#your not a true gothamite

[oifaaa]

Imagine being a gatham citizen, seeing red hood get beat up by a quiet kid

They probably just add it to the list of weird things you only get to see when you live in Gotham and move on

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Singer! Phantom x Red Hood!Jason

Laws are easily changed if businessmen smell money.

Paulina and Sam suggest Danny to try to become a singer in order to change society's opinion about ghosts a little. In the end, the otherworldly sound of his voice can at least be used for the benefit of Realms.

And it seems like the Everlasting Trio is really liked by the public. At first they just release a few songs (Exams kill, Battle with myself, What an Autopsy Won't Show, Among the stars). But a mysterious atmosphere mixed with understandable teenage problems begins to take over teens playlists. Their fans want more and more.

So, when under the pressure of the public and profit-hungry bigwigs all bans on the presence of ecto creatures in the United States are lifted, the Trio goes on their first Tour.

~~~~~

Jason stumbles upon Phantom's songs completely by accident. It was painful to hear them for the first time but at the same time it was as if he could breathe again because he had found someone similar. Someone who understands, and who doesn't judge him for coming back wrong. Jason listens to his voice on repeat and the rage seems to recede and subside. There is sadness of loss and fear in the songs but most of them end bringing some hope and this thought gives Red Hood more strength not to break down for another day. and then another, and another..And one day, the green eyes in the mirror do not scare Jason but shows him that he belonging to something more. Todd can't explain it more precisely, but it was as if the waters of Lazarus inside him had calmed down and he was no longer enemies with them. He even jokes with Tim that he is finally rest in peace and ready to live a full undead life when his brother (God, his lil brother whom he wanted to hurt recently because of his own stupidity), asks him about his strange behavior.

~~~~~

Jason forgets how to breathe again. His favorite band, and most importantly his favorite vocalist, is coming to Gotham with a concert. For many years now, none of the nonresidents have dared to take such a risk, but it seems like Phantom has absolutely no instinct for self-preservation. Well, as a true fan, Red Hood will do his best so that none of the gothamites spoil the Trio's impression of their first concert here. Danny is beside himself with excitement. Their concert in the hometown of the Red Hood was approved. Of course, there is no chance that he would be able to meet such a busy vigilante but Phantom continues to dream. If he'll fly a little over the city instead of sleeping after rehearsals, maybe he'll get an autograph from at least one member of the bat clan.

~~~~~ Phantom: Thank you very much Mr. Nightwing sir. Just sign it for.. Nightwing: For a Phantom, right? Huh, I recognized you, my brother has poster in his room. Nice hairstyle by the way. Danny*urgently*: Which one of them?

Nightwing: Jeez, and I thought it was just a stage image. Ghosts are kinda creepy. Terribly persistent, to be precise. And yeah, Jason, he absolutely not against you as a vigilante. You can safely ask Phantom to sign your helmet, I promise. Man was so happy when find out you're listening to his songs, you have no idea.

Jason *holds out a hand*. Nightwing: What? Jason: If you dared to meet Phantom before me, then where is my autograph? Nightwing: Em..oops? I gave him mine if it helps.

Jason: *sounds of an angry lazarus demon*.

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

The people of Gotham both fear and revere The Signal. As they do the rest of the Batfam but for Signal it's a bit different.

For starters, he's the only daytime hero. The other Bats usually only come out at night when the city is quieter. And while it's far from asleep, they prioritize stopping the numerous crimes that occur in the shadows. Civilian interactions far and few. Most pictures of them online seemed more like cryptid sightings than heroes soaring through Gotham skies.

The Signal on the other hand was the people's Bat. They got to see him soar through the sky, or ride his bike in all his golden glory. He gave autographs, took photos, and joined them on their daily commutes. He was a regular at mom-and-pop shops, made sure the troubled kids made it to school, and checked in on the sick and elderly. And while he did work with them when necessary, he mostly liked to fuck with the police, like a true Gothamite would.

All in all, he was the sweet sunshine that Gotham needed. He was far more human than the others. Not that he was human, oh heck no! NONE of the bats were human! But it felt that way. Until you were reminded that he was INDEED a Bat.

The way he merged and appeared out of the shadows despite his bright yellow suit, and moved without a sound. He knew about people and things before they happened. And had an intelligence that was absolutely terrifying when thought about. And the way he took care of crimes?

