#i want to write a flash fic for this

[movedtodykedvonte]

*Spidey and the Sinister Six having their usual fight*

Doc Ock, landing a hit: You’re getting slow Spider-Man! Age finally catching up to you?

Spider-Man: You wish! I haven’t even hit my 30s! From those costumes I can already tell I failed to save you guys from those midlife crises! Sorry by the way.

Vulture: Watch it wallcr- wait… Did you just say your not in your thirties yet?

Spider-Man: Surprised that this spiders so young and spry? Well-

Electro: Dude I’ve been fighting you for at least 5 fucking years! How old even are you?

Shocker, joking cause he’s the only one who picked up no grown adult acts likes Spidey: Don’t swear in-front of the boy you don’t want him to pick it up.

Rhino: Christ! You’re tellin me I almost crushed some 12-year-olds skull all those years ago?

Spider-Man, regretting his quipping: I was not that young! Like just starting freshman year but-

Sandman, horrified as he’s the only one with a kid and dad instincts(as of my iteration): I could’ve killed a kid…

Shocker, genuinely curious: Are you even old enough to drink? Cruel to kill a man who ain’t had his first drink yet.

Electro: Please tell us you’re at least over 25 as of this fight. Hell, I’ll take over 21!

Spider-Man:….

Sandman, realizing just how young he really is: Oh my god.

Spider-Man: My birthday’s coming up soon so I guess it counts?

Doc Ock, exacerbated: It. Does. Not!

Vulture: What would your mother think if she knew her son was out here risking his life telling poorly constructed jokes?

Spider-Man, offended cause it quips slap: 1. My jokes are great 2. She and my dad are dead so-

Sandman, hysterical cause holy shit he almost killed a kid orphan: OH MY GOD!

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

hoLy fffffff?!?!!!

WOW

uhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHH (damn)

is he undercover? exploring himself? did he find out-of-context advice on a forum and decide 'fuck it let's see if this works' because he's having trouble communicating what he wants to a person of interest? is this an alternate reality where he was kidnapped off dathomir by someone else entirely? is it a dare he decided to blow out of the water just to flip the script on someone? did someone beg to see him in these silks? did- !!!

dumpsterfire.exe has crashed. please restart the system to continue.

...belly dancer Maul?

Hi hello, I hear you and your request was answered. You're a genius, and you're hired.

Here he is, dancing for you ;)

Tap for details because HOOOO there's a lot

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason may have a point here

Jason: Kill him.

Batman: No.

Jason (insistent): Kill him.

Batman: No.

Jason (angry): Kill him!

Batman (loud): No!

Joker: Can I kill myself to escape this nightmare of awkward father-son tension?

Jason and Batman: Shut up!

Jason: Ignore me, like you did when I died. What about the countless lives he’s taken? What about Barb? What about the hell he’s put all of us through for some sick joke? If you didn’t want to do it for those reasons, what about me? I wanted to ignore this, but he took me away from you! Why not vindicate me? I thought I was your son!

Joker: Guess you weren’t that close.

Jason smacked the Joker with the crowbar for the fifth time.

Jason: Shut. The. Fuck. Up! Back to you, B—Batman. When I saw the bomb tick down, I accepted it. I accepted my death with the assumption that when I died, you’d kill him. Then I wake up, and this monster is still alive. Why?

Batman: I’ve contemplated torturing the Joker in private. Making him feel pain from every nerve in his body, savoring the light leaving his eyes when I finally kill him. But I don’t want to go to that dark place… because that won’t fix crime. If I kill the Joker, I would be crossing a line I can’t come back from.

Jason (in disbelief): Stop joking.

Batman: I’m not.

Jason (tapping the gun on his leg): You have to be.

Batman (deadpan): When have I ever joked with you in this suit?

Jason: It’s not too late, because you can’t be serious. It literally would fix one thing… HIM! Because he’d be dead!

Joker: Can you tell me what type of torture methods you’d perform on me? I might need to use those later.

Jason pointed his gun at the Joker, showcasing how the crazy clown is only proving his point.

Batman: If I kill him, I would never return to who I was—the person I became to fight crime. I would kill the next one like him.

Jason: Then fucking do that! You can't be arrested. You’re friends with Commissioner Gordon, who, by the way, the Joker shot his fucking daughter. You shot his daughter, right?

Joker: Yeah.

Jason: Okay, so should I shoot him, or do you want to go first?

Batman: The Joker would have to do something insanely unforgivable to make me kill him.

Jason stays silent for fifteen seconds, unsure of how to respond.

Jason: …He blackmailed my mom into handing me over and tortured me horribly and then I died in a bomb explosion. Not from the bomb either, from being suffocated under rubble. Just so you know, I was legally dead for five years because of him.

Batman: That’s different.

Jason (twitching eye): Different how?

Batman: You're here now.

Jason looked around, incredulous.

