#jersey city attack

[dragoneyes618]

"The delayed clarity on what exactly happened in Jersey City muted some of the public empathy that instantly followed the previous attacks. So did the identities of the attackers, both of whom were Black, and their targets, who were Hasidic Jews - who, it has progressively become clear, many otherwise enlightened Americans view as absolutely fair game for bigotry.

This was obvious from reporting within hours of the attacks, which gave surprising emphasis to the murdered Jews as "gentrifying" a "minority" neighborhood. This was remarkable, given that the tiny Hasidic community in question, highly visible members of the world's most consistently persecuted minority, in fact came to Jersey City fleeing gentrification, after being priced out of long-established Hasidic communities in Brooklyn. More tellingly, as the journalist Armin Rosen has pointed out, the apparently murderous rage against gentrification has yet to result in anyone using automatic weapons to blow away white hipsters at the newest Blue Bottle Coffee franchise. What was most remarkable about this angle, however, was how it was presented in media reports as providing "context."

The "context" supplied by news outlets after this attack was breathtaking in its cruelty. As the Associated Press explained in a news report about the Jersey Cijty murders that was picked up by NBC and many other outlets, "The slayings happened in a neighborhood where Hasidic families had recently been relocating, amid pushback from some local officials who complained about representatives of the community going door to door, offering to buy homes at Brooklyn prices." (Like many homeowners, I too have been approached by real estate agents asking me if I wanted to sell my home. I recall saying no, though I suppose murdering these people would also have made them go away.) New Jersey's state newspaper, the Star-Ledger, helpfully pointed out that "the attack that killed two Orthodox Jews, an Ecuadorian immigrant and a Jersey City police detective has highlighted racial tension that had been simmering ever since ultra-Orthodox Jews began moving to a lower-income community" - even though the assailants never lived in Jersey City and apparently chose their target simply through internet searches for Jewish institutions in the New York area. The Washington Post began its analysis of the murders by announcing that Jersey City "is grappling with whether the attack reflects underlying ethnic tensions locally and fears that it could spark new ones" - even though the rest of the article described in detail how "longtime black residents and ultra-Orthodox implants alike say that they haven't experienced significant ethnic tensions here." Nonetheless, readers were informed, "the influx of Hasidic residents comes as many of the longtime black residents feel increasingly squeezed." This was all abut gentrification, the public learned. The assailants, who wore socially acceptable clothing, were expressing an understandable communal sentiment. The newly dead Jews, on the other hand, were members of the unharassed majority, despite being the country's top hate-crime target according to the FBI. They were also rich, despite experiencing the same poverty levels as the rest of New York and New Jersey. On top of that, they wore unfashionable hats. So it kind of made sense that people wanted to murder their children with high-impact explosives.

I was not able to find any similar "context" in media reports after the 2015 massacre at a Black church in Charleston, South Carolina, or the 2016 massacre at an LGBTQ nightclub in Orlando, Florida, or the 2019 massacre at a Walmart in El Paso, Texas frequented by Latino shoppers - all hate-crime attacks that unambiguously targeted minority groups. In each of those cases, as was true in Jersey City, media coverage included sympathetic pieces about the victims, along with investigative pieces about the perpetrators, the latter focused on how perpetrators were drawn into violent irrational hatred. But in reviewing media reports from the aftermath of these events, I found no coverage of how straight people in Orlando other than the perpetrator - in other words, reasonable, non-murderous, relatable "normal" neighbors - were understandably upset about gay couples setting up shop in the neighborhood and disrupting their "way of life," or about how white people with deep family roots in Charleston felt understandably wistful about the Black community's "takeover" of certain previously white neighborhoods, or about how non-Latinos in El Paso felt "squeezed" by ongoing "tensions" with Latinos who had pushed for more bilingualism in schools.

No one covered this "context," because doing that would be bonkers. It would be hateful victim-blaming, the equivalent of analyzing the flattering selfies of a rape victim in lurid detail in order to provide "context" for a sexual assault. That doesn't mean the intergroup tensions (or the problems with flattering selfies) aren't ever worth examining. It simply means that presenting such analysis as a hot take after a massacre is not merely disgusting and inhuman, but also a form of the very same hatred that caused the massacre - because the sole motivation for providing such "context" in that moment is to inform the public that those people got what was coming to them. People who think of themselves as educated and ethical don't do this, because it is both factually untrue and morally wrong. But if we're talking about Hasidic Jews, it is quite literally a different story, and there is one very simple reason why.

The mental gymnastics required to get the Jersey City attack out of my head were challenging, especially when the Jewish community int he New York area was treated in the two weeks following this massacre to more than a dozen other assaults of varying degrees, most of them coming during the festival of Hanukkah. These included Jews being slapped, punched, kicked, and beaten on the streets by people who made their motives clear by shouting antisemtiic insults, and many other variants on this theme that received much less attention. (One that shook me personally was when a young white man broke into my students' dormitory at yeshiva University at four a.m. and started a fire - using matches from the dorm lobby's Hanukkah candle-lighting.) All this was merely an intensified version of physical assaults on Hasidic Jews in New York that had been happening regularly for over a year - incidents that ranged from run-of-the-mill acts of knocking elderly people to the ground to the rather more advanced tactic of clobbering someone over the head with a large paving stone, causing a fractured skull.

This new normal culminated in a particularly horrifying attack, when a man entered a crowded Hanukkah party at a Hasidic rabbi's house in Monsey, New York, wielding a four-foot machete, and stabbed or slashed five people, all of whom where hospitalized; one victim, who fell into a coma, died several months later from his wounds. Stabbing Jews was apparently in vogue in Monsey, as this was actually the second antisemitic knifing in town in just over a month. The previous attacks victim was beaten and stabbed while walking to morning prayers, winding up in critical condition withe head injuries. Media coverage of these attacks also sometimes featured "context" (read: gaslighting), mentioning heated schoolboard or zoning battles between Hasidic and non-Hasidic residents - even after the perpetrator was identified as a resident of a town forty minutes away. One widely syndicated Associated Press article situated the previous week's bloodbath by informing millions of readers that "The expansion of Hasidic communities in New York's Hudson Valley, the Catskills and northern New Jersey has led to predictable sparring over new housing development and local political control. It has also led to flare-ups of rhetoric seen by some as antisemitic." In other words, the cause of bloodthirsty antisemitic violence is...Jews, living in a place! Sometimes, Jews who live in places even buy land on which to live. To be fair, there were many countries and centuries in which this Jews-owning-land monkey business was illegal, though twenty-first-century Hudson Valley, the Catskills, and northern New Jersey are sadly not among those enlightened locales. Predictably, this leads to sparring, and flare-ups. Who wouldn't express frustrations with municipal politics by hacking people with a machete?"

 - Dara Horn, People Love Dead Jews: Reports from a Haunted Present

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: The Dead Man at the Diner

Danny has a hard time maintaining regular jobs. At this point he’s pretty much nocturnal after years of being attacked at night, and possibly just part of his ghostly nature. He’s odd, and a basic google search brings up various news articles about him getting into fist fights with the mayor of a small town. He barely passed high school and college was out of the question, so who in their right mind would hire him?

What’s a job that would work with his odd hours, doesn’t require a college education, and a possible criminal record and a tendency to be ready to throw down is NOT an issue?

Danny is a cook at a 24hour Diner in Gotham

The man just needs to be able to flip a burger and make breakfast food and doesn’t mind a gun in the face because he’s well used to it. So what if the robber was dumb enough to pull that shit next to the fryer. If he didn’t want something to end up extra crispy he should have stayed out of Danny’s kitchen

Just think of all the folks he would meet.

Sure, the vigilantes of the city would be obvious and you can’t tell me spoiler isn’t dragging folks there to eat. Maybe they notice some weird things about the cook, like he doesn’t breath, his eyes reflect light like an animal’s, or the time he accidentally cut off a finger and it was fine the next day, or maybe the time a robber shot him and he just... didn’t react

Something is weird about that guy

And of course the person I think would love a jersey style diner breakfast at all hours: Harley Quinn

Technically she’s not supposed to bring the hyenas in, health code and all that, but everyone else is to freaked out to tell her and Danny doesn’t care. Frankly he spends his break petting them and they like him because he smells like food.

[julietsf1]

Frights & Feuds (🎃) - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Y/N and Franco never liked each other, but leave it to Lando to throw them into matching costumes at his Halloween party.

warnings: smut!! mdni!!!

AN: so I’ve figured out that I can’t follow anyone back as this is my secondary blog! no moots, just vibes 😔 but wanted to say I really love all the sweet comments I’ve gotten on the last few posts!! I’m traveling for work rn so I might be a bit less responsive, but I appreciate them so much, makes my day! anyway here’s something new <3

___________________________________________

The salty breeze hit my face as I stepped onto Lando’s yacht, excitement bubbling in my chest. A Star Wars-themed Halloween party—on a yacht, no less—was basically a dream come true. I mean, who wouldn't want to channel their inner galactic hero for a night? My white jumpsuit, the one Padmé wore in Attack of the Clones, was snug in all the right places, and with the plastic blaster on my hip, I actually felt like I could take on an army of battle droids.

The yacht itself, though… that was something else entirely.

It was like Halloween had exploded. Neon orange cobwebs, flickering plastic pumpkins, and inflatable ghosts swayed ominously in the breeze. If there was such a thing as too many decorations, Lando had found it and then doubled down. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath as I stepped onto the deck.

“It looks like Party City threw up,” I muttered, shaking my head in amusement. Somehow, that made it perfect. Only Lando could pull off something this chaotic and get away with it.

I wasn’t mad though—this level of over-the-top was what I’d come to expect from him. It was chaotic, ridiculous, and, in its own weird way, perfect. The kind of vibe that told you anything could happen tonight, and honestly? That was exactly what I’d signed up for.

I made my way through the growing crowd, dodging people dressed in costumes so random they made me question if we were even at the same party. Carlos strutted by in his sexy fireman outfit, suspenders barely clinging to his shoulders, a grin stretched across his face.

“Senator,” he said with a mock salute, flexing unnecessarily as he passed.

I laughed. “Carlos, put those away. No one's here to see that.”

