would she do this?" Bruce wonders

10 years ago...

Love can come from many forms and languages. It follows the same rules with hate, negligence, toxicity, and jealousy. It may not be shown all in one go, so it will gradually grow until it could eat you alive whole. Let's list what each has demonstrated.

Unintentional negligence: Bruce proves as a simple embodiment of this action. He found you to be insignificant and mediocre. When really your true colours were just about to shine.

Negligence based on superiority: Dick has quite the experience in that area. He always thought that people would look up to him and he would be the role model of the family. He never meant for his negligence to go as far.

Love relying on sufferings: Jason truly knew how broken you were and wanted to fix it. It took him too long to realise that you may be able to fix and broken mirror, but it would never be as it was.

Hate relying on significance: Tim is the obvious answer since he never truly cared for you. Until now. He hated the fact on how you were so 'naive' and 'helpless', that you don't deserve to live like them.

Hate and jealousy based on blood: Since you were the child of a common whore, Damian thinks of you as a whore and never a Wayne. He has a perfect assassin of a mother and a rich vigilante for a father to add up. You on the other hand, have nothing, and are nothing to him.

Toxic and fake interest: All the girls, Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie has a bond with you. They pretend to be interested and all ears when they really plan to hurt you and shut you up. They'd do anything just for you to back off. It was never true with them.

Love of a sibling and of keen interest: Duke has always wanted a sister who was normal. So far he assumes that you're the closest thing to normal that wasn't as fake as Cassandra, talkative as Steph, or as busy as Barbara. He understands your pain and wants to be the sibling you never had.

Present...

Each had their own description of their 'bond' with you. But things have changed, they changed. Why wouldn't you wanna go home for them?

Don't you see how much they treasure you now?

Come home little robin.

A/N: I kinda like this chapter because I'm basing it off from the BBC Sherlock Holmes Series and I hope you'd like it!

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere richard grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere barbara gordon #yandere tim wayne #gifs #assassin reader #psycho reader

116 notes · View notes

tobicup · 3 months ago

Text

Idea.

Jason actually kills tim in titans tower. It's not on purpose. He was so angry and his vision swirled green. He couldn't see or think straight. Everything was just hate and anger and bright green haze.

He cuts too deep. Deeper then he meant, it was just supposed to be a warning but his mind is gone in a whirlwind of negative emotions.

He comes to with red on his hands, to tims shallow burbling breaths. Wet and gasping and agonized. And no. No. He didn't mean to. He tries to stem the bleeding but it's too late. Tims teary eyes looking up at him, and theyre not filled with anger (like his were) or hate (how could he hate a child so much) or even fear. He just looks sad as they meet his. He tries to speak but he cant, he should already be dead, instead he mouths slowly, carefully *go home*.

Lips bloody, unable to speak or breathe and probably hurting so badly... hes telling his murderer to go back to his family. And regret fills him so deeply because this could have been his brother. This loving, self-sacrificial idiot child couldve been someone he loved. Maybe already loves a little. He never wanted to end him, just robin. He didnt want Tim to die. He didnt.

Now he has to go home. He'll honor the kids last wishes even if it means getting thrown right into arkham next to the clown. He deserves as much. Hes just as bad. Killed a little bird too young. Before he could even truly fly. Relished in his pain.

A hand tugging his pants weakly, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. tims eyes pleading and exhausted. Holding onto life by a thread, "... okay kid. You win. Ill go home... im so- " voice breaking as grief wells up "-im so goddamn sorry. You didnt deserve this"

Tim just smiles, hand gripping his pants letting go to oat his knee as if to say he forgives jason he can never be forgiven for this and then his hand goes limp. His goal of saving the bat family finally fulfilled. The accomplishment bittersweet.

Jason picking up tim body, blood on his hands, on his knees where he had kneeled next to tim. On his chest where tim is pressed against it. And he carries him to the nearest zeta. Carries him home. Hes scared. He wants his dad but he doesnt think he'll have one ever again after this.

Bruce silent when he sees them. Grim and broken and grief stricken. Trying to push all the emotions down. Another dead robin..another child son. In the arms of the one he lost before..he cant feel anything right now. It all hurts so much. Jasons apologizing even as hes saying he knows he cant be forgiven. He sounds so young and scared. Hes sorry. He didnt mean to.

