#also first fic of the year !!!!

[starry-bi-sky]

FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.

Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.

AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!

And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.

COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!

[novacqnes]

✩ sore loser // vi

summary: with an undefeated streak of nine wins victory is sweet for pitfighter!vi, but losing can be even sweeter.

⋆ warnings: pitfighter!vi, brief mentions of blood, alcohol & violence, smut; oral, squirting & fingering [fem receiving], top!vi

⋆ pairing: vi x fem reader

⋆word count: 2.4k

⋆ a/n: stop the vi hate, she’s so hot and sexy and kind, i forbid it!

nails scraped feverishly against the scarred skin of vi’s arm. needy and sharp, they littered the rough surface, leaving behind deep pink crescents with each touch. back and forth, back and forth, they dug into her flesh almost mechanically as she remained fixed between your thighs. desperately bringing her tongue against your wet clit. she lapped up your fluids, allowing her soft lips to slide against your pussy effortlessly as you shook against her, fighting through a blurred haze. fiery tears crept from your eyes; one by one they surged forward, setting your cheeks aflame along with the rest of your body. it took everything—every last drop of unbearable desire and greed—to steal a glance at vi. 

slivers of jet black and red hairs clung to the crown of her forehead. her features were frozen; misty blue eyes caught on you. she wanted more, eager for it, as every aspect of your being entranced this woman. your taste lingered on her tongue as she sank back in for more, drawing desperate whines from your lips. your smell, sugary and thick, filled the room just the way she liked, overwhelming all her senses. or the way you moved against her, jerking your body with each flick of her tongue against your folds. down to the cries—your cries, which were lewd and slick, permeating the humid air around you. allowing her this small fragment in time where she could truly win.

her knees hit the ground first, a loud thud rang through your ears as vi sank onto the blood-stained concrete. her hands found their way there next, gripping onto the ground as they fought for an ounce of stability among the animalistic screams. they pierced the putrid air, trapping your body in the middle as hundreds of people pushed against you. they demanded she rise and fight for the very status that had left her undefeated for weeks, but she didn’t move. rather she pressed her eyes close, shutting out the light, her opponent’s bashed face, and any possible connection you may have had to her. her heart pounded against her chest, pleading with her to breathe, to no avail. 

a crushing weight pressed against vi’s chest, forcefully expelling the air from her body. every one of her muscles begged for her to stop. she slid forward, a gasp crawling up her lungs as a wave of agony consumed her. she could shrug off pain. she’d done it many times before, but each movement left her with that same dreadful sensation. her mind and body vied for two opposing sides, both resulting in her losing this match, yet she was relentless. her fingers scrapped the ground as she pulled herself up in one swift motion, violently suppressing the nerves that writhed in her stomach. once more, violet brought her arms to her side, guarding her face as she swung a bruised fist at her opponent. 

the white sheets felt damp in your palms, providing a gentle substitute for vi’s skin. in your hands it compressed, shrinking with each stroke of vi’s thumb against your clit. the pressure was light at first, growing more fervent by the second. she pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, her breath warm as she moved up hovering over your pussy. she lingered for a moment, teasing you with the slightest bit of contact before pulling away. tension bloomed at the pit of your stomach, taking hold of your hips and drawing you to vi’s mouth— begging her to come closer. your movements were shaky; you wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer, but vi had to let it. she gazed up at your body, a mumbling mess covered in a thin film of sweat at her efforts. it gave her satisfaction beyond any victory in the pit; this was just for her.

“fuck—t-there still may be a follow-up—you can try again,” you moaned, vi slipping a finger inside you. she curled them sharply as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to yours. 

she began slow; you leaned into vi’s warmth, savoring the taste that lingered on her tongue. euphoric was an understatement. this was everything vi was lacking, splayed out across her flimsy mattress. there was something about your pleasure being in her hands that pulled the best from her—and it wasn’t a matter of control. whether it was you on that bed or her, vi adored the fact that it was with someone. her fights were isolating, in spite of the dozens of people that filled the pit each night. they weren’t fighting with her—but right here you were.

“they don’t wanna see me, sweetheart.”

