#gotham hero

[smileything]

If The Ever Have JACK RYDER

AKA THE CREEPER

In a Movie or Show They Have to uess This song

I just Think It Fits Him super Well

[dickkorylov3]

She would totally teach him how to do a PROPER break and enter 😂 (probs better than Batman)

Catmama and her lil Robin 🥰💕

Hey, if you like RobStar and other DC shananagans on the regular, why not follow me?? 🤷🏾‍♀️😊

[gothams-raven]

[blackbatest]

my most controversial batman opinion to date

[everwalldigan]

(Bruce has been brainwashed. Again)

Tim: hey man, I think you got him

Dick, letting out all his pent up rage: YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING??

Tim, backing away: nope

Dick: THATS WHAT I THOUGHT.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

The Joker was apprehended, sitting on the ground as Batman guarded him, but the kid--"Bruce Wayne's newest ward, how tragic! Hehehe!"--was nowhere to be found. Nightwing and Red Hood desperate searched the warehouse until a shuffling noise grabbed their attention.

A kid, black haired just like the kid in the Joker's broadcast, crawling out of a pile of boxes. "Is it over?" the boy asked quietly.

Nightwing guided him to the only exit, unfortunately walking past the boy's own kidnapper. "Yeah, kid. It's over. Come on-"

Like a shot, the boy rushed the Joker and kicked him right in the balls.

The Joker wheezed like a dying squeaky toy. Red Hood froze. Nightwing immediately snatched the boy up by the armpits, but all that did was give the boy the height to attack again, punting Joker in the jaw. The clown went down and cracked his head on the floor. He did not get back up.

There was a moment of silence before Red Hood roared with laughter, his helmet distorting the sound.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Bruce: Dick, I like you to meet Danny and his little brother Jason. They're going to be living with us for a while.

Dick: What? Why?

Danny: Bruce is hiding us from the Wolves. They wanted me to join their gang for some quick cash or be killed in the crossfire, but I knew it would lead to an early death, and I couldn't leave Jason on the streets. Not after our mom died. So I struck a deal.

Dick: What kind of deal?

Bruce: As you know, Batman and I, have a understanding -

Jason: They kiss in the moonlight.

Danny: Jay! Hush up! But it's true, we know you're dating Batman.

Dick: *Snort*

Bruce: *clearing throat* I am not dating Batman.

Jason: Sure ya ain't.

Bruce: In any case, Danny gave Batman all the information he knows about local originated crime. Not just about the Wolves but five of the major crime families controlling the streets, and I've agreed to shelter the boys until Batman and Robin can ensure their safety for this knowledge.

Dick: Really? You think Batman would have considered chatting with Robin before making such a big decision. Then again he's just a sidekick isn't he?

Danny: Hey, don't you disrespect Robin. He's the only one with heart in this stupid city.

Jason: Yeah, respect our hero, or you'll face our wrath. We're scary!

Alfred: Lads, I've made the arroz con leche that you requested. I know it's won't be as good as your mother's, but I do hope I came close.

Jason: Oh boy! *Picks up spoon*

Dick: Oh yes, I'm shaking in my boots at the threat of your wrath.

Danny: Look, Dick is it? Fitting name, by the way, I can tell you aren't happy to have us here but relax. It's only temporary. We aren't going to replace you or steal your trust fund. Besides, you won't even know we're here.

Dick glancing at Jason:

Dick: Right. I won't notice you at all

Danny: Yeah so if you want to sneak Robin in for some fun time that's cool to-

Dick: *chockin* Excuse me!?

Bruce fighting a grin: Relax Dick, I already knew about Robin sneaking into your room last night. Do tell your boyfriend to use the front door, I'll love to meet him.

[moonlightcycle571]

The Justice League mingling before their meeting

Captain Marvel, crashing through: CYBORG QUICK, I NEED YOU TO FIX IT

Cyborg: what?

Captain Marvel: SHES DOWN

Cyborg, palling: You don’t mean … *checkc* OH FUCK NO

JL, visibly concerned: What’s going on

Captain Marvel: HURRY DO SOMETHING

Cyborg, already has twelve laptops going through codes furiously: IM TRYING

Plastic man, bursting through the room: EMERGENCY, SHE HAS BEEN HIT

Cyborg and Captain Marvel: WE KNOW

Plastic man, gripping Batman: DO SOMETHING

Captain Marvel, slapping Plasticman: GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF SOLDIER

Green Arrow: WHATS GOING ON?