Jason: Am I on a hidden camera show? Because that’s not a defense. Are you seriously trying to excuse what he did just because I’m back now?!

Batman: Um... It’s not right!

Jason: Why? Go ahead, tell me—why is it wrong for me to kill him and for me to kill irredeemable criminals? I'll wait. I have the detonator.

Batman: Because when my parents died—

Jason: Nope, nope, nope! My mom sold me out to the Joker. My dad beat me; my step-mom beat me! You’ve got to come up with something else!

Joker: …He has a point.

Batman (clenched fist): Okay, after saving lives without killing criminals, I learned that all life is valuable.

Jason (without hesitation): Joseph Stalin.

Batman: Okay, that was a war leader—

Jason: Charles Manson.

Batman: Hold on, he was a cult lea—

Jason: Jim Jones.

Batman: They volunteered in both situations.

Jason (calmly): Adolf Hitler. The Nazi soldiers who knowingly participated in the extermination of Jews and those who escaped to Brazil.

Silence.

Joker (weakly speaking): I’m… the one possibly dying, but he brought up a couple of good examples. Like I’d kill me after that.

Batman (stammering): No, wait, because that's not the same. The Joker is not the same as them.

Joker: Thanks, Batsy. I try to be different.

Jason (trying to breathe calmly): Okay, I’ll cancel out the world dictators, the cult leaders. I’ll do that for you… Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Wade Wilson... I can go all day; I love learning about true crime and wars. He’s not exactly like them either, but he’s pretty damn close.

Batman: …

Jason (irate): And again… him torturing and killing your adopted son isn’t the line? Am I near the line?!

Batman: I told you not to fall for your mother's tricks.

Jason (shocked): Oh… my God! Are you resorting to gaslighting? Are you really gaslighting me while I have a bomb? We’re doing that?!

Joker (not taking any of this seriously): I wouldn't stand for that, neither would Barbara.

Jason hit the man in the arm with the crowbar to silence him.

Batman (doubling down): All I’m saying is that when you came back, you started killing left and right.

Jason: Yes, rapists to my right and murderers to my left. It’s not like I kill shoplifters.

Batman (scoffing): Hypocrite.

Jason: A shoplifter might have a reason to steal and doesn’t resort to kill people.What rapists have you met that had a reason? Because rapists aren’t redeemable; they’re fair game. Same with, let’s see, child traffickers, pedophiles, serial killers, assassins—literally awful, evil people! That’s target practice.

Jason aimed the gun at the Joker as he spoke to emphasize his point.

Batman (indignant): Okay, last I checked, murder is wrong!

Jason (pointing his gun at the Joker): It sure is!

Batman: A criminal is a criminal. I treat them all the same.

Jason (laughing because he had this one ready): Let’s talk about Selina Kyle.

Batman (nervous): Let’s not do that.

Jason: No, no, she gets a pass when she’s attacked people to escape prison. If a criminal is a criminal, then why isn’t she in prison? Because she meows at you? Because of your odd sexual tension with her—I’ve read your journals. And I don't judge man, that's your love life, but I want to know why she gets a pass. Why does Black Mask walk? Why does Mr. Freeze walk? The Joker gets to walk… why is that? Tick-tock, detective.

Batman: …If you give me five minutes, I will think of an answer.

Jason (cocky): It bothers you, doesn’t it? That I’m doing a better job at being you? That I'm taking on businesses in this crime-ridden area because I can admit that crime will never stop? Is it that I kill murderers and rapists, and that hurts your feelings?

Batman: It doesn't bother me… I just don't want you to do this.

Jason (serious): Let me dial back the snark. I'm not asking you to kill Selina or Riddler or Mr. Freeze. I want you to kill the Joker. The man who's been alive and committing crimes since I died. I'm not even mad at you for not stopping my death. Honestly, I forgive you for that. But for the love of God, kill him! Kill him, and I’ll take the blame. That’s all I ask. I am begging you! Do you see this? I am begging you!

Batman sighed with regret knowing he couldn't turn on his morals again. It would only lead to worse happening to him and his family and that included Jason.

Batman (final decision): I can't. I won't. I'm sorry.

Jason: I—Wow, you’re actually going to make me do this. Okay, I kill the Joker or… you kill me.

Jason tossed Batman an extra gun, which the man catches with ease.

Jason: Or you can shoot him.

Batman (somber tone): I regret the day I let you into my life… Not because of any faults you made, but my own. I gave you a good life, with the life of a hero in the mix. Now that you’re alive again and there’s nothing I can do to stop you… I won’t kill him or you. Again… I’m sorry.

That was all he could say. The decisions he made in the past, when Jason died, were secrets he wanted to keep buried, even if it meant Jason would never learn the truth and would continue to harbor resentment toward him.

Jason: Heh… You regret taking me in because of the hero life you gave me—not because I died or because my murderer is still free. Cool. I suppose you’ll just stand by and watch me take him out.

