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hijinxinprogress · 1 year ago

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YouTuber!Stephanie

Stephanie has a youtube channel (she 100% gives it a name like gotham_after_dark or bat_interpreter) where she follows Batman and mocks him, she definitely also makes content on tiktok and instagram

She’s recording fights with rogues and him interrogating questioning people and doing voice overs in a goofiest growl she can for batman but she also does voices for everyone else (it gets to the point where penguin puts a hit out and is actively trying to expose the youtubers identity bc steph does this terrible whiny british accent when she’s imitating penguin)

She starts her channel right after Bruce fires her from Robin and still does it to this day

Bc if she’s gonna get shit for not being Tim might as well go all the way right?? She’s just doing the opposite of what Tim’s doing or outright copying him depending on which would annoy them the most

Stephanie records batman dangling some guy off a roof for the 37th time this week while going “You said the cheese on the nachos at your restaurant was imported directly from Italy but I saw you…THIS CHEESE IS FROM A GROCERY STORE…in GOTHAM… do you know what batman does to liars??”

Batman’s chasing the joker? Again? Here comes Stephanie with her fucking camera “Joker baby, you know that fight with Cobblepot meant nothing to me” “You know what, Bats? Fight whoever you want!” “Why are you going to Cobblepot’s lair with a grenade launcher? Baby…?” “Well, if the wellbeing of fucking Oswald is sooo important to you, you fucking cheater ☹️ I’m gonna kill him” “HUH” Stephanie’s joker voice is pretty good but she stops when Jason follows her channel after admitting he watches it (however Damian gives zero fucks and edits in his scarily accurate joker impression and will break into Jason’s apartment at random to do his joker impression)

Stephanie’s Duke impression is just her making puns in a bad robot voice and Duke hates it sm bc she’s saying shit like “Don’t signal for backup bc I’m already Signal-ing this ass whooping” “The yellow is the Signal for you to run” “Hey hey hey, night time is when you do this stupid shit rn is Signal Time” “The sun is my Signal to be vigilant-y” “Setting off that alarm should’ve been enough of a Signal for you stop” (Dick made tshirts and Duke refuses to talk to him when he wears them)

You legally have to be a level 79 hater to be a vigilante in gotham so most of Steph’s videos esp after Bruce has pissed her off are just her shitting on batman in a terrible growl “Damn, I’m getting too old for this…my knees hurt so much” “Nightwing thinks he’s funny, asking me if I remember the dust bowl…mf I remember the fucking big bang” “I’m so good at this, I don’t think anyone knows I’m a vampire” “Bruce Wayne owns gotham general and can’t cure Alzheimer’s?? I hate that asshole, I don’t even remember where tf I’m going” “I wanted to be Spider-Man and now I’m this” “Ooh, I’m Batman and I hate fun, happiness, and joy” “Don’t do crime, be like me…perpetually bitchless and breaking kneecaps” “Some people need coffee for a pick me up but I just need to see a purse snatcher piss their pants” “I don’t actually meld into the shadows, I just have Apple Maps and it takes me the long way”

Batman’s fighting or arguing with black mask? Stephanie has been waiting for this moment so every video with black mask is just her making fun of black mask to the point where there’s barely any batman slander “My real names fucking Roman so I had to go all out with this stupid ass costume…I’m not even a real gothamite, I’m from metropolis” “Sionis…I don’t care… you blew up thirteen hostages” “ITS NOT MY FAULT, OKAY?! Did you know you’re supposed to wash masks? Especially if you wear the same one everyday? Bc I fucking didn’t” “…Sionis…” “THERES MOLD ON MY FACE and this mask smells like ASS” “Everyone knows that, you moron…How do you think I found you? I can smell your stench from damn near two miles away…” “I’m like scary though right??” “No, Sionis, you just have poor hygiene…and issues” “Dammit, I’m like a dollar tree version of two face” “Not quite, what’s lower than that? Dollar tree is too good for you…don’t tell joker but Harvey’s way-”

Stephanie has a two hour video of batman grappling across Gotham just shitting on metropolis and sixty seven minutes of it is just Superman slander in a terrible growl