Bruce doesnt know what to say. He wants more then anything to be happy his son is home but- but his son has killed a child. Killed tim. The only light left in bruces life since jays death.

Dick screaming when he enters the cave. Ignoring Jason entirely. Sobbing over tims tiny broken body. Hed been to late. Again. Hadnt even known his baby brother was in trouble. Hadnt known he was needed.

He hadnt known for jason either. Hadnt even been able to see his body. Just gone.

He doesnt know which is worse.

Tim.

Tim is... was robin and robin was...? Is? Magic. He knows this. Somehow he thinks hes heard it before. A bright laugh, cheeky grin. The words distorted like a broken record but still there. Imprinting into his fading mind. Imprinting on his soul.

Robin is magic.

Hes somewhere cold but familiar. Comforting. But also not here at all. Theres crying. Voices wet. He should find them. Those voices should never be so sad. Thay was his job. To make sure those people were not sad, or angry, or suicidal.

His purpose.

He is Robin.

(Ghost tim following the batfam as they grieve him. And jason trying to reintegrate. He follows jason the most. His shame and guilt. The others treat him coldly. His self hatred tearing him down which is not allowed. Jason should be happy. He is family)

Tim one of very few ghosts in gotham. The only *positive* ghost in gotham. Following the bats and trying to bring joy to them any ways he can he cant do much

#dcu #dc universe #major character death #might be temporary?#tim drake robin #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #robin #dc robin #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #nightwing #writing prompt #fic ideas

126 notes · View notes

libraryofgage · 6 months ago

Text

Harlequin Prince (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

So that Suicide Squad Isekai anime huh (it's great, I love it actually)

Anyway, I'll be playing fast and loose with Batman canon so all the batkids can be around at the same time have fun with that cuz I did (also forgive me if anyone is a little too OOC; i'm here for a good time not a long time), and the little flashback bit will continue in the next parts as Steve meets more batkids ^_^

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't UwU

----

Harley drops him off at Wayne Manor just after ten in the morning. She tugs a window open, carries him inside, kisses him on the forehead, and promises to pick him up in a week before climbing back out. Steve watches her until she's past the gate, clutching a Green Lantern plush his mother insisted he carry around because it'll annoy his Uncle Bruce.

Steve glances down at the plush, wishing his mother didn't have to go off on a mission when she'd just gotten out of Arkham two months ago. His wishes won't actually change anything, though, so he might as well make the best of his week with Uncle Bruce.

He turns on his heel, taking in the plain bedroom that will probably become his for the next few days. He holds the Green Lantern plush close and marches to the door, stepping out into the hall and choosing a random direction to walk in.

According to his mother, Wayne Manor can have anywhere between two and ten people staying in it at one time. She told him that Dick would be the most welcoming, if not the most confused, the girls would be the most fun, and Damien would be the most guarded, likely to consider him a threat for his entire stay.

It's just his luck that the first person he runs into is Damien. The other boy drops from the ceiling, blade of his sword glinting in the light as it comes to a stop just against Steve's neck. Steve freezes, glancing down at the sharp edge as Damien says, "Think very carefully before answering. Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?"

Steve looks away from the sword, tilting his head slightly as he shrugs. "I'm Steve. I'm staying here for a week," he says.

Damien's eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, adjusting his arms so the katana doesn't move. "Says who? Does Father know you're here? Are you a spy sent by my mother?"

"Says my mom. Maybe. No," Steve replies.

A few more seconds pass before Damien hums. "Who's your mother?"

"Harley."

"Quinn?"

"Is there another?"

Slowly, Damien lowers the sword. "I suppose Quinn is somewhat reformed. How old are you?" he asks.

"Almost six."

"So, you're five," Damien says, nodding once. He sheathes his sword, apparently deciding Steve is no threat to him. "That makes me older than you, so you have to do what I say. Consider me your big brother for the week."

"Are you gonna make me hurt myself?"

"No."

"Mom said you wouldn't like me."

"Father said I should try being more trusting and welcoming. You are small and untrained, like a puppy. I could dismember you before you hurt me, which makes you ideal for practicing," Damien explains. He's quiet for a few seconds before getting a slight smirk. "Besides, it will greatly annoy my brothers if you obviously prefer me over them."

"I'm great at pretending as long as we can do fun stuff, too."