The Signal is cold, borderline brutal, and efficient (with commentary that leaves you agape and a chill down your spine) when dealing with criminals. It was always jarring to witness the sudden change from Gotham's sunshine boy to stone-cold Bat, and back again. It almost gave you whiplash to realize that this was the vigilante that you were talking to about your puppies a few moments ago. And it really instilled the Fear™ that that bats were known for.

The other Bats were terrifying, shadowy demons that moved through the night. Stopping crime in the darkness. Gotham knew and appreciated this. But the Signal? He was the bright light at the end of the tunnel and the warmth of the brilliant sun. But he was also...

'Gotham's Darkest Angel'

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

I'm here (j.t.)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Kissing.

Word Count: 2.7k

Song Rec: I love you, I'm sorry by Gracie Abrams

It was hard to enjoy the cold when Jason was surrounded by the uncomfortable heat of tailpipes and exhaust vents and the bustle of Gothamites around him. He could feel himself break out into a sweat even though he was on the roof of a building, where he had been for the last twenty minutes.

He had taken off his helmet, preferring to keep only his domino on but even then, he felt like he couldn't breathe easy. He could easily blame the city's shitty climate but deep down he knew the reason was across the street from him.

He watched as the lights flicked on; his view obstructed due to the frosted glass that he had begged you to put up. You hated closing the curtains because you felt it made your already small apartment even smaller and he hated the fact that anyone across the street could catch a glimpse into your home.

He could really see the irony in that now as he wished for a better view of your face.

But even without it, he could clearly envision you coming home from a long day, dumping your bag at the door, and kicking off your shoes, refusing to kick off your socks in the same way and instead tossing them into the hamper. Dirty socks were your pet peeve, one that he learnt extremely early into the relationship.

However, you also refused for him to wear shoes in your home, and he hated being barefooted, so you compromised and got him a couple spare socks and a pair of slippers. He wondered if they were still there in the lowest drawer of your shoe cabinet.

You'd immediately sit on the ground to rest your legs after walking four blocks from the subway station instead of a chair because you didn't want your 'outside clothes' to touch your clean furniture.

A melancholic smile spread across Jason's lips as something beautiful, yet painful began to coil around his chest. He loved that he could still remember every single thing about you. It was those little features; the way you'd always forget your towel in the dryer while taking a shower and begging Jason to bring it to you, the tiny welt in the corner on your lips that you got from biting them til they'd bleed, that lock of hair at the back of your head that was a different texture than the rest. It was those that would bring him back to Earth whenever the green of the pit seemed to blind him.

The lines of your body were the only thing he envisioned when he closed his eyes, the mellifluous flow of your voice threading through his eardrums whenever he had any quiet, the heat of your phantom fingertips tracing up his arms and wrapping around his waist as he laid alone in bed.

You haunted him, your memories tormented him, and he wondered if you were in the same boat as him, simply existing but not living. He wondered how you would feel if you heard the deep baritone of his voice now that he's grown into a man, or the heat from his chest when he enveloped your now much smaller form in his arms.

He wondered if you were wondering about him. He wondered if you were lying alone like him or had his side of the bed already been claimed by somebody else. Someone who was smarter and sweeter and better.

The pragmatic side of him told him that he should be happy if you managed to find another. Afterall, he loved you so much if you asked him to carve out his own breaking heart and place it in your palms, he would, if only to see the smile on your face. So, he should be happy if you were happy.

However, rest of him banged against his ribcage with bloody fists, begging for it not to be true.

He scolded himself while his feet mindlessly took him to your apartment building, and he was left staring at the frosted glass of your window.

He knew it would end up this way, he just knew it. When he had first come out from the Lazarus pit, he was adamant not to meet you again, convinced that you would be better off without him.

Then he kept thinking about you and he concluded that he'd only see you once, if only to see that you were doing well and taking care of yourself. And then he'd never tempt himself again.

And then he promised himself he'd only watch you from afar, desperately trying to catch glances of you like a parched man would savour the smallest drop of water.

Then he got even greedier. His heart tugged him so hard that he almost fell off the roof in his haste to grapple across the street and climb down the fire escape til your apartment building.

He promised himself this would be the last. He would stop here. He would only listen to your voice while a wall separated the both of you. He would stop there.

Jason listened to you sing while you washed the dishes, your voice only fading to a dull hum through the wall and his brows furrowed, leaning his forehead against it as he tried to catch every wave of your voice.

Then eventually it was silent, and he stared at his feet for a couple seconds before sighing and beginning to stand.