There’s short clips of cass suddenly disappearing or appearing out of nowhere before and after dismantling someone with the michael myers theme playing in the background (Cass does dramatic flips and landings every time steph records her)

When Bruce complains about the threat to their identities and compromising ongoing missions/investigations, Stephanie (who is purposely trying to piss him off) just looks him dead in eye and goes “Well, you’re not the boss of me sooo” so Tim gives a presentation and shuts down every single argument Bruce makes just to be contrary bc he’s a fucking asshole

Tim only has a problem with it when Stephanie and Damian start working together bc Damian does concerningly accurate impressions and Damian keeps making Tim sound like a fucking idiot and it’s worse bc he can mimic his speech patterns (“I can’t do this anymore… I’m sad and pasty… Call the fifth robin, you know…the only competent robin…”)

Like Damian’s repeating one of Tim’s caffeine concoction induced rants about bagels in Tim’s voice while Steph is growling at him to focus in her batman impression

When Tim brings his complaints to Bruce about Stephanie’s youtube account, Bruce cites Tim’s own argument back to him so Tim takes over editing and recording to be an asshole

#stephanie brown #spoiler dc #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #dc gotham #dcu #youtuber!stephanie brown #Damian stands at the end of Jason’s bed at 3am and just does the joker laugh for no fucking reason #Damian is 100% responsible for Jason’s mental health decline #Steph does an accurate british accent but it’s still whiny bc Alfred gave her the ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed’ look #Stephanie’s yt channel actually makes it easier to keep their identities secret bc she uses every batman theory in her videos #Stephanie 🤝🏾 Damian: psychological warfare on their friends and family #They probably think they’re just being mildly annoying but in actuality they’ve caused 67 mental breakdowns a week

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cemeterylanes · 9 months ago

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all roads lead back to you

chapter one - therapy

The dizzying buzz of the doors being unlocked in cell block D of Marion Juvenile Detention Center. This was Wayne’s routine. Get up at 6 AM. Make your bed. 6:15. Out for breakfast at 6:30. Breakfast. Individual time. Lunch at 12. Therapy - sometimes, it was individual or it was group. Then group activities. Visit time - or individual time if no one came to visit you. Dinner at 6. Individual time. Bed at 8 PM. And this was Wayne’s day, each day, as it had been for the last 6 weeks.

Wayne McCullough had a compound fracture in his right arm. He walked around with his arm in a sling, and his head down. And to Wayne? What a horrible thing to do. But being down an arm didn’t make him the invincible boy he was used to being. The cast would come off in another 2 to 4 weeks. Then he had physical therapy. And he knew his arm was gonna be really weak once it came out. The rest of the boys were okay - he stayed out of everyone’s way. He got shoulder checked on occasion, and godamn it hurt. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Each day was more arduous than the last.

Get up at 6 AM. Make your bed. 6:15. Out for breakfast at 6:30. Breakfast. Individual time. Lunch at 12. Therapy. Group activities. Visit time, or individual time. Dinner at 6. Individual time. Bed at 8 PM.

Every fucking day.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

To say Wayne became passive would be a terrible mischaracterization of him, even with his shattered arm. Every other day, he found himself in the infirmary or in trouble for causing problems - inciting a fight, or swinging his fist despite his obvious disability to truly fight the way he knew how. Therapy was a drag as a group - he didn’t find any interest in truly listening to anyone. Stories about running away, robbing gas stations for the 98 dollars they had in their register, or beating up on some kid in school because they were scrawny - he didn’t understand how people could be such fucking assholes and this is where they were. He wasn’t sorry about all the fights he caused, or when he got his ass kicked in his sling. Someone had to show these people what life was about when they crossed Wayne’s path of destruction. He can’t say he didn’t try being passive, or try “being the bigger person” as his therapist described.

“How are you feeling today, Wayne?”

His eyes are settled, staring at a photo in the office of the juvenile hall’s counselor - Terrence Brown. His counselor had dark skin, and eyes equally as dark, but warm and inviting. His hair was in long, textured locs with a fade running down his temples. He was clean cut - wearing a white polo, and khaki chinos. He had a few tattoos on his face, and some on his arms. In previous sessions, in attempts to make Wayne feel more comfortable, he told Wayne he had gone to prison. He served his time there and learned about psychology, and wanted to become a therapist for youth in the American juvenile justice system. He had been doing this for about five years now, and had a husband and two kids. His demeanor was kind, and he never raised his voice - even when Wayne heard his other fellow cellmates screaming in his office, Terrence never raised his voice. Wayne found it impressive, because he would want to break someone’s jaw so they could never utter another sound.