"Then we have a deal. You will act like I'm your favorite, and I will make sure you have fun."

Steve considers this, decides Damien is well on his way to actually being Steve's favorite, and steps closer. "Mom said Alfred makes the best cookies. Can we have some?"

"Yes," Damien says, "If you're hungry, then it's my responsibility to feed you as your big brother."

He offers his hand, seeming unsure when Steve takes it, like he isn't used to this kind of contact. Still, he doesn't pull away; he just hesitantly squeezes Steve's hand before leading him down the hall.

----

Not two days ago, Steve was telling himself he'd never set foot in Hawkins High School. Now, after getting the run down on the Upside Down (and holy shit did this place suddenly get a thousand times more interesting), Steve decides he'll just have to brave the brick walls to get Eddie out.

He leans forward on his motorcycle, arms resting on the handlebars as he looks up at the building. There's an American flag waving in the wind, faded paint on the outside, and security so lax it'd be suspicious in Gotham. Steve briefly considers leaving his helmet on, but he settles for placing it on the seat once he's off the motorcycle.

Walking into the school is easy. He doesn't even get stopped by the receptionist at the front desk. She just waves him in without looking up from her book. So, yeah, getting in is easy; figuring out where Eddie is might be a little harder.

He wanders the halls and stops the first student he sees, a girl with short brown hair carrying an unwieldy instrument case in her arms. Steve places his hands on the case and gently pushes down, flashing a grin when he can finally see her face. "Uh, can I help you?" she asks, her tone implying she very much does not want to help him.

"Yeah, I'm looking for someone," Steve says.

Her nose wrinkles slightly in disgust. "Listen, dingus, if this is some kind of pick-up line dare, save it," she says, rolling her eyes. She takes a step back and Steve follows.

"Nope, definitely not," he says, "You're not my type, sorry."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, unless you're not a girl...," he says, voice trailing off and eyebrow raising as he watches her understand his meaning.

She blinks, her shoulders rising some. She glances around, confirms the hallway is still empty, and relaxes. "Word of advice," she says, "don't just say that shit where anyone can hear. People aren't exactly nice about it around here."

Steve flashes a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself, but thanks. Anyway, still looking for someone."

"Oh, right, uh, what's their name?"

"Eddie Munson. Know him?"

She blinks again, her eyebrows shooting up in slight disbelief. "Yeah, I know him. Whatcha need him for? He doesn't usually sell until after school."

Oh. Steve hums softly, filing away that tidbit of information for later. "Not here to buy. I'm here to take him somewhere fun," he says.

A few seconds pass in which the girl looks at Steve, drops her gaze to the instrument case between them, and then glances around the empty hall. "Well, shit, man, I wanna go somewhere fun, too."

Steve considers her for a moment, trying to figure out the logistics of fitting her and Eddie on his bike. Well, he can just have her sit on the handlebars or something. "Okay, but the instrument won't fit," he tells her.

The grin he gets in return tells him that won't be a problem. "Name's Robin, by the way."

This has to be fate, right?

"Steve. Nice to meetcha, Robin."

Robin's grin gets even wider, and Steve knows they'll be great friends.

---

"Eddie usually sits in a corner," Robin says, standing at the edge of the cafeteria with Steve. It's teeming with life, and Steve hears snippets of conversations that blur into one dull roar that settles over the space. It reminds him of bars in Gotham even more than the actual bars he's visited here in Hawkins.

He can't see into the corners from here, but that doesn't bother him. "Wait here," he says, flashing a grin at Robin before walking to a mostly empty table. He climbs onto it, reaches into one of his jacket's inner pockets, and pulls out an air horn.

Steve waits long enough to see Robin cover her ears before raising the horn in the air and pressing down. It blares through the room, drowning out conversations and forcing people at the surrounding tables to cover their ears. A few more seconds pass before Steve lets up on the horn, grinning widely at the sea of eyes turned towards him.

"I'm looking for Eddie Munson," he says, twirling the air horn in the palm of his hand.

Instead of a verbal answer, he watches as the eyes turn from him to a corner across the room. A few people even duck close to their tables to clear Steve's line of sight, allowing him to see a confused Eddie sitting with his friends.

Steve grins, pockets the air horn, and starts making his way across the cafeteria. He walks on tables, jumps between them, and narrowly avoids stepping on more than one tray along the way. By the time he reaches Eddie's table, most of the students have gone back to their lunches and conversations.