Captain Marvel: AO3 IS DOWN

JL: … what?

Green Lantern (Hal & Jessica): NOOOOOOOOOOO

Wonder Woman : … the fan fiction website?

Superman: that’s it?

Cyborg, dramatic gasp: how DARE-

Captain Marvel, dramatically holding him back: No my friend, they simply don’t understand

Green lantern (Hal): How am I supposed to get through monitor duty without my dose of SI field trip fics?

Green lantern (Jessica): How am I supposed to fly through space without my Percabeth podfics???

Green lantern (Hal): Aren’t John and Kyle currently in deep space right now?

A moment of silence for thé two lanterns in space

Flash: is this what’s got you in a fuss? Damn I thought someone died

Cyborg: SIX HOURS

Four Heroes proceed to cry in unison

Bonus:

After a gruelling 6 hour meeting, the heroes found themselves with their beloved writings again

Cyborg: SHES BACK BABY

Green lantern (Jessica): NO ONE TALK TO ME FOR SIX WEEKS I NEED TO CATCH UP ON MY FIC TIME

Captain Marvel: I CAN FINALLY POST MY NEXT CHAPTER

Green lantern (Hal): You’re an author? Let me see your works

The three look at Caps account: …

Green lantern (Hal): THATS YOU???

Cyborg: howwwwwww

Green lantern (Jessica): Oh shit, I’m a big fan of your work

Bonus 2:

Batman, in the BatCave: it seems this ao3 site has a great deal of influence. I might need to investigate this.

Batman: Captain Marvels work may also give me clues as to who he is

Ten hours later

Batman, knee deep in Gray ghost, Batfam and Danny Phantom fics: … I may have made a mistake

Bonus 3:

Lex Luthor: hey Mercy. Mercy. Hey.

Mercy: WHAT

Lex: wouldn’t it be funny if after ao3 starts working again, I mess with it some more. Making it go down so soon after the 6 hours are up

Mercy: that’s sounds cruel

Mercy: I love it

Bonus 4:

Lex Luthor talking to some villains

Lex: it seems that I was right, planting a bug within the reading platform brought forth a level of villainy i hadn’t truly imagined

Sivanna “got blamed and beat up for it”: THAT WAS YOU!

Cheetah “her furry and wlw safe space” : WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

Killer Croc “same reasons above”: Oh I’m going to beat your ass

Harley Quinn, pulling out her bat and calling all the Gotham Rogues (who have been up in arms about it): IM WAY ON YA! YOURE DEAD

Lex Luthor, “just wanted to stop seeing himself get shipped with Superman”: I sense that I may have made a mistake

[fantastic-nonsense]

insane how Red Robin is "the loner Tim Drake book" when he had friends and family just popping out of the woodwork like daisies asking him to come home and enjoy hugs like he used to 😭

[nefarious-616-necromancer]

[spacebubblehomebase]

TimKon and DamiJon doodles because we are STARVED and I must feed my gremlin children. I really want this team up!!! (ToT)

Imagine: Super Bats Banter x2! -Bubbly💙

[dickkorylov3]

HELP, I literally OBSESSED with this man 😩

Hey, if you like RobStar and DC shananagans on the regular, then why not follow me??

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt in Memes 5

Once more, have a prompt entirely in memes because I'm too lazy to properly write one right now lol.

[wwprice1]

No Man’s Land era Bat Family by Ty Templeton.

[moonlightcycle571]

So we’ve all agreed that Gotham is magically fucked, right? Like that place has ancient curses upon ancient curses like it’s nobodies business. The city was built on an evil magic swamp, a lot of people pissed off the wrong witches and all around, that shot mixed and did not age well.

It’s also common knowledge that Batman hates magic. So he doesn’t deal with that stuff. Which is as shame considering it could help deal with so much.

But do you know who’s job it is to take care it? The Champion of Magic. And who is the Champion of Magic? Billy freakin Batson aka Captain Marvel.

Problem. Billy is a hero, and people in the caped community tend to be pretty protective of their city. Batman especially when it comes to other heroes in Gotham.

Problem 2. Batman, again, doesn’t give a shit about Magic. And it’s not like Billy can hold an intervention. Cause what’s he going to say “oh by the way, your city is the magical equivalent of multiple stains that has grown into toxic mold and is in dire need of the equivalent of multiple bleaching sessions”

So now Cap is stuck. He’s also scared of getting adopted as Billy the second he enters the city.