#he will MURDER for lex

[m00nz-writes]

I've been working on rewriting the story for A Single Black Rose [CCE + GTA fic] since I basically lost everything I had for it, and I decided to add a new character to the storyline. A character who will be the reasoning behind the gang moving to Los Santos after graduation from Bullworth Academy.

His name is Issac Bellic, Niko Bellic's illegitimate son. He's a young Serbian immigrant who's only true friend is Alexi Castillo Torres. Issac knows nothing of his father and hates his mother, so after graduation and learning of the possibility that Niko could be hiding/living in Los Santos, Issac and the gang move to San Andreas.

This spurred about due to my GTA Online character having Niko as his father and coming up with the goofy idea that Issac is Niko's actual son. Some examples of why;

Honestly I just thought having a GTA Online character look like Niko would be silly goofy fun times, but then I actually started to adore Issac. So now we have a new addition to the main cast. And also an excuse for why the gang goes to LS in the first place because I can't imagine any of the group (aside from maybe Jimmy) wanting to just move to San Andreas for no reason.

Issac's goofy suit is because boy does not know how to dress himself so I have this thought that Lexi bought him a bunch of colorful and fun suits despite the fact that Issac's main color pallet is brown, black, and red. Lex - in the future - dresses in obnoxious leopard print blazers, skirts, and heels, so of course she'd force her goofy style onto Issac, who won't refuse because they're BFFLs.

[cak31ssuperi04]

"Basically what happens is, Grace and Max are right about to win. They're right about to do it. And then, there's a groaning. In the floorboards. Suddenly, the staircase gives out beneath Grace and Max, and they fall through the floors. They fall stories. Pieces of wood shove through their chests, and they both are killed."

"But keep this in mind, nothing truly dies in the Waylon house. Grace and Max become ghosts, and they're off doing whatever, but they're no longer involved in the tournament."

So.. that Pit Stop in Hatchetfield tag team deathmatch huh.

[bruciemilf]

Hm. Gladiator! Jason thoughts

[dubiousdisco]

they should have burned lionel luthor at the stake

[queenofthequillandink]

I think a massive facet of Tim's secret identity should be that everyone in Gotham knows that if Tim had Bat Skills, he would simply be a benevolent supervillain instead. A feral little gremlin who would take out the kneecaps of every boomer trying to embezzle charity funds. Like, this is the bitch that's constantly ready to fight God in a Denny's parking lot. He would be out there committing murder every time someone tried to rezone Gotham's voting districts again; he'd just show up in their dark living room with anime eyeshine like, "oh? And you thought you could get away with this? 🔪"

[imashittalkingmushroom]

Rich Boarding School Au doodles, ft Bruce, Harvey, Lex and Ollie

headcannons under cut lol

Yes, Bruce and Lex are roommates. They stuck the Weird Rich Kids together

Ollie is there solely because I think its hilarious that well into their 40s Bruce does something that makes Ollie realize that he KNOWS WHO BATMAN IS. and that batman is the little weirdo he went to high school with

Ollie was scared of bruce and never talked to him. was 100% convinced that that kid did human sacrifice at some point or smthing.

Bruce and Harvey def picked on Lex. Were they his only friends? yes. Were they also really toxic and mean? Yes. Not that lex was nice either but ya know.

Lex has walked in on bruce and harvey kissing many times. poor boy just wants to chill in his room. He never tells anyone (who tf is he gonna tell anyway?) but he still thinks about it. in a 'he remembers it at the wirdest times, leans back, and goes huh' way.

Harvey doesnt realize he's bi until after his redemption arc in the far future. Because, obviously, making out with bruce over the years doesnt count. It's Bruce.

[cr1mson5returns]

Look, I'm not saying that Tim deserves to sucker-punch Lex Luthor every day. I'm just saying he deserves to sucker-punch that bastard on occasion, but never consistently enough to be predictable. Keep him on his toes and all that.

[nicnacsnonsense]

You know most media that tries to do the evil!Superman thing just has him kill people and stuff. Boring. Only Smallville has the guts to have Clark say straight to someone’s face that it’s his own fault that his abusive father didn’t love him.

Oh, wait sorry I’ve just been informed that actually Clark is the good guy in this scenario. Yeah, we’re supposed to agree with him when he tells Lex he didn’t try hard enough to earn his father’s love. Fucking yikes.