“Oh, they are. Trust me.” He winked and strutted off, clearly enjoying the attention.

Just ahead, I spotted Oscar, and… I had to blink twice. He had a slice of bread taped to his chest, and a gold medal swinging from his neck. “Breadwinner,” I muttered, shaking my head.

As I weaved through the madness, Alex clanked around in a robot suit that squeaked with every step. I waved at him, trying not to laugh too hard as his costume practically fell apart before my eyes.

I stopped in my tracks when I caught sight of Max. The world champion himself was dressed as an old lady, complete with a wig, glasses, and a cane. He was shuffling around like he had all the time in the world, and I could practically hear him muttering about “these young people” as he dodged a dancing Daniel, who was in full cowboy mode.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, barely able to contain my laughter as I snapped a quick photo for future blackmail.

Despite the absurdity of it all, the party was fun in that weird, chaotic way that only Lando could pull off. I could already tell it was going to be one of those nights where anything could happen.

Now, if only I could find the mastermind behind this whole mess.

I pushed my way through the crowd, determined to track down Lando and demand an explanation for why I was Padmé in a party full of random costumes. Finally, I spotted him at the bar, leaning casually against the counter in a football jersey, a lazy grin spread across his face.

“Lando!” I called, marching up to him with all the authority I could muster in the little jumpsuit. “We need to talk.”

He turned, his grin widening when he saw me. “Ah, Senator Amidala herself! You made it. Looking good, by the way.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “What is this? You told me this party had a Star Wars theme.”

Lando gave me a look of pure innocence, raising his hands. “I said you had a Star Wars theme. Everyone’s got their own thing going on.”

I blinked. “So, this—” I gestured around the deck, “—isn’t a themed party?”

“Nope!” He popped the “p” with a proud grin. “I thought it’d be more fun to give everyone different costumes. You know, shake things up a bit. Keep people on their toes.”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help laughing. “Of course you did. Why am I even surprised?”

“Come on, you love it,” Lando teased, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “It’s Halloween. You’re supposed to embrace the chaos.”

I snorted. “Chaos, yes. But coordinated chaos, at least. Can’t believe I’m the only one in full Star Wars gear.”

Lando’s grin stretched wider, that mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “Well, not exactly the only one.”

Before I could even process what that meant, the crowd shifted, and I spotted him.

Franco Colapinto.

He was making his way across the deck, dressed head-to-toe as Anakin Skywalker, lightsaber strapped to his belt, the leather tunic pulling the whole look together in a way that made him stand out. Hair fluffy, stupid grin on his face and a little sparkle in his eyes. I felt a flutter in my stomach. Not because he looked so good—no, more like an annoyance flutter, obviously. Of all people, Lando had paired me with him?

I whipped around to face Lando, who was grinning ear to ear. “Lando. Why the hell is he Anakin?”

Lando laughed, hands up defensively. “Come on, it’s perfect! Padmé and Anakin? Star-crossed lovers, forbidden love, the whole deal. I’m a genius.”

My jaw clenched as I shot Lando a warning glare. “You’re an idiot.”

Franco reached us just as I was about to march off. “Really, Lando?” he said, his tone dripping with irritation. “You had to pair me up with her?”

I crossed my arms, irritation spiking. “Wow, I see you’re already embracing the Anakin vibe. Got the whole ‘whiny man baby’ thing down perfectly.” I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. “What’s next, you gonna throw a tantrum?”

His smirk faltered for a split second before he shot back. “You’d know all about being dramatic, wouldn’t you, Senator?”

I crossed my arms, my annoyance flaring. “Oh please, just so you know, no one’s thrilled about this.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “Right, because being stuck with me is so unbearable.”

“Pretty high on the list, actually,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lando, sensing the tension but clearly loving every second of it, grinned even wider. “Look at this! You two are just proving my point.”

“There is no vibe,” Franco and I said in unison, whipping around to glare at Lando. I could feel my cheeks burning as Franco’s gaze flicked toward me, clearly enjoying the fact that we’d said the same thing at the same time.

Lando, ever the shit-stirrer, shrugged. “Sure, whatever you say. But come on, you guys have been bickering for months. It’s exhausting. Just fuck and get it over with.”

Franco scoffed, folding his arms. “Throw me overboard, please.”

I laughed, feeling a bit of satisfaction at his remark. “Same.”

Lando wiggled his eyebrows. “See? Perfect match.”

I was ready to smack the grin off his face. Instead, I opted for a glare. “Lando, there is no match. You’ve been watching too many movies.”

Franco glanced at me, that smug smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Although I can’t blame him for thinking you’d fall for me. I look good tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, already done with this conversation. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Franco chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave the ideas to Norris here.”

Lando beamed as if he’d just won the lottery, clearly thrilled that his plan was working—at least in his mind. “This is gonna be fun.”

I huffed and turned on my heel, determined to find someone else to talk to. Anyone but Franco. Tonight was going to be a nightmare.

..

The thrum of music pulsed through the yacht, vibrating beneath my feet as I wove through the crowd, trying to shake off the lingering annoyance of my earlier encounter with Franco. But even surrounded by the chaos of Lando’s party, it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling that he was somewhere nearby, probably plotting his next move.

I spotted Charles near the bar, sipping something that was probably far too fancy for a Halloween party. He was still in his banana costume—because of course Lando would put him in something like that. And yet, somehow, Charles managed to pull it off, still looking unfairly attractive despite being dressed as a literal piece of fruit.

“Y/N!” he called, waving me over with a wide grin. “Come, dance with me!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I joined him, his infectious energy making it hard to stay in a bad mood. “You’re the only person who can make a banana look good, you know that?”

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “It’s a gift.”

The music shifted to something more upbeat, and before I could object, Charles pulled me onto the makeshift dance floor. We started moving to the rhythm, his goofy dance moves making me laugh as we twirled around the deck.

It was nice, a welcome distraction from the tension of earlier. That is, until I glanced across the floor and spotted Franco. He was dancing with Alexandra St. Mleux, Charles’s girlfriend, who was dressed as a blueberry—because apparently, that’s what Lando had decided was her fate for the night. Her sleek, dark hair framed her face, and despite the ridiculous costume, she looked effortlessly elegant, as always.

Franco, meanwhile, was his usual smug self, moving with a confidence that grated on my nerves. His eyes met mine briefly, and I could practically see the challenge flash in them. Of course, he couldn’t just leave me in peace.

“Don’t look now,” Charles whispered, leaning in as we twirled closer to Franco and Alexandra, “but I think someone’s trying to make you jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jealous? Please. If anything, I’m just annoyed I have to see his face all night.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Whatever you say.”

We danced around the floor, Charles keeping things light and fun while Franco, predictably, kept throwing glances my way. It was like we were locked in some kind of silent competition, neither of us willing to back down or show any sign of weakness.

Eventually, the two pairs ended up near each other, Franco and Alexandra’s dance bringing them close enough that I could hear Franco’s voice, laced with sarcasm. “Careful, Y/N. Don’t trip in those boots. Would hate to see you fall.”

I shot him a withering look. “At least I don’t have to rely on flashy dance moves to distract from my shitty personality.”

Alexandra glanced between us, her elegant face calm, but I could see the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She exchanged a quick look with Charles, who raised an eyebrow.

“Ils ne s’arrêtent jamais, hein ? On change de partenaire ?” (They never stop, do they? Shall we switch partners?)

Charles nodded, laughing softly. “Ouais, ils vont jamais tenir comme ça.” (Yeah, they’re not gonna last like this.)

Without warning, Charles stepped back, giving Alexandra an exaggerated bow. “May I have this dance?”

Alexandra giggled and curtsied in return. “Of course, mon coeur. You two, don’t kill each other!”

I blinked, caught off guard as Charles grabbed Alexandra’s hand, leaving me standing there, suddenly face-to-face with Franco. He didn’t waste a second, stepping into position, his hand catching mine in a smooth, annoyingly practiced movement.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me again,” Franco said, his voice low and taunting.

I narrowed my eyes. “What a miserable party so far.”

We started to move, circling each other as the music continued to play. The space between us was tight, and the only thickened. My heart pounded with every step, my pulse quickening not from attraction, definitely not. It had to be from the frustration of being stuck in this forced proximity. I could feel Franco’s breath, hot against my skin as we moved, and it made my teeth clench.

“You really should loosen up,” he said, his tone patronizing. “You’re a bit stiff.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my cool. “And you should stop trying so hard to impress everyone.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, is that what you think I’m doing? Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” I said, struggling to maintain some distance as we moved in sync. His arm brushed against mine every few seconds, and each touch felt like a spark that kept building. A spark of annoyance of course.

His gaze flicked down to my feet, and he chuckled. “You know, for someone who likes to talk big, your dancing skills could use some work. Trying not to step on my toes?”

I felt a surge of irritation. “Maybe I should. It might actually shut you up.”

Franco’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

I didn’t hesitate. Before I could second-guess myself, I stomped down hard on his foot. The satisfying thud made him wince, his smirk faltering for a split second. The rush of satisfaction was immediate, and I pulled away from him, offering a sweet, sarcastic smile.

“There,” I said, with faux sweetness. “Happy?”

Franco, still gritting his teeth, shot me a look that said he was both irritated and impressed. “Thrilled.”

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked off, feeling the tension melt away with each step. I spotted George by the drinks, watching the whole thing with an amused smile. His Shakespearean costume—complete with ruffled collar and feathered quill—stood out for all the wrong reasons.

As I approached, George raised an eyebrow and took a dramatic sip from his drink. “A thousand times more captivating than the finest of plays,” he said in a mock-Shakespearean voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Verily, the bickering hath been most entertaining.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying my frustration. “What? I’m just saying. It’s entertaining.”

“I swear, Lando’s going to pay for this,” I muttered, grabbing a drink from the bar.

George chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m fairly certain you got Franco good there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He nodded, trying and failing to hide a grin. “He’s limping.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the dance fading as I sipped my drink. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total disaster after all.

..

I took another sip of my drink, letting the laughter and music swirl around me. After the disaster of dancing with Franco, I was ready for a moment of peace. Nearby, George—ever the history enthusiast—was in the middle of a dramatic lecture on Halloween traditions, his Shakespearean outfit only adding to the theatrical flair. Oscar and Lewis stood at his side, looking like trapped animals in search of an escape route.