“Fine.” His grey-green eyes peered forward at the man. He looks down at the blue cast on his arm.

“I see you have more people signed your cast.” Terrence replies, and his eyes look down. They’re not signatures. They’re swear words.

“Nobody’s signed my cast.”

This is how their conversations went. They were short. Wayne went because he had to. Terrence kept trying because he swore to himself he would make a break in Wayne’s case. Not that he was going anywhere.

“Did they tell you when you’d get it off?”

“Dunno. Said it would be eh, another 6 weeks. Then I got some other healin’ stage or some shit.” He shrugs, looking down at his arm again. On the forearm portion of the cast, where no one could see it, he wrote Del’s name. The necklace was never not on his person. He wouldn’t go anywhere without it. Someone explained to him all the scientific details, about how the fracture had kinda healed, but the external callus - the new bone - was fragile, so it still needed to be protected. Then it needed to remodel, or whatever that means.

“You’re getting close then. Dr. Trapper told me you got into a fight with Christian again. He said you really should be careful about getting into fights. I think you’d be pretty upset if you rebroke it again.” Terrence crosses his legs, and leans back in his seat. He half frowns. “I know how much it means to you that it heals properly.”

Wayne tenses in his seat, sitting up and looks down at his white slip-on shoes. He doesn’t answer.

“What have you been doing during your individual enrichment time?” Terrence wanted to bring up Del. He could tell.

“I been trying to read.” He answers, shrugging. Trying was the keyword. He wasn’t interested in reading. He read a little bit of a book that Del had when he rescued her from the hell of the high school she wasn’t even enrolled in. It hurt too much, and it didn’t hold his attention enough, truthfully, to continue. “Sittin’.”

“Jesus said he did some weight training with you the other day.” Terrence acknowledged. Wayne didn’t do a lot. He was trying to encourage him. “How did that go?”

“Fine.” It was okay. Jesus was his cellmate neighbor. He was friendly with Wayne. He was put into juvie for joyriding in his mom’s boyfriend’s Cadillac. They did do weight training. He didn’t find the importance in it enough to really remark it as an activity.

“What else do you do?”

“Nothin’.”

“Are you participating in group activities?”

Wayne looks up for a minute, before looking back down. Kind of.

“I think this week, they’re going to have someone come in and teach you guys how to do the paint pouring.”

“We painted last week.”

“Paint pouring is different. You lay the canvas flat, and you pour paints onto it - and it creates a pattern with the different colors. You hold it up, and the paint slides down and makes the pattern more intricate.” Wayne respected how well spoken Terrence was. He wasn’t disrespectful towards him, he was just indifferent to him as he was to everyone else that he had met.

“Oh.”

“Daniel said you don’t talk much in group therapy. Are you still finding it hard to get comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk to those people.”

Terrence admired that Wayne was straightforward, and blunt. He wasn’t completely disconnected from his setting. He had seen some of the crafts Wayne did, even though they came out terribly. His painting - opposed to the prompt, which was a snowy forest - was just a moon, and trees. No snow. Some stars. He still tried. He tried pottery. He just ended up making a really chunky bowl, and glazed it black. It was ugly - but he didn’t think Wayne ever tried pottery before. Having a broken arm really didn’t help either. He didn’t fault him for that. But he didn’t participate in group therapy. Anytime his coworker, Daniel, tried engaging him, Wayne told them to fuck off.

“You have a panel hearing in another couple of months. What kind of feelings does that spark for you?” He was prodding again.

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know how you feel at the possibility of getting your sentence reduced?”

“I don’t know that.”

“What?”

“If my sentence is getting reduced. They say I’m not doing what I’m supposed to.”

“And what are you supposed to be doing?”

