#why is this longer

[neon-kazoo]

Honk Honk (The briefcase-pt. 2) as requested o7

Choo Choo (part 1)

He had led them all the way back to the depot, weaving through discarded train cars and criss-crossing tracks like it was his second home. They had stopped at a forest green two-door Chevy in a gravel—Hero was really starting to hate gravel—backlot. The truck was old enough that Villain had to twist the key in the lock and rattle the handle to pry the door open. He had shoved Hero past the steering wheel and climbed in after them and the vehicle roared to life after two tries aggressively turning the key in the ignition. Twisted ankle screaming from the uneven terrain, Hero had all but collapsed onto the fabric bench seat, endlessly thankful to not be tossed in the back in a body bag or an equally-claustrophobia-inducing enclosure.

Hero assumed it was his car, given the fact that he knew the key would be left in the rear wheel well and the heavy aroma of tobacco. Hero swore they were getting lung cancer just smelling it.

Wrinkled nose aside, Hero sat obediently in the passenger seat of the truck, busying themselves with a roll of gauze Villain had fished out of the back and thrown at them carelessly. Since he had such great care for their well-being, he even mentioned he hoped the switchblade was clean—which thankfully it was.

He did, however, refuse to offer assistance in the wrapping of Hero’s inconveniently-located gashes, which led Hero to sport several loose and stray loops of gauze around their arms before they shrugged their jacket back on. Clearly, he was still mad they interrupted his smoke break.

They were just glad he had not actually pushed the blade into their thigh, because there was no way Hero would be removing their pants to care for a leg wound next to Villain in this tiny cab.

They were able to wrap their rib wound with a little difficultly, tucking their shirt up and holding one end of gauze with their chin and praying Villain wouldn’t take the next curve too hard. Hero didn’t know how much good just dressing the stab and slices would do healing-wise, but it was their only option, and at the very least it might staunch the bleeding.

The belt across their lap did little to help hold them in place as they worked, and they found that most of their muscles protested their continued usage. Finally good enough to hold, Hero tore the wrap with their teeth and shoved the tail between the layers above their stomach. Only then could they relax.

Well, relax was a bit of a strong word.

Exactly how mad was Villain, and what did that mean for Hero? He certainly didn’t seem too shy about dealing fatal blows a few hours ago. They realized tiredly that they should probably be trying to figure out a way out of this before he made good on his previous threats.

Hero eyed the door handle beside them. Before they could commit to any less-than-stellar ideas, Villain cleared his throat. That was when Hero finally spotted the gun resting in his lap.

“I think you’ve had enough abrupt departures from moving vehicles for the day, don’t you?”

Hero tried to slump, but quickly shot back up at the pain in their ribs. They threw Villain a sideways glare.

Knife-happy bastard.

Hero just hoped he wasn’t going to be so liberal with the use of his bullets.

“Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?”

Are you going to kill me?

Villain answered only with silence, so Hero closed their increasingly-heavy eyelids and tried to work through the situation in their head.

A strange meeting, a black briefcase, an angry Villain.

It didn’t make sense.

Despite the uneven rocking of a poor-suspension system and the rumbling of a questionable engine, Hero eventually drifted off with their head rolling like a rag doll and filled with unanswered questions.

They awoke to almost smashing their head open like a watermelon on the dash as Villain pulled aggressively into a spot at a rest stop. Hero saw poorly-lit vending machines and restroom signs between heavy blinks they tried to use to clear the sleep from their head. Lagging back into reality, Hero turned to squint at Villain…who was somehow now wearing jeans and a hoodie?

They blinked a few more times just to be sure, and the figure in the driver’s seat didn’t change. It was still him—and Hero had not hallucinated their failed mission because they could still see the remnants of gel in his hair—but clearly Hero had been out long enough for Villain to do a quick change or something. Hero cursed themselves for falling unconscious when they should have been worrying about an escape or finding the case. Not to mention, they didn’t trust Villain as far as they could throw them, and they would much rather be awake in his presence.