“So you see,” George continued, waving his feathered quill like it was a sword, “the tradition of carving pumpkins actually stems from the Irish myth of Stingy Jack. A fellow who tricked the devil himself and was condemned to wander the Earth with only a hollowed-out turnip to light his way.”

Oscar blinked slowly, clearly trying to appear engaged. “Turnip, huh? Fascinating.”

Lewis, looking angelic in his costume complete with wings cleared his throat. “That’s, um, really something, mate. But I should… probably check on something.” He made a hasty retreat, flashing Oscar a grateful look as he melted into the crowd.

George sighed dramatically as he watched him go. “He’s made a habit of leaving me recently. You’d think I’m the devil, and Ferrari’s his hollowed-out turnip.”

Oscar smirked, trying not to laugh. “Or maybe it’s because you get a bit... passionate with your history lessons. No offense.”

George flourished his quill with an exaggerated air of gravitas. “I am nothing if not committed to the education of my peers.”

I joined them just as Oscar gave me a playful nudge. “You missed quite the lecture on the importance of pumpkins.”

I chuckled, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m sure it was riveting.”

Oscar’s eyes flicked over my costume, a mischievous glint in them. “By the way, love the couple’s costume. Padmé and Anakin? Very cute.”

I groaned, already feeling the familiar annoyance creep up. “Don’t even start. I swear, if this blaster were real, I’d have already used it on him.”

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. “Easy there, Senator. You don’t want to go full dark side.”

I sighed, leaning back against the bar. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn’t quite pinpoint why Franco and I rubbed each other the wrong way. Sure, his cocky smirk was enough to set me on edge, but there was more to it than that. Something about his whole persona made me want to throttle him.

“You’re really not into the whole star-crossed lovers thing, huh?” Oscar teased.

I shot him a look. “If I wanted a tragic romance, I’d read a book. Right now, I just want to make it through this night without throwing Franco off the yacht.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “You two have a vibe, though. It’s hard to miss.”

I rolled my eyes. “If by ‘vibe,’ you mean I’d love to smack him in the face, then sure.”

Before Oscar could respond, Carlos swooped in with a grin, his fireman costume still drawing more attention than it should have. “Ah, the fighting—classic signs of passion. You know what they say about hate, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. It’s passion in disguise?”

Carlos wagged a finger at me, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Exactly. All that energy has to go somewhere. I’m a fireman, I recognize fire when I see it.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “I am not taking you serious as a fireman with a uniform like that.”

Carlos laughed, undeterred. “You know, sparks like this? They usually lead to something pretty interesting.”

I crossed my arms. “It’s not sparks, Carlos. It’s a dumpster fire.”

..

The bass of the music was pulsing through the yacht as Lando spun track after track in the DJ booth, looking far too pleased with himself. A crowd had gathered around, hyped up by his usual antics, and the energy was infectious. I was craving a break from all the drama and tension on the deck, so I made my way over to him. He spotted me and waved me in with an exaggerated grin.

“Y/N!” he shouted over the music. “Come save me from my own brilliance!”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling as I slipped into the booth. “Brilliance, huh? Pretty sure you’re just pressing buttons.”

“Hey, there’s an art to this,” Lando replied, turning a dial with unnecessary flair. “You’re just not refined enough to get it.”

I snorted. “Right, forgot you’re the second comming of Beethoven.”

He shot me a cheeky grin. “Finally you appreciate my genius. Speaking of appreciating things—what’s the status with you and lover boy over there?”

I frowned, confused. “Lover boy? What are you talking about?”

Lando gestured with his chin toward the bar. I followed his gaze and—of course—there was Franco, surrounded by a group of girls, all of them looking way too captivated by whatever nonsense he was saying. I felt an annoying twinge of something in my chest.

“Oh him. Glad he’s entertaining the entire female population on this yacht and out of my way.” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.

Lando’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned in with a wicked grin. “Ohhh, someone's sounding a little jealous.”

I shot him a look. “You are out of your damn mind, Norris.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve got that tone, Y/N. The one where you’re pretending you don’t care but deep down you do.”

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. “Lando, I don’t care. At all.”

He smirked. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Come on, just admit it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, I’m thrilled to have a break.”

Lando leaned closer, lowering his voice dramatically. “Darling, you totally dig that weird tension you’ve got. Sucks you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

I nudged him, hard. “I swear, you’re the most annoying person on this boat.”

He laughed, dodging me as he adjusted the volume. “I live to serve. But come on, there’s clearly a thing here.”

“There’s no thing,” I said, crossing my arms. “He just rubs me the wrong way. That’s it.”

Lando looked at me mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe you should ask if he can rub you—”

“Don’t,” I warned.

He flashed a wicked grin. “Fine, fine. But it’s only a matter of time.”

I shoved him again, a little harder this time, accidentally knocking over my drink which spilled directly onto the electronics.

“Oh, shit!” I gasped, scrambling to grab a napkin, but it was too late.

A loud pop echoed through the booth, and suddenly, the entire yacht went dark. The music cut off, the lights blinked out, and silence descended over the party.

For a second, there was nothing but confused murmuring from the crowd, people pulling out their phones for light. But Lando? Lando was doubled over, laughing like a maniac.

“Oh my God,” he gasped between fits of laughter. “You—You just shut down the entire party!”

I stood there, frozen in disbelief. “I didn’t mean to! I—oh my God, what did I do?”

Lando was still laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

I glared at him. “Lando! This is serious!”

But he couldn’t stop. “Serious? This is the funniest thing! Instantly makes the party more interesting.”

As people around us tried to figure out what was happening, Lando clapped me on the shoulder, still chuckling. “You’re a hot mess, Y/N. Never change.”

As the yacht rocked gently in the dark, I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Leave it to Lando to find humor in the disaster I’d just caused.

..

The yacht was pitch black, save for the glow of a few phone screens. Lando, ever the opportunist in chaos, was soaking it all in, practically buzzing with excitement.

"Alright, people!" he yelled, his voice carrying over the deck. "The power’s out, the music’s dead—so you know what that means. It’s time for a game of truth or dare!"

A chorus of laughter and groans followed, but with the party in full swing, no one was about to leave just because the lights were out. Alex, the saint that he is, immediately started working on fixing the power while the other people started gathering in a loose circle, the mood shifting into something more mischievous, encouraged by the anonymity the dark provided.

I found myself sitting next to Oscar, who still had his ridiculous slice of bread taped to his chest, and on my other side, George, who looked far too excited for whatever was about to happen. Across the circle, Franco leaned back against the railing, his face barely visible in the flickering light of someone’s phone, but I could sense that annoying grin of his even in the dark.

“Alright, who’s first?” Lando asked, rubbing his hands together like he was about to start the most chaotic plan of the night.

Max, who was still rocking the old lady costume, raised his hand. “Truth,” he said, a little too eagerly.

Lando grinned. “Max! Alright, truth: Have you ever used a fake name at a hotel to avoid fans?”

Max barely hesitated. “Of course. I go by ‘Gertrude’—suits the look, don’t you think?” He gestured to his outfit, earning laughs from around the circle.

Lando chuckled, then pointed at Oscar. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Oscar sighed dramatically, clearly not enthused but willing to play along. “Dare.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Alright, I dare you to dance… interpretively… to the sound of silence.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but stood up, performing the most absurd, exaggerated dance moves to the silent deck. Everyone was in hysterics by the end of it, with Oscar bowing dramatically before sitting back down.

The game rolled on, with truths and dares flying left and right. Checo was dared to chug a mystery drink—something Max had mixed together from the darkest corners of the yacht’s mini-bar. Lewis was asked to reveal his most embarrassing podium moment, which turned out to involve him tripping over a champagne bottle and almost face-planting in front of the world’s cameras.

And then it was my turn.

Lando turned to me, that gleam in his eyes saying he was about to stir the pot. “Y/N. Truth or dare?”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on me. “Dare,” I said, determined to go for it.

Lando’s grin widened, and I could see mischief brewing in his eyes. “Alright, Y/N, since you’re so brave… I dare you to whisper something you’d never admit in front of anyone—right in Franco’s ear.”

The circle erupted in laughter and teasing whistles. I felt my face go hot, and I shot Lando a murderous look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope!” Lando said, looking far too proud of himself. “And make it something juicy, too.”

I crossed my arms, the heat rising in my cheeks as Franco leaned back, arms crossed, smirking like this was the greatest thing that could’ve happened to him tonight.

“Well?” he drawled, clearly enjoying the situation. “You gonna play along?”

The group was watching, waiting, and there was no way I could back out now. I steeled myself, got up, and marched over to him. Leaning down, I got as close to his ear as possible, feeling the warmth radiate off him.

I hesitated for a split second, questioning if I should really be honest, before whispering, just loud enough for only him to hear, “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, and the fact that you know you’re hot makes it worse.”

I pulled back quickly, my face burning, refusing to meet his gaze. His smirk deepened, but to my surprise, he didn’t respond—just stared at me, eyes glinting in the dim light, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. For a moment, I thought he looked… confused, entertained? Seems like I had succesfully thrown him off his game though.

But the confusion didn’t last long. Franco shifted back into his cocky persona like slipping on an old coat, leaning casually against the railing with that same infuriating smirk. Whatever moment had passed between us was over, buried beneath his usual act.

“Well, that must’ve been juicy,” Lando said, cackling. “Look at his face!”

I sat back down, trying to shake off the weird tension that seemed to hang in the air. Franco didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. Whatever. It wasn’t worth dwelling on.

The game continued, people laughing and shouting as the dares got more ridiculous, but my focus was elsewhere.

..

Thank god that it didn’t take long for Alex to fix the electricity with a generator. The lights flickered back on, the music resumed, and the entire yacht buzzed with renewed energy. George, of course, was taking full credit for saving the night, and Alex looked just as proud.

People were back to dancing and laughing, picking up right where they left off. The power outage had become just another part of the weird night. But after the tension from earlier—the truth or dare, the constant run-ins with Franco—I needed a break from it all.

The temperature had dropped, and my costume wasn’t offering much warmth.