"How's it going, Eds?" Steve asks, crouching in front of Eddie with a grin. He glances at the other boys by him, notes the identical Hellfire Club shirts, and nods in acknowledgement.

"Better now," Eddie says, his startled blink telling Steve he definitely didn't mean to say that out loud.

Steve somehow grins wider. "Wanna make like a banana and split? I've got somewhere fun in mind," he says, popping up from his crouch before hopping off the table and into the narrow space between Eddie's chair and his friend's.

"Dude, really?" one of his friends asks. "We have a session today."

Eddie looks torn at that realization, halfway standing and stuck like that. "That we do, Gare-bear," he says, defeat bringing his shoulders down.

"In that case, consider this a kidnapping," Steve tells them, grabbing Eddie's hand and pulling him up. He wraps his arm around Eddie's shoulders, winks at his friends, and promises, "I'll have him home before six, though."

Eddie's friends exchange glances, and Steve graciously pretends not to notice the puppy dog eyes Eddie aims at them. After a few seconds, one of them stands up, towering over Steve and outweighing him by a good bit. He clears his throat, glances at the other two, and tries to sound intimidating as he says, "Make it five thirty, and no funny business."

Steve nods and offers a mocking two-finger salute. "Yes, sir," he replies, flashing a grin before taking Eddie's bag from his seat and dragging him to where Robin is waiting.

"So, where are you kidnapping me to?" Eddie asks, managing to stick close to Steve despite having to weave through chairs and tables.

"Nothing special, really. Just an abandoned laboratory in the middle of the woods that has a gateway to another dimension filled with faceless monsters. Oh, and Robin's coming, too. Don't worry, though, I won't let you get hurt. "

He glances over to meet Eddie's wide eyes, something warm curling behind his ribs when Eddie finally smiles and whispers under his breath, "Fucking metal."

-----

Tag List (definitely still room, so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!):

@nectandra, @y4r3luv, @just-a-tiny-void, @dotdot-wierdlife

@midwestharpy, @twilitdragoneye, @disrespectedgoatman

@lawrencebshoggoth,

And now, a meme:

#my writing #steddie #steddie fic #harlequin prince #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #steve deserves good parents actually #damien wayne #harley quinn

182 notes · View notes

sirxlla · 21 days ago

Text

Military Corners

--------------------------------------------------

warnings: none besides fluff and use of L/N (Last Name)

notes: Gender neutral reader, any batboy fits into this. italics are actions. i'm a new writer, so i'm trying to do what might be good layout? pls Imk what you think of the story or anything really in the comments, i'd really appreciate it.

prompt: he's tired after a long week of back to back crime

-With that said it's under the cut-

There's something so lovely about sleeping in his room it was hard to pinpoint...Maybe the smell of his cologne that lingered in the air? You loved it, it's something that's sophisticated and manly yet so sweet and smokey? Could it be it how tight his bed was from the military style corners that were so neatly and carefully done the way Alfred taught him? Possibly the safety of the dog that sat on guard at the end of the bed on his bed on the floor? Or is it the man laying beside you with a few bruises from the night before a long night of crime fighting and Gotham?

To see him like this is very rare his soft petal like lips slightly parted as he dreamed so deeply, his beautiful eyes hidden by his eyelids, the exhaustion showed so deeply under his eyes... he almost never slept like this but it's been about a week of exhausting crimes back to back to back, Joker broke out of Arkham, Man-Bat was on the loose, Pyg was leaving a trail of bodies, Penguin and Two Face had joined an alliance together and thats not even mentioning the fact that Riddler was being an annoying little twit and kept kidnapping people for his riddles. Every night Gotham was full of chaos and the whole city needed all hands on deck which meant the whole Bat-Family.

He practically fell into bed this morning, your hands having done the same actions a thousand times in removing every little bit of his armor and his tight boots, gently wiping the grease paint from around his eyes... He was usually never soft, not with most but it was nights like this that the only thing he craved was sleep and maybe a handful of ibuprofen. His hair was completely awry sprawled along the pillow. He looked so calm, he looks so carefree as if he didn't have a stress in the world.

After sleeping in for a few extra hours snuggled into his side, you snuck out of bed even knowing that it might wake him up and probably would but he knew he was home so he would go right back to sleep. Alfred was up doing a few things around the house.