With a dry chuckle, Jason spun the gun in his hand, poised to pull the trigger. Batman reached into his utility belt for a weapon.

Jason (with feigned sweetness): This is fantastic! I always wanted a moment like this with you!

Jason grabbed the Joker and aimed the gun at the cackling psycho's head.

Jason: I’m going to enjoy this!

Batman: DODGE!

Jason: What?

Batman hurled a Batarang at Jason, striking him in the neck and impaling him. In shock, Jason dropped the gun and the Joker, blood spurting from the wound.

Joker (amused): This is fun! What a twist! I didn't think you would hurt your own son!

Jason (shocked and angry): You threw a Batarang… at ME?!

Batman (regrettably): Oh shit, shit, shit! You were supposed to dodge!

Jason (betrayed): You pulled a Piccolo on me!?

Batman: I thought you would dodge! I shouted “dodge!”

Jason: You thought I would read your damn mind, toss Joker aside, dodge, and then not shoot him?!

Batman maintained a stoic expression, but inside, his mind was screaming in embarrassment.

Jason and Joker: Oh my God, you actually did. GREAT! I’m agreeing with him!

Jason yanked the Batarang out of his neck, chuckling dryly as he trembled.

Jason: This doesn’t even hurt me, crazy right? I—You threw this at me to save him… You know, maybe in a few years we can laugh about this, but not here, not today. I’m sorry too… but I’ll see you again.

Jason pressed the detonator, successfully escaping alongside Batman. The Joker was buried beneath the collapsing debris of the buildings, but somehow still alive.

[triglycercule]

i just learned the fact that ink was created when comyet was 16. bro i NEED to lock in one of the coolest characters ive ever known was made when the creator was around MY AGE???? I NEED TO LOCK IN

[frog-with-no-therapy]

I want a spider X dcu but have Peter working at the league's base in space as a mechanic or a scientist, cause of course they will have the best material and information to help him make a way home. Except that Peter is weird.

Like, weird weird. Like, spider bite kind of weird with a hint of different culture from a different world kind of weird.

Listen most of his interactions with humans in their world is with them cause he's at the watchtower all the time, so his understanding of what is normal is a bit skew, and he probably also got used to acting more spidery, especially when in a lab or sm (courtesy of his time at the avenger tower where he doesn't really have to hide his spidery side)

Then you take into account him having a different kind of humour and a different set of memes and you have the whole justice league thinking he's secretly an alien

[mostlymaudlin]

neil is standing in the corner of the party with kevin when a very drunk nicky wraps his arm around his shoulders

“neil!” nicky cries. “you have to find andrew!”

“is he missing?” neil asks, eyes still on the game footage playing on kevin’s phone. 

“it’s one minute till midnight!” he says. “if i can’t get my new years kiss from erik, then i need to at least live vicariously through you!”

“okay, just give me a second…” neil says. they’ve watched this game before, but neil and kevin are trying to pay better attention this time to the umaine backliner who has been an absolute wall this season. 

“did you not hear me?” nicky says. “we’re down to seconds. we have to move!”

“fine,” neil says, letting nicky drag him away even as kevin grumbles his dissent. andrew is, surprisingly, still at the party — neil had not expected him to make it until midnight. he’s sitting on a sofa with renee, matt, and dan. the others talk as andrew stares at his phone. (he’s probably playing snake. he’s having a Moment with snake right now.)

nicky manages to surprise neil, pushing him at andrew so that he stumbles and half-falls into his lap. andrew reacts quickly, moving his phone out of the way and grabbing neil’s shirt so that he doesn’t slide to the floor.

“hi,” neil says breathlessly. andrew raises an eyebrow. he doesn’t push neil off, so neil readjusts in his lap instead. andrew wraps a secure arm around neil’s waist. 

“twenty seconds!” nicky shouts to the room. “hey, kevin, since we’re both in this whole LDR situation…”

neil tries to tune the room out as it dissolves into a loud countdown.

10, 9…

“nicky says i have to kiss you at midnight,” neil says, just loud enough for andrew to hear. 

7, 6…

andrew blinks. “that’s stupid.”

4, 3…

“i thought so too, but—“

happy new year!!!

andrew cuts neil off by grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. it’s nothing fancy. it’s not particularly hot or meaningful — a dry press of lips surrounded by other people. 

but still. neil smiles against andrew’s mouth. 

it feels like making a wish.

[tacogoats]

Thinking about a Durge who has rejected Bhaal, and whatever person they used to be, but still secretly longs for their lost memories. A Durge that, despite the answers the man could give them, would never re-ignite that strange passion they were shown they once had for Gortash. A Durge that has, for all purposes to the others in their party, moved on. A Durge that, six months after that day atop the Netherbrain, at a party celebrating their new life, receives a strange letter with an even stranger gadget hidden inside.

