#echo of gotham

[a-echo-of-gotham]

Waters of Youth: A shimmering sky blue liquid that swirls eternally, sitting in a small circular bottle. The muse becomes a child and loses all memories of adulthood

(do how long you want Mun Kore!!)

Tim gasps awake. His eyes blurry with tears and a ache in his chest.

He was just floating in the Eclipso. He used to be Dead. He isn't supposed to be alive.

Softly he stands up on wobbly legs. It looks like Gotham? But like a playhouse version? Weird.

He peaks under the clothes he is absolutely swimming in and gasps seeing no scales. No diamond?

He tightens the clothes and curls in the cloak as he walks around. His hand tight on his Kunai.

@humanity-forgot-me

[a-echo-of-gotham]

I could instead filter and distill it like I did in my universe. Although it tends to make it taste oddly like Lime Ricky pop.

I'm honestly not surprised Gothamites are drinking the water. So you know what? You're not gonna die, you're gonna have to live with the consequences 🫵

Stop drinking from the pit

[excalisi]

it's a fun hc of mine that during dick's robin days, he went through the "omg i wish i had a cool secret language so i can have secret conversations with my friends" phase all kids go through. but one of his closest friends at the time also happened to be the batman, a guy with possibly the most bizarrely diverse arsenal of skills in the world. bruce sees the merit in the entire idea of a coded language to communicate rudimentary information when they can hear but not see each other. so why not make a code built on bird vocalizations? it's pretty much incomprehensible to anyone without a trained ear or comprehensive knowledge of birding and impossible to even passably mimic without proper training, so while the chances of interception are high, the chances of someone understanding it enough to interrupt during the middle of a bird-convo and feed false information are not.

it also, batman and robin come to realize, feeds into the "holy fuck our vigilantes are cryptids" idea. bird sounds that come from seemingly no determinable location (ventriloquism) come to mean batman and robin are nearby. to the goons of gotham, bird song becomes inextricably connected to getting your ass kicked by the dynamic duo. the real reason why criminals don't operate during the day is because they get skittish and jumpy about if the sounds of birds chirping are real birds or some masked vigilantes lying in wait to rock your shit, and it's just easier to commit crimes during the night when all the birds are asleep so you know for sure.

ornithologists have boards on their bedrooms dedicated to the bird-bats of gotham. they've written dissertations.

the bird language becomes a bit of a batfamily bonding connection. teaching each other how to do different clicks and whistles, making up slang so bruce and barbara can't complain of clogging up comms with non-mission relevant talk, searching up birds to associate them with different people, psychologically terrorizing the criminal populace of gotham by chirping at them...

how the bird code works is that there's a bird assigned to each one of gotham's major heavy hitter criminals and vigilantes, and a few assigned to heroes out of the city (by which i mean the ones the bats associate with often enough to have a sign to address by). the only birds i've got so far are the robin (for robin. self-explanatory) and the glistening-green tanager (for the joker). i only have one for the joker bc i wanted to reference this hc in one of my fics and so searched up green birds to find the most eye-searingly annoying-to-look-at green bird i could find, and the glistening-green tanager was the closest one to fit the bill.

[noxcheshire]

I am sick, dizzy, and can barely think but you know what would be WILD?

If the DC universe was an echo of Danny’s world. What if the continents of their planet shifted enough where Amity is now in New Jersey and had then become Gotham.

And when Danny died underneath the portal a part of his death fractured and imprinted itself into those various worlds. One of them being Gotham, where Danny’s home ironically used to be where Wayne Manor used to be.

So just imagine it, you’re coming back from patrol, grimy, sweaty, and with questionable intentions by dressing as an overgrown bat when suddenly the lights dim. It dims and brings darkness, only enough light to catch the beady marble eyes of the bats you fear.

And then electricity jumps in the middle of the room, flinging itself around like an agitated snake in wide open circles.

Everyone is backing away, some weary, some cursing, some just half way out of their own suit.

And then a child — barely as old as your youngest now, flickers to life before you, screaming and screaming, wailing in pain as the scent of burning flesh mingles into the air. You can see the boy, black hair and blue eyes that underneath the bright light that burns them is causing black to turn white, and blue to turn green.

The electricity crackles and when the boy is about the drop, limp, certainly lifeless, he vanishes as if nothing had ever been there.

But he comes back, he always comes back, in the moment of calm and in the moment of despair, echoing that painful wailing of death.