He didn't know why he continued to come see you. Every time the fleeting glance of you passed, he was left feeling an empty chasm that seemed to drag his stomach into a blackhole. He was unable to get out of bed the next day, despaired by the fact that you were able to go about your day while he was stuck in his own hell.

So, why did he continue to do it? Why did he feel your absence like critters crawling all over his skin and only feeling a semblance of relief when he knows that he's near you? Why can he only feel better when he feels his heart pounding in his chest when he thinks that at any moment you could accidentally spot him where he was hiding even though he'd be constantly disappointed? And yet, he still hoped you'd spot him again.

He'd hear the lights click shut any second now before you crawled into bed, falling asleep while clutching your phone and scrolling through Instagram.

He was always disheartened at the end of these nights, when he realized that he was the only one lingering outside in the cold as he waited for you to notice him, to long for him. But yet again, you managed to get through another day without losing yourself in your grief, unlike him.

Was it really that easy for you to get over him? He was standing outside your apartment, wishing to go back to the nights where you used to invite him in with open arms while you remained oblivious to how much he missed you.

He turned his back to leave when he heard a click and then a noisy squeak of the hinges as you pushed the window open.

Your wide eyes met his stormy blue and you froze.

"Hey, beautiful."

There was a beat of silence between the two of you that was filled with the sounds of Gotham and you continued to stare at him, shocked into a stupor. Finally, it seemed like you were able to knock your consciousness back into your body and you squeezed your eyes shut and began counting backward from ten.

"He’s not really here, (Y/N). Jason is gone. You were there at the funeral. You watched them lower his body into his grave, (Y/N). He's gone. And he's not coming back."

Jason watched your throat bob like a lone acorn down a tempestuous river and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter, flared nostrils telling him that you were on the verge of tears. Your fingers curled into a tight grip that had your knuckles turning a shade lighter.

Now he knew why he was so anxious about seeing you again. Why, when one foot had taken a step toward you, the other remained anchored to his spot until you walked past him. While he was worried that you had moved on from him, he was even more terrified to see the effect that his death had on you.

When he came back to Gotham and he realized that he had been erased and replaced by Bruce, it was only easy for him to think you had done the same thing. It was easier for him to think he had been abandoned by the entire world. But he was always scared to find out if he was right, so he kept his distance.

However, he was even more scared to find out that you had been left missing him because of a stupid mistake he had made as a child when you had begged him not to. You had known he was beginning to go off the rails, that he was getting rebellious, and you had begged him not to do anything rash.

He had just taken it as a sign that you didn't believe in him either, that you were just like the others, and he had sought to prove you wrong. He laid on the blood of the warehouse, beaten bloody and waiting for his father to rescue him and wishing that you wouldn't be too despaired by his immature stupidity.

Now watching you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if trying to erase what you had just seen, he felt guilty for putting you in that position. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't have left, he shouldn't have loved you in the first place.

Still, he couldn't move.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes, blinking a couple times at the ground before you could raise your head again.

Your shoulders slumped and your eyes began to fill with tears, "That usually works."

"(Y/N)," he whispered, reaching for you put his fingertips stopped right before crossing your windowsill as though there was a physical barrier stopping him from touching you. His hand trembled in the air before he dropped it to his side, "It’s me."

This was something he had been dreaming of every night since coming back. He dreamed of reuniting with you, of touching you again, of loving you again. But now that the opportunity was an inch away from him, he was worried that his last chance at love had died within the flames of the warehouse that night.

You stayed still, eyes flickering over him, starting with the mop of dark curls on the top of his head and raking down his face, the same features you remembered had grown more masculine. You lingered on the different scars littering his skin, analysing every inch of him with concentration that made him want to shuffle uneasily.

Your expression began to melt into uncertainty and longing the more you continued to stare at him before you suddenly gasped and stepped back, "You’re crazy, (Y/N). He's gone, this isn't really happening."

He grasped the window just as you began to close it shut, "Please, don't. I’m here, baby, I’m really here."

You stared at the hand holding your window open with furrowed brows; you hadn't expected this illusion to retaliate against you trying to end this dream.

You never opened the windows of your apartment, especially not at night. You never wanted to invite Gotham’s smog inside your home but for some reason tonight your heart had tugged you toward it with such power you thought a breath of fresh air would have done you some good.

Why? Why tonight of all nights had you opened the window? Had you even opened the window in the first place? Or had this been a cruel game played by your mind while you were asleep?