Hero assessed themselves, and found they remained exactly as disheveled as they were before they left the waking world. The hastily-wrapped gauze was even still poking out of their sleeve.

“Sleep well?” He mocked.

Judging by the massive crick in their neck, the answer was yes.

“Right up until you almost gave me a traumatic brain injury,” Hero replied, slightly mumbling as they rubbed at their eyes and dragged their hands down their face dramatically.

“Had to wake you up somehow,” he replied with a trace of mischief as he exited the car and started walking around the hood towards their side.

Hero froze in confusion when their door was opened.

Villain leveled them with a look that screamed ‘where-are-your-brain-cells?’ and threw his head back towards the scary looking building and rolled his eyes.

“Bathroom? You know, bodily functions?”

Hero did not feel very intelligent as they unbuckled the flimsy lap belt and walked under the flickering street lights.

Left to their own devices in the poorly-maintained family bathroom, Hero silently thanked Congress for the hand rails that helped them limp around the room. Outside, Villain could be heard talking on what Hero presumed was a phone, considering how deserted this stop was.

Hero, of course, eavesdropped. Blah blah, fifty miles north, blah blah, should have known, blah blah blah—Something about a blue cab?

Briefly, they considered locking the door and trying to wait Villain out, but they decided the chances of him having a lock picking set or just plain being able to bust the door down himself were too great to risk losing their privileges. Plus, if they were being honest, the bugs attacking the light in the corner scared them more than going back outside. They were unnaturally large. Giving the infested corner a wide berth, Hero hobbled back out and was led back to the truck.

“Great news,” Villain began after they were settled, “I’ve got a lead for you.”

It took Hero a second to realize he was talking about the briefcase. So he was serious about sending them after it, but to already have a lead? How long had they been out?

“Good morning to you too,” Hero spoke, even though it was clearly the beginning of the night. Crickets chirped outside the window, removing any doubt. They weren’t even sure what day of the week it was anymore, and they definitely weren’t about to ask.

In response, Hero was pelted with..something. They flinched back before they realized whatever had been launched in their direction hadn’t done any damage, and they found the mystery object resting in the floorboard. A bottle of Advil rattled in their hand as they feveredly twisted it open and downed two pills dry.

“I had water, you know?”

Hero said nothing, simply grabbing the offered bottle and chugging it all in one go.

Villain, looking rather horrified, slowly handed over a bag of chips that were immediately ripped open.

Hero crunched as loud as humanly possible as Villain drove until he finally broke and turned the radio on to some random pop station.

Hero, satisfied with their win, remained silent after balling up the empty bag and tossing it in the floorboard with the empty plastic bottle. Villain refrained from reacting until Hero made a show of licking their thumb clean, then wiping the rest of their fingers on the seat beside them.

“You do remember the gun, don’t you?”

“Shooting someone over Cheeto dust seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

They seriously wondered how Villain managed to remain impassive after all this time. He certainly hadn’t slept, and Hero wasn’t even sure if he had eaten anything. There was no way he stayed that fit with just the half-empty coke can beside him.

In classic Villain fashion, he ignored them once again until they pulled into a second rest stop, this one more populated than the last.

From the spot Villain parked, the area containing semi-trucks was clearly visible. Long, slanted lines marked the separate spaces, with several being occupied by trucks and trailers. From what Hero could see, two were blue, one black, and a couple red with all white trailers. Villain’s eyes were glued towards the two farthest trucks, parked away from the rest.

“You see the one on the right?” Villain asked, pointing towards the semis he had been watching.

“Yes…” Hero answered suspiciously.

He wasn’t planning to get them run over, was he?

“Congratulations, you’re gonna steal from it.”

“You want me to steal?”

Hero whipped their head in disbelief.

“This is what happens when you lose things that aren’t yours. Considering you stole it in the first place, I assumed you’d be thrilled.”