It’s so wrong.

It’s very, very wrong.

It didn’t even matter anymore why the boy showed up, only that this moment of pain continues to haunt the cave of heroes.

Continuously haunting, even as some whispered apologizes when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as some provided songs of comfort when the boy appeared. Continuously haunting, even as stories of Gotham are told and promises (though uncertain and flimsy at best) are spoken to the wailing boy who always drops fast and disappears just as quickly.

Always, it was the same.

Until one day it wasn’t.

The electricity crackled like it always did. A spark, and then a calamity of light. And the boy would be there, uncurling himself into a tense position as he would wail.

But not this time.

Instead the boy curled himself in the air, calm as can be, almost as if he were sleeping. Even the electricity that they have learned to dance away from was calm, gentle, like ocean waves.

And when the electricity vanished, the boy did not, instead dropping to the floor where Dick was quick to catch him, grunting in preparation of weight only to show alarm at how thin the boy truly was.

On that face that has haunted them all for months is just a boy, sleeping, and scarred. A boy breathing very slow, slower than what they would like, but here in the physical realm with them.

Dick brushed back bangs of black hair, and slowly, ever so slowly, glazed blue eyes stared back.

[mimicben]

HUZZAH, ITS FINALLY FINISHED, i love this little trio :D

plus a little closeup

[a-echo-of-gotham]

I am doing well.

How are you feeling today?

You can be honest or not. But i have so many people that I wanna check in on that it’s overwhelming. So, next best thing? Genuine question to everyone all at once.

I want this post to be a safe space for everyone.

You can answer whenever or you don't have to at all.

Stay safe. People love you.

♥️

[brokenpieces-72]

Echo

Note: I have been working on this oc for a while, and there's a lot I wanted to do with them. This story is oc reader insert, so I leave the name open but the hero name is already established.

CW: Foster system (abuse of it), injured reader, financial abuse, car crash, let me know if I missed anything.

You know that feeling when everything seems to be falling apart? You’ve had it before, when you lost your parents and separated from your sibling in the foster system. You feel it now too along with plenty of soreness from your injuries.

You lay in the hospital bed, with your cracked phone screen. Foster parents hadn’t seen any of your texts and no phone calls had been answered. You messaged your sibling but they wouldn’t be able to make it to you. Your friends were either stuck at work or asleep right now. The nurses and doctor suggested calling a lawyer for yourself, since the other driver is a lawyer and his family wants to press charges. Insurance company has you covered for any other surgery or treatment they need to do so no need to contact them.

Still, you stare at your phone screen staring at the small text message history you have. You could try. He might be busy, but you could try. While your boss wasn’t the softest or kindest person, he still cared. Many not a lot, but at least a little. Then again, maybe it would be a chance for him to stop mentoring you, and go solo again. The pros and cons fight over what to say in the text. Regardless you wouldn't be out of hospital for a while so he needed to know that.

E: Hey boss, sorry but I can’t come in to work for the next couple days.

You shut your phone off after sending it. Then you turn it back on again, debating whether to delete it, edit it, or leave it. Honestly with the drugs in your system, it’s a little hard to make proper decisions. You know he’ll ask, you know he’ll be hard on you for reckless driving, but he’s all you’ve got right now. Right now you just need another person with you, even if they’re somewhat of a stranger.

Your phone rings. Holy crap it can still do calls? Whatever not the point. You answer the call without paying attention to the screen, though you briefly see the name. This would not be pleasant.

“Hello?” You answered, before coughing. Maybe you could cover up your sore voice as a sick one.

“What's going on?” Your boss asked.

“Uhh… can I…” you pause a lot, the war still going on, and fighting over your vocal cords. To your boss's credit he’s patient right now. Finally, you get something out. “Are you on patrol?”

You rub your head, praying you don’t have a headache coming on. Your boss takes a moment to answer.

“Yes why?” He asked. He sounds irritated. You don’t want a lecture when he gets here.

“Nevermind. Forget it.” You say quickly.

“Outlaw, answer the question.” He said.

“… I…” you swallowed. “I’m in hospital. No one can make it, and… was wondering if you could come see me?”

There’s silence again and you shut your eyes. This was a bad idea. You hear a sigh over the phone, and regret sinks in.

“Forget it, I’ll be fi-“

“On my way, give me a few minutes. Do you need anything?” Your boss asked.