"Hey, do you mind if I make him breakfast this morning?" You had asked quietly considering not a single member of the family was up except for Alfred because of how chaotic the last week had been.

"I certainly don't mind Miss/Mister (L/N). How is he?" He says with a kind voice, something you always admired about him is how polite and kind he was to everyone.

"He's out like a light which is to be expected I can't even begin to imagine what they go through everytime that this stuff happens." A smile crossing your lips remembering the man in the bed that you just left with his lips slightly parted and his hair messy against the pillow beneath his head.

"Well, they certainly are gluttons for punishment I suppose." He says in a joking fashion with a smile on his face you knew how every man and his family was and how dedicated they were to keeping people safe. Alfred goes on about his business as he does leaving you in the kitchen to make breakfast (it was closer to lunch cause you knew he wasnt gonna get out of bed for quite some time) for your beloved man.

Masterlist

#batboys #new writers on tumblr #jason todd x reader #batman x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #red hood #nightwing #red hood x reader #nightwing x reader

139 notes · View notes

k4marina · 8 months ago

Text

this was supposed to be a drabble, but fuck it, we ball.

bassed off of this.

warnings: gotham. moral of the story is don’t walk the streets of gotham alone at night

——

"i don't get it," you say into the phone that's pressed in between your ear and shoulder. your best friend on the other line hums in agreement. "it's like he's living like a double life y'know? rich corporate dude by day, and then some sort of street thug by night."

she laughs on the other end. "that would be an interesting movie plot. but for real, i'm glad that i'm not in your shoes, no offense-"

"none taken,"

"-i'd drive myself insane trying to figure out who my soulmate was."

you shake your head, smiling, "careful, keep talking like that and you'll end up in arkham."

her laugh fades for a second before coming back to the phone. "speaking of which, has your little thug boyfriend run across the batman yet?"

you shake your head, not that she can see anyways, "no, not yet. i wonder what that would be like though. maybe then he'd stop running around in the streets like an idiot."

"a little intervention by the bats?"

"totally," you laugh. you glance back at the little wall clock you had, groaning. "i'm gonna have to go, gotta head to work. talk to you tomorrow?"

"okay, stay safe, byeee," you could hear the sound of her kissing on the other end, you doing the same before ending the call and getting ready for work.

—

by the time 4 am had rolled around you had finished your shift and were steadily making your way back home. was it risky to walk alone in the dead of night in gotham? yes. but at least you have your pepper spray.

the streets are dimly lit, casting an orange hue onto the pavement. the second you turn the corner you could already tell something was off. your hand reaches into the bag, pulling out your pepper spray, uncapping it.

your eyes shift around, scanning the area in front of you when a hand reaches out, pulling you back by your shoulder. you hit the persons chest, instinctively pulling back to see who it was.

some street thug who looked like he hasn't taken a shower in days gives you an eerie smile, sending shivers down your body and paralyzes you.

"don't cha' know betta then to walk around at night?" his nasally voice makes you want to recoil into yourself. his rancid cigarette breath doesn't help when he speaks up again.

"hey, i'm talkin' ta yah. you not gon' answer me." he steps forward and you step back in fear. "what? you think you too fuckin' good?"

he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. "no like's a fuckin' bitch, yeah?"

before he could do anything, he stops, looking past you. you find the courage to turn, craning your head at the shadowy figure, spotting the symbol on his chest.

batman.

his eyes lock onto yours and you take a sigh of relief. he grunts, softly grasping your shoulder and pushes you behind him. only, when his hand makes contact with you, a white flash comes over your eyes and when it all fades away your met with the thugs face.

except, it's like you're in another persons body.. sort of how when you and your soulmate see out of the others eyes...

you watch as the thug gets beaten into a pulp in an all familiar way, now finally taking notice of the gloves he always wore and how thee thug rasps his name.

by the time the beating is finished your sight has returned to you and you stare into batman's back, your heart racing. he turns, and by the look in his eyes he knows too. he steps back to leave, but you're quicker.

"wait," you reach out, your hand just briefly making contact with his gloved hand. but it's enough for your sight to switch, momentarily seeing your own shocked face from a higher angle.

it was the batman.