“violet—“she spat against your core, moving down until her lips met your pussy. her tongue traced against your folds, flicking up and down as her index finger moved in and out. she soon slipped in a second, third, and fourth, sinking them inside your cunt at an unfathomable pace. her body showed no signs of slowing down. thick veins bulged from her forearm, and splotches of pink colored her cheeks, but she was on overdrive. determination clouded her senses, erasing any semblance of pain that arose in her. 

she muttered into you, “i’m good right here, just relax for me, yeah?” her voice was silky smooth, with sultry lined at the very top of it. she kept your legs open, solidifying her place between them as she hummed, furiously lapping at your clit. she smacked obnoxiously, pressing herself deeper and deeper into you until you had no choice but to make more room for her. and your hands acted first. they snaked their way around your hamstrings, forcing each leg to your sides as vi hummed in praise, sending a soft vibration up your core. 

the pleasure was beyond words, propelling you to an alternate realm as you pulsed around vi’s fingers, sucking them in with each charged stroke. she molded to you perfectly, pressing against the spongy tissue of your g-spot for as long as she could. it was evident; every fiber of her being was in this room, pushing you towards ecstasy. soon, black dots crept into your vision, distorting vi from your view, and before long your eyelids followed suit, shutting the rest of the room from you. 

“oh you’ve such pretty eyes, keep them here, right here,” she cooed. that fucking tone. so gentle and attentive it was nauseating. her gaze was unwavering; as if this wasn’t enough, she refused to look away from you, forcing your eyes to the glassy wetness smeared across her face. those eyes—they latched onto you, urging you to watch your girlfriend sink herself nose deep into you over and over again. the pressure magnified with each brush of vi’s lips against your clit. 

the words were trapped in your throat, “fuck vi—oh“ halting as you rapidly began to unravel. your gaze finally broke from hers, pulling your eyes to the feeble ceiling lights. a string of profanities fell from your lips as you shook against her mouth, surrendering to the adrenaline that mercilessly ripped through your body. 

“you don’t know what you do to me... so needy and beautiful. push yourself back on to me,” vi whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. it sent a shiver up your spine, as the sensitivity followed. the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, but to say you wanted it to end would’ve been a lie. the sensations were purely addictive, bringing your body to her lips while in the same breath employing your hand to block her. making sense of it in the moment was nearly impossible thus, it took everything in you not to faint right then.

you gasped, “i-can’t—“

“move your hand y/n, let me hear it sweetheart.” 

vi’s brows furrowed slightly, dipping down as her eyes landed on your fingers, shakily obscuring her view. she watched as they moved mere inches, pausing at your lower stomach. she brought a hand to them, softly caressing your skin with her thumb, and carefully noting how you shuddered, whining at the slightest hint of contact. you were close, yes, but this couldn’t be rushed. 

vi moved from your legs, pressing her pink lips to your neck as she toyed with your clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into you. she kept a steady pace, not budging even when you grinded against her. rather she peppered your clavicle with kisses, running her tongue along the tender skin of your exposed neck. heat simmered at your cheeks, consuming the rest of your face as vi wielded your pleasure for her own satisfaction. every whine and gasp served to fuel what was left of her tattered ego. the control intoxicated her, restoring vi with a confidence that she hadn’t experienced since she set foot in the pit.

yet it was also about you—pleasing you—that drove violet insane. her body was quickly approaching its limit; it ached with dark purple bruises that covered her knees and fingers that were raw from the constant friction of bandages. vi adored this. she fell in love with the idea of giving every last bit of what she had to offer, and after her loss, she was destined to prove that even more. 

“holy shit,” you muttered, pressing your forehead against hers. desperation oozed from your voice as you cupped vi’s face in your palm. beyond your voice, the surrender was palpable. heavy eyelids shielded most of your eye, leaving visible only small glints of pigment. it grew increasingly difficult to focus on her but the same couldn’t be said for vi. she pushed the black strands from her face leaning against you as she picked up the pace. adding more and more pressure to the bundle of nerves—but it wasn’t enough. she would move her arm, delicately flexing the muscles in her forearm in restraint. her mouth would hover over your ear, teasing you with her tongue. she used it against you deliciously, following the long veins that trailed your neck until you were a whimpering mess. it was a tireless endeavor that vi trekked for hours. all of her efforts culminating in this one moment before ruining it all with a sudden halt. 

“vi please—“ 

she shook her head. “beg, baby.”