Hero was not thrilled. At least, what Villain had planned was not to dangle Hero by the ankles and have them fish a waterlogged briefcase out of the river—as Hero may or may not have been imagining on the long trek through the countryside—but it honestly might as well have been. Instead, Villain informed them that he was sending them over to a parked semi-truck to break in and locate the case that may or may not be in there.

He didn’t say anything about how he knew it would be in there or who was driving, but if it was any indication he handed back the switchblade before shooing them out of the car.

They considered arguing about their injuries and how he would be a far better candidate for a stealth mission, but that would involve admitting he was in better shape than them.

They couldn’t satisfy the bastard like that.

Besides, they had resolved to keep the briefcase out of everyone’s hands, and that included his.

With no other choice, Hero circled the back of the trailer lot, taking the long route through the grass and hiding behind a trailer when any truckers came too close. They tugged at the annoying watch Villain had insisted—threatened—them to wear.

Reaching the farthest trailer, Hero walked past the sparkling blue cab and came to a stop behind the access doors to the container. Oddly enough, there were no numbers or hazard squares pasted on the back, only mud flaps and a dirty license plate hanging low under the latches and chains.

“Iowa? What in this case is worth taking to Iowa. Am I risking my life for corn seeds right now?” They spoke into the watch incredulously.

Their annoying lookout responded, “Less talking, more thieving.”

Hero rolled their eyes, then—realizing Villain couldn’t see them—groaned audibly.

Regardless, they lifted up the latch and cringed at the sound the metal made when it creaked open.

“Are you sure this is a good-“

“Get in.”

The man did have a gun.

Planting their foot on the red and white striped rebar strip, they threw themselves unceremoniously into the dark container. They fumbled around in the shadows, running their hands across plastic-wrapped pallets. They tripped a few times on the wood, and they cursed.

“You couldn’t have given me a flashlight,” they whisper-yelled into their wrist.

“You’ll live,” came the drawled reply.

“I’m not the one that wants this stupid- ah hah!”

Hero lifted up a smooth leather briefcase, hidden behind a shipment of soft drinks—maybe. It was really dark.

“Grab it and get out,” ordered Villain.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Hero, for some reason, struggled to keep their balance as they back tracked towards the doors. When they stepped down backwards, red lights illuminated right in their face, and they froze with one foot out the door.

“YOU DIDNT TELL ME IT WAS MOVING?!” Hero screeched in realization.

“What are you talking about?”

Hero didn’t bother to keep verbally reprimanding Villain for his inattentiveness, instead preparing to practice their new signature move—the tuck-and-roll as they searched desperately for a patch of grass to aim for. They slammed the doors shut as quietly as they could, crossing their arms awkwardly to try and hold onto the door and the case at the same time.

Just when the shoulder turned from concrete to dirt, Hero made to let go of the door, only, something pulled them back. They looked back to find the loose gauze in their sleeve had been closed in the door, and—to make matters worse—the case was stuck on the handle. Truly a comedy of errors, not that Hero could appreciate the humor in their situation as the semi picked up speed and traveled towards the highway. Hero had never seen a large vehicle accelerate so fast.

In a split second, Hero had to decide between freeing themselves or the case.

“Throw the case!” Villain suggested, like the devil on their shoulder.

Hero was not so naive. They unraveled their bandage before lifting the case up and off the lever it was hooked on. When they looked down again, it was now too late for them to drop without breaking a few bones, and the only reason Villain would have to help them was held in their hand. If they let it go, they would be on their own, and there would be no one to stop Villain from doing whatever he planned to do with it.

They were thrown from side to side roughly as they tried to remain attached to the vehicle. If there was a sticker with a number to report this trucker’s driving, Hero would be calling it. Knowing Advil was not all powerful and they wouldn’t last long clinging to the back with this lunatic behind the wheel, Hero set their eyes towards the top.

There were two vertical poles running up each side of the door, and there was just enough room for Hero to shove their fingers behind them and get a good enough grip to start climbing up and away from the asphalt rushing beneath them. Hero was hit with sudden Deja vu for the one handed climbing and moving containers.