I slipped away from the crowd, making my way toward Lando’s room, knowing he always kept a stash of hoodies and sweaters for moments like these. A moment of peace, away from the noise and tension, sounded perfect.

I pushed open the door to Lando’s room, expecting it to be empty. But, of course, my luck was running out tonight. Franco was there, standing near the closet, rummaging through Lando’s things.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, my irritation flaring immediately.

He glanced up, completely unfazed by my entrance. “Looking for my lightsaber,” he said casually, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“In Lando’s room?” I crossed my arms, my irritation spiking further. “Are you serious?”

Franco shrugged, standing upright with that infuriating smirk on his face. “What? It might’ve ended up here. You know how parties go.”

I rolled my eyes and moved toward the dresser. “Of course. Can’t even keep track of a toy.”

He leaned against the closet door, still watching me. “I didn’t realize my presence would offend you so much.”

I turned to face him, the frustration from the entire night bubbling up. “Your presence always offends me. Honestly, I hate that I have to see your stupid face everywhere.”

His smirk widened, eyes gleaming. “That’s funny, because I remember you saying earlier that you think I am hot.”

My hands tightened into fists at my sides. “I said that to get a reaction and get Lando off my back.”

“Sure,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Just happened to he something you came up with. I doubt you hate my face as much as you claim.”

“You are so full of yourself,” I spat, the anger flaring in my chest. “You walk around here like you own the place, thinking everyone is in love with you.”

Franco took another step, the space between us shrinking. “I’m not full of myself. I’m confident and charming. There’s a difference.”

“Charming?” I scoffed. “More like delusional.”

His expression darkened, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Oh, and you’re so different? Always twirling around, batting your eyelashes.”

I took a step toward him, my heart pounding. “I don’t twirl, and I don’t bat my eyelashes at anybody. Especially not to you.”

His eyes narrowed, and the tension between us thickened, our words sharper now, cutting into the air between us. “Please. You’re just pissed off because you can’t handle the fact that you are wildly attracted to me.”

“God, I hate you,” I growled, my voice barely above a whisper.

And then, before I could even process what was happening, I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward me. The kiss was sudden, explosive—born out of the fire of our argument. Franco didn’t hesitate, his hands gripping my waist as he kissed me back with the same intensity.

The heat between us was overwhelming, fueled by all the anger, all the frustration that had been building up. His lips were rough against mine, his body pressing me back against the wall as the kiss deepened.

His mouth was hot and demanding. I kissed him back, my frustration and desire merging into one explosive force. My fingers tangled in his hair, softly holding on to his brown locks for support. He groaned, making my mind run places I didn’t think it would.

Breaking away for air, I gasped, "This doesn’t change anything."

Franco chuckled, his warm breath fanning my face. "Keep telling yourself that, cariño."

He still towered over me, my body between his and the door.

"You think you know everything, don't you?” I said rolling my eyes, only half annoyed.

"I know what I want right now," he murmured, his hands sliding up my thighs, tugging on the waistband of my shorts. "And I want you."

I hate to admit but that definitely sent some flutters to my stomach. Without thinking I put my lips on his again.

He swiftly pulled down my shorts, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, making me tremble. I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I tugged on his shirt, signaling to take it off.

With a smirk he stepped back and took off the top half of his costume, revealing his sculpted chest. I stared with googly eyes, not even caring at this point.

“¿Apurada, eh?” He grinned, his eyes dark with intent, "Good, because I can't wait much longer either."

He swiftly reached for my shirt and pulled it over my head. As I pulled down my pants, I could see a little blush creeping up on his cheeks.

I kissed him hard, biting his lower lip, tasting the saltiness of his skin. My hands explored his body, mapping the contours of his muscles. He groaned again, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardening nipples.

He smiled against my lips, his hands moving lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly slid them down my legs, his touch electric.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

He lifted me up, his hands on my ass, wrapping my legs around him for support. He kissed me again, his tongue exploring my mouth as he undid my bra with practiced ease, freeing my breasts, and then lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth. I arched off the doorframe, moaning as his tongue teased and suckled.

"You like that, huh?" He whispered, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

I could barely form words, but I managed to gasp, "Please, Franco..."

He moved one of his hands to between my thighs, feeling the arousal dripping between my legs.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his fingers working my sensitive clit, making me squirm. "You want me inside you, don't you?"

I nodded, my breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, please... I need you."

“Such a good girl for me.” He said, with a dark twinkle in his green eyes.

Franco did not waste a moment, quickly lowering his pants, letting his cock spring free. He positioned himself between my thighs, pressing against my entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled me, stretching me in the most delicious way. I cried out.

He began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through me, building towards something incredible. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, urging him on.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he grunted, his eyes closed in concentration. "Tight... so fucking tight."

He started speeding up his pace. The tension coiled within me, tighter and tighter with each thrust. I could feel my orgasm building, a delicious pressure building at my core.

"Franco... I'm close," I panted, my voice hoarse.

He deepened his strokes, his hips snapping against mine, driving me wild. "Come for me, cariño. Let it go."

His words were all I needed. With a final, powerful thrust, I shattered, crying out his name as my body trem. Franco followed, his own release spilling deep within me, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

We both sank down on the ground, our hearts racing, our bodies slick with sweat. I turned my head, meeting his intense gaze.

Franco’s expression softened, the tension in the air shifting into something heavier, something neither of us could brush off. “I didn’t think this would feel so… right.”

I didn’t fight it this time. “Me either.”

He leaned in again, slower this time, as if daring me to stop him. But I didn’t. I closed the distance, giving in to the pull between us.

..

The door closed behind us with a soft click, and I took a breath, still trying to shake the whirlwind of what had just happened. The party outside was still going strong, lights and music filling the night air. Franco walked beside me, casual as ever, but the tension between us still lingered, making every step feel more charged than it should.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Lando appeared, sliding smoothly between us like he’d been waiting for this moment all night. His grin was wide, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, well, well!” he chimed, throwing an arm over each of our shoulders. “Look who finally decided to rejoin the living! What were you two doing in there? Having a nice little chat?”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. “Lando, can you not?”

“Can I not?” he gasped dramatically, pulling his arms back and clutching his chest like I’d mortally wounded him. “After all I’ve done for you two? I think you owe me some credit here.”

Franco smirked, clearly amused by Lando’s antics. “Credit for what? Being a pain in the ass?”

Lando sighed theatrically, looking between us. “Oh please, you’re both welcome. I’ve been watching this play out for weeks. It was only a matter of time.”

Franco glanced at me, catching my eye with a lingering look. His smirk softened slightly, his eyes flicking down briefly before meeting mine again, a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

I felt my breath catch, a slight flutter in my chest that I tried to ignore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Norris,” I muttered, but my voice lacked its usual edge.

Franco chuckled, and I could feel the heat of his arm brushing against mine, his presence suddenly feeling heavier in the best way.

Lando caught the exchanged glances, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said, leaning back and pretending to cross his arms. “You two are having a moment and I’m just here… being forgotten.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, turning to me with a grin. “Looks like we’ve upset him.”

I shot him a warning look but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Ignore him.”

Lando groaned. “You two are turning on me already.”

Franco leaned in a little closer to me, his voice low but loud enough for Lando to hear. “I guess we do make a good team.”

I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks at the comment, but I brushed it off with a playful scoff. “Don’t push your luck.”

Lando, meanwhile, was trying his best to get back into the conversation. “Anyway, now that you’ve finally gotten past all the tension, what’s next? Dinner? A romantic stroll under the moonlight?”

Franco grinned, glancing at me before turning back to Lando. “Actually, I was thinking breakfast.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Franco turned fully toward me, his grin softening just a little. “Yeah. Breakfast. Tomorrow.”

I leaned in smiling, giving him a little peck. “Sounds lovely.”

I swear Franco was blushing a bit, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever. Who would’ve thought.

Lando, realizing he wasn’t the one in control of the conversation anymore, groaned dramatically. “Gross. I’ve I had known I’d be third-wheeling this hard I would’ve not played cupid.”

Franco laughed, shaking his head. “Pretty sure you’ll survive.”

Lando stepped back, pretending to sulk. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He turned to me, his grin reappearing. “For now.”

“Not surprised,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

Lando gave a little wave, already walking back toward the rest of the party. “Enjoy your breakfast date! And remember—you can thank me later!”

As he disappeared into the crowd, I let out a long breath, finally turning back to Franco. He was watching me, a quiet smile still playing on his lips.

“So, breakfast?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, leaning in slightly. “Yep. I figure we’ve had enough drama for one night. Why not start the day fresh?”

I met his eyes for a moment before nodding. That sounded very cute. “Alright. Breakfast it is.”

Franco grinned, the cocky edge softening into something more sincere. “I’ll pick you up at ten.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’d better be on time.”

“Oh, I will be,” he said, brushing his hand against mine for just a moment. “No way I’m missing this.”

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

I think it is extremely funny how New Jersey, the state Gotham is located in, is the only state where it's illegal to pump your own gas.

Apparently it's "Because of the fire hazards directly associated with dispensing fuel[...]"

Any Gothamite would be shaking their head at this.

They are used to attacks on Gotham by rogues on a daily basis. Just living in that city puts them at risk for dying in a gruesome way. Fear toxin, Joker Gas, getting frozen in ice, you name it.

But they aren't trusted to pump their own gas?

And the poor gas station attendants.

I bet they judge the supervillains based on how they treat service workers.

You stand at the gas station and Red Hood rolls up?

Yeah, they know him. He's nice. Yeah, they know how he opperates, so what? He bitched with Freya about her ex when they'd just broken up. He gave Alex a good tip when he'd mentioned how he had to work on his birthday.

[alchemistc]

Donato spots it first - Tommy's been fidgeting with the just-too-short sleeves of his shirt for the past ten minutes, fingers curling into the ends of the arms, thumb sliding along the hem like maybe he could make them long enough to fully cover his wrists just by thinking really hard about it. It's stretched tight across his shoulders, the neck hole feels too high, biting into his skin, and Tommy is absolutely certain it's been hemmed in at the fucking waist, because he can barely keep the damn thing tucked into his pants.

(The cost of having those fucking magnificent gazelle legs is apparently torso space.)

"You shrink your shirt in the wash again, Kinard?"

