#technically some of these are but only a couple

[tumblehcendrum]

Hi! I live in that future. Allow me to explain.

For the uninitiated, this baby right here is a so called 3D printer, which works by melting and extruding the plastic wire above, stratifying layers of it into whichever shape your heart desires*.

(*Shapes that cannot be obtained by stratifying layers may require printing supports and/or additional engineering work. Consult your local product designer.)

My town has this beautiful place that gives you free reign with 'em for a couple of tenners a year, and while you technically can't just be printing on their filament always all the time they are spectacularly lax with it. (Look into your local libraries, you may be as lucky too!)

And buddy/buddyette, it's a life changer. Let me tell you, we spend a phenomenal amount of time and money getting stupid little plastic items for so much more money than they're worth when we could just print what we need at next to no cost. Clothespins, containers, trays, phone stands, cable organizers, tape dispensers, mechanical pencils, toilet paper hangers, coat racks, the list could go on infinitely even within the confines of what you can find free models in spades of, online (on sites like printables or cults3D).

And the moment you have some 3D modeling skills? Ohoho it's OVER. All those stupid little plastic piece breakages that cost you 40 bones because the spare is only sold as an assembly, is just that overpriced because what else ya gonna do, can only be found in a continent that isn't yours or can't be sourced altogether so just buy a new, maybe worse product? NO MORE! Working around whatever awkward item size you could find? NO MORE! Everything built to spec, to order, in house, for pennies.

Or for nothing at all, since you can just turn old plastic bottles into filament!

3D printers: the future! Here! And pretty cheap to boot! They can be found in the low hundreds! Stack together all your spending on overpriced plastic and in a year it'll have paid for itself three times over!

[storiesbyrhi]

Part One: A building gets torched

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Masterlist 1710 Words

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence, references to sexual assault, swearing, drug and alcohol use, sexual references, child neglect, death/grief, references to organised crime

Note: A majority of the characters from The Crow have been replaced with Stranger Things counterparts. However, a few remain in their original form (e.g. Gideon, Grange). Some major characters have been written out, as they don’t work within the context of this story (e.g. Myca – who is one of my favourite characters). I have taken material, including direct quotes, from the film and comics/graphic novel.

After Sunset, October 30, 1994

Jim Hopper stood next to the broken window. He’d been there before. He recalled how he felt when he first saw that window. How its grand scale and clean glasswork made the rest of the ratty apartment seem worth it. The window framed the city in a way that made it seem almost beautiful. Almost.

That had been a couple months before Devil��s Night. There had been whispers that the building was going to be sold off. Hopper hoped it was true. Maybe a new developer would demolish the place. He didn’t want to think about how many ghosts haunted those walls. Between the overdoses and the organised crime related violence, a lot of trips to the morgue began there.

Unfortunately, the buyer was not the up and up real estate type. Hopper heard it was more of the top of the bad guy hierarchy type. Martin Brenner owned half the city and not by any legal or ethical means. In the police files, intel on him was filed under the codename Top Dollar, like even the cops were too scared to put their name to anything that could be used against him.

 When Hopper caught wind of that, he’d paid the apartment a visit – paid you a visit.

“You gotta cool it with this stuff,” he’d warned, gesturing to where you’d been working on a new petition for everyone to sign.

“You’ve never told me to cool it before. Never shown up at my home before,”

“Before when you were feeding the homeless? Helping little old ladies cross the road? This is different. Come on, kid. Don’t play dumb.”

You sighed, but it sounded more like a huff. It hadn’t been feeding the homeless. You’d fundraised to keep the local community kitchen from shutting its doors. And, there had never been little old ladies. Maybe little old raccoons and opossums you’d built little wooden houses for…

Hopper shifted on the spot. “Look… I know you’re tryin’ to the right thing… I know you don’t want to have to move-”

“It’s not about moving. It’s about-”

“The principle, I know,” Hopper interrupted you right back. “I know. But the guy who’s eyeing the place, you don’t wanna mess around with him.”

Even then, you knew Hopper was right. You knew what you were doing was potentially dangerous. Brenner’s name had been mentioned to you before Hopper came knocking. But you were stubborn.

“How’s he even doing this? It can’t be legal. Probably paid off Kline, right?”

Hopper cringed at the name Kline. Larry Kline was the elected official who should have been fighting for the city. Instead, he was lining his pockets with Brenner-shaped coins.