They should have asked Villain for some of those stupid shoes, because their nike tennis shoes were not made for ascending the back of an eighteen-wheeler. If they lived through this, they were going to buy a membership to a climbing gym and hire Villain as their personal trainer.

Heavily regretting not wrapping their ankle, Hero heaved up onto the roof and was immediately hit with wind resistance much greater than that on the train. The ground was also moving much faster, and Hero imagined falling now would hurt a lot more. There was nothing up here to hold onto, and stray hairs were flying all around Hero’s face. Trying to stay upright and on top of the truck, Hero surveyed the traffic ahead, or lack there of. The only lights up ahead appeared to belong to a truck pulling a camper, probably belonging to some family making a long drive to some beautiful destination.

God, Hero could really use a vacation.

Now with a second to think, Hero realized the smart plan would have been to try and get back inside the truck while they were still by the latch. Unfortunately, it was too late now. Hero was stuck.

Mind racing, Hero scrambled for a realistic idea. Maybe if they could get to the cab-

They heard the faintest call of “fuck” and they wondered what late-night trucker was cursing so loud at cars on the road. The chorus of swearing continued before Hero realized it was coming from the com on their wrist, and Villain wasn’t yelling expletives.

“Duck!”

Hero whipped their head around, searching for any waterfowl they were supposed to look out for. Just in the nic of time, they noticed the real danger—the low overpass hurtling towards them.

They flattened as best they could and promised to make good on all the promises they had made the last time they were in mortal danger.

Concrete brushed the back of their hood as they tried their best to channel the energy of a pancake, and by some miracle the semi had enough extra clearance for Hero to get by unscathed.

Physically that is. Mentally they were very much scathed.

Hero screamed about how there better be a nuclear weapon or something of equal importance in this briefcase, but it was swallowed by the air.

Hero stayed down for longer than necessary before looking ahead to ensure there were no more surprises coming up.

Path clear as far as they could tell, they army crawled towards the front of the truck, hoping the friction of their clothes would be enough to keep them from flying off. They swore the container was growing because of how long it was taking them to move across it. When the edge was finally in reach, they grabbed it with two hands and pulled, sliding the rest of the way before dropping into the space where the wiring was strung between the cab to the trailer. By the grace of someone, they didn’t trip and face plant after getting tangled in the connections.

Turning to the left, Hero spotted a dark colored shape driving alongside the truck with its lights off.

Hero had never been so glad to see Villain in their life.

Trying their best not to think about the image of them going splat on the road, Hero moved into a lunging stance. All they had to do was wait for the bed of the pickup truck to line up with the gap they were standing on.

They took a deep breath. Almost…

A loud sound sent their ears ringing and them stumbling back on the aluminum grating.

A gunshot.

Apparently, someone had other ideas.

Two more shots later, and Hero was positive they were going to have hearing damage. Judging by the hole in Villain’s windshield, the safest place for them to be right now seemed to be right where they were. They clutched the convenient handle beside them and prepared to wait out the gunfight. That was, until the driver of the semi-truck seemed to abruptly floor it. Hero could see they were pulling away from the Chevy, and they had no plans to stay on this semi-death machine any longer.

Locking all their doubt away, Hero leapt for the truck bed. They hit the rusted metal with a slam and the briefcase attempted to lodge itself in their abdomen beneath them. Gasping, Hero ducked down in case any more bullets decided to fly.

They flipped onto their back, catching a view of the night sky. The stars were bright out here with no light pollution to cloud them.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Hero’s breathing returned to a normal rhythm and the car rolled gradually to a slower pace.

Well, it was now or never.

Hero sat up and threw themselves out of the back and onto solid ground. Clutching the case, they made to run the opposite direction the car was facing. Adrenaline reserves reset, they figured they had a small window to get out and find a place to hide. They followed the pavement while simultaneously scanning the tree line for any thickened foliage they could use to obscure themselves. Realizing they’d need a lot more cover than the sparse forest could provide, Hero started scanning the highway. It stretched past a bend, with freshly painted lines and impressed rumble strips on the shoulder. It appeared not a soul was traveling it aside from Hero and Villain.