"no fucking way," is all you're able to say. your soulmate wasn't a rich street thug.

i tired to make the creepy dude have a new york /jersey accent, but i've never written one before so it's probably shit lol.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x reader #batman x you #batman x fem!reader #soulmates au #idk what else to add #k4marinafics #drabble #i think

145 notes · View notes

milkywaygalaxygurl · 3 months ago

Text

Caring - Arthur Fleck

i hated the way Joker 2 ended, so this is my alternate ending. sorry if this sucks booty, i haven’t written in a while 😭

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Female!Reader

Warnings: probably slightly sad, reader doesn’t like Arthur at first (though she doesn’t treat him badly), probably cursing, smoking, reader is significantly younger than Arthur (i headcanon him as in his like late 30’s - early 40’s and reader is supposed to be 20ish)

Word Count: i’m too lazy to put it rn, will update later.

Being assigned to babysit Arthur Fleck had seemed like a slap to the face before you really knew him. You had spent your whole life studying Psych, just to be permanently assigned to caring for an insane criminal who miraculously happened to escape the death penalty. You had begged your higher up to give you any other patient, to assign you to any other case.

Your wishes were not granted. Instead, you were ordered to allow this strange man into your living space and to make sure he went to therapy and took his meds. All remnants of your old life were gone; You no longer lived alone, you no longer had the job you loved at the fancy psychiatric hospital on the West side of Gotham due to the fact that Arthur need 24/7 supervision. Everything changed and you were not happy about it.

Having Arthur move in was awkward, to say the least. He didn’t speak, he barely left his room, he barely ate. He just sat quietly in his room, smoking pack after pack. The only time he left it was for therapy, where he sat in your living room while you vacated the house for some much needed you time.

It annoyed you, having this strange man in your house who couldn’t even pay you the decency to speak to you or look you in the eyes. You had read his case file, read about his childhood, so you understood why he acted this way. You couldn’t place why it annoyed you until one day, when on your walk while he did therapy, you realized you were annoyed with yourself.

You had been able to get so many patients to open up to you in the hospital you worked at, but no matter what you did Arthur stayed closed up and distant. Nothing worked and you couldn’t understand why. It was on this walk that you had started to formulate a plan. You had decided to put this plan to use as soon as you got home and so, you did.

It started with simple things like inviting Arthur to eat meals with you at the dining table, he had denied the first few times but said yes when you had asked him to join you for dinner.

“You’re allowed to leave your room, y’know? You’re not in Arkham anymore, you’re free to roam the house and do whatever you please.” You spoke softly, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you look up at Arthur. He nods, taking a bite of his food.

You want to scream, yell at him to say something, but you know that wouldn’t do anything but cause him to retreat further into his shell. Him even joining you for dinner was a big step, you had to remind yourself. Taking a deep breath, you speak again.

“It’s good to see you eat, thank you for joining me. Maybe we could do this for every meal?” You smile warmly at him when he looks up at you, his eyes almost shocked that you even offered. He nods again, looking back down at his plate.

You smile to yourself, happy that he even agreed. “I was thinking of watching a movie tonight, if you’d like to join me.” You take a bite and nearly choke when he speaks.

“I- I’d like that. What movie?” His voice is soft, timid. It makes your heart ache, hearing how unsure he sounds with his voice. You swallow your food and the pain, instead smiling brightly at him.

“I’m not sure yet, maybe you can pick?” Your words seem to make him smile, and you swear your heart falters at the sight of it. It’s easily one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen.

“I’m not sure you’d know anything I’d prefer.” He says it softly, so softly you barely hear.

“That’s okay! I love watching new things, so pick whatever you’d like.” He nods, still smiling, and looks back down at his plate. You realize that’s the end of the conversation, but you don’t mind. This is amazing progress. You both finish your meal and settle into the living room once the dishes are cleaned, as promised you let Arthur pick whatever he wants.

After that night, it becomes a daily occurrence for him to join you for every meal and a movie after dinner. You take turns picking, Arthur introducing you to old movies and you introducing him to newer ones. It was nice, you could almost convince yourself that he wasn’t just a patient you were assigned to.

After months of getting to know the man, you couldn’t deny the fact that he is more than just a patient to you. He had become a friend and, whether you liked to admit it or not, you had developed a crush on Arthur. He looked good after having home cooked meals for the past few months, he no longer looked sickly and had even started to build some muscle by helping you around the house.