“Eddie know you’re doing this?” Hopper changed tactics. There were three giveaways that Eddie was probably on tour. The first was how quiet the apartment was. The second was the lack of guitars on the wall hooks. The third was that Gabriel, a fluffy white cat, was asleep on the couch. Gabriel only sought the company of others when Eddie wasn’t an option, even though he was technically a birthday present for you.

You bit down on your tongue. “I don’t keep secrets from Eddie,”

“Right, but… Might you have conveniently forgotten to mention who wants to buy the building? Who you’re starting a fight with?”

The conversation had ended with a vague promise that you’d maybe consider ‘cooling it.’ Hopper had left that night uneasy. He never got around to tracking a phone number for Eddie out on the road. Knowing Eddie, which he only kind of did anyway, he’d never tell you to stop doing anything. That man worshipped the ground you walked on.

Hopper stood at the broken window and held a cigarette between his teeth. He looked down to the street below, Eddie’s body being covered with a crime scene sheet while onlookers scrambled to see the carnage.

Behind him, crime scene techs and cops buzzed about the apartment. He turned to survey the scene. The photos on the wall told a story of love. His brain tried to reconcile how you looked in them, compared to how you looked lying on the apartment floor covered in blood. The paramedics were still working on stabilising you, you clinging to life by your fingernails.

Hopper gave the okay to move you while he picked up a thick piece of card off the floor. A wedding invitation for the following day – a sunset event.

“Who the fuck gets married on Halloween anyhow?” one of the cops asked, staring at the mannequin keeping your wedding dress company.

Hopper didn’t answer. He listened to their commentary.

“What’s the count so far?” a rookie questioned.

“143 fires so far… They’re slacking off from last year,”

“Three hours to go; maybe they’re just slow starters.”

Hopper followed the paramedics as they took you downstairs and out to the ambulance. Another detective was there. Detective being a very generous title, as most of the work Phil Callahan was capable of was not of the sleuthing variety.

“This the victim?” he asked.

 “No, it’s Amelia Earhart. We found her, Detective, and you missed it,” Hopper deadpanned.

Before Callahan could come up with something witty to say, Hopper was back at your side. A girl on a skateboard had appeared, pulling at your sleeve.

“Stand back, kid,” he said.

It was Max’s voice that dragged you somewhere close to Earth. “Where’s Eddie?” you croaked.

“Ah… Don’t worry about him,” Hopper told you.

“Tell him to take care of Max.”

Paramedics had you loaded up, closing the back of the ambulance. Hopper stood next to Max for a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You Max?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay, look… Your sister… She’s gonna be okay,”

“She’s not my sister. She just takes care of me… She’s my friend. Her and Eddie… You lied to her about Eddie.” Max sounded more sad than accusatory.

“I had to,”

“And you’re lying to me about her. She’s gonna die, isn’t she?”

Hopper could deal with a lot of things. A grief-stricken teenage girl was not one of them. He clasped both of her shoulders and held her, looking around the scene with a growing understanding that the misery had only just begun.  

One Year Later After Sunset, October 29, 1995

Max visited the cemetery often. She’d walk along the rows, taking one flower from each bouquet she passed. By the time she was standing in front of the matching graves, she had an offering. One white rose for Eddie, the rest for you.

Losing you and Eddie was bad, but the months since had been worse. Her mother had all but resigned from that role, spending more and more time wherever Neil and Billy Hargrove went. Max hardly saw Susan anymore. The Hargroves, and the people like them, were terrifying.

Max sat down facing the headstones. “I found another one,” she said. “It says that people used to believe that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead.”

In the weeks after that Halloween, Max obsessed over the science of death. She wanted to know how you and Eddie had felt. What would happen to your bodies, buried under all that dirt? Then, once she knew everything there was to know, she moved on to folklore. What stories had been told about dying? What existed beyond the veil?

“The thing though, is that if the person dies unfairly, if something so bad happens, then that is carried with the soul. The sadness. And the soul can’t rest.”

Max had contemplated magic. She saw a Ouija board put out by the trash cans outside her apartment building and seriously considered taking it inside. Her research had slowly veered into the direction of revenge-driven resurrection, for which many cultures had legends and fables of.

“Sometimes the crow can bring that soul back, to put the wrong things right.”  She paused, looking down and pushing the dirt around with a stick. Max shrugged to herself. “I know it’s a fairytale… But it would be nice…”

Thunder rumbled above Max. After gathering her things, she began to walk away. A crow swooped down, landing on Eddie’s headstone. She was sure it was the same one that always hung around the cemetery; she’d named him The Night Watchman.