[domnorian]

More Lex in Faerun for you all. And this time, he has heavy armor, pets a doggo and his girlfriend tries to kill him. All this is perfectly normal.

[shshshshshowrunner]

[DM]

@electionfraudking

What if we did unrestrained summer fun part two but with more improv and also different set up and also metaphorical sip of cocaine cola. You. You know the. The ⬇️

[marnz]

for my sociologists out there: just realizing how influential “war makes the state and the state makes war” by Tilly has been to me…but I am not a sociologist and so I am feeling ignorant. Is there anything else I should be reading re: nation-state formation or other critical ideas? 🙏🏻

[cinnamonanddean]

I reiterate: Tess is streets ahead of Lex in terms of balls to the wall crazy. She just plugged poor Stuart in the head for refusing to wipe Lois's memory.

I gotta say, I kinda like how rough Clark is with her. Not in a sexy way, but in an "I don't care that you're a girl" way. The casual way he just shoved her aside to get to Lois, the hand on her throat a few eps ago. His absolute lack of patience for her BS is very refreshing.

[pinkopalina]

as a huge batjokes shipper i want batman and joker to hate each other in the sense they dont really hate each other, they just have really different goals and see their own version of potential in the other and right now hate is the best word for their situationship. they both love the other for what they could be but neither of them wants to be what the other one wants, and that's equally as frustrating as it is necessary for them to keep existing in their current roles. they're deadlocked and that fate surrounding each other is kind of the point -- we both have to be like this, the opposite of what the other wants, for us to keep existing at all, and for giving me that gift i both love and hate you. it's an agreement. i think the hate that's there now is born from an intense underlying love.

i think batman "hates" joker for being so amazing and smart and cunning, for being able to create grand gestures and schemes, to pull people together under his charisma and make them all believe in something, for being as extraordinary as he is but batman hates that he uses it to hurt people. he hates that joker can't channel his energy into doing something good for the world, that he hurts himself and others just because he wants to be batman's greatest enemy. i think batman wants to help joker but also hates him at this point for joker exhausting him, constantly getting hurt both emotionally and physically by him, joker never trying to improve his situation, throwing away other people's lives, showing batman he loves him by lashing out and hurting him. batman hates joker because he loves his rogues, he wants to help them, and he knows they can do better. he wants to live in a gotham that doesn't need batman but he still needs to be needed, because when there's no batman, what is bruce going to be? without joker, he will continue being batman, but it's an empty crusade. some of my favorite interactions between harvey and bruce are the ones where harvey thanks bruce for "always being there for me, never giving up on me, my very best friend." even with someone like harvey, bruce can still hold onto that hope for his rogues, never give up on them, keep going for them, even if it puts them through the cycle one more time.

i think joker hates batman in the most toxic way possible, but it's still love. i just think he's selfish and doesn't want batman to think about anyone else but him, the same way he operates for batman, but if he must think about other people then joker will make it as amazing as possible! i think he hates batman for wasting his time on ordinary people, people who are so boring that batman claims he has to protect and serve and love them but joker thinks it's all surface-level. batman won't kill joker but he'll leave room for people dying in his crusade. it's a choice he allows, and even if joker knows that's a morally fucked up way to put someone in a box, he doesn't care. batman is the type of person to train himself mentally and physically for decades and dress up in a half-silly-half-menacing costume so that everyone can have an idea about him. batman himself is not normal, and joker knows that and loves that! why is he wasting his time trying to save people that use him, abuse him, don't want him to be the best he can be? i think joker's motivations for loving batman and lashing out as if he hates him lie somewhere in between extreme admiration -- like i truly believe in your cause and that you're the right person to do it, but i'm so angry at you for wasting your time on other people and i'm so hurt and jealous that you choose them over me, just so you can be a hypocrite and let them die if i want them to anyways -- and anger at his hypocrisy -- like it's easy for joker to dedicate himself to chaos and just being in batman's life by putting batman in situations that force him to be a better and better hero, but how can batman sit there and choose and pick what morals he'll uphold and who gets to live and who gets to die?

i want to be your greatest enemy because you are the greatest hero ever, and the only way you and i can keep being the best at what we do is if we do it together, because of what we both believe in.