Wayne looks at the pictures of Terrence’s family on the shelves behind him. He looked happy. His kids looked young. His hair was more grown out, and a proper fade in the picture. His husband’s skin was lighter than his. He thinks that maybe once he said his husband was mixed, because he was talking about celebrating Lunar New Year with his in-laws.

“This shit.”

“What’s ‘this shit’ entail?”

“Fuckin’ therapy. Participatin’. Bein’ a good person, or whatever.” His thick Massachusetts accent shines when he stresses the word ‘whatever’.

“So, you know what is part of your program plan to be able to work on in order to appeal to the little court panel. What’s stopping you from doing that? I know we have this conversation a lot.” By that, he means he has brought it up at some point in the session at least three or four times a week.

“I don’t fuckin’ wanna do it. S’stupid.” Wayne leans back in his seat, looking down at the navy blue jumpsuit he was wearing. “But.”

Oh, Terrence was making progress.

“But?”

“I know I gotta.” For her. He glances at the clock. He had another 35 minutes left. Christ.

“Why?” Terrence is pushing it. Wayne feels his jaw tighten.

“For her.”

Del.

The last time he saw her, his head was cloudy as was his vision, and one of her brothers was carrying her out of the smashed golden Trans Am. The echoes ring in his head, and subconsciously called out to her in the adrenaline crash he was experiencing. He peeled himself off of the leather seat and collapsed when he opened the car door. Bobby, Carl and Teddy threw him around as if he were a ragdoll. He reaches up and touches the scar on the side of his nostril where Bobby cut him with a knife. The time that passed while he laid on the hot, to cool asphalt with his arm by his side, and the other arm in front of him, clutching the thin golden chain with three letters in cursive on it.

Del. His free hand tightens into a fist.

“I know we talked about who her is, but you haven’t told me her name. It must be very painful for you to think about what happened. It sounds like she was really special to you.”

“She is.” Wayne’s tone is curt as he answers. “Not was. Is.”

Terrence purses his lip. He hopes his lack of an answer encourages Wayne to continue, but he doesn’t. “What’s her name?”

“Del.”

“Del. Is it short for something?”

“It is. But I don’t call her that. Only her dad and brothers.”

Terrence knew what happened, he had a copy of the police report and court disposition at his disposal. He only kept them for reference with his clients. He told Wayne that, and that he didn’t know what happened and he wanted to hear it from Wayne, and not people that were involved. Because no one else knew what was going on in his head. Only Wayne. And that it wasn’t fair to Wayne to make assumptions about why he was here, or what he was like. This brought little comfort to Wayne, nor did it change his thoughts about therapy.

“So, her name is Del. Do we want to talk about what happened?”

It was a long story. “No.”

“Do you want to talk about Del?”

Wayne wanted to. It was all he wanted to do. But he couldn’t, because it was fueling a fire that was going to be difficult to put out. He was trying to be passive. He tried to listen to Torrence. But it was becoming increasingly obvious to everyone, Torrence included, that Wayne McCullough was a hellfire that could burn forever. He wants to say no. His mouth betrays his thoughts.

“Okay. Share as much, or as little as you want, Wayne. This is your hour.”

She was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her behind them. Her shoulder length brown hair, the way she pushes her bangs to the side of her face and her hair in a ponytail. She was pretty. He thought she was especially pretty with her hair down and when she slept. He thinks about back at the hotel. He had gotten up in the middle of the night to pee, but the moon crept through the curtains and shone on Del. He did eventually go pee, but he was lost in how peaceful and delicate she looked. The gold hoops in her ears, the way her necklace was so important to her. He spits out the brief monologue she recited to him when they first agreed to date.

“She doesn’t like flowers. She doesn’t want a Valentine on Valentine’s day. She doesn’t like that romance shit.”

His eyes sting. Wayne did not have the comfort, or luxury of crying, he thinks. The last time he shed tears was by accident, back at the pizza shop and he ate a handful of chili pepper flakes. He swallows. His spit feels like concrete down his throat. He looks up at the ceiling, away from Torrence. He can see in his peripheral vision that he leans in to listen to him.

“She’s really pretty.”

“I bet she is.” Torrence affirms.

“She likes to read.”

Silence, while Wayne is stuck with his thoughts.

“What else does she like to do?”