“Keep an eye on them for me,” she told him, dropping her skateboard and riding off into the drizzling rain.

It was fear first. Terror. Darkness.

He tried to draw a breath in but it didn’t provide any relief. Something told him to get up. Get out. A voice. A voice in his head. Get up. Get out. But get up and get out of what? He thrashed but all his limbs hit solid wall.

Punching, punching, punching. When he finally broke through the coffin’s lid, his knuckles were raw and bleeding. He dug, splitting nails and swallowing dirt. He reached the surface, pulling himself from his grave.

His body couldn’t decide between curling up or being splayed out on his back. It couldn’t decide between screaming or sobbing. He was twitchy and achy. His knuckles had scabbed and scarred. He’d healed but the healing hurt.

At first, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who he was.

A crow landed on an overhead branch. It called to the man, a deep and piercing caw. It was there to guide him. It was there to bear witness. It was there to share the burden of the second life of Eddie Munson.

Eddie knew to follow the crow. He knew the crow would take him to where he wanted to go. It would take him to you.

He stumbled, pulling himself through the cemetery and out into the city. Nobody noticed him weaving through alleyways and stalking shadows. He pulled at his burial clothes, hands running over the bullet hole scars on his body.

Eddie’s bare feet walked through filthy puddles and over crumbling asphalt. He only stopped when the crow landed on a dumpster, squawking.  Something dark was sitting on top of the trash. Old worker’s boots, too small for Eddie, but he put them on anyway. He stomped onwards.

End Note:

Thank you to the love of my life @jo-harrington for brainstorming and editing help, and for general support and hype girl shit.

The process of writing this series has been a bit of an isolated one, compared to past work. So, I don't know how it will be received. I am more unsure about it than I have been about my other stuff too. Any feedback would be immensely appreciated.

Happy New Year, xo Rhi

Fic Taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson @princesssunderworld @qweencrimson @b-irock @writinginthetwilight @bornslippys @ali-r3n @lexr86

All Eddie Taglist (open):solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner @em0220

[op-dumpstertruck]

Okay bro. ...I HAVE A DAMN MANY QUESTIONS AND I'M GONNA ASK NOW! /

1) the events of your beautiful au take place after Luffy became the king of the pirates, or not?

2) why the hell isn’t Zoro looking for Sanji and his daughter, it seems to me that he wouldn’t care about everything and would give his soul just to save his family

3) what kind of idiot suddenly needed a cook for the Straw Hats pirates, and even more so. .. without a hand, and why did he force Sanji to have a child with him ?

4) is Sanji ever happy and does his “husband” show at least some warm feelings towards him, or are these purely feelings of possessiveness?

Forgive me for the questions bro, but I caught a hyperfixation on your au, and I’m damn interested in finding out everything I can about her, and by the way, I have a couple of suggestions about Sanji’s “husband”, and about the name of the second baby (if he has one no, and by the way, is this a boy?) (sorry, my native language is not English) (and I apologize in advance for the arrogant questions)

Anyway ! I really like your story, its concept and your drawing style, I really hope that everything will be revealed as quickly as possible and you won’t burn out, I wish you a pleasant time of day)

Ohhh, I love some questions about this, this makes it so much easier to organize my thoughts!

1) I have not decided yet, but in the later parts of the story? Probably yes! Like once Kuina is five or six.

2) oh yes, I already adressed that! (but only in the tags - I still use tumblr how it was in 2017, half the info usually hides there). Zoro absolutely would, the whole crew would! But they believe Sanji has been killed (when he was still pregnant). We'll get to that later 👀

3) it's absolutely not about Sanji being Sanji, it's all about his royal status. Judge doesn't care if he can cook or not, he never wanted him to cook in the first place - I also thought, for this AU at last, that with all of their mutations Sanjis siblings are probably not able to get children. And with all of Judges obession about lineage and ruling over the North Blue, I do imagine (especially for this scenario here) that Sora wasn't just someome, but an actual princess from one of the kingdoms of the north? So if Judge likes it or not (he doesn't) Sanjis kids, especially if he marries him off right, do have some use for him. (Leaving Kuina alive was probably both Rejius doing and to manipulate Sanji easier. In this scenario she is technically useless)

4) I haven't decided completely yet, but I lean towards bastard! I always imagined it not being Pudding, because the stawhats meet big mom and that would have come up, but I actually like that idea too! Even if it is just for the dynamic of Sanji wanting to blame his new mate (and having every reason to do so, either way this is gonna be an awful relationship) but feeling conflicted.