"You died," you whispered, voice barely above a decibel, "I saw you dead. You aren't really here. This doesn't make any sense."

You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel his beating heart underneath your fingertips but you knew that he would evaporate into smoke the second you reached for him like all the other times and even though you knew you would breakdown the second you woke up from the dream, you wanted to continue looking at him and drink in his presence that you had missed so much.

Gloved fingers lifted your chin so your wet eyes could meet his and tears began streaming down your cheeks in thick rivulets, your chest collapsing from the weight of your sobs.

"I know it doesn't make any sense, but I’m here. I’m really here. And I’ve missed you so much."

You shook your head, "You’re not. You're dead."

His arms circled around you, and he brought you into a hug. Your cheek rested against the kevlar of his suit, hips digging into the windowsill as you continued to sob and despite knowing that he wasn't really here, your chest began to fill with warmth.

"I’m here, (Y/N)."

Jason stole what little breath you had left in your lungs when he leant down to capture your lips in a firm kiss, as if trying to prove to you that he was here in the flesh, with fresh blood pumping through his veins.

You sobbed against his lips and licked into his mouth, hands coming up to grasp at his hair while his own curved your back into him, melding your bodies into one.

Heavy boots thumped against your floors, knees knocking in his effort to climb through the window and shut it behind him before pressing you against it. He quickly threw off his utility belt before you had wrapped your legs around his waist to prevent any of his weapons accidentally hurting you.

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing against the peak of his cheekbone. The action had Jason’s eyes rolling back in ecstasy, every single touch setting his body on fire, each nerve ending sparking with electricity. He kissed you harder, refusing to pull away even though he knew you were getting breathless. He could hear your gasps for air every time you parted but you still dragged him back toward you with a hand clutching the roots of his hair.

He couldn't stop, wanting to lose himself in your very soul. He could feel the heat of your body pressing against him, he could smell the familiar scent of your shampoo, his ears were filled with the sound of your sighs and your lips smacking, his tongue tasted the salt of your tears mixed with the sharp chill of spearmint tea.

He finally pulled away when you had placed a hand on his chest, pressing his forehead against you, watching with intense passion as you tried to catch your breath, his grip on your thighs not loosening.

You trailed wet lips down his throat, listening to his quiet sighs until your lips reached his jugular. You could feel his veins pulse with life underneath your lips and your chest began pounding, butterflies beginning to erupt through you.

"You’re really here? You're alive? H-how is that even possible?"

Jason nodded, only realizing then that his eyes were filling up with tears, lashes and cheeks wet once you had begun to stroke the skin beneath his ear.

"I missed you so much." you confessed, voice breaking and brows furrowing in despair.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn't come sooner, I should've-I should've come sooner. I’m sorry." he whispered, trailing his lips along your shoulder, hiding his face into the crook of your neck and you sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"You’re here," you whispered, chest shaking with a mix of sobs and elated giggles, "You're really here. You're finally here."

You both remained there, your back pressed against the frosted glass window that had fogged up slightly, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, chests pressed together.

"I’m here."

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

[lysreadsbookssometimes]

So I was thinking about the batmobile earlier and how they use it on patrol.

Wayne Manor and therefore the Batcave are pretty much on the edge of town and the bats use the batmobile/their other vehicles like bikes to get into the city.

Now when they are there, they move mostly by grapple or parcour. Which makes sense, you wouldn't really beat up a goon, get in the batmobile, drive three blocks and park it again. I assume they park it somewhere and then go on patrol.

A standard patrol is most likely circular, so they end up back at the batmobile. But what if they have to chase someone? Or something happens that draws them to the other side of the city? What if one of them gets injured and they need to be transported? The batmobile is parked somewhere, so what happens now?

I imagine the following possibilities:

1. The batmobile has self-driving capabilities. I can't really tell how good that would work in Gotham, and i don't know how that would work for the bikes.

2. There is a bat on batmobile-duty. They spend the patrol night chilling, watching tiktoks, reading a book etc. and just wait for a pickup.

3. There is a remote driving system, probably accessed by Oracle as well as the batcave. In the necessary moments Oracle grabs a controller and GTAs the Batmobile to the location.

4. There are Batmobiles hidden throughout Gotham and after such an incident happened, a few batkids need to go for a drive and pick up/drop off the various batmobiles at their spots.