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

if i were a superhero i would kill some villains and reform the others

"how would you know which is which?" "why do you get to decide who lives and dies?"

some of them get up to some very interesting hijinks. some of them murder people for fun. it's not that hard

"oh but once you cross that line it's a slippery slope"

no i don't think it's that hard to only kill mass murderers and let everyone else just go to jail

[methylphenidatedreams]

Tw: murder, drowning

I dreamt that i was on a freeway but i had no car but instead i was jogging and perfectly keeping up with the other cars and switching lanes and everything. There was also a tiger statue and a bike that were keeping up with the cars. I made friends with one of the drivers who was a small child, probably elementary schooler with most of his baby teeth missing, who had rolled down the windows so we could talk. The freeway let us out of the woods to a bridge that we couldn’t see past the horizon but as we were getting out of the woods i watched Red Robin get kissed by a floating woman in a white dress and drop dead. I quickly turned from a vehicle into a pedestrian and me and the bats ran ahead on the bridge but were stopped by another woman in a white dress who shackled us to the bridge to be picked off by more of the spirits. I was chained up next to spoiler with signal on the other side of her so i was only paying attention to them when the lady came. I watched her kill duke and then i decided to grab Steph and drown her, forcing the spirit to come into the water so i could also drown her. The rest of the team had died except for dick and damian so we ran away into the sewers where red hood was hiding out with his goons, who looked like the npcs from the hotel from wreck-it-Ralph’s game but life sized so they went up to about hood’s waist and their faces were probably wider or as wide as his torso. Anyways, jason did some posturing about always being prepared and knowing better than the bats and then he went to show us his plan to deal with the spirits. He had a whole area dedicated to where he had something presentation set up for us but he couldn’t get the lights over the cubby to work so he just went around banging on the walls and ceiling and cussing at both the wiring and his goons and himself for like a minute straight - enough time for kori and Roy to fly in and also get huffed at but roy just laughed. Just as the tension from waiting for both his plan and the punchline got to be too much i was RUDELY awaken by my father and i will now spend the rest of the day moping over how i killed Stephanie and didn’t even get to hear how we were gonna kill the angel/harpy/sirens.

[sanguinesmi1e]

A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (you're here) Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Art of LBM

Danny was still lying under the Specter Speeder, mind reeling as the words “they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms” ran in a loop through his head. Could that really be true? Is his death attached to the portal, forever lodged in the doorway, preventing it from closing?

The guy clearly knew what he was talking about. The bit about why his ghost friends and frenemies caused so much chaos as they unleashed their obsessions on Amity Park made so much sense. It would certainly explain a lot of his interactions with ghosts after he died. 

 Danny silently cursed himself for not destroying everything in the lab before they got here. He and Jazz hadn't worried about the portal schematics, because they honestly didn't have any way to open a portal, only cycle energy in a recursive loop that shouldn’t have done anything. No one, not he and Jazz, not their parents, not Tucker or Technus, had been able to figure out why it had worked when Danny was inside. But if the machine was able to sustain a portal that was already opened. . . He wondered idly if he could light a fire that looked accidental and would both destroy the lab and leave the two men enough time to escape. It’d probably be too risky. And who knew what destroying the portal would do to him. Fully kill him? Destroy him completely and shatter his core? It might be worth it to prevent anyone from gaining this knowledge. 

No wonder Lex Luthor was interested in this business. A child was murdered in this basement, and for all Tim knew, the child’s soul could still be trapped here fueling a Lazarus Pit that connected the world of the living to the afterlife. What Luthor could do with an interdimensional portal or even a single sample of Lazarus water. . . Tim shuddered to think.

On the one hand, he was grateful that Wayne Enterprises secured the business before Luthor had the chance. On the other hand, he felt rather ill to think his family had directly enriched mad scientists who performed child sacrifices. At least he had full faith that between him and Oracle, they’d hunt the Fentons down and make sure justice was served.

“What is to be done for the child?” Tim asked Constantine. “Is his soul tied to that machine?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s just his death.” 

“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me, ‘cause I’m not sure I see the distinction.” Tim said wryly. 