“You look good!” You smile brightly, seeing him in an outfit he had picked out. He was in need of a new wardrobe after gaining some weight, so you had taken him shopping. He smiles at you through the reflection in the mirror before looking at himself, still smiling.

“I vote yes for this outfit, it’s adorable.” He had picked out a yellow corduroy jacket with brown corduroy pants to match and a purple shirt to go under the jacket. He truly looks amazing in it. He nods his head and goes back to try on another outfit. You leave the store with at least 10 new outfits for him, he just looked too damn good in everything.

“Did you have fun?” You ask, nudging him softly with your shoulder as you walk.

“I did, thank you.” He had seemed to become more confident in himself as you got to know each other, his voice no longer quiet. It made you happy to see, to hear.

“Good, I’m glad! I got the clothes a little big so you could grow into them, you still gotta get some more meat on you.” You giggle and he laughs as well, a real genuine laugh. It makes your cheeks warm, but you’d blame it on the cold if he were to ask.

Your cheeks warm further when he timidly grabs your hand, pulling you a little closer to him. “I-It’s cold.” He says with a shrug when he sees your questioning look. You smile to yourself and shake your head, continuing your walk back to the house.

Later that night, you two are watching a movie when he suddenly breaks the silence. “Thank you for giving me a chance, Y/N. I-I know it wasn’t easy for you, having me come here and invade your space. You- You still tried though, you fought through my shell and you’ve been taking such good care of me.” His words warm your heart, tears almost rising to your eyes.

“Of course, Arthur. I’d do it again a million times if it brought me here, to this exact moment. You’re so much more than just an assignment to me now, you’re honestly my best friend.” You each for his hand as you speak, taking it into my own and squeezing it.

“My-My therapist encouraged me to share something with you, but I’m-I’m a little scared.” You immediately pause the movie when he says this and give him your undivided attention.

“You can tell me anything, Arthur. Anything.” You take his other hand in yours, squeezing them both as you turn to face him on the couch.

“Well I-You-“ He seems to struggle with his words and you smile at him encouragingly, waiting for him to find the right words.

“I’ve never known what’s real and what isn’t, but I know that you’re real. I know the feelings I have for you are real.” You’re heart leaps to your throat at his words, your eyes going wide.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“These last few months have been the best of my life, Y/N. I think-I know that I love you.” Barely able to contain yourself, you lunge forward and hug him.

“I’ve been falling for you since the moment you smiled at me that first night we shared dinner.” You say, your face buried in his shoulder.

“R-Really?” He asks, pushing you back softly so he can look at you.

“Of course, Arthur. How could I not fall for this beautiful smile?” You ask, cupping his face and softly rubbing his smile lines with your thumbs. His smile widens at that and he surges forward to hug you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, holding you snug to him.

“For what?” You ask, pulling back to look at him.

“For noticing me, for seeing me.” He almost whispers, his eyes full of unshed tears. Your own eyes fill with tears as you lean forward to kiss him softly, trying to put all of your love into the action.

“It’s my pleasure, Arthur.”

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #joker x reader #joker folie a deux #joker 2

104 notes · View notes

ilovetheriddler · 7 months ago

Text

Reluctant Comfort.

(Arkham Games) Edward Nigma x F!Reader.

Word Count: 1,170.

Contents: You're upset, Edward Comforts you in his own way.

You were distracted and distraught as you made your way back to Edward "Lair," as he called it, your arms full of bags containing more parts and pieces for his contraptions. You had been working as his assistant for a few months now. It most definitely wasn't easy by any means, especially not with how he regularly acted. He was more egotistical than anyone else you had ever met, but he was also undeniably brilliant. Honestly, if he wanted to, he could probably create quite a few things that could ultimately help people, but no. He was purely dedicated to his riddles and his urge to destroy and humiliate The Caped Crusader, Batman.

However, the main thing that currently had you upset wasn't actually anything to do with your "employer," No, it was the result of a run in you just had with one of the boys who used to harrass you in high school, and even though you knew you shouldn't waste any thought on someone who had treated you so poorly, it still ate away at you how he seemingly had a very successful life. He had a loving wife, a high paying job, and he was seemingly well respected. You originally tried to push away your frustration at this by thinking that maybe he had changed since high school. Maybe he was actually a decent guy now? No, no, he wasn't.