“Maybe a change of clothes.” You suggest. “That’s kind of it.”

He hangs up, and you sigh. He was gonna lecture you, but at least he was coming. Especially if they needed to do more surgery. God knows your fosters wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Jason Todd arrived at the hospital, jacket on, hood up, and a small backpack with a change of clothes for you. Trying to see you as your boss likely wouldn’t work very well, but seeing you as your brother could pass. He approaches the desk where a nurse is typing away. The nurse looked up, seeing him almost towering over her.

“Here to see Y/N L/N.” he asked.

“Down that hall, room 168.” The nurse instructed. Jason made his way down the hall, keeping an eye out for the room. He stopped himself just outside your door, ensuring the face mask he brought covered his face. His eyes were uncovered, but the hood shielded them enough. Then he overheard you on the phone.

“It was an accident, I swear I did-no it wasn’t for attention. I was just-“ you tried to get a word in as your foster parents demanded to know why they were getting medical bills. Jason steps in, quietly as you continued to plead innocent. “I just went out to meet a friend, I wasn't even drinking. Insurance money will cover it, I checked. I'm not asking you to cover it, I'm just telling y-...Okay. I'll transfer the mon-I'll take it out when I get the chance.”

You’re on the phone getting yelled at until they finally hang up. Your head is down, and you're holding back tears. When you looked up you nearly jumped out of bed, seeing the large figure that had come into your room. The red hoodie was a dead giveaway. Jason stepped in and set the bag down nearby.

“What happened?” He asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Car accident… don’t quite remember. I swear I was driving on the right side, and I tried to move out of the way, but…” you trailed off.

“At least you’re alive.” He pointed out.

“Yeah so I can get medical bills, foster parents barking at me, no car for the next who knows how long, and now I even have to get a lawyer because the family of the other driver says it was all my fault, and I won’t be able to go to work or go on patrol or even train.” You say, trying to keep the lump in your throat down. The last thing you wanted was to start sobbing.

Jason sits in a nearby chair. “You’ll need more than a couple days.”

“The couple days is just for me to get out of hospital, the rest I can do easily enough.” You say, shrugging. As if shrugging really got rid of the weight of everything. Red Hood needed Echo, they were close to a breakthrough in a fighting and drug ring.

“You need rest.” Jason told you.

“For a couple days, then I’ll be back on my feet. The next load is coming Thursday, I'll be fine by then.” You said firmly, but there was a crack in your voice from emotion. Sidelining is the last thing you want. You’ve worked too hard for him to take you out of the game. Jason is quiet in the chair. It looks like he staring at the floor or the bed but you know he’s looking at you under his hood. You refuse to break.

Jason knows you are though. You’re tired, you’re injured, you have morphine in your blood stream, and financially you’re fucked. When he sighs, you think it’s pointed towards you and your stubbornness. It’s not. He realizes that you’ve been carrying a lot more than he thought. Now he has to call for a favour, one he didn’t want to ask for.

“Kid, right now, you are unfit to fight-don’t interrupt.” He said, holding his hand up, before you could argue. “You’re injured, you’re stressed, and you’ll be distracted. The last thing I want is your death on my conscious because I let you get yourself killed.”

“I don’t need to be sidelined.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You’re being benched for your own good. When you’re ready to get back into the game, I’ll pull you in. Don’t rush it but don’t waste time.” Red Hood ordered. You nodded. It’s a bit of a relief, since you haven’t had much time for regular life, let alone time for yourself.

“How long do I have?” You asked. Of course you wanted to be on a time limit. Jason did it to you for a lot of your training, whether it was posting up or reaching a checkpoint.

“Knowing shit like this, it will take maybe a week or so until you’re out of here.” Jason thought out loud.

“Then I have to get a lawyer which is a week or so, I have enough money… I should. I can do that while I’m recovering, and then I have work, and my side job. Chores, extra because I’ll be away. Then getting my vehicle repaired which will take a while…” your voice broke again thinking about the work you had after you leave the hospital.

“Hey.” Jason said. You looked up at him and it’s the first time you’ve seen his eyes. They were more natural than you thought. For some reason you thought they’d be red or maybe yellow. “This isn’t a fight, focus on what’s in front of you. I’ll give you a month.”

“I won’t need a month.” You said, take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You’re getting one. Consider it mandatory vacation or something.” Jason said.

You want to thank him, and hug him but you’re a little incapable. The relief is massive wave, almost drowning you. You look down at your broken phone, feeling it vibrate.

