Danny had been around Gotham for a while.
The crime was never ending, but since Batman's arrival, it had gotten better.
The unmistakably CLANK! From around the corner had him jump, wary now. The man walks around the wall, eyes on the black car with— with Batman's symbol at the front.
A child sitting on the ground with a car tire next to him, the Bat Symbol a stark contrast to the shadows.
"Shit, kid. You're bold to rob Batman." Danny didn't really realise he was speaking until the kid looks up, spooked.
"What the fuck?" The kid was clearly of Gotham breed, yelps with a glare.
"I'm impressed," Danny doesn't give the kid the chance to talk, not with the way the tiny terror seems to be glaring and holding his wrench.
"You're quick, got eyes for details and know how to work around cars."
The suspicion in the kids eyes didn't lessen, having gotten up to press himself against the wall, eyes never leaving Danny.
"Here," Our local spook threw a card on the hood of the car. It was his business card.
"If you need income with far fewer risks than stealing from Batman, call me."
He didn't really wait to see the kids reaction, just leaving, bot before shooting a look into the sky the kid clearly caught.
As danny left, the kid looked at the entrance of the alleyway, back to the car, and then to the card.
They had talked for too long. Jason had to leave now, lest Batman actually caught him.
With one last look to the tires and the car, he leaves eith a scowl.
Just barely missing the man with the cape.
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im sorry i dont usually do this but this post pissed me off so fucking bad and op has replies turned off (because of course they do)
fellas. is it gay to wear pink and have long hair and sing and dance? cause i didn’t realize we were using bioessentialism in movie analysis now that’s crazy
sarcasm aside this is literally why i don’t go in tags anymore because none of you are media literate. not a single one of you. longlegs is not wearing makeup in the movie. it’s shitty plastic surgery; that’s why his lips are red. you can literally tell by just looking at him that it’s not lipstick. the clothes he wears are all off-white or white. the falsetto he’s doing is very obviously meant to mimic that sort of “goochie goo” baby talk a lot of adults unironically use towards children. also coding? ‘coding’ is not when you interpret something from a movie as anything you want because you feel like it. coding is an intentional act committed by creatives to further their story and allude to specific real life things for a specific narrative purpose. it is an intentional act of storytelling. it is not you looking at a movie and assuming something as fact based off slight vibes
and i’m just gonna say it. if you see a male character with long hair that’s acting generally creepy in the vicinity of a child and automatically assume that that character is being coded as a transwoman, YOU ARE THE ONE BEING TRANSPHOBIC.
like holy fuck some of y’all have never actually looked inwards once in your life and it shows
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Psst. Come here. Yes, you, come here. Allow me to let you in to a little secret.
When an artist draws fanart of a Thing and posts it online, there’s a 99.9% chance they’re looking to make friends with people who also enjoy said Thing.
What I’m trying to say is please just come talk to me I have so many emotions and drawing them simply isn’t enough
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#ok it’s giving girl dad wearing his daughter’s handmade necklace special for him into work 🥺🥺😩😩
couldn’t stop thinking about this tag of mine, wrote a little smth about it 🥰
The stomping footfalls racing down the hall behind him could only be those of a toddler. Daniel turns and squats just in time for his tiny blonde projectile of a child to come barreling into his chest. The force sends Daniel falling back onto his butt with a surprised oof, his daughter giggling delightedly in his lap.
“Hey, Ellie-bug,” Daniel smiles. “Daddy’s gotta go to work, remember how we talked about it and you promised to be a big girl?” He brushes a strand of hair away from her mouth where it’s gotten stuck in a little smear of jam leftover from her breakfast. Daniel had shown Max how to make it just the way she likes—the pancake batter shaped in the silicone star mold, the silly faces drawn in jelly and jam.
Ellie’s head bobs up and down dutifully, but she makes no move to get up.
Max appears from the kitchen then, looking like a man who’s been fighting a losing battle with the second pancake. There’s a splatter of thick batter on his white t-shirt. He’s holding the spatula like it’s offended him somehow. Daniel looks at him over their daughter’s head, and loves him fiercely.
“She is of course the biggest girl,” Max says. Ellie grins proudly. “Why don’t you give Daddy your present now, then we will finish your pancakes.”
Daniel watches her grey-blue eyes light up like she’s just now remembering why she came running at him in the first place. She reaches a chubby hand into the bib pocket on her overalls, embroidered Enchanté script stretching as she roots around and produces a string of brightly-colored plastic beads. She holds it out to him expectantly.
Daniel takes the strand delicately in hand, wraps it around the backs of his fingers and rotates his wrist to get a good look. It’s a necklace, probably more of a choker given its relatively small circumference, the fat pony beads the only real indication it was made by a child. The powder pink and fuchsia beads are separated by interspersed pearlescent white orbs and clear sparkly stars. Smack in the center is a single number bead, a glittery pink three.
“Jeepers, did you make this for me? It’s beautiful!” Daniel says, and means it. He’s already been wanting to talk to his team about adding a jewelry collection to a future drop, and what better inspiration?
Ellie nods excitedly. “Papa helped me do a…,” she pauses, squints and tilts her little head, searching for the word, “…a pattern!”
“We made it the other day, while you were out with Blake,” Max chimes in. “For good luck.” He sounds almost bashful, like maybe it wasn’t their daughter’s idea in the first place. Daniel’s heart is so swollen it’s threatening to leak out through the gaps in his ribcage.
“How’d I get so lucky, huh?” Daniel muses, softly, mostly to himself. He stretches the elastic over his head, feels the smooth plastic three settle in the hollow of his throat. His pulse thrums evenly against it, grounding.
He flashes his biggest smile at his family. “How do I look?”
“Pretty, Daddy!” Ellie throws herself forward again, wrapping her arms around Daniel’s neck. It leaves him locking eyes with Max, who’s gazing down at the two of them like nothing else in the universe exists. Daniel can never quite get used to that look—still feels butterflies dancing up the back of his throat, his stomach dropped into a glorious freefall.
“Beautiful, Daniel,” Max says, reverent. “Always.”
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