Hero cursed their flimsy plan, hoping for a trucker, a convenient cop, or even just a Good Samaritan out for a midnight drive.

The road was so quiet, Villain’s voice boomed when he yelled, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Hero, once again, had no idea.

Making the curve with their feet pounding beneath them, Hero looked back to see if Villain had managed to make a U-turn yet. What they saw were reverse lights and the growing silhouette of his truck, which unfortunately distracted them from what was ahead of them.

By the time they saw the headlights coming from the other direction and heard the loud honking of a horn, they had only a second to dive away.

Once again spared road rash by their clothes, Hero groaned through a mouthful of grass. The other car and its lights continued to barrel around the corner, leaving Hero alone with the forest green truck that was now upon them.

Under the light of his headlights, a hand grabbed and pulled the leather bag up and away from the hero and held it above them.

Only then did they realize the briefcase was brown.

(I hope this part was equally enjoyable <3

Shout out to the semi-trucks I stared at for a few hours and to my beta reader, who puts up with me for some reason)

[oncillabrigade]

Finally read Robins!

I have a lot of thoughts, but I just want to say this panel is the funniest thing I've ever seen:

[mo-mode]

AU where Mr. D claiming to be Percy’s dad accidentally counts as Claiming according to Greek god law or whatever and now all the other gods legitimacy believe Percy is his son, but if Mr. D corrects it, he has to explain to Zeus why he pretended he was Percy’s dad so now he’s like “YEP ol’ Perry Johansson is MY child wowie just look at the little fry, you have your mother’s eyes. Please stop standing next to water or you will blow my cover”

Meanwhile Poseidon is just standing off to the side like “how on earth did I dodge THAT bullet”

[zillychu]

human form reveal! he wears his hair in a variety of styles, which include: whatever Sam or Tuck want to do that day (if left alone he will simply do nothing and get it caught in everything)

[morganbritton132]

I want a fic where Tim unwittingly becomes the rebellious kid after his dad dies because he has a hard time adjusting from his latchkey kid with absentee parents life to the almost constant adult supervision at Wayne Manor.

Like, Tim spent years sneaking around to do Batman shit and even when he got in trouble, if he waited long enough his parents would either leave town or forget about it.

Now he’s getting the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ talk from Bruce for skipping school and supplementing half his meals with energy drinks and is just like: ???? Nothing has changed??

Tim gets hurt on patrol and Bruce tells him that Robin will not be out in Gotham the next night, and then gets mad when he finds Tim on a rooftop in his civies taking pictures. Tim is just like: Robin’s not out. I followed your order. What’s the problem?

Tim disappears for a few days following a lead and gets grounded for not telling anybody where he went (even though he did. It’s in the Batcomputer) and for missing school which he interprets as meaning that Robin is grounded (can’t patrol). So it’s confusing when he gets in trouble again for inviting Kon over to hang out because he’s ‘grounded’ which doesn’t even make sense because Bruce isn’t even home??

[lotus-pear]

mourning black and the death of ideals

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[choccy-milky]

dad seb dad seb dad seb 💕

[dyinggirldied]

Danny, burnout and exhausted of being the basically only one who can fight ghosts but still gets villainized and hated by the people he saved, decides he's done.

Because he's 14 he runs to another city, one where his parents and GIW cannot willy dilly do whatever they want. Yes, he runs to Gotham. Without telling anyone.

At Gotham, he ultilizes his intelligence in making fake ID and studies at a normal if a bit run down Gotham high school, not the fancy one where Tim or Damian is studying because 1) he's trying to lay low and 2) he hates the rich. He uses an old abadoned fire station as his home.

It's all fine and dandy. He doesn't need to intervene much since there are plenty of vigilantes in this city and he's free to just...focus. On himself, his education.

Meanwhile, Amity Park is literally and metaphorically under fire with his absence.

[v-poreons]

That's it that's their dynamic

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 271

“Grandmother is visiting,” Damian suddenly said with no warning and with his usual not-quite demanding tone. 