“Thank you.” You said, the tears finally breaking free from your eyes. You sniffle and wipe at them. “Sorry.”

“Just fucking cry kid. Your life is falling apart it’s a normal response.” Jason said.

You let out a small noise that he thinks is you laughing. You nod, wiping your eyes, and a small smile on your face. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know any lawyers would you?” You asked. Your phone vibrated and you checked it, seeing your friend had replied, saying he was close by.

“Recover for the first while, then worry about a lawyer.” Red Hood said. Jason notices you smile at your phone, and takes it as his cue to leave. “Rest. I’ll be in touch.”

Jason gets up, leaving the backpack. Once he steps into the hallway he sighs. He doesn’t want to make this call, he really doesn’t. But you’re his partner, his apprentice. Hell, you’re basically his Robin. Jason had a rough life. You might have what he didn’t, but that didn’t make your life perfect. He’d been pulled out of that struggle and sure it wasn’t perfect, but it was at the very least decent.

Once he’s out of the hospital, he dials on his phone. He didn’t want to but with the bs justice system Gotham has, you would need some help.

“Alfred?” Jason said, hearing a familiar older voice on the other end. “Is Bruce there? I need to talk to him.”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[ktsghost]

god I wish that was me

[a-echo-of-gotham]

Salvation.

Location linked.

Echo peered down at his phone heart pounding as he bit his lip. Setting aside his journal he stood up and slid easily into his most protective outfit and a choker he made just for this. One that dulled the Curse at the expense of his energy. He worried that it might be used against him.

He Carefully writes out two notes to be carried by Gerry the Pigeon and Blobert the Blob Ghost

"I am out to see if I can save Bart. I will be slightly unreachable as to maintain cover. Remember, I'll be ok. -Echo, Mage of Gotham.

He pat his beloved companions and emptied his venoms in his room for the last time in a while. With a nervous rattle in his chest,he knocked three times on a Unmarked mirror and stepped through to the coordinates. It was Time

[a-echo-of-gotham]

Hey! I have a Spleen!

If all alternate versions of me are sluts....

Then what does that make me?

[acapelladitty]

Batman'89 Scarecrow - Stifled

Summary: In costume and in desperate need of a little release, Jonathan indulges in some auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Fic Masterlist // Link to AO3

(And please enjoy this paired art piece by the wonderfully skilled @wingedqueenlynx)

His costume a comforting weight against his thin frame, Jonathan settled against the sheets of his bed with a stuttering sigh as he exhaled deeply. Rolling his hands through his plume of curled hair, the soft pull of the strands made him extend his neck, a satisfying pop echoing from the left side of his throat.

Air more heated than he would have liked, a fact made worse by the heavy costume which pinned him in place, his hands slipped down towards his groin with a casualness that belied the slight tremor in the digits as they fought to free his half-hard cock from within the layers of fabric. With its familiar leftward tilt, his cock felt hot in his hand as he quickly stroked himself to hardness - the anticipation of his play sparking a guttural arousal which make his cock twitch.

Curling his fingers around his mask and the noose which looped loosely around its base, Jonathan released his cock long enough to slip the burlap cover over his face. It slid on like a second skin - his true face - and with it came a focus which made his skin itch with the need for something more, for a release that was long overdue.

His vision blurred from the lack of glasses or contacts he typically wore with the mask, the rest of his senses felt strengthened as he indulged in the scent of the burlap, earthy and wicked, and the way that it brushed the end of his proud nose. Cock neglected for the moment, he felt his balls tighten as his fingers curled around the knot of the noose.

Groaning as he tightened the noose around his neck to the point of constriction, the discomfort of his mask as it pressed into his vulnerable skin made his cock jerk untouched. He need this, deserved this, and he would take what he needed while ignoring the shame. One hand hanging loosely on the knot as he fought to breathe around it, his other hand snaked it ways down his chest, only pausing at his covered nipples to brush them roughly, indulging in the added stimulation before wrapping firmly around his cock once more.

The feel of his mask digging into his neck, pulled taut by his noose as it slowly strangled him, was deliciously painful with the added benefit of not leaving livid ropemarks against his skin. The burlap restricted his air at the best of times and the fabric pulled tight against his lips as he fought to inhale deeply, the tip of his nose scouring against the rough material with every shaky breath.