The meeting at the inauguration was a strange one. Despite Gortash's very obvious elation at seeing what he'd called his 'dearest friend', the man had no hesitation very proudly detailing the Dark Urge's grand scheme; their grand design for the world to be.

In front of all their friends and 'new' lover, of course.

They were furious, and rightly so. Gortash must have known what he was doing. To isolate them, to bring them back to him. The person who accepted them for all they were, all they are, and all they could be - together.

It wasn't enough to win the Dark Urge back to him, and although they'd tentatively teamed up in the end - he had died. Not by the Urge's hand, but in some ways, his own. The group had left Gortash's body within the Prism, and simply moved on. There were bigger problems, and no one really was sad to see him go. Right?

The Urge remembers a letter found in Moonrise Towers. Gortash liked gadgets, according to Ketheric. Evidence was abundant enough with the Steel Watchers, among other things. The item is strangely shaped, entirely too small, and with a simple touch, comes to life.

It reminds them of the strange picture they had seen at the Iron Throne. Gortash's visage shone through a glass, moving, talking - warning them to leave. Answering them, praising them for listening.

What a strange contraption, they'd thought all those months ago.

And then, now, there he was again. A picture, in their hand. A moving picture. Speaking with his voice, wearing his weary face - so, so weary - but not the same as before.

This had passed already. The voice did not answer them this time. It was simply impossible - the man was dead, but not quite gone in this moment.

He speaks of the inauguration like it had just happened. His joy at seeing his favourite 'assassin' again, which he says with a sad smile and a moment of silence. A heavy sigh follows, rubbing at his eyes - which they can see are so much darker than they last remember.

He is tired.

Gortash speaks of their time together, before Orin - and how Orin torments him day and night now that they had both confirmed the Urge's return. She appears with their face, taunting him some days. Other days she sends assassins that wear the same, and he simply cannot let his guard down anymore. But he knew it was them that day.

They can see the exhaustion that pulls down his features, makes his words heavier. This is not the Archduke speaking to him in this moment - it is a tired, broken down man that has just seen a ghost.

Yet they cling to every word anyway, because even though this is a broken down man who is terrified of the ghost - the man still hopes the ghost will remember him, too.

They don't. But he doesn't know that, not this little picture of him, anyway.

The picture says that if they are seeing this recording, it means he is already dead - and although he had planned to sway them back to his side, he may not have been given the chance, and refuses to allow the opportunity to share what the two of them once had slip away.

He would gift unto them the memories that he could, even beyond death. The bloody ones, the happy ones, the painful ones.

And he talks, he smiles, he even cries.

And so do they.

[nostalgia-tblr]

i nearly anon'd the thorki non-con fic out of SHAME but in two weeks it's become my third most clicked-on fic of the year, behind only a multichapter fic and a bit of angsty sifki porn lololol

[hashioki7]

Migraine

Listening to the rain hitting the roof, Laura lay down on the sofa. The rain, which had started around noon, showed no signs of stopping even as night fell. Despite it being spring, the air felt damp and cold, chilling her to the bone.

Rainy days always put her in a bad mood. Especially cold, rainy days like today.

On top of that, it had been chaotic at the clinic all day. Pets in critical condition kept being rushed in one after another, and by evening, when she was finally freed from assisting Dr. Johnson, her shoulders felt heavy, and her head throbbed as if being squeezed.

Resting her head on a cushion, she let out a weak sigh. Gently placing her hand on her temple, she felt her pulse throbbing beneath her fingers. It was definitely a migraine.

She had just taken medication for it. Moving around too much during a migraine could make her feel nauseous, so she needed to stay still. She knew she should go to bed and rest, but she didn't have the energy for that. Laura closed her eyes, resting her head on the cushion.

Feeling a gentle stroke on her forehead, Laura opened her eyes. Travis was peering down at her with a worried expression, still dressed in his sheriff's uniform.

"Are you okay?"

"My head is pounding. I think it's the change in atmospheric pressure… and the clinic was busy all day."

"Can you eat anything?"

"I don't really have an appetite right now…"

Travis's thick eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"You should rest here for a while."

"Thank you. And you should change out of your uniform, too."

After a hesitant sigh, Travis's footsteps receded. But not long after, he returned, carrying a blanket and a steaming mug.

"It's not good to let your body get cold."

Travis gently supported her back and lifted her up. Carefully spreading the blanket over her knees, he handed her the mug.

"I made hot milk for you. Even if you don't have an appetite, it's better to have something."

Travis looked at Laura with concern, still in his uniform. Laura couldn't help but smile. Her temples were still throbbing, and she felt queasy, but she didn't feel too bad.

"…Thank you, Travis."

"Is there anything else you need?"

"Well… then… can you sit next to me and hold my hand? And then kiss me. And, take me to bed after that."

Travis raised an eyebrow as if caught off guard, then blinked. But quickly smiling broadly, he sat down next to Laura, gently holding her hand.

"Yes, Ma'am."