You had walked over to say hello, and he gave you the most pitiful look you had ever seen, as if he was disgusted by your very existence. That same infuriating look he gave you all throughout high school. Once he recognized you, he couldn't help bragging about how good his life was. And you knew that you shouldn't wish bad things on this guy, that you should take the high road. But it was really difficult when it was someone who had made you so miserable.

You eventually made it back to Edward's Lair. You walked inside and sat the extra parts and pieces down on the counter. You looked over and could see Edward right where you'd expect to find him. Hunched over his workbench, frantically scribbling out new ideas for his creations onto any scrap of paper within a five feet radius. He looked as disheveled as always. His question mark shirt was unbuttoned and covered in stains from oil and overall dirt. His white tank top underneath was somehow even more filthy. He's covered in sweat and grime, with bandaids scattered onto random places on his arms and face. Yeah, that was your employer, alright.

He hadn't bathed in days. You had been practically begging him to at this point because honestly, he's starting to smell, and you can't handle it. Of course, he just ignored you anytime you brought it up. He always got like this whenever he believed that he had come up with a brilliant plan to take down batman. He briefly glances up at you, his usual slight scowl present on his face.

"It took you long enough! I was beginning to believe that you simply perished or something along those lines!"

"I um... Apologize, Mr Nigma, I... tried to get back here as quickly as possible..."

He was a bit surprised and frustrated at your tone of voice. You were clearly upset about something, and he knew that it would obviously hinder your assistance to him. So he stands up from his workbench and begrudgingly makes his way over to where you were currently standing.

"Alright, spit it out! What insignificant thing is bothering you?"

"It's um... nothing. I just feel a bit... upset, I guess, because I ran into someone who used to be a jerk to me back when I was younger...:

"... And? Is that it?!"

"Well, it's just.... I suppose I'm just frustrated. He's seemingly really successful and happy in life despite how he treats people... I guess I just... always kind of thought that some type of Karma would happen, you know?"

He clenched his jaw slightly in frustration before he sighed.

"So let me see if I have this correct. You're upset because some Imbecilic Fool who used to harrass and humiliate you when you both were teenagers is now successful and seemingly getting everything he desires. Do I have that, right?"

".... Um... yeah, that's basically it....."

"Well, it's absolutely foolish to allow that to bother you! I don't want you wasting a single ounce of energy thinking of that moron. Do you understand!?"

He stared at you with a truly bone-chilling intensity as he waited for you to answer him. You remained silent and simply nodded in response. You could still feel his eyes watching you as your gaze remained glued to the floor from nerves. He let out a noise of somewhat frustration.

"I don't like to repeat myself, so listen carefully! I don't give a damn about whatever he said to you in the past or when you saw him earlier. It doesn't matter! He's just a dimwitted fool clearly, while you have the privilege, the honor of being my trusted assistant! So, take some pride in the fact that I consider you competent enough for my plans."

You were somewhat surprised and taken aback. Despite his usually harsh tone, he almost sounded as though he was... giving you praise...? Or at the very least, what would count as praise and appreciation from somewhat that acted like he did. So you couldn't help but be slightly touched.

"Y-yes, sir.... I understand...."

"... Excellent, now. Bring those spare parts over to my workbench, I need them for my latest project."

He has a somewhat slightly smug look on his face as he returns back to working on his plans. You bring over the materials he asked for and set them down before you clean up some of his scraped pieces of paper, ideas he came up with but then decided weren't worth pursuing so he tore them up in a fit.

About a week later, you're confused when looking over the cameras he had set up to watch batman attempt to solve his challenges and riddles. You could clearly see what appeared to be the same guy who used to torment you in high school. Why was he trapped in one of Eddie's contraptions?

Edward walked into the same room as you and sat down in front of his monitors. He could tell that you were overall confused and unsure as to what exactly he's up to with his latest tester for his newest challenge.

"I don't see why you're so shocked, I mean, after all... I can't allow someone to speak ill of my assistant, only I'm allowed to do so! If anyone else does, then they're practically insulting me and my decision to hire you!"

In a way, it warmed your heart slightly. Was he the best man for you to have secretly developed feelings for? Absolutely not. But you couldn't control it. You were utterly infatuated with him.

#dc comics #batman #the riddler #riddler #edward nigma #arkham riddler #the riddler x reader #x reader #fanfic

83 notes · View notes