Tommy's been begging their vendor to switch to a jersey blend for years because 100% cotton undershirts are a goddamn bitch and a half to maintain.

Tommy thinks about ignoring the question entirely. They've been razzing him for weeks about the way every single smile line in his face has been putting in overtime lately.

And then she gets a closer look at it. The merch is usually the same cross-department, but every once in a while some probie will get stuck with the task of ordering a few extras to have as backups around the station and they'll go a little too hard on customization. Like, for example, the one he'd picked off the top of his clean laundry basket without looking in his rush out the door this morning.

Lucy's eyes narrow. She reaches forward, pinches the 118 emblem blazing across the breadth of his shoulder, takes in the color and sturdiness of a shirt he definitely can't play off as being old enough to have been from his own time at the One Eighteen.

Donato grimaces so mockingly Tommy nearly warns her that her face'll get stuck like that. "Christ, Kinard, how fucking domestic are you two?"

(Three days off together after a week of getting by with random texts, their schedules nearly opposite, and when Evan had stared at his overnight bag on day two and realized he didn't have any spare undershirts he'd pouted up a storm about the fact that if he had to go back to his place it didn't make a lick of sense to turn right back around to Tommy's, so Tommy had just thrown Evan's dirty undershirt in with the rest of his own laundry. And then prompted Evan to throw all his other stuff in the wash too. Halfway across the city, Evan is definitely rolling too-long sleeves over his palm with the tips of his fingers and Tommy does not have time to think about how much he likes the idea of that )

"He doesn't even know my how I take my coffee," Tommy snipes, like that avoids the question, and across the locker room Johnson slams his locker shut with a snort.

"Because you've been using his increasingly more desperate attempts to figure it out as some weird intricate mating ritual for three months now."

"It's about --."

"--the journey, not the destination," they both interrupt, eyes rolling, and Tommy doesn't bother to try to hide the grin in his face.

"He just wants to get it right so bad."

Donato's face is unimpressed. "Ugh. Can you please stop being so smitten right in front of me? I'm gonna throw up."

Tommy leans in for the kill. "Your wife ever buy you flowers, Johnson? Because I've been trying to decide how much thought went into the arrangement he brought me on Saturday, and I figure -." He dodges the palm Johnson extends towards his face with a bark of bright laughter.

---

Evan 2:15 PM

Boyfriend privileges are a SCAM

Evan 2:15 PM

Why is YOUR NAME on the back of this shirt? There's no way that's standard

Evan 2:16 PM

Chimney's being homophobic

Evan 2:19 PM

Nvm Gerrard saw it and now I'm just sad he didn't actually have a heart attack about it

[chvoswxtch]

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear. 

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread. 

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else. 

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy? 

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves? 

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early. 

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

“How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously. 

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again. 

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday. 

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable. 

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name. 

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[86espresso]

💌 roommate!jack (loml)

part 2 part 3 suggestive lolololol

(au??)

gets you pads & chicken wings and ur like?? and he’s like ‘you said get pads with wings :)’ and then you cry

subconsciously makes a meal for two every time he cooks bc you’re always studying

you instantly hit it off with him because why not and it’s like, immediate besties

*you walk out in a pretty outfit* “look at you! where you goin’?” “dinner with the girls!!” “dinner with the girlss!! do a twirl f’me.” (FUCJ FUCKLPSJW)

“where’s my favorite black shirt? swear I left it on the counter.” “…” “jack?” “I swear I had no idea- look, I spilled orange juice and your shirt looked like a rag-” “so then you threw it in the washer, right?” “It’s in the trash I’m SO sorry” “you’re done.”

“Dude, I need the best fuckin cuddles you can offer right now.”

(#2) listening to you yap while you sit on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs back and forth.

massaging each other after hard days >>>

“I specifically put protein shakes on the grocery list.” “I didn’t look at the grocery list!” “Why? Why- why not?” “I didn’t think I’d need it, sorry babe.” and he can’t even be mad anymore bc you called him BABE.

friday movie nights and you inch closer every time until you’re practically on top of him and u both don’t (do) care.

the one time he puts you to work in the kitchen & you cut your finger on a knife: “shit, mshit fuck- christ, I’m so sorry. Shit, c’mere.” cleans you off properly and puts on a bandaid. (maybe he kisses your finger and that’s when you both realize that you’re stupidly in love or maybe he doesn’t.) kitchen off limits fr now

knows that you hate thunder so you wordlessly crawl to his bed whenever there’s a storm and he wordlessly lifts his sheets so you can get under them. wordless cuddling. wordless lil forehead kisses.

(#2) “did you eat today?” texts when he’s on roadies that make you want to smash ur head against a wall.

^ *when you get together eventually* “this is what a healthy relationship is like?” when he runs you a bath with rose petals & a bath bomb the night before one of your finals and kisses you all over ur face.

“you need to let me in when you’re upset, okay? I care about you and I want to help.”

“so.. I think you’re pretty adjusted to new jersey now (2 years).. maybe it’s time for me to move out? you probably want your own place now-” “wtf ? you idiot this is your apartment and the only way you’re getting rid of me is by getting rid of my cold, dead body.” “you could’ve just said you want me to stay-” “I want you to stay. I need you here.” (owbskhelenlop)

Jack’s thoughts when he unintentionally gets you obsessed with hockey and you start spitting random facts at random time: what have I created. (she’s such a nerd I want to fuck her.)

just as you’re about to walk into your apartment, he comes out and shuts the door behind him abruptly. ur like “oh.. do you- have someone over? I could come back later.” and he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise decorations he had up for your birthday so he says “yes” and you’re in TURMOIL until you find out what the surprise is

”you gave me a home. a sense of familiarity in a new city. a support system for whenever I couldn’t deal with myself. you think I wouldn’t do everything I possibly could, for you?”

he kisses your cheek/forehead every time he enters a room and bypasses r like “???” until it’s common

literally nothing changes after you get together except your ‘outings’ are now dates.

*makes a bite of his food and brings it over to you* “wh-” “open up. all you ate today was a snickers bar.” FEEDS YOU

the amount of inside jokes you both have is crazy. you love that you’ve found someone you can fall over laughing with.

strictest rule in the apartment: no raising voices at each other.

obsessed with your laugh

silly lil arguments that have you rolling on the floor a minute later

play fighting rahh

^ giggling when you attack his face with kisses

“teach me to skate?” jack’s brain: osntdiebdyes yehstseyssy yesyes ye (he gets to hold your hand). “sure.”

/your first time/ “you don’t know how much I used to wish these pretty noises were bein’ made ‘cause of me every time you brought someone else home, and now they are.”

when you moan his name for the first time he goes like batshit insane, has you in tears after three rounds.

not before absolutely devouring you. “patience, baby, I want my cock inside of you too but I need to taste you first. may I, baby?” (he’s already pulling your panties down) (both hands on the phone!:+*)

pt 2 maybee after obsessed jack pt 2 🙂‍↕️

ily!

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

Meat Cute

Danny was having a bit of a shit day. With him having graduated highschool last year, lunch lady was getting bored with how few opportunities she had to fight with him not frequenting her cafeteria and as such had decided to go big or go home. And by big he meant 'to Gotham'... for some reason.

Apparently, some weird-definitely-cursed city in New Jersey had an abnormally large Meat Packing district and was now paying the price. These were T-Bones everywhere, Rump roast sent through the skylights, and, the most aggravating of the bunch, sausage link.

The aforementioned mystery flesh chain was being sent flailing across the Facility, and since the commotion had long since summoned the city's native heroes, it was often nailing someone right in the soft bits.

The only gotham hero not being absolutely whooped by the Lunch Lady seemed to be the odd one out, a leather jacket wearing gunslinger who donned a red helmet and, since Danny could feel him letting off an ectosignature, seemed to be able to feel her attacks coming.

Swooping in close, Danny managed to land a few hits on Lunch but had no openings to soup her, being forced out of Close range by a well aimed ribeye, and right into the helmeted not-ghost, breaking off that glossy red monstrosity with the force and finding himself wrapped up tight in sausage face to face with the newly unmasked vigilante.

Oh, "I guess now would be a pretty awful time to ask for your number, huh?" Danny cursed his loose lips, but had committed.

The stranger seemed to become abruptly aware of how close they had been forced together by the links, blushing very slightly and going stiff as a board. "Um yeah, probably."

[reasonsforhope]

"Pro-Palestinian protesters briefly blocked entrance roads to airports in New York and Los Angeles on Wednesday [December 27, 2023], snarling traffic as U.S. airlines contended with a rush of holiday travel.

The demonstrations stopped cars on the outskirts of New York’s John F. Kennedy International Airport, where some travelers set off on foot to bypass the jammed roadway, as well as Los Angeles International Airport. A total of 62 people were arrested during the two protests, police said.

In New York, activists locked arms and held banners demanding an end to the Israel-Hamas war and expanded rights for Palestinians, bringing traffic to a standstill on the Van Wyck Expressway leading up to the airport for about 20 minutes.

Video posted to social media showed passengers, some carrying suitcases, leaving vehicles behind and stepping over barriers onto the highway median.

Twenty-six people in the protest were arrested for disorderly conduct and impeding vehicular traffic, and the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey dispatched two buses to help travelers caught in the backup reach the airport, agency spokesperson Steve Burns said.

Around the same time as the New York protest, a major thoroughfare leading to the Los Angeles airport was shut down by another group of pro-Palestinian protesters, who dragged traffic cones, trash bins, scooters and debris into the lanes, according to news helicopter footage.

In a statement, the Los Angeles Police Department accused protesters of throwing a police officer to the ground and “attacking uninvolved passerbys in their vehicles,” without providing further details about either incident.

The group appeared to flee when police arrived, though the Los Angeles Police Department said traffic around the airport remained impacted roughly two hours after the demonstration was declared unlawful.

A spokesperson for the LAPD said 35 people were arrested for rioting and one person was arrested for battery of a police officer. No officers were injured, according to the spokesperson. An estimated 215,000 passengers and 87,000 vehicles were expected to pass through the Los Angeles airport on Wednesday.