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

Jedi-Speedster Barry is my new hyperfixation

[lifea16]

WIP Wednesday even though it's nowhere near Wednesday

(Sorry I'm not working on the animatic, I like multitasking)

[cheriekos]

The Haunting of Wayne Manor - Unedited Excerpt (Birdflash Ghost AU)

Hello once again sharing a WIP because it’s sucking the life out of me. This snippet is from my autumn Birdflash WIP (currently titled, tentatively, The Haunting of Wayne Manor - not at all related to the haunting series I literally accidentally, subconsciously stole the title and now it’s stuck lol). It is a Ghost AU! It was meant to be a short, cute little Halloween vibe type of fic and then my brain sabotaged me and now there’s plot. So now I’m spending a lot more time on it than I anticipated. Here’s an itty bitty piece from it. Unbeta’d, very unedited, probably some spelling & grammar mistakes in here. This excerpt may not end up in the final fic and may be altered later on. Happy reading!

Birds chirping, the scratching of the branches at the window - then the laughter of a boy, right at his ear, hot breath causing goosebumps to rise.

Wally nearly jumps out of skin. He takes two shaky steps backwards, flashlight wildly chasing the figure in front of him. Between one blink and the next, he sees colors of red and gold, little accents of green - he blinks again, and the first thing his eyes land on is a scarf. When he finally breathes, lets clarity clear his vision, he realizes - he knows that scarf. Old, pilling, but still the warmest thing he owned - covered in the scent of Aunt Iris's autumn candles.

Green eyes meet blue. Wally feels the cufflinks, warm against his chest.

"It's you." Wally breathes. "Dick Grayson."

The lights blink rapidly, churning to life above them. The clock on the nightstand begins to tick, tick, tick. All at once, the room seems to come alive again - and the young man in front of him takes a deep breath. Like the one you take after having been submerged underwater for so long.

"My name," He says, in wonderment. "You know my name." 

"It wasn't easy to find," Wally says, still staring in disbelief. "You weren't easy to find."

"No, I -" He blinks, words stoping abruptly. He touches the red scarf - a move that seems more of our habit than anything else. "That doesn't seem right."

Wally feels his chest ache - this was exactly what he hoped wouldn't happen.

"I found your name in a really old article from a Metropolis newspaper," Wally says, unsure of what to do that now he had Dick here. Momentarily tangible and present, no longer wayward in the veil. "Someone really didn't want Dick Grayson's name to stick around. I tried every source in Gotham, even trying to find old records at city hall -"

"Seriously?" Dick says, incredulous. "You did that? Just to speak to me again?"

"Well - yes." Wally crosses his arms. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"We spoke once," Dick says, almost arguing. "You could've written me off as some hallucination or some weird kid pulling a prank on you -"

"And I didn't," Wally says. "I believed it when you said you were a ghost and needed your name. It took me a while, but - I did it. I'm here." 

And what now? Those were the words he didn't speak out loud. 

Dick continues to stare at him, lips slightly open as he took in Wally and his response. Wally felt a strange sense of deja vu roll over him - this wasn't the first time Dick Grayson tried to pry some knowledge out of him by staring him down. He gestures to Dick, trying to deflect some attention of himself.

"You grew," Wally remarks. "Last time I saw you, you were barely ten."

"I died when I was twenty," Dick says, absentmindedly. He blinks a few times, then looks away from Wally. "I think."

"Twenty," Wally says, quietly. Twenty. Only a year younger than Wally. Barely in college. Couldn't even legally drink yet. Some many milestones never reached, so many years lost - it makes Wally's chest ache. There's very few moments where dealing with ghosts truly hurts. Helping elderly ghosts find their way to whatever their end was, that didn't hurt so bad. Kids - that sucked. Teenagers were rare. This? This felt visceral. Looking into the face of someone who could've been Wally's classmate or friend, had they been born together in the right era. 

He swallows down his empathy for now. "Why'd I meet you as a kid, then?"

"...I'm not really sure," Dick says, softly. "I don't really remember. I just felt like - there was light in the house. And I wanted to match it."

"Light?" Wally asks.

"Yes," Dick says. "You."

"...Oh," Wally says, faintly. Don't get hung up on that, West. "Light - as in...?"

"Like..." He reaches for the scarf again, twisting the edge of it between his fingers. "Playing outside in autumn. Drinking from the hose after playing in the dirt for too long. Climbing up trees and scraping my knees while doing so."

"Like being a kid." Wally says.

"Yeah," Dick says, gaze sliding back to Wally's. "Something like that."

"And now?" Wally says, looking at Dick up and down. "You're an adult because...?"

"I suppose it's because you are. Same light - just bigger. Brighter." Dick shrugs. He taps the scarf. "Helps that I have this."

"Yeah, helps with being more - tangible." Wally says.

"Oh?" Dick says, with a quirk of the lips that felt strangely dangerous to Wally. "An expert in ghosts, now are we?"