“please let me cum for you.” weakly you took her hands in yours, moving them from your clit, you slurred, “i wanna cum all over you.

she laid a soft kiss on your cheek, slipping her index back as you wrapped around her beautifully, blanketing her skin in a unique warmth that drew a gasp hum from vi’s lips. she curved them upward, meeting your g-spot once again. you shifted underneath her body, moaning into her ear completely unabashed. the anticipation reveled inside you with vi building on her speed. sweat dripped from her temples, sticking the dark black strands to her forehead. slowly, she came undone with you. her jagged breaths began to match yours, and her movements were growing more and more shallow.

streams of euphoria rifled through your body as the pit returned at the bottom of your stomach, paralyzing you from the waist down. torturously vi’s fingers met your g-spot, prodding and teasing the surface. your heart continued to race, beating out of your chest until it was the only thing that vi could hear; your moans slowly taking a backseat. limb by limb, the heat consumed you, leaving you victim to the overwhelming pleasure that began at your pussy, sending the rest of your body into a tailspin. 

she egged you on, “just like that, sweetheart, fuck, just like that." you could no longer make out vi’s beautiful face; the slight curve of her cheek was faint along with the rest of her features as you writhed against her. quickly losing control of the autonomy you once had. the pit within your stomach only sped up the process, bringing tears to your eyes as you cried, sinking your nails into the mattress. with one last thrust of vi’s finger, fluids rushed from your pussy, soaking the sheets underneath you in one swift motion. you were falling, silently surrendering to the emotions that took hold of your body. for that time, your body wasn’t entirely your own but a vehicle that only vi could steer. 

she took her place beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist as a pervasive silence fell upon the room. her hands soothingly rubbed the skin of your thigh, almost lulling you to sleep as the bright lights faded from view. you could feel her slowly succumbing to fatigue yet she moved closer, snuggling against your back. 

you tapped her arm, “hey, you did your best.”

“that’s what scares me,” she shrugged. there was always this slight divide between vi and what she did in the pit. you could see it. it was draining, extracting every bit of light from vi’s soul like an eternal vacuum. if anything, you were slightly grateful for this loss; it alleviated some of the pressure that burdened her, yet this wasn’t enough to put an end to it. truly the only person that could pry vi away from this place was herself. 

you turned to face her, “maybe that means it’s time to stop.” 

vi pressed her lips shut, her blue eyes briefly meeting the ceiling before falling back on you.

“if not, then you’ll probably lose again, which totally sucks but I’ll be here when you do,” you sighed. she allowed your hands to roam her sculpted arms. thumb tracing the ink etched into her tricep. uncertainty steadily filled the room as you both sat in silence, taking in the sight of one another. it offered you a slight glimmer of hope beyond the pit, a hope for a brighter future. one in which vi could simply be, without tirelessly fighting to prove her worth in every fight. she was worthy of love, and hopefully this moment of you two merely admiring each other was enough to begin that process. 

“i’ll make sure to lose each time then,” she chuckled, jumping up from the mattress. a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but you refrained from pointing it out, basking in the joy that settled over your girlfriend. it was small moments like these that made it all worth it. 

you began, “that’s not what i meant—“

“i’ll go check out that follow-up fight; you stay right here.”

[rayactive-factory]

fanart for @teamxdark!! based on the descriptions from this story, i loved the outfit designs and white-silver and black-golden colours for them so much <3

[choccy-milky]

💖🎊the end, & thank you for reading!!🎊💖

im so thankful for all the support i got on this story, and i wouldn't have finished it if not for all of you, and for the love i got for seb and clora. so thank you again for giving me the motivation to write this 600k+ monster, and to see it through to the very end. LOVE YALL💖🫶 (ao3/wattpad)

[setmeatopthepyre]

Third Act [ now also on Ao3]

They've just evacuated the last of the factory workers when Incident Command calls for total evacuation. Structural integrity can no longer be guaranteed, everybody out. Eddie, who has their patient's other arm draped over his shoulders as they help the man limp to the nearest ambulance, grins at Buck. "Now that's what I call perfect timing."

"Yeah," Buck agrees, maybe a beat too slow, distracted by the number on the turnouts that just darted past them. The name under the 217 started with the wrong letter, the person's shoulders too narrow, height not quite right. Not that he's looking. Not that he's been looking. Not that it would matter if he was. With the enormity of the factory and the spread of the fire they have on their hands, the chances of running into a particular individual are small. Besides, if he's here, he's more than likely at the other end of the staging area, with the helicopters that are being refueled and awaiting instruction. Not that Buck's been looking. Or paying attention to any of that. At all.

They've just handed over their patient to the paramedics when their radios crackle to life once more, this time to confirm that all first responders who had entered the building are safe and accounted for.

"Thank God."