Since the Israel-Hamas war erupted on Oct. 7, near nightly protests have broken out in cities across the United States. In New York, pro-Palestinian organizers have responded to the growing death toll in Gaza with escalating actions aimed at disrupting some of the city’s best-known events, including the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the annual tree-lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center."

-via AP, December 27, 2023

[thevoidstaredback]

Clark hadn't meant to spend so long in Gotham. In fact, he'd intended to leave as soon as he was done interviewing Misters Wayne! But then his train had been delayed. And then he'd seen Signal...

Staying was a huge risk. He didn't know why Batman didn't want any of the Justice League in Gotham, but he was willing to bet that it had something to do with the amount of rogue attacks.

It's a miracle that neither a rogue or Batman showed up. Though, Batman' wouldn't have recognised him, he was not willing to risk messing up like that.

Until now.

Clark had decided to see what exactly goes on in Gotham City, New Jersey. Despite it being known nationally, there isn't really a clear picture about what goes on within the city limits. Maybe he can convince his boss to let him do a story on it? Then again, Bruce Wayne is his new boss, now that he's gone and bought the Daily Planet. Thoughts for another time.

He did not mean to get tied up like this. Literally. His exploration was only meant to last just until the last train of the day! But then he'd gone and gotten himself kidnapped!

Lois is going to laugh so hard at him.

And it's not that it's too hard for him to escape. These ropes are weaker than the ones Ma and Pa use on the farm, and the knot's easier to untie than a slip-knot. He can't because there's people watching him.

Batman can never know.

Batman probably already knows.

If Batman could laugh, Clark's beyond sure that he'd be rolling.

There was no fanfare when he was taken. Just someone pulling him into a van he walked by before diving off a they tied him up. Honestly, if it wasn't such an inconvenience, he'd admire how smoothly it was pulled off.

Things like this don't happen in Metropolis. They do! But, he's never really had to deal with them. That's usually the police's job, so he stays out of it. Unless nothing gets done...that's when he steps in.

Does this happen a lot in Gotham? From stories he's heard, he assumed drugs and big Rogues were the more constant threats, but this was too well done to be amateurs.

Regardless, this is a humiliating situation to now be in. Ridiculous, really, that he'd let his guard down. And if Batman or Lois don't lord it over him until they die, Diana will.

The others can never know.

With a quiet sigh, Clark does his damndest to look like his struggling without shredding the ropes or shattering the chair. It's much harder feat than first assumed. After a while, he 'gives up' and surveys the room.

There's a group of people mulling about a few yards away from him, though three of them are looking at him at a time. They're all armed with at least two weapons each.

Focusing his hearing, Clark picks up quiet discussion of a randsome. He has to do a double take.

Are they- They're trying to randsome him? He doesn't even live in Gotham! And, he can feel his wallet in his back pocket, so they obviously don't know his name or work. Also, he doesn't like his picture (as Clark Kent) taken, so there's no way they picked him for his face!

More of the group's - there's ten there, not that he's focusing - discussion reveals the name Bruce Wayne.

Why would they be talking about Bruce Wayne while holding Clark Kent hostage?

He sends his hearing to the police station, listening for the keyword 'randsome'. When that gives no results, which is very unfortunate and another thing that is different from Metropolis, he goes to the rest of the city. Maybe the note was en route?

Clark picks up a conversation from five different places in the city. One, the female, is stationary near the middle of the city; the oldest voice and the youngest are together; the other two are spread out. They're all nearing him.

Oh. He knows that voice.

He was right. Batman does already know.

He can do nothing but drop his head and sigh in dispaire.

Why couldn't these guys have been cultists? At least then he'd have an excuse - however flimsy - to have been caught off guard!

If that's Batman, than Robin must be with him. That means that Red Robin is one of the two already closing in on him. (Judging by the weight and movements, he's the closest one) Clark doesn't recognise the other two voices, but he can assume they also work with Batman while in Gotham.

It could be worse, he supposes. It could be Nightwing rescuing him.

He's already never living this down. nightwing would make fun of him for this incident in the afterlife, too.

The only warning that something had entered the build was the slow dawning of terror that Clark felt. He knew that his captors felt it, too, because they all snapped upright, weapons in hand and aimed at every entrance.

There was a presence behind him just as the rope trying to hold him down was cut.

"Hello Uncle Clark," said a voice that Clarks sure he's heard, but can't quite place, "Nightwing's gonna be all over this when he gets back on-world."

Clark doesn't move, even though the rope's been cut. "Please don't tell him..."

"Too late, C. The message is ready to be sent the second he's back in the solar system."

Clark curses under his breath while the voice laughs, the presence fading just as quick as it had appeared.

I the rafters, the sound of bat wings draws all weapons up. Clark still doesn't move. Then, as the shadows grow darker, the chirps of three birds start to softly call. His captors start firing, shattering the glass in the windows.

He takes this as his cue to get the hell out of dodge, though he only moves to the roof of the next building over.

From outside, it looks as though there's nothing going on inside the building his just left. A closer look shows shadows moving, but not a single sound. The clouds covering the moon makes the entire thing worse.

There's a pressure before his best friend is right behind him.

"What are you doing in Gotham, Kal?"

"I'm here for work, actually."

"You finished your assignment hours ago. Why are you still here?"

He shrugs. "Can't I visit my friend in his home?"

"You did."

"What?"

"You came, you saw. Go home, Kal."

"Wait a second!" He finally turns to the dark silhouette beside him. "What do you mean I already saw you?"

Batman hums quietly. The buzz of the woman's voice in his ear tells him that the area's clear and that the others are heading back out. Slowly, Batman reaches for his head and pulls off his cowl.

Clark knows for a fact that his best friend loves messing with people. Underneath all his brooding, he's a ridiculous person at heart. So this? This suddenly makes sense. But, also not at all.

"Clark." Bruce Wayne greets with a smirk.

Clark bluescreens for a moment. "Mister Wayne?"

He laughs. Laughs! "You've known me long enough to call me by my name, Clark."

"What the fuck?" He finds these words very appropriate.

"Those guys thought you were me," Bruce fucking Wayne says with a laugh in his voice. "I can see why they'd get confused. We do look alike, after all."

"You guys could practically be twins!" the woman's voice calls from the comm inside of Batman's cowl.

Side note: Turns out that the cowl and cape are not, in fact, connected.

"I need a goddamn drink." Clark sighs again.

"Come back to the Manor; I'll join you for a nightcap." Bruce smiles.

Prick.

Part 2 Storyboard

[over-powered-reader-insert]

Two Kings and a Heir

Ghost king Nico Di Angelo meets Ghost king Danny Fenton who meets Damain Wayne after some how being launched in to the dc univers ( Nico and Danny that is)

Danny needed a safe place as his univers is nolonger ( reaveal gone wrong)

Nico isn't sure how he got into the dc universe but he's knows that he's not in his new work any more ( takes place before the trils of Apollo)

Because ghost work diifertly in the dc universe Danny would have relearn how to use his powers: ie control over his ice core, intangibility, invisibility, ghostly wail, eco blast ect. His ghost sense is going haywire, half going off. There's no puff of mist leaving his mouth, but is has his entire body tense. Danny learns quickly that the ghost of this world works differently, no one but him can see them, and even then it's hard for him the see them half the time. ( it's just a slivery after image in hisn periphery but they disappear when he tries to look at them head on.)

Hunger still affects Danny, not as much as before the accident, but he's still half human and he still need to eat. Something cheep and greasy. There were no nasty burger here, just a place called bat burger where he clocks an nother kid around his age as being something more then a laminar but close to a halfa like him, developing core maybe?

Nico new that he wasn't in New York anymore when he woke up, and he's quick to learn that he's in jersey, in a city call gotham. A place that didn't exist before. he's half scared that he was placed in the lotus casino again, he knows that's impossable. but the fear lingers. ( it happens once but who's to say that it won't happen again?) Nico needed information, he don't know where he is, when he is , so he plans to summon a ghost. But first he needs a happy meal.

The clost thing to a mc' Donald's is a place called bat burger. There Nico meets Danny, and they both clock each other as pooled who has an extremely association with death, and the underworld. Another child of hades? Maybe.

Silent communication passed he tween the two of them. The cashier clears her throat, and Danny orders first before stepping to the side and lingering awkwardly behind the other boy as he places his order, a kids meal. The kid walks to a booth at the back, one shrouded in shadows. Danny is half compiled to follow, every time he meets a halfa they tried to kill him first and get to know him second. But so far this was going great. He joins the kid at the booth.

Silence lingers between then the boy stared out the window at the few passing cars, Danny decided to pick at napickn, a black stylized bat decorated the corner. How was she supposed to go about this with out fist flying? He's not at his strongest at the moment. He's been doing good so far at ignoring the ach of the vivisection wound. Hastily stitched half healed, sleeping and eating would heald the thing faster, he just need a place to sleep, and stock up kn canned food and granola bars. Maybe he could break into one of the abandon buildings.

" Nico." The boys said suddenly.

Um

What?

Name, name, names. That was his name. He should-

" Danny! Yeah... call me Danny."

This was a good start, names are good. It doesn't matter that he's on the sudden verg of panic, or that he was getting a migraine from the constant half use of his ghost sense.

" son of hades?" Nico asked tentatively as I'd he was sharing a secret.

" what? No my dad isn't-"

" Hecate then, she's your mother right? Your too old not to know who your godly parent is, and you can't be unclaimed." Nico said in a rapid wishper, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting someone to attack.

" No wait, dude calm down, I think I know what's going on." But before he could answer they were called to get food. Looking over his shoulder the cashier looked unimpressed. Right food, the original reason why he's here.

Part two later

[whitehotwild]

i've never done an anon before so i'm so sorry if it sounds weird 😭😭 but do you think billy and his younger s/o would go to like, those summer carnivals? like, the ones that are at night? idk if that's js in my hometown tho 😭 she most definitely dragged him there and he reluctantly went bc he loves her, but lwk he ends up enjoying it. idkkk i js feel like there isn't enough soft!billy content on here and you are my only supplier of it 🙏🙏

OUUUUUUUU OU OU OU you just scratched an itch... im so giddy about this. (also ily and i'll gladly be ur supplier)

we only have fall carnivals in my town which sucks bc summer carnivals sound so much more fun.

you like... heard from a friend that there's this one in NJ, you try to convince butcher to go with you. you tell him that it's only 2 hours by way of penn station (nightmare nightmare nightmare), that he doesn't have to drive you, that you'll buy the entry tickets.