I don't know which one is the most likely, and all of them have so much Batfam Chaos potential. Maybe all of them are true. Allow me to present some of these chaotic scenarios.

Red Robin, severly sleep deprived: *nearly hits a lamp post*

Batmobile: *avoids the post, speeds up* *steering wheel moves under his fingers*

RR: What?

Oracle, via comms: for the love of god just take a nap I'm taking you home

Nightwing, after a chase: great, now i need to walk like 5 kilometers to the car.

Red Hood: There is a batmobile in a garage like two streets down

NW: what?

RH: don't you have a map?

NW: a map of what?

RH: of the batmobiles

NW: what- no. No i do not. I will be having words with someone.

Batman, after patrol: There are still two bikes and a batmobile on the streets. Go pick them up.

Red Hood: alright, which one of you idiots is allowed to drive?

Nightwing: Damian put your hand down.

Gothamite: *crosses the street* *nearly gets run over by batmobile* *stares to see it driving off without a driver*

Phone: *beeps*

Text message: very sorry, still working on the self-driving. Have a coffee on me, heres a coupon code for batburger. -O

Red Hood: *peacefully reading a book, legs on the batmobile dashboard, a thermos of tea in the cupholder*

Oracle, via comms: Hood, Spoiler has been injured, i am sending you the adress for pickup.

Hood: How bad is it?

Oracle: Not life-threatening. She wanted to go on but Batman refused.

Hood: so she can wait a bit more.

Oracle: what?

Hood: They are about to have the big love confession and i am not waiting on that because B is overprotective.

Oracle: I just googled your book. Pick up Spoiler now or I will make you listen to Spoilers for the entire series.

Hood, starting the car: Jesus O no need for warcrimes

(I am fairly new in this fandom, if there is something in canon that i missed/got wrong please correct me)

[lady-ace]

Comics

Y'know how in the old comics, the 'Cap is a Comic book character' AU is basically canon?

Ok, so. Imagine that in Fawcett, Toonforce is an actual and reacurring thing. And outside of it's universe, it's not. Meanwhile Gothamites and others would pick up Fawcett comics and be like 'Oh wow, that would never happen!' when a character runs a mile in the air before looking down and actually falling, Fawcitizens will pick up a DC book, look at all the real physics and the like, and go 'Huh. That's weird. Why did they fall down immediatly?'

Bonus points if mythical creatures are extremely rare in the DC universe to the point people don't think they exist, meanwhile in Fawcett's universe it's so commonplace to see a unicorn, dragon, griffin or talking animal that they find it curious that on the DC comics they read, there are never any of the creatures present in Fawcett, like, at all. What do you mean there's no talking Tigers with suits walking around? In Fawcett, everyone knows at least one talking animal! (Mostly Tawny)

Also, how would the 'Hero from a literal comic book' go? Would the comics be banned from any viewing to keep secret identities? Since, well, if Lex knew Billy's identity from the comic someone gave to him, what stops the public at large to also know? Would the League let Billy in, on the accounts he's overpowered due to his cartoonish antics? Would they know his identity at all? I mean, he could be just a really good cosplayer. It's a good identity cover!

Imo it would be also very fun to play around the idea of 'Oh yeah, this is our resident Dimension traveller, we keep up with him through the comic books.'

And if they knew, how funny would it be for an ACTUAL comic book character being in your superhero team? Imagine some villain knocks Cap down, for sure that he's done for, only to look behind them and find Cap being all like 'Sheesh! I'm glad i'm not that guy!' and the hole were Marvel once laid in, very injured, is now nowhere to be seen!

Interviewer: “So, are the rumors true? You have a new mysterious League member?”

Superman: “Yes! His name's Captain Marvel, and he was the one to help us out on the latest major villain attack, as some of us were off-world.”

Interviewer: “..Captain Marvel? Isn't that the name of that one comic book character?”

Superman, smiling sheepishly: “Well, Captain Marvel sure is a common superhero name, is it not?”

[sunnie-angel]

Part 9: The Bargain

part 8 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x fem!reader

summary: unsettling news upsets the careful balance of your friendship with jason todd

tags: mention of offscreen violence, angst, misunderstandings, kissing, fingering, p in v sex

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 3.1k

a/n: wrote most of this while i was sick and a little loopy from medication, so if this is tonally a little different from the rest of the series that's why

Time seems to melt together, like the snow that covers the Gotham University campus. Jason looks devastating with wind chapped cheeks and snow dusted curls, red rising high across his cheekbones. Maybe you won’t ever get to tell him how beautiful he looks with snowflakes collecting on his lashes or how your heart had soared when he complimented you on finally getting one of his recipes right. It’s fine, or that’s what you tell yourself. You can have this much of him at least. As much as you wish it would, the strange tension never really dissipates between you, only fading to a low thrum in the background of your mind that your learn to live with. Eventually exams consume your life and you have very little time left to nurse wounds that never seem to heal quite right.