Buck turns to find Bobby has come up behind them, has clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder, a relieved smile lighting up his face under his helmet. And. Yeah. Buck smiles with him, feels terrible for a moment for being so preoccupied when he should just be damn grateful for how their day - night, now - has panned out. Despite the enormous structure, despite how fast the fire spread, despite the upgrade from a three to a four alarm fire when it became incredibly clear the building was not up to code, despite the flammable materials housed in the far end of the structure, (despite the whir of helicopter blades overhead reminding Buck of him, despite the way he had to force himself not to stop and listen when a headcount for the 217 went out over the radio) they got everyone out alive. Some of the factory workers were in critical condition, others would be touch-and-go for a while, but they got them out alive and that was all any of them could ask for.

Perhaps it was too big an ask.

There had been a few moments in Buck's life in which he'd wondered if the universe had it out for him, was just waiting for him to be happy, let down his guard a little, so that it could pull the rug out from under him and send him sprawling. Choking on breadsticks on Valentine's Day. Choking on blood at his own welcome back party. Choking on his own nickname in his own loft as. As he walked out the door.

It feels like he's choking again. Buck watches the faces around him fall when dispatch tells them they were wrong, that there's still two people inside, on the top floor. When the IC responds that there's nothing to be done, the lower floors are ready to cave in, it's too unsafe. When a familiar voice crackles over the radio, saying there's a chance, if they land a helicopter on the roof, get the last two people out from there. That he'll do it.

"Absolutely not, firefighter pilot Kinard. That roof is ready to go any minute now, and you want to land a bird on it? That's a suicide mission. Stand down, that's an order."

There's a static crackle, as if someone, as if he, is weighing his options before he speaks. Buck doesn't breathe. Doesn't think he could if he wanted to.

"If there's any chance they can be saved, I have to try."

And Bobby meets his eyes, still tries, "Buck-", but they both know there's no version of this moment in which Buck doesn't grimace apologetically, doesn't turn, doesn't run faster than he's ever ran before.

He's gone, long strides, lungs burning, everyone and everything he passes a blur. He bumps into someone, yells "Sorry!", he thinks, isn't actually sure that's what he does, eyes set on the rotor blades looming dark against the orange cast of the fire in the distance. It's hard to tell if they're moving, what with how the light shifts in the dark, what with how his vision has become narrowed to that single point, and the dull roar in his ears could be his own blood pounding, could be the commotion that comes with a scene like this, could the be panic rising like bile in his throat.

For one insane moment, he thinks he can hear the sweeping crescendo of an orchestra, thinks, hysterically, like sprinting through an airport in the third act of a romcom. Thinks, I should tell Tommy. Realizes what he's hearing is that dull roar shifting into the high whine of rotor blades gaining momentum and thinks, Oh, god, Tommy. And then, in a blink, he's fighting the dust in his eyes and being buffeted by wind and his hands find purchase on the titanium hull and he's hauling himself inside.

With the wind gone, it's like he's suspended in stillness for a moment. Stillness, not silence, because helicopters are loud and the sound is everywhere, like a physical sensation. Or maybe that's just how it feels to be in close proximity with Tommy again. Tommy, who is staring straight ahead, punching buttons, flipping a switch, and Buck isn't sure Tommy's even aware of his presence until Tommy's reaching back, headset in hand, not looking at him at all, gaze still firmly on the dashboard.

Even when Buck has the headset on, the roar of the engine finally dropping away, Tommy doesn't acknowledge him immediately. The set of his shoulders is stiff, determined, defensive. He lets out a sigh. "What are you doing here, Buck?"

Buck carefully ignores the name, ignores the way Tommy still can't look at him. Squares his shoulders, even if Tommy can't see it. "I'm going with you."

There is a moment in which Tommy doesn't respond, simply finishes the last of his pre-flight checks. When he speaks, his voice is carefully deadpan. "You know we're probably going to die out there."

Buck can't help it, shoots back before he can think about it. "Figured this way I can prove I want you to be my last."

It works. Finally, Tommy turns. Meets his eyes. Breathes out. "Evan."

And Buck knows it's a ridiculous moment to smile, but it's like a weight falls away from him and he can feel his chest expand in a way it hasn't been able to since "See you around, Buck."

"Like you said," he amends. "If there's a chance at all, I have to try."

Buck doesn't think he's imagining the spark of hope in Tommy's eyes, the twitch of a smile, before Tommy turns back to his controls and the ground falls away beneath them.