"let's just go to coney island, yeah? i'm not goin' to bleedin' New Jersey for a night just because you wanna ride some roller coasters. you got a ride right here..." he smirks, thinking he's oh so clever.

all it does is make you whine and go limp in his hold, "but pleeeeeeease??? It'll be fun! you're such a fucking party pooper."

it doesn't ever take much to make him give into you, that's his one weakness, "i ain't no fuckin' 'party pooper'. you're just a pain in me arse."

"okay... so are we going or not?"

butcher sighs with an unimpressed look on his face, "fine."

and then like when you're actually at the carnival, you make good on your promise to buy the entry tickets (wristbands whatever), and butcher pays for the games/rides.

after half an hour, he's spent only about $20, "I ain't spendin' over 50 bucks, got it?"

at the moment, you're more worried about what you're gonna get from the food truck than anything coming out of his mouth, "mhm. yup, got it."

you beg him to get on one of the rides with you and he finally gives in after a while, but the second you get off the ride he's looking at you like he kinda wants to kill you... just a little bit.

"you're tryna give me a bloody heart attack. i ain't doing that again."

(i'll die on the hill that butcher hates roller coasters just because i think it would be very funny.)

$100 and two hours later, butcher's finally cutting you off after winning you one of those big teddy bears from one of the game booths.

(yes, he knows he said $50. yes, he knows he's wrapped around your little finger)

"you happy, pet?" he asks you once you both settle on the train back to the city. there's no snark in his voice like you'd expect, just genuinely wanting to know that you had a good night.

you nod against his shoulder, your legs propped up in the empty seat in front of you, "yeah, i'm happy. you happy?"

butcher looks down at you, the way your head rests against him, the way your arm is snaked through his. he allows himself, just for a moment, to believe that he does deserve this... that he does deserve you and the joy you bring back to him.

"i suppose so. you like your bear?" he nudges you gently, motioning to where you sat the big stuffed bear in the seat in front of him.

"mhm... gonna name it 'billy jr.'" you tease with a tired smile, you're halfway to falling asleep and the train's barely left the station.

billy (sr.) huffs, unimpressed, but there's a small smile on his face, he untangles his arm from yours and wraps it around your shoulders, covering your eyes with his hand as he pulls you a bit closer into his side.

"ah, fuck off... you're delirious, go to sleep."

୨ ♡ ୧

just wanna say sorry that im not getting to requests as quick as i'd like! got a lot of shit happening atm BUT im on vacay atm so hopefully i can pump some out this week! LOVE YOU BYEEEE!

[archivaltrigger]

“Because the US government was not acting on mass shootings, we directly attacked a trait Americans are most known for: their pride in their country. Change the Ref created the Shamecards, a postcard collection designed to demand gun law reform from Congress. Subverting the traditional greeting cards that depict each city’s landmarks, ours show what cities are becoming known for.”

shamecards.org

There is 54 cards total representing:

Annapolis — Maryland: Capital Gazette Shooting

Atlanta — Georgia: Day Trading Firm Shootings

Benton — Kentucky: Marshall County High School Shooting

Bethel — Alaska: Regional High School Shooting

Binghamton — New York: Binghamton Shooting

Blacksburg — Virginia: Virginia Tech Massacre

Camden – New Jersey: Walk of Death Massacre

Charleston — South Carolina: Charleston Church Shooting

Charlotte — North Carolina: 2019 University Shooting

Cheyenne — Wyoming: Senior Home Shooting

Chicago — Illinois: Medical Center Shooting

Clovis — New Mexico: Clovis Library Shooting

Columbine — Colorado: Columbine

Dayton — Ohio: Dayton Shooting

Edmond — Oklahoma: Post Office Shooting

El Paso — Texas: El Paso Shooting

Ennis — Montana: Madison County Shooting

Essex Junction — Vermont: Essex Elementary School Shooting

Geneva — Alabama: Geneva County Massacre.

Grand Forks — North Dakota: Grand Forks Shooting

Hesston — Kansas: Hesston Shooting

Honolulu — Hawaii: First Hawaiian Mass Shooting

Huntington — West Virginia: New Year's Eve Shooting

Indianapolis — Indiana: Hamilton Avenue Murders

Iowa City — Iowa: University Shooting

Jonesboro — Arkansas: Middle School Massacre

Kalamazoo — Michigan: Kalamazoo Shooting

Lafayette — Louisana: Lafayette Shooting

Las Vegas — Nevada: Las Vegas Strip Shooting

Madison — Maine: Madison Rampage

Meridian — Mississippi: Meridian Company Shooting

Moscow — Idaho: Moscow Rampage

Nashville — Tennessee: Nashville Waffle House shooting

Newtown — Connecticut: Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting

Omaha — Nebraska: Westroads Mall shooting

Orlando — Florida: Pulse Nightclub Shooting

Parkland — Florida: Parkland School Shooting

Pelham — New Hampshire: Wedding Shooting

Pittsburgh — Pennsylvania: Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooting

Prices Corner — Delaware: Delaware Shooting

Red Lake — Minnesota: Indian Reservation Shooting

Roseburg — Oregon: Umpqua Community Collage Shooting

Salt Lake City — Utah: Salt Lake City Mall Shooting

San Diego — California: San Ysidro Massacre

Santa Fe — Texas: Santa Fe School Shooting

Schofield — Wisconsin: Marathon County Shooting

Seattle — Washington: Capitol Hill Massacre

Sisseton — South Dakota: Sisseton Massacre

St. Louis — Missouri: Power Plant Shooting

Sutherland Springs — Texas: Sutherland Springs Church Shooting

Tucson — Arizona: Tocson Shooting

Wakefield — Massachusetts: Tech Company Massacre

Washington — D.C.: Navy Yard Shooting

Westerly — Rhode Island: Assisted-Living Complex Rampage

[writterings]

city driving and country driving are such separate skill sets. same with suburbs, though i feel like they have enough signage that anyone can usually make it through okay. country driving is like all open road until it's dark and the city folk get scared that no houses or visible people around and they can't see past their headlights and then blind everyone they come across with their highbeams even though it's a bright night. country folk get scared in the city because everything is so close together and there's so many pedestrians that they could hit and everyone drives like super fucking aggressively and they are not afraid to hit you out of their own sense of pride. no point to this post, i was just thinking about how yesterday my mom and i brought a friend to a thing and when we were driving my friend home, my mom almost had a panic attack driving in urban north jersey because it was so different from our little jersey hick village that she's lived in her whole life. i drove home and she had a hand on the oh shit bar the whole time even though i know how to drive in cities.

[midnightbabylon]

Fine

summary: Bucky Barnes is the only person in the world who ignores you. Yet you are constantly sent on mission with him. In this one you get hurt by accident and he is disturbingly nice and caring to you and that confuses you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: fluffy and soft Barnes

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

Starting a new life is not always easy. After the Battle in New York City, you were faced with nothing. Your family was buried under your Manhattan apartment. An explosion had taken everything from you. Your ear rang violently and blood ran from it. You struggled through the wreckage of the streets, shaking, when it was all over. You fled the state and built a new life with the rest of your family's savings. Never again did you want to go through life without a fight. If such an attack ever happened again, you wanted to be ready for it.

"Good morning." you said as you entered the kitchen and adjoining dining room. Everyone murmured a quiet reply except Bucky. Sighing softly, you placed your cup under the coffee maker and pressed the button. Then you made yourself a sandwich and took the last seat at the other end of the table. Your ears listened to some conversations, but you did not participate in any of them. Silently you watched the morning hustle and bustle. If someone told you 6 years ago that you would be at Avengers headquarters, you wouldn't have believed them.

"Oh nice everyone is here, then I can start the meeting." Tony ate a handful of blueberries and stopped across from you. "Romanov and Clint you guys hit the jackpot. Fury will join." he handed Natasha the first file then they left. "Steve, Wilson and Wanda. Quinjet and the longest mission. Good luck." Steve took the next file. An uncomfortable feeling spread through you and inwardly you hoped he wouldn't mention you're and Bucky's names. But luck was not on your side today. "Bucky and Y/N. Warehouse in New Jersey." Frustrated, you exhaled and picked up the file. Shortly thereafter, the ghastly squeak of a chair broke the silence and Bucky stormed out of the room. You really weren't hungry anymore, so you pushed the sandwich over to Peter and stood up. "It gets better eventually." Uncertainly, you looked at Tony. "What?" you asked. "The nightmares. Friday evaluated last week's night logs for me. You can always talk to someone here Y/N." Nodding silently, you walked out of the common room to your room. As you did so, you flipped through the file.

You couldn't explain why he hated you so much. After all, you had some things in common. When you weren't on missions, you could be found in front of a good book or lost in thought in a quiet place. You especially avoided parties of any kind, simply because your social battery drained very quickly. Sam regularly tried to lure you and Bucky out of the room. It usually worked for the cold soldier, but not for you. You liked your privacy and have always been more of a loner. After freshening up and slipping into your new black suit, you came into the garage. You ran your fingers over the new fabric. Tony had completely redesigned your suit and improved it. "Took you long enough," Bucky muttered grumpily. Annoyed, you clench your jaw and stare at him for a few seconds. "Why are you always like this with me?" you blurted out. "I haven't done anything to you!" Shaking your head, you got into the car without saying another word. You slammed the door on purpose to make your point. You stared at the monitor and typed in the destination. "Are you coming already?!" you shouted out, as Bucky was still standing in the open driver's door. He mumbled something unintelligible and got behind the wheel. The drive to Jersey didn't take long, yet your mind wandered. Not that Bucky would talk to you.