"For your information - yes, yes I am." Wally says, puffing out his chest slightly. "I have nine years of ghost hunting and ghost aiding under my belt, thank you very much. The only person who knows better than me is - is the guy I met on the ghost hunting forums when I was twelve."

Dick gives him a dead stare. "Forums?"

"...Oh my God, you probably died in the 1950's, didn't you?"

Dick's eyes widen. "What year is it?"

[igarbagecannoteven]

hi!! just read your cake at the craft store fic and thought I'd introduce myself on here :) you're a talented writer and seem like a lovely person!

oh my gosh thank you so much! that's so sweet of you 🥰i'm so glad you enjoyed my work! (and thank you so much for the lovely comment on ao3!) also love your handles on both ao3 and here, i'm a big fan of herons myself 😊

[gothamite-rambler]

It's a start (Harley and Dick start to make amends)

Harley kicked in the door of Joker's warehouse, striding in confidently while wielding her iconic red and black bat. Dressed in a sleek anti-hero business suit, she felt empowered and ready for anything.

Harley (singing): Young and sweet, only seventeen, dancin' queen, feel the beat from the tangerine—why would a tangerine have a beat? Hm... anyways, Nightwing?!

Nightwing: Harley, turn to your left.

Harley turned, surprised when she spotted Nightwing trapped in a cage suspended above the ground. She waved enthusiastically, but he could only raise an eyebrow in response.

Nightwing (correcting casually): Also, the lyric was "tambourine," not "tangerine." It's not about a piece of fruit with a heart beat.

Harley: That makes more sense, thanks.

Nightwing (indifferent): No problem. Could you help me out here?

Harley (gasping quickly when she realized she was wasting time chit chatting): Sure! They set up this cage a good distance from the entrance; makes sense. But why is that vat over there empty?

Nightwing: They were going to fill it with Joker venom, but during the struggle, I managed to dump the original one they planned to use. So, they went off to get more.

Harley's expression shifted from curiosity to amusement as she began to giggle, which quickly morphed into her characteristic cackle. She quickly covered her mouth.

Harley (apologetic): Sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it's how I laugh with the Joker goop effects.

Nightwing shrugged, gripping the bars of his cage tightly.

Nightwing: I've been told my laugh is creepy. Apparently, I have a slight cackle too. They have to give me a break, I had Joker toxin in my blood a couple of times. I’m an adult! I don’t giggle anymore!

Harley shook her head with a smile as she approached the crane mechanism that held the cage in place.

Harley: You had a cute giggle when you were a kid, though. I remember when we first met. I was twenty-six at the time, and you had to be, what, eleven?

Nightwing (nodding): Yeah, eleven and three months. You were in your mid-twenties? You looked way younger back then. Honestly, I thought you were like nineteen.

Harley grinned widely, waving her hand as she maneuvered the crane to move the cage a safe distance from the empty vat, then began to slowly lower it to the ground.

Harley: I was smart, but not graduating from college early smart. Maybe it was the Joker goop on my skin and my obsession with skincare routines. I was tryin' to be like Paris Hilton for a while.

Nightwing (sweetly): Women like that get Botox, which robs us of our natural beauty. You're a bit insane-looking, but I won't argue that you're pretty too. I knew a few lady clowns in the circus that I… went to a lot as a kid and they were all gorgeous and you are too. There you go, elevated your mood for the night.

Harley (surprised by the compliment): Oh… wow, thank you! I wasn't expectin' ya to be nice to me. Are you just doin' that so I’ll actually save ya? Because I'd be helpin' ya either way.

Nightwing (shrugging): No, I’m being nice because it’s basic human decency. I don't trust you, but I've come to that point in my adulthood where I can let a couple of grudges go.

Harley shook her head with a teasing grin.

Harley: That's a healthy mindset. Batman raised ya well. My life before meetin' Joker never taught me to be kind; it was more about cursin' people out. Funny thing is, a couple of heroes have talked about how you're nicer to them than Batman. I thought they had to be exaggeratin'. You were Batman's sidekick and… you know.

Nightwing rolled his eyes.

Nightwing: While I do care about Batman, his antisocialness didn't rub off on me. I think that's what he wanted for me. He's… a good parent, to say the least.

Harley finished lowering the cage to the ground with a quick thud and then walked over, preparing her bat to break the lock.

Harley: I don't doubt that. Oh, stand back! I’m goin' to break the lock with my bat!

Nightwing stepped aside as Harley approached the cage, steadying her bat before slamming it against the lock repeatedly. With each strike, the lock buckled under her force.

Harley (while swinging): I swear I needed a Pops like that. Although college was tough, too! There was this guy, Melvin, who hated me because I kept turnin' him down for dates, and he was jealous I was smarter than him. He even started a rumor that I was sleepin' with my teachers for good grades.

After the fifth hit, the lock finally snapped, and Harley tossed it aside, stepping back to give Nightwing space. He pushed the cage door open, relieved to be free.