[the-maw-consumes]

thinking about naga crowley

[feathercreates]

"Old friend... I miss you so much. I'm so sorry."

[phoenixcatch7]

Dp x dc twin au where Danny and Damian were in fact conjoined/siamese twins, but the most dangerous type - one head, two bodies.

Their early removal from talia being because their shape would not have allowed for natural birth, they were written off but talia begged for the chance to send them off in the lazarus pit.

By some bizarre miracle, before she turned to leave, two small bodies bobbed to the surface - identical in every way, except for the eyes. The previous blue eyes now split in two, one left, one right, and the new eyes, pit created, a bright green.

She took her child, her two children, and together, they survived.

Being removed prematurely, their early years were tough, but soon they blossomed into promising heirs for the league. In sync with every step, the closest of brothers, the league was certain the old fairy tale of twins being telepathic had been granted by the pit that separated them, the remnants of being born as one mind, one brain, one skull.

But then Danny had to flee, and leave his other half behind. Stretched by distance for the first time, the bond grew thin and stretched, and Damian grieved his brother as dead. When he started being sent on public missions, he hid his distinctive heterochromia, choosing the green in memory of the pit that had given him and his brother life.

Danny, hiding his pit aura in the ocean's worth that was Amity park, took to blue, the colour that he and Damian were born with.

Damian moves to Gotham, and continues to mourn his brother as dead, right until one day when he is twelve, when he learns what the death of your other half truly feels like.

-

Their reunion is a thing of family legend. Violence runs hot in both bloodlines, ghosts are highly emotional and prone to fighting a the drop of a hat for bonding, playing, testing, every reason under the green sun. Their training and play often consisted of friendly spars, competitive spars, furious spars, venting spars. Both have been exposed to unhealthy amounts of ecto since before their birth.

There is a long, long minute of staring, before they rip themselves away and lunge at each other like wolves.

The bat family are horrified by their brutally efficient youngest suddenly barreling towards a clone (?) and trying to claw his throat open with his bare hands while openly sobbing.

It ends with them wrapped around each other crying into the others shoulder as their minds finally meet again and relax from the painful stretch for the first time in years.

But nobody else has any idea what to do.

[theonewhowails]

silly stuff i drew while reading Feel No Evil by @payasita , in which the Lamb does not know how to propose, Narinder does not know how to be alive, and neither of them knows what an obligate carnivore is

bonus? lmao

[ladyspottedray]

So I've been replaying Final Fantasy 15

[hailsatanacab]

“To whom,” Alfred rasps, pausing to clear his throat and establish his sense of decorum, “May I ask, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

The creature stops, blinks its owlish eyes at him, and lets out a bark of laughter.

“Forgive me,” it says, still chuckling lightly, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Alfred is suddenly struck by the feeling that this creature is not as timeless, nor as old or as wizened, as it wished to present itself. “I am making a terrible first impression. My name is Phantom, current High King of the Infinite Realms.”

Contractual Obligations by me!!!

I couldn't get the image of Ghost King Danny out of my head, so here he is!! Acrylic on canvas, and I'm so happy with it - he came out a lot better than I thought he would 😅

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[silverdrws]

drawing my absolute favorite trope in this fandom as my au: hunter castiel in early seasons

+bonus if cas is secretly an angel

+ little doodles of my au

drawing my absolute favorite trope in this fandom as my au: hunter castiel in early seasons+bonus trope cas is secretly an angel

info for my au

-cas met sam and dean in the episode Bloody Mary s1ep5

-cas was adopted by human parents but they were killed by a demon when cas was 20 after that cas became a hunter to get a better understanding of what killed his parents and get revenge on them

-cas is actually an angel ‘reborn’ as a human infant

-his angel memories and grace are suppress somewhere in his head

[luxaofhesperides]

For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it. 

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so. 

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that. 

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts. 

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham. 

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal. 

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car. 

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie. 

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it. 

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it. 

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny. 

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief. 

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around. 

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge. 

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food. 

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall. 

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly. 

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all. 

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic. 

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that. 

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.” 

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by. 

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down. 

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him. 

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment. 

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over. 

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her. 

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms. 

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries. 

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny. 

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers. 

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief. 

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead. 

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind. 

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. 

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

[valeovalairs]

google how did teens cut their hair in the 70s

trying to picture them in high school

[tavysboy]

No other love can warm my heart, now that I’ve known the comfort of your arms.

Unedited version under cut 💛