“Who?” Tim wasn’t the only one to startle, seeing as Bruce had practically froze, a downturn to his lips in a silent show of confusion. 

Damian scowled. “Are you deaf Drake? Grandmother is coming to Gotham to, quote, make sure I am being properly cared for.” None of them had known that Ras was with anyone actually. At least Tim was pretty sure that would have been in the files. 

“Oh?” Dick didn’t quite crouch to Damian’s height but it was a near thing. “She-” “He,” Damian corrected, interrupting him. They all exchanged a glance before Dick continued. 

“Is he coming to the Manor or…” 

Damian scoffed again, a tiny bit of a flush against his face. “No, Grandmother will most likely be staying with Akhi-”

Now wait one moment-

“YOU HAVE ANOTHER BROTHER?!” 

[ruizpizzaria]

👋👋👋

fiery farewell

[kristea9ay]

How and where did he walk for the first time?

Mk fell asleep with both of his parents cuddling, but when he wakes up...his papa is upset? Not on his watch!

Blurred text here

First - previous - next

[obsob]

the accolade ( the...the cat-olade...)

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DC x DP Prompt

To the delight of Gotham's citizens, and the dismay of her criminal underbelly, the GCPD has a new specialized unit that ACTUALLY apprehends criminals and brings them to justice!

It's a relatively small squad of mostly young adults, who looked fresh out of their teens. But age didn't matter once they got the work done. And they did, as they've already got criminals like Penguin, Riddler, and Bane behind bars for what looks to be 'for good'.

No one besides Commissioner Gordan knows anything about the squad as they operate as a mostly separate entity from GCPD. It was rare to see any of them, and any photos taken were unusually blurry. They are also extremely secretive; if you exclude their social media which are usually just shit posts, memes, and thirst edits of the Wayne family.

They were a total mystery. Almost as mysterious as Batman.

But those who have seen/worked with the squad before all had the same thing to say about them. They were cool. They had an unusually effective method. And their leader is a menace. With his sharp teeth and pointed smile. And bright blue eyes that spoke to your soul. It was a pleasure to see/ work with him, it really was. But they weren't planning on doing so again for a long time.

That being said, Gotham had been quiet for a while. A bit too quiet if you ask anyone, especially the Bats. Strangely, it didn't feel like the usual calm before the shit storm. The instinctual pit in their guts that usually formed just wasn't there. This was different. This wasn't the calm before the storm. This was the ocean receding. But no one seemed to realize it yet.

Not until the tsunami came crashing down on them.

The GCPD special unit accounts that had been inactive for the last three months suddenly pinged to life. Everyone who followed them clicked the notification almost immediately. With this unnerving calm surrounding them, who the hell didn't want to see what batshit crazy statement they would make after three months of radio silence.

What they didn't expect, was to see a crystal-clear picture of justice finally being served.

The picture was a selfie, taken in an abandoned warehouse. In the middle of the dirty floor was the Joker. He was tied up and his head hung low. You could see how beaten he was, his clothes torn and bloody. His face paint was also coming off, revealing pale blotchy skin. Reminding everyone that, he was still human, just like the rest of them.

Behind him, all lined up with smiles on their faces, was Team Phantom. They were a bit bloody and bruised as well but overall in much better condition. They weren't wearing the normal GCPD navy blue uniform, but black and white ones. All stylized to fit the wearers taste. They all looked so young, but their eyes looked like old tired eyes, finally getting some relief.

From in the corner was their leader. Only part of his face was in the picture. One glowing blue eye, and part of his Cheshire smile. His hand making a peace sign next to the Joker. Even with only part of his being shown, everyone could tell he was relived as well.

And while the picture itself was shocking, the caption was what really got them. The top was what you would usually expect from the team. A big bold 'GOT EM' ' at the top. But at the bottom in small, almost unnoticeable text was:

"He will face his punishment. We will get our retribution. May we finally rest in peace."

[hermit-frog]