“I guess. . . Hm. You could think of it as the moment of transition drawn out endlessly like a plucked string whose note never stops vibrating. Like life is the anchor point of one end of the string, and the afterlife is at the other end, and the child’s death is the note created when his soul crosses from one side to the other. The soul is the bow causing reverberations, but the reverberations are the actual death itself. The effect of the soul’s passage. And in this case, the portal is amplifying the death so it doesn’t end like a normal death ‘note’ would.” Constantine leaned in to examine some of the runes that were part of the array. “Not a perfect metaphor, obviously, since you bow perpendicular rather than parallel to the string, and death and souls are nothing like music, but you get the idea, right?”

Tim was still caught on John Constantine saying the words “death note” together unironically in a sentence. He was going to have to share that with Steph later. Maybe with the whole family group chat, even. “Yeah, the metaphor makes sense, as much as any of this occult stuff does to me.”

“Whatever. As for whether there’s anything we can do for the child, I think we’ll have to try and summon him if we can.” The Brit started pulling items out of his trenchcoat’s inner pockets. “We need to ask what the spirit wants done, before we go messing with things we don’t understand.”

“Alright, need anything from me?”

“Yeah, move this stuff out of the way so I can draw a circle.” Constantine directed Tim to shove aside a few stacks of boxes, something called a Fenton Ghost Weasel, and together they shifted a coffin-shaped iron maiden that for some reason was labeled Fenton Stockades. Then he set to work chalking a circle and runes on the ground.

Finally he sat back and dusted chalk off his hands. “That should do it.”

“Will this be bright too?” Tim asked warily.

“Eh, might be? Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Tim grabbed an auto-darkening welding helmet with a green “Fenton” sticker on it off the workbench and slipped it on.

“Alright, here goes.” Constantine began the summoning ritual.

While Danny debated arson, the other two had finished clearing a space and chalked some kind of circle onto the floor. He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the trenchcoat guy begin a traditional incantation for a summoning. Were they trying to summon him? Danny really hoped it wouldn’t work. 

When people tried to summon the Ghost King he could almost always ignore the pull. This pull, however, was very strong and immediate. It seemed proximity made a difference, or this guy was just better at summonings than the average cultist. Before Danny could accept the inevitable, he was pulled bodily — literally! — out from under the vehicle and across the floor, still flat on his back on the Fenton Under Car Creeper, with the Specter Speeder’s ecto-engine hugged tightly to his chest. The wheels of the Fenton Creeper (not to be mistaken with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick) sped him straight to the summoning circle. Still very much in human form. 

This was his first real look at the guy called Constantine, and he couldn’t help a horrified yelp. “Eugh!! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude!?!!” 

His lapse in attention made him lose the battle with the summoning spell, and it gripped him, pulling him through the convolutions of the spellwork even though he was already lying half across the circle, and forcing him to change into Phantom in the process. It was such a disgusting sensation, like he was one of those squishy water filled tube snake toys that look like a fleshlight, and someone squeezed really hard and abruptly so he turned inside out and went flying to go splat against a wall (or in this case, against the ground inside the circle of chalk). He tried and failed not to retch.

The younger man in the crisp suit whom he’d already identified as Mr. CEO-Timothy-Drake-Wayne looked at him in startled bafflement, while the older blond, still smoking his cigarette, (gross, and was that thing never ending?) was probably looking at him. Maybe. It was really difficult to tell, because he was a frankly vile sight. Danny winced and swallowed down nausea. “What have you done to your soul?”

“I — what?”

“Trypophobia central, man! Ugh that’s gotta be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t you cover it up?”

“Who are you?” Timothy Drake-Wayne interjected.

“I’m the dead guy? You literally just summoned me.”

“Constantine said you were a child”

“I mean, I was?” Danny looked down at his obviously twenty-something year-old self and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I was fourteen though. These things happen.”

“Not typically, no. The dead tend to be pretty unaging.” Constantine said. 

“Dude I’m not having a conversation with you while your soul looks like Escher’s swiss cheese nightmare. Anyways, some of us do. Heck, I know a guy who constantly shifts from infant to old man and every stage in between. It’s pretty distracting when you’re trying to get him to let you fix the timeline again.” Danny continued to look anywhere but at the blond man. “But if it’s so important to you, I can —” He got an abstracted look, and slowly de-aged himself until the two men stood over a fourteen year old boy with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

“That does not help. No.” The guy whose soul looked somewhat like a bleeding tooth fungus said. He turned away and started doing something magical. Danny hoped it would mask his soul in some way, but so far all it did was make Danny feel like he needed to pop his ears.