Nightwing (sympathetic smile): A vengeful nice guy in college wanted to ruin your reputation over that? I can believe it, sadly. I never actually believed the rumor. I read your case file with Batman once, and you earned your degree before you met the Joker.

Harley shrugged and rested her bat on her shoulder.

Harley: Blind love makes you do stupid, crazy, bad things, like tossin' aside every bit of progress you’ve made in life just to be with a guy who couldn't shut up about how, "One bad day can break a man." Ugh, blah, blah, blah! Lookin' back, he was all talk with that nihilism nonsense.

Nightwing nodded, letting out a soft sigh of agreement.

Harley: Anyways, I’m glad I could save ya, but I’ll give you some distance like you ya asked me to and head off. Ivy says hi, by the way.

Harley spun on her heel, but Nightwing stopped her, even though part of him wanted her to leave.

Nightwing (reluctantly): Well, don’t leave just yet. The Joker’s goons will be back soon, and I might… need assistance stopping them, especially from someone who used to work with them.

Harley turned back, her signature grin wide and genuine.

Nightwing (reluctantly): I might regret this later, but would you like to stay and help me?

Harley (hopeful): Does that mean ya comin' around to forgivin' me?

Nightwing placed his hands on his hips and chuckled.

Nightwing: It'll take time to fully forgive you or make amends. This is simply me being nice to someone trying to change. Just don't touch me, okay?

Harley: I won't, Ivy didn't go into specifics, but made it clear you don't want crazy women makin' any type of physical contact with ya. I get it honestly. I used to work at a dive bar for villains and goons. Not a fun time.

Nightwing (laughing softly while stretching his sore legs): I'm glad she didn't tell you everything and respects that secret.

Harley: Oh yeah, she won't admit it, but she doesn't hate ya . I'm glad she's got another person she "doesn't hate with a burning passion, but tolerates immensely." How was my impression of her?

Nightwing gave her a thumbs up trying not to joke around too much in the middle of a mission.

Nightwing: She always... said kind things about you even before you two got together.

Harley smiled proudly, warmed by his reassuring words. She felt a growing connection to Jason as she considered the idea of befriending one of the Batfam members. Yet, it was Nightwing's kindness and generosity, both towards her and others, that truly illuminated why so many people admired him.

Harley: See, this is a nice start. Jason put me on a probation period with his team, and you… you want me to stay here and help. Man, you boys are somethin' else, but I like that about ya. Ya wouldn’t hurt me like other men would, and I appreciate that.

Nightwing crossed his arms, a furrow of concern etched on his brow. Despite feeling encouraged by Harley's words, he still harbored doubts about her progress. The fear lingered in the back of his mind that one day she might slip back into the Joker's grasp. After all, he'd seen how easily the Joker had manipulated her before and with the right persuasion and even literal toxins at his disposal he had done it with others in the past.

Yet, Harley hadn’t faltered since finally cutting ties with him, and that was admirable. Nightwing couldn’t help but respect her tenacity. He recalled the darkness he had almost lost Jason to—anger, resentment, and the overwhelming weight of isolation had once threatened to swallow his friend whole. If Harley was indeed changing for the better, he didn't want to be the one who could potentially push her back toward evil.

Taking a breath, he reminded himself that everyone deserves a chance at redemption. But the stakes were high; he couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment he let his guard down, it could all unravel. Nightwing wanted to be a source of support for her, but he was also wary of the delicate balance between redemption and relapse, especially when it came to someone as unpredictable as Harley Quinn.

Nightwing (reassuringly): I would have to lose part of my brain and morals if I ever treated you like the Joker mistreated you. I'm... kind of proud of you for actually trying to be a better version of yourself.

Harley covered her mouth, stifling her emotions as she fought back tears. She nodded in understanding before walking over to Nightwing and sitting down on the ground beside him.

Harley: Want to sit with me? We can play cards. I always bring a deck!

Nightwing (slightly amused): Nah, I have to stand and keep watch. They’ll be here any minute, and I want to be ready. You can set up solitaire while we wait.

Harley: I love that game! Nightwing have ya ever been told you’re the best?

Nightwing (nonchalantly): I was born this way, but I appreciate the compliment.

As Harley set up her game, Nightwing stood watch at the door, his eyes scanning for any potential threats. He felt a bit more at ease giving her this chance. It might not be the same as the books Jason was gifted from her, but it was a start—one that he hoped would lead her further along the path of change.

Harley trying (and failing) to make amends with Nightwing

[chirpybirdy]

eugene sledge agrees to be turned into a werewolf so he can fight in ww2

technically sledgefu fic because duh they are adorable

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It's just as meaningless as it had been when he was declared 4F but changeable. "You're changeable, son. The bite hurts, sure. Any bite would." That bite had hurt, and lasted what seemed like ages. Eugene had gripped the edge of the counter. Determined not to move and he had managed not to move. A woman had bit him. To be quite honest they hadn't needed to assure him that the mask and the pill would prevent her from claiming him. Nice, but unnecessary. It took the first time, so he didn’t have to go through it again. He got the next part done in one try, too.