His free hand, the one not currently trained on his noose, stroked along his cock with a patient rhythm as it slowly drew every ounce of pleasure that it could. Painfully hard, the pulsing discomfort in his head was reflected in his cock as it throbbed in tandem.

Chest heaving as his lungs started to burn from the consistent lack of oxygen, the hot pleasure in his groin only grew more intense as the pressure in his head steadily built - his body struggling and writhing in place as his hand fisted along his cock messily. Pre-cum leaked freely from his slit, the moisture making his hand move with greater ease as he alternated stroking his length with brushing his palm across the head and rolling his balls between his rough fingers.

Grunting and whining, the noises slip free of his mask quietly as he chases his own pleasure. A familiar shame settles across his skin, the shame of having to give in to such base desires and depravity, but the heat of embarrassment only serves to stoke his arousal.

Head pounding, Jonathan lost himself in fantasy. His thoughts were erratic, slipping between visuals of that pretty brunette who dealt with his various journal requests at the local library to the new receptionist at the asylum whose perfume reminded him of wild flowers. However, such fantasies were quick to turn as his fingers picked up their pace across his velvety cock.

Soft touches dissolved into rough handling, his hand wrapping around a panicking throat as anxious pants grew into wails of terror. His toxin quickly disappearing from the syringe as it found itself plunged into an unwilling vein. Screaming and begging for a mercy which could never come as he pushed his work to higher and higher levels.

Jonathan came with a shuddering groan, his release spreading across his fingers as the pressure in his head grew to a point where his vision started to dull around the edges. It was too much and yet not enough as he continued to stroke along his cock despite the fact that the overstimulation was quick to make every motion feel as terrible as it were brilliant.

His vision starting to darken further, Jonathan took a moment to loosen the knot around his neck and immediately inhale grateful lungfuls of air as his chest burned. His body overheated and sensitive, every trembling jerk of his cock drew a bestiary grunt from his aching throat as he forced himself to feel the comedown.

The mask feeling suddenly unbearable, his hands moved shakily as they pulled the material free of his head - releasing his face from the cloying heat and rapidly stroking his fingers through his curled hair as he fought to quell the heaving movements of his chest.

Glancing down, Jonathan regarded the spend across his fingers with mild disgust, wiping it off on a nearby handkerchief to prevent any excess mess from staining his beloved costume. Exhausted and fighting a headache brought on by his oxygen deprivation, his body relaxed fully as he enjoyed the peace for the few moments he would allow himself to indulge it.

[corpsepaintriddler]

The gorgeous Echo and Query!

Aka- the Riddler's scary lesbian privileges

They're all ready for art fight! 💜

[noxcheshire]

If ya’ll know Madoka Magica you will understand how beautiful and haunting the art of the witches that show up on screen are.

LIKE

It’s gorgeous.

That unsettling feeling of seeing something beyond yourself, beyond your sense of consciousness and knowing that this could very well be your grave.

It’s a labyrinth of feelings, of misery, of regret, and wanting that traps its victims in a forever.

You know what else is unsettling?

Death.

Death and ghosts and everything beyond it.

So imagine with me then, that the Infinite Realms and those ecto-born and ecto-contaminated don’t see the ghosts the same way.

Amity Park and its residents see the invading ghosts as close to their real form in life as they are in death.

Those not touched by the Infinite?

They see them the same way as witches. Unnatural creatures that unsettles the mind and environment to allow the ghosts access to the living world.

Maybe that’s why Maddie and Jack Fenton do not see ghosts as sentient things. They have seen them as humans see them, things filled with misery and pain, stealing from those too foolish to wander in the Ghosts domain.

The GIW are much the same, seeing the ghosts as the ‘witches’ they are, not what they were.

Danny doesn’t realize how unsettling he truly is, no one in Amity Park baring the Fenton parents and the GIW do.

Not until he is summoned on his first official Kingly summon, unaware of the looming gaping horror that stood staring back down at the humans that lived outside of Amity Park.

[a-echo-of-gotham]

It flicks open. Pages glowing Black before fading into a single one

Uuuuh.

Open Sesame Ominous Journal

@a-echo-of-gotham

[21go-gay-today37]

ROMANTIC CRIME COMMITTING >:]

+query and echo but completely new characters

How the fuck do you draw a car?????? Why girls car reminds me of dano riddler???danomobil????

[mimicben]

Riddle us this?

The girls n' the gay are my favourite