He also felt particularly uncharitable, so he didn’t revert to his natural age, and instead tried to see how young and cute he could make himself appear.

“So are you just haunting this basement? Seems hazardous, given the former proprietors.” Timothy tried to redirect the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as distressed to see the ghost of a child, but his eyes darted surreptitiously to the Lichtenberg figure Danny used to always hide under gloves.

“Nah, haven’t been back here in years. I mostly live in my Infinite Realms haunt these days.”

“You . . . live? Is that just a figure of speech?”

“It’s rude to ask about a ghost’s nonliving status, you know. Highly taboo to ask how a ghost died or poke into the circumstances of our deaths without permission.” Danny admonished. Making himself younger than fourteen took more effort than he expected.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Timothy raised his hands placatingly to the boy who now looked younger than Damian. “What brings you back to Amity Park?”

“Uh, you summoned me? Are we still not clear on that?”

Tim looked pointedly at the Fenton Creeper and the engine Danny still held. He’d shrunk down to the size of a four year old, and the engine really should be crushing him given it was bigger than his torso now. He quickly set it aside, and turned his biggest puppy dog eyes on Tim.

“You were in here already, and you looked pretty alive for a moment there.”

“I can look lots of ways!” Danny focused really hard on looking as cute, small, and nonthreatening as possible. He thought it was working when all of a sudden there was a pop! and he was smaller than he’d ever managed before. 

Timothy Drake-Wayne looked like a giant. The other guy, who had thankfully managed to put away his soul somehow, wore scuffed oxfords bigger than Danny. Hell, he could probably fit his entire self into one of Constantine’s shoes if that wasn’t a bizarre thing to do, and they weren’t already full of stinky feet. Holy shit what happened to him!?

Tim blinked down at the cat? Snake? Ghost. . . thing at his feet. What the fuck. A moment ago he was talking to an adult man whom he’s pretty sure was dead and he’s very sure was trolling them. Now his interlocutor had turned into an adorable creature with soft white paws, a long twisting tail, big pointed ears that swiveled like a cats, and a humanoid face that should’ve been creepy but was actually eliciting cute-aggression in him. Tim blinked again. The little baby ghost creature blinked enormous green eyes back at him. Then it yawned, revealing three rows of needle sharp teeth that looked like a cross between what you’d find in the mouth of a shark and a cat. Yikes.

“Does that mean the interview is over?” Tim asked him.

The creature just blinked up at him again, then zeroed in on his shoelaces, pupils expanding until only a narrow band of green ringed them.

Yup. The interview was over. Those paws hid some wicked claws which could apparently slice through leather with ease. Oh, Tim really hoped ghost scratch fever wasn’t a thing. At least the ghost looked sufficiently contrite after he yelped, and it waited while he removed a shoelace to sacrifice as a toy.

If Damian ever met him, there would be a new member of the family. Maybe he should name the creature preemptively so they didn’t have a cat-snake named Bat-Ghost in Wayne manor. 

“Do you have a name, little baby cat-snake ghost? Little baby ghost man?” He cooed as the miniature monster dashed back and forth, intent on shredding his shoelace.

The ghost paused long enough to chirp, “Li’l baby man!” before launching himself at the string. Even shocked, Tim’s reflexes had him whisking the toy out of the way, and the ghost went careening under a cabinet.

He wedged himself in the gap, landing face first in a dust bunny, and quickly wriggled backwards with an indignant squall. His wordless protestations cut off as he fell into a violent sneezing fit that thankfully dislodged him from beneath the cabinet.

Tim suppressed his laugh, and asked, “Little Baby Man? Is that what you want to be called?”

The ghost pawed most of the dust away from his nose, but spider webs covered his face and a big dust bunny perched atop his head like a fascinator with a cobweb lace veil. He looked Tim right in the eyes and nodded, dislodging the dust in his hair and setting off more sneezes.

“Li’l Baby Man” he confirmed. He placed a paw on Tim’s shoe and chirped, “Tim!” Then he pointed his tail at Constantine and said, “Gross!” with narrowed eyes.