“I dunno.” He didn’t know her before the cookies incident, or outside of their road trip together. She liked to read. She went to a stranger’s funeral. She made her dad a drink while he was in the hospital. She was all he had now. “She’s smart. She’s gonna be mayor someday. She’s nice.” Torrence wasn’t complaining. This was as much as Wayne had talked about anything since being here, and his medication for his pain hadn’t been adjusted yet - so he was really, really loopy. He wanted to know her better when he came back. He connected the dots a few weeks ago, that when he was lost in thinking about her face, the glint on her necklace when she wrecked havoc in the gym during the blood drive.

The way she looked with the crimson fluid splattered all over her face, soaked in her heather grey shirt while everyone screamed in absolute terror.

He wondered if she thought about him as much as he did.

“What does it look like to you, when you are released from your detention here?”

Wayne wants to shrug, but remains motionless. He actually isn’t sure. His dad is gone, has been gone for some time now. So was his house. He didn’t really have anything. Nobody came to visit, or wrote to him. The only people who probably really knew where he was, were Sheriff Gellar and Jay. But, they hadn’t written. Well. Why would they?

“I dunno.”

“Can we talk about that, and tomorrow we can talk about what a plan might look like for you?”

“Okay.” Wayne glances at the clock. 15 minutes left.

“So, Wayne McCullough gets released.” Terrance shifts in his seat, clicking his pen to write. He never wrote notes. So, this must be important. “Who would you call to come get you?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“I dun’ have anyone’s number.”

Terrence chews on the skin on the inside of his cheek. “I can look into getting you some bus passes, or a Greyhound ticket back home?”

“Okay.”

“Does that sound like something that might be helpful to you?”

“Yeah.” Wayne had never ridden a bus like that before. Or one, at all. He mostly walked, or people had picked him up for rides.

“Okay. So you get out, and we have your bus passes back to…Brockton, or the closest station there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Closest station to Brockton. You…told me your dad passed away, and you burned your house down.” Terrence takes a minute to think to remember, but his voice passes no judgement. “And that your mom is still here, around Ocala. Why don’t you want to stay with her?”

“I thought we were talking about what me gettin’ released looks like.” Wayne’s face grows stony, sharp. No more feelings stuff.

His counselor takes a minute to adjust himself. “You’re right. So, you go back to Massachusetts. Who are you going to stay with?”

Wayne thinks. Even though Principal Cole came down with Orlando to come get him, he wouldn’t stay with him. Too weird. He didn’t know anyone else. And Orlando was like his best friend, kind of. He thinks he remembers Orlando saying something about his grandma having mad dementia, and she doesn’t really remember anything. Orlando just pays the bills and gets what he needs to. Wayne could stay there.

“Orlando.”

“Who’s Orlando?”

“My friend.”

“Okay, that’s good. You’d stay with Orlando. Then what? Go back to school?”

“Get Del back.”

“I think she would be very happy to see you, Wayne. Is there anything else?”

“I dunno. Work.”

“No school? You’re 17 now, right?” His birthday had passed since he was here. He didn’t get to know when Del’s birthday was. He couldn’t even celebrate

“Yeah.”

“You’d be a junior this coming school year. That’s just in a few weeks now, huh?”

“I don’t care about school.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each second passing. Wayne’s eyes trail the minute hand of the clock.

“Would you go get your GED once you got settled, maybe?”

“Maybe. Dunno.”

4 minutes left. Wrap up.

“Well, I think this is a good start, Wayne. When I see you tomorrow, we’ll talk more about the plan, or something else if you don’t feel up to it, okay?”

Wayne was a sitting pile of dry, dry wood surrounded by dead grass. He had appeased the endless thoughts in his head by trying to distract himself with fights, weight training or attempting to read or paint. But nothing held his attention. Nothing like her. He was a sitting pile of lumber, and Terrence had poured gasoline all over him, and now had lit a match.

“Okay.” And with that, he had tossed the match into the flame of Wayne McCullough’s fighting spirit. And a fire that burns as bright, and as much as his did, it would be impossible to put it out now.

#first time posting my fanfiction #please dont bully me #wayne amazon #wayne yt #wayne mccullough #wayne show #del luccetti

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