[shadowsandlint]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Oh, this has taken me some time. Thank you to everyone who's tagged me in their roundups, it has really warmed this shadowed, linty heart of mine ❤️

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

100,802!! I found out juust before the new year that I was missing 6000 words from a 100 000, and as luck would have it, I had a chapter for my secret santa fic that was just that long. Marvelous @neciebee stepped up as beta to help me finish it in time.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

“Completed” is a bit of a complicated term, because technically it’s four, but I have continuations in the works for a couple. 

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

On Ao3 it looks like I only have the one in progress that was started this year (WWUitS was started on the tail end of 2023), but I have four more docs that I’ve worked on from time to time. 

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

Autumn Winds Across the Sea continues to be my favorite in its entirety. An old poet took over my fingers while I wrote that. But there are also parts of Words We Use in the Shadows that I’m really proud of and happy with. For instance the poem-turned-song, and the confrontation and ensuing angst, but also the literary references throughout. Thanks to it its patron saint Marcel Proust ❤️

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

It’s probably Autumn Winds! I used aaall the adjectives and synonyms, and cosplayed as a Bronte sister while writing, so the result is quite gothic and picturesque. 

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

I mean, Words We Use has surprised me so many times. I originally thought it was gonna be around ten chapters, but the story grew legs and ran away from me. It’s currently just out of view, and I’m trying to rein her back in. I was also pleasantly surprised with the recurring readers I got to know, and some of which I now call friends. :) 

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

I really liked the tiny Prometheus retelling I did for Eris Week, but I think it might have been a little too niche? 

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

There are many, and I can’t possibly remember all. But a few that have made works I have really enjoyed are 

@elleybug for her heartbreakingly melancholic depictions, especially of Eris, @palomita-de-la-sangre for her beautifully feral fae, @dawneternal for such wonderful noses, @velidewrites for making them all SO. DANG. SEXY, @thrumugnyr for such excellent incorporations of humor AND headcannons, @queercontrarian for wonderfully detailed character studies, for and the list goes on! 

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

SO SO MANY! If I've ever left a kudos or comment on your work, consider yourself included.And I’m getting overwhelmed trying to write something about everyone, so we’re just listing to avoid this staying in the drafts 

@chunkypossum @iftheshoef1tz @futurehunt @witch-and-her-witcher @the-darkestminds @jules-writes-stories @ysmtttty @talibunny30 @neciebee @mistandmemories @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @unanswered-stars @withmychainzon @separatist-apologist @beesays @fourteentrout @yanny-77 @ofduskanddreams @nocasdatsgay @pippsmcgee @aurorasleeps-27 @born-to-riot 

I APPRECIATE AND ADMIRE ALL OF YOU 

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

See above. I think about ⅔ of the authors are new discoveries from this year, as I only got into Azris in the fall of 2023. 

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

No, but that could be fun :) Hit me up 

Though, it is sort of a collaboration to have a beta reader, and I’m very grateful for @talibunny30 , @pippsmcgee and @neciebee for helping me with some of my writing in 2024. Literal/literary ANGELS

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Finishing Your Scars on My Pulse, and developing as a writer. It caused a bit of a writing slump, but I’m getting back in the groove!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

What writing styles that don’t work for me. I tried a couple different ways to draft my stories, mostly in hopes that I would get to the end result faster, but it turns out that my slow and steady way of doing it suits me better. Spewing out words and then revising just makes me frustrated. But it’s a great way for me to draft the overall story! 

14. What is your advice?

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Sometimes it’s very easy to write, and sometimes it’s really hard. It might just mean that you’re getting better at your craft, and your writing style is changing as a result, which can cause a bit of a dissonance. Or maybe you’re in a down period. I sure know how difficult it is to write when depressed. Give yourself the grace to get better, and treat your mind and body well. And don’t compare your work or your success to other writers, it only steals joy. Support others the way you would want to be supported. 

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Finishing Words We Use in the Shadows, and working on more original fiction. I would also like to write something lighter and less serious, but I think I mostly have angst planned, lol 

Here’s to a good year!

Lint, laugh, love,

SL

[liketolaugh-writes]

Danny shifted, clearly uncomfortable under Bruce's unwavering attention. "He's… dangerous, and immoral," he admitted, crossing his arms uncomfortably. "He's the one that discovered that I'm a clone, and that my DNA is unstable. I… didn't grow up knowing." He clenched his jaw.