"What is that?" your mother asked as she stood at the kitchen window. Darkness fell over Manhattan for a moment and you joined her. A huge crash echoed through the streets of Midtown. "Get away from the window and find your father." she said in a trembling voice. Something was wrong but you couldn't see. You almost tripped over your own feet looking for your father. As you took the stairs to the top floor, the building began to shake. "Dad!" you yell up the stairs. Staggering, you arrived at the top. Where your father's office would have been, there was a gigantic hole between the ruins and you could see the sky. It looked like an alien invasion. Your body froze into stone as you watched the giant animal-like ships glide through the air. Your father was most likely dead and you could do nothing better than watch in panic at a potential war. You always thought aliens weren't real, but like the rest of humanity, you were probably wrong. "Y/N" your mother's voice sounded from downstairs. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, eyeing you. "Come down, right now!" You had no control over your body but somehow you reached her at the bottom. "Here." she thrust a backpack into your hand and stuffed various things into it before fleeing to the flap under the carpet. She took out all the wads of bills and stuffed them into the backpack as well. "We need to get out of here, fast." She pulled on your dazed body to get to the stairwell. The building shook again and chunks of stone fell on the concrete stairs. "Dad's dead." you finally found your voice again, and it sounded raspy. "I know my darling." she said softly and you felt her hands on your cheek. "But we have to get out of here or we'll die too." Tears smeared in her eyes and you followed her downstairs. The neighbors who were still alive were also heading down to the streets, although this probably wasn't the best idea. There were burning and broken cars on the road. Parts of houses lay scattered on the asphalt. This was the greatest nightmare in the history of the world. You had never experienced anything like it before. Most people were running in one direction, but your mother was looking in the other. "We have to go that way!" You looked at her as if she was also from another planet. "Mom, are you crazy? Isn't that where everything happens?!" You pointed at the explosions and the alien ships. "And that's exactly why no one would suspect us there. We need to find a working car and get out of there. Get the hell out of New York." You nodded and followed your mother through the wreckage. She rattled some car doors, but none of them opened. "Shit," she muttered and looked across the street. "Let's try this." she pointed to the silver SUV. She looked left and right before she ran off. The only mistake your mother made was not looking up. Before she could reach the vehicle, it exploded. The wave hit and you were thrown backwards. There was a ringing in your ears and everything was spinning. Like in slow motion, you raised your head and saw your mother's lifeless body. "Mom." It was still ringing in your ear and you felt something wet flowing down your cheek. "Mom." Breathing flatly, she looked at you and raised her hand trembling.

"Y/N." Blinking, you stared at your fingers. "Y/N" That didn't come from your thoughts. Fingers appeared in front of your eye and snapped. You shook yourself back to reality and Bucky looked at you. "We're here. I parked a few blocks down the street." He pulled the key out of the ignition. "Sorry." you muttered softly and got out in front of him. In your head you went through the file again. "Now I'd like Sam's drone to take a look at this warehouse first," you muttered as you stood in front of the complex. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way," Bucky said without emotion, and proceeded to climb the surrounding rooftops. "I don't have super serum in me to just crawl up walls. It's more of a super soldier or spiderman thing." He looked down at you, his Vibranium arm shining in the sun. "Then take the back door bore." You imagined seeing his mouth wrap twitch before he climbed through a window into the building. Terrified, you stared at the window. He just walked in without you. You crept along the wall to find an open door or window. When you finally found something you could already hear gasping and grunting. Bucky seemed to knock out the opponents without a problem. That's why you set out to find the capsule that Tony wanted. Actually, you didn't like stealing things, but this capsule had already been stolen from Avengers headquarters, so technically it was just a matter of getting it back. Like a cat, you tried to sneak quietly through the storage shelves. Behind a shelf filled with barrels, you looked around the corner. Jackpot. There was this stupid capsule alone in the room. Anticipated, you went to get her out of the warehouse as quickly as possible. Before you got to the capsule, two strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. For a moment, you thought Bucky was playing a prank on you, but those arms were about to suffocate you. It took you a second to remember your self-defense. You rammed the guy's elbow in the side and he let you go. You immediately turned around and punched him in the face. He moaned and held his nose. "What fear of losing to a girl?" you joke. "Never" said the dark-haired guy before he pulled out a knife. "That's not fair." You could hardly finish the sentence before he came out. The first few times, you were able to dodge until he caught your rib and you hissed to the floor. "Fuck." you muttered and raised your arm at the last second to fire an electric shock at him. He turned to the ground. You were panting and crawling with the capsule behind the shelf. Thus, potential new attackers would not find you immediately. When you took your hand from the wound, your hand was dyed red. Breathing deeply, you pulled yourself up and clung to the shelf. A move to your right made you twitch and almost hit before you realized it was Bucky.

"Hey. You okay?" Nodding you turned your head to him. "I´m fine." He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Really? That looks painful." „I said I‘m fine.“ The words came out of your mouth harder and louder than you intended. Typical defense strategy. However, Bucky could probably see the tears in your eyes as you pressed your palms to the fabric. "Hey, I'm sorry okay? I really just want to know if everything is okay." "Just a scratch, all right." you swallowed the rest of the emotions down. "Let me see how deep it is." he came a few steps towards you. "We'd better get back."you just answered. "Y/N, please." he looked you right in the eyes the first time and you were amazed at the light blue. He pulled the stretchy fabric apart to see the wound. "It's really not deep, but it should be stitched anyway." his cold metal fingers stroke over your skin, making you twitch. "Come." he took your arm over his shoulder and reached for the pod. "Back to headquarters. We don't want you to die." he grinned and you looked at him in disbelief. "You don't have to be nice to me now just because I'm hurt." He stopped in front of the car and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not just being nice to you…. no." he said seriously after a moment's hesitation. "Why do you usually hate me?" Tears shimmered in your eyes. "I don't hate you, not at all Y/N." he gently lifted you into the car, trying to hurt you as little as possible. "Funny you always treat me like shit though." you tried to laugh but it hurt like hell. "Who do you think leaves books at your door at night after your nightmares." He got in and drove gracefully into traffic heading for New York City. "I always thought Sam did that." you admitted quietly. "No." he muttered. "I do. I have nightmares, too. I know what it's like and I wanted to help you." He looked at the road intently. "Thanks." you whispered, "I like you Y/N I just never knew how to tell you." Your eyes got heavy. "Funny way to express it." Your voice softened and your hand slipped from the wound. "Y/N stay awake. Please stay awake." Bucky voice got louder.

"I think she is waking up," somebody murmured. "Hey they're we've been worried sick." Natasha hovered over you and Sam who was holding your hand smiled big. "Man you scared the shit out of vibranium arm boy." Now you smiled. "Sorry." "Well leave you two alone for a minute." Natasha stood up and took Sam with her. "How you feeling?" Bucky sat down on the chair next to your bed. "I feel pretty good, thanks for the rescue." He sighed. "If I was a bit faster he wouldn't even hurt you." "It is okay Bucky. I am fine. Don't worry. Let´s talk about what you said in the car earlier." you smiled. He chuckled. "Okay darling let's have that talk. But if you tell Sam I have to kill you." He took your hand in his. "First of all I am going to tell you how you flirt in this century now. No cold hearted stares anymore and treating a girl like she's air." He nodded licking his lips. "Got it. Can in kiss you anyways?" "Cheeky bastard,"you laughed out loudly with a slight pinch of pain before his warm and soft lips came crashing onto yours.

Permanent Bucky/Sebastian Taglist:

@aya-fay @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @queenofkings1212 @lilya-petrichor @dexter99 @dystopian-dez382 @xoxoloverb @yougottalovefandoms @justalostgirl

[thenightwolf51]

So i just read this post about the Bats being Warlocks with Danny as their Patron and its super great, amazing work @aziraphale-is-a-cat and @percyisawesome

At first i thought Lady Gotham was going to be their Patron, because i immediately forgot i was reading a crossover, and that sparked an idea.

What if Lady Gotham doesn't exist and Phantom was the Gotham city spirit.

So DPxDC idea where Phantom was the first recorded Hero/Meta way back before the Justice League members were even born, because i love those stories, but if course no one knew that back then. Metas weren't a thing yet.

So things go as canon but eventually the GIW get worse and worse, especially as more and more of Amity becomes Liminal from ambient ecto leaking from the portal.

And the GIW, way too confident with the Anti Ecto Acts in place, decide that Amity Park is a lost cause. They launch a major attack the town and destroy the portal in the process.

And even though i think the surviving Amity Parkers would buckle down, stand strong, and rebuild their town. For the sake of this idea, lets say they don't do that.

Instead the survivors band together and decide they need to leave, get as far from the GIW's main base of operations as they can.

They go right.

They end up in Gotham, New Jersey.

Now, im messing with the timeline a bit. I still kinda want the DP parts to be early 2000s, maybe late 80s/early 90s at the least, so the uniquely DC events im pushing to later in time a bit.

So lets say Gotham, while still pretty old and with its history and subtle curses, never really expanded into the huge city we normally think of. No towering skyscrapers or really any huge buildings, is barely a small city at this point.

And then an influx of new residents from the west cause a need to expand. Over the generations the former Amity Parkers help Gotham become what we know in Bruces time. By then they're just Gothamites, and if their subtle limiality is to attribute for the modern Gothamite's durability and the eventual rogues' whole... thing well its been way too long to place blame on that random group of refugees.

And where was Phantom in all this? Watching over his people. The portal and his family are gone, he cant be Danny because the survivors believe he died when FentonWorks exploded, all he really has at the moment is these people who's lives he believes he inadvertently destroyed.

So he watches over them, then their descendants and the seemingly unfortunate people of their new home. This little city has afew old curses that are holding the residents back and making them miserable, its the least he can do to take some of them on for himself, just make things easier for the people.

Eventually the city becomes his new haunt, becomes a part of him as he helps it grow and expand. And some Amity descendants still spread the urban legend that is the Phantom of Gotham.

(Just a little side detail that im not sure how to add in but i really like the idea of Liminality eventually evolving or mutating into the meta gene if there's not enough ambient ectoto keep it active. Maybe the portal sent out a shock wave of radiation when it was destroyed. Not everyone was affected but for those who were it either was so subtle the effects fade within a month from the lack of enough ambient ecto or went dormant until it became a meta gene and no longer needed ecto.

I dont know, i mostly like the irony of Batman's "no meta's in Gotham" rule when most of Gotham was unknowingly built by the original "metas")

@hdgnj @dcxdpdabbles @nelkcats @nerdpoe @ailithnight @tathartiel

And @omnicrafts , hope your feeling better