The boat over had sucked. He couldn’t tell you how many unmated werewolves there were on the damn boat. None of them could, it was unbearable. All of them ready to fight, all of them outnumbered, all of them promised not a pack but one single man. Some guys muttered about biting a nurse and no one took kindly to that. Some guys contemplated biting a sailor, but that was asking for a cage.

Eugene found it easy to listen and let the pity and the self-pity wash over him. His heart murmur was gone. He was decent in hand-to-hand. He would die using his unreal senses to save the life of a man still human.

They are let off on Pavuvu. Told to stay put, but not ordered. Their first order is to claim—and that is a science without exactitude. They enter the camp like two hundred stray dogs freed from the pound at once. They see no difference in the cage or the tents. It is only new scents, and new scents after too long with no new scents. Eugene finds sudden comfort in the men around him. He sticks with them, the crowd of two hundred slimming down at first down to fifty, then to twenty, then to five, and then to three. Roaming in vague directions with more interest in food than anything.

Eugene won’t remember taking control of their direction.

Eugene yanks upwards and Snafu snaps his legs around his hips and Eugene is pissed Snafu thinks he would ever fall.

Pissed as he is, Eugene’s corporal is the one who snarls. "Nobody forced you, Sledgehammer!"

"Yeah?" Eugene grabs his ass. Feels the rough and torn cloth shred under the gentle lacerations of his nails. He will have to get him a new pair. "I fell anyway, didn’t I, Snafu!?"

Dragged back to awareness of the tent he had chosen, Eugene shook his head to clear it—felt like he’d just been given some information that changed everything. His head struggled to accommodate two versions of a man. Two versions, both under his hands. Alright, fine.

He announces to no one, “him.” Eugene had refrained from acting like an animal but it was a matter of time, they had all supposed. He walks in a line so straight a crow would envy it and meets his soldier. Outranks him but they all do. Smells like dead werewolf but they all do. “Hey.“

His corporal, still a lieutenant, smirks, “Hey. Ready to die for me, milk teeth?”

Eugene’s nostrils flare, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“That right?”

Some wolves get right to it, Eugene learns, and some feel the need to take things somewhere private. It doesn’t mean much to them after the bite; however, the bitten tend to remember and tell the story. In the same way Eugene remembers holding the counter, and the gum that had been stuck under there, Snafu remembers what Eugene did when he claimed him.

Eugene had assumed, when it came down to it, it was meaningless.

[piedoesnotequalpi]

🛶🛶

for the writing challenge game?

Make me work on my WIPs

Hi Cass :) I may have gone a little overboard, whoops

Anyway. Welcome to this fic that I still haven't fully decided the format for and also am debating whether to have it start in the 1970s or 1980s, featuring: Gender(TM)! Partially under a cut because this got long

--

“Stop fidgeting.”

Race guiltily looked up from where she’d been adjusting the folds of her skirt. “But–”

“Hannah.” Anna took one of her hands. “It’s fine. You look great.”

That’s not why I’m messing with my outfit, Race thought, but she knew Anna wouldn’t really hear what she was saying if she said it out loud, not when she’d responded to Race’s request of Could you call me Race this year? with But then we won’t be Anna and Hannah anymore! at the beginning of the summer. Race knew she’d probably still exchange letters with Anna when they went back to their respective hometowns at the end of the summer, maybe keep up their friendship as long as they both kept going to camp, but unless Anna changed significantly, she’d probably let their friendship fade out as they continued through high school and eventually college.

Sometimes Race wondered if her nickname would’ve stuck more if she’d picked it up her first year of camp, when she’d been a nine-year-old who was a head taller than most of her peers. Now that she was fourteen, she was stuck in a strange limbo of being accepted as a tomboy as long as she didn’t become more tomboyish, and going by an ambiguous nickname certainly fell under that heading.

The bus moved jerkily down a dirt road until it pulled up just outside the center of their brother camp. Race skipped the last step on her way out and nearly fell over in the process. She quickly moved to the side to let Anna out.

“I need help with these records!” Race heard someone yell from closer to the dining hall, and she was off before one of the counselors could notice.

The someone who needed help turned out to be a boy around her age.

“Heard you yelling,” Race explained. The boy gave her a once-over and shrugged.

“Get that box,” he said, gesturing at a box of slightly beat-up records. Race picked it up, and they headed over to the rec hall together.

“I’m Race, by the way,” Race said when the boy didn’t bother to introduce himself.

The boy raised an eyebrow. “That a camp name?”

“Sort of.” Race shrugged as best she could with the box of records. “I–I think I found it too late for it to catch on.”

“I’m Sean,” the boy said. “But people call me Spot.”