"You grew up," Bruce said without meaning to. Danny shrugged tensely.

"My… creators knew that my DNA was unstable, and they hoped letting me grow naturally would help," Danny said. He smiled sardonically. "It did, technically. I'm destabilizing slowly instead of all at once."

Bruce nodded, a pit growing in his stomach. "The man you're trusting to help you."

"I don't have a lot of options," Danny said flatly. "Fewer than most clones would. It's fine. He's obsessed with me; he discovered the problems with my DNA in the process of trying to clone me. Like I said, he won't let me die, and he's not interested in you. He's interested in… traits I acquired during experimentation." Evasive again.

"What does he want in exchange."

That earned him a confused glance. "Nothing from you," Danny said. Bruce held his gaze, waiting. "…He hasn't said. I don't have any power to negotiate, so I decided it was a problem for later. Probably, he'll demand to adopt me. I expect he'll have rules. I don't really know. We haven't exactly gotten that far."

"Why."

Danny sighed, leaning back on the table where he was still seated. "He's lonely," he said, with unexpected and open pity. "He wanted to marry my mom-" Twitch. "…The woman, of the couple that made me." An open wound, Bruce noted. "But he couldn't. He has no one."

Bruce's mouth curled down. "Has he assaulted you?"

Danny looked at him again, clearly unsettled by his concern. "Sexually? No. And he hasn't indicated that he wants to. Physically?" He huffed. "Well… maybe he'll stop once he has what he wants." There was no fear there, only bitterness.

Bruce pulled the picture together in his mind. According to his words, Danny had grown up believing he was a normal child, despite experimentation that left lingering effects (unless 'experimentation' was a euphemism for something else?) and had only recently discovered otherwise because another man was attempting to clone him. To acquire him. That man had, apparently, told Danny, and they had composed a plan to attempt to save his life, possibly without Danny ever returning to his creators after the revelation.

"And you intend to stay with him."

Danny clenched his jaw, glaring at the floor. "I told you, I don't have a lot of options," he gritted out. "We'll see, okay? Maybe he'll calm down once I'm actually living with him and not beating him off me with a stick. I'm sorry I can't MacGuyver my way out of this like you can." Tight and insecure.

Either Danny was a very good actor, or he actually expected that Bruce would knowingly send him away to live with a 'dangerous and immoral' man that he described as 'obsessed' with him. Given Bruce's extensive experience with damaged teenagers, he suspected it was the latter.

Tim was acquainted with the cloning process, due to his close friendship with Kon. And Oracle would most likely be able to recover CADMUS' research on stabilizing cloned DNA. An idea started to form in Bruce's mind.

At that moment, Tim returned from the lab, far too soon to have finished the DNA extraction process, let alone analyzed it.

"I don't know how you get this from DNA," Tim announced, holding up a tube of buffer fluid that for some reason glowed faintly green, "but I have never seen a sample break down so fast."

Danny dropped his head into his hands.

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[relic-seeker]

lemmquirrel doodle dump 3

[aroaceleovaldez]

i think the thing i'm most disappointed about with riordanverse fandom now versus like 2014 is not only has the fandom not gotten any less racist or queerphobic or ableist (in fact in some regards its gotten worse!) but now it's just boring too. like there's no fandom infrastructure anymore - the community these days is almost entirely source material-driven - and you deviate from canon even slightly people get weird about it. whatever happened to the post-HoO fanon boom. the fandom needs to get weirder again. and self-sufficient. and less offensive.

[cozylittleartblog]

small PSA: if you shop at craft shows or artist alleys, please bring more than apple pay or a virtual card - especially if you're not comfortable entering your card number manually. not all of us have fancy card readers, so please also bring your physical card or cash, even if it's only as backup 👍

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[pallases]

IM FREEEEEE

[knifekris]

every day i struggle to make choices

[itsalwaysdark]

i need a job

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[peculiaritybending]

Reblog for larger sample size

[hotwaterandmilk]

Finally received my copy of the first Magilumiere print volume from VIZ Media. Here it is beside my copy of the first Japanese volume. I don't have the space to be double-dipping on things but Magilumiere is an exception.

If you have enjoyed reading the series for free via official digital channels and you have the cash spare, I highly recommend supporting the official release that's local to you (or close enough, per me supporting the US release).

And if you haven't checked the series out on Manga Plus, now's your chance to get started in book-form before the anime series debuts in October-ish!

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

gratitude list time I'll go first