Winter break – when it finally, blessedly arrives – is not exactly the reprieve you had hoped for. Aside from a few random emails from the school warning of increased muggings near campus (which, when supervillains exist, ranks high on your list of problems why exactly?) you could almost forget that one Fall night. Almost. But Danika keeps inviting everyone over to celebrate the end of the last first semester and Lina won’t stop sending you and Jason considering looks every time you so much as breathe in his direction. You can tell she wants to ask but it won’t be Jason she comes looking for and so you don’t give her the opportunity to corner you alone.

On one memorable occasion you had physically dragged Jason in front of you as a human shield, spilling hot chocolate onto your glove and onto the snow covered ground. The hot liquid had melted into the snow immediately, carving out uneven abstract patterns. Jason hadn’t seemed to catch on as to why exactly you were so determined to attach yourself to his side, but had endured your proximity with what you might almost call joy if you didn’t know better. There wasn’t the resistance you expected, though the cavern between you doesn’t fully dissipate. It was...nice to feel his arm tucked under yours, a solid weight against your side. Maybe the little scraps of affection you could stomach weren’t so bad after all. Maybe one day the two of you could return to the time before you destroyed the closeness between you. Now if only you could get Danika to stop trying to set you up with someone, maybe you could find your footing again.

All of your best intentions go to hell only two days before you’re meant to be back for the final semester. There was a temporary skating rink in the public park, courtesy of Mr. Freeze’s latest foiled plot, one that would only last a few days before melting on its own. Like any true Gothamite, Danika had seized the opportunity with both hands and dragged you all out skating with her. It had been fun to watch Rei windmill his arms, red faced and struggling to keep his balance on his rented skates. Lina had been more than happy to offer him a steadying arm and flirtatious grin. Oddly even Will had decided to participate, the gleeful joy infectious. Jason, of course, had been a natural, gliding across the icy surface and dodging other people with an ease you envied. It had been a lovely afternoon, meant to end with laughter and chafed noses, maybe even a snowball thrown or two.

A choreographed ping of notifications to all of your phones puts an end to that. Digging with numb fingers through your thick pockets, you manage to pull out your phone and swipe through to your notifications. An email from the Gotham U, odd for this late in the day. 

An NYU student visiting home killed near GU campus, screams the subject line. It goes on to talk about measures the school is taking to keep students safe but you can’t help but click on the embedded news link. A funhouse mirror stares back, smiling. Sweat prickles at the nape of your neck. She looks like me..., you think dazedly. The texture of her hair, the colour of her eyes, even the sweep of her nose all echo yours. Dead in an alley, disfigured, torn to pieces, the news greedily crows. Violated. A hand falling heavy on your shoulder causes you to flinch, breaks the trance it has on you. With wild eyes you stare back up at Jason as he steadies you before you can fall on your ass on the ice. Wordlessly you look at your gathered friends and their bloodless faces. 

“She looks like me,” you croak, needing to have someone – anyone – tell you that you’re seeing things. 

“A little bit," Rei hedges, eyes darting to Lina for support.

“A little,” Will snorts, “try a lot."

“Hey–” Jason cuts in, glaring at Will over your head, “–not helpful.” He turns back to you, eyes still focused somewhere on your shoulder, neatly sliding himself between you and Will’s gaze. “What happened to her is a tragedy, yeah? But she’s not you, you’re right here with us and you’re safe.” 

His voice – his presence – steadies you but it’s not enough to erase the mental image of the girl with your face dead in an alley you probably know. The dead girl you might have been if Jason hadn’t stopped that mugger. Your hand tightens around your phone until the edges cut into your palm and you shiver, but not from the cold. 

“Sorry I don’t– I don’t really feel like having fun anymore.” You smile apologetically up at them over Jason’s shoulder.  Your phone pings again, your mother texting for the first time in weeks asking if you’d seen the news. The smile on your face turns brittle. “I think I just want to go home for a bit.”

“Sure, but text when you get back and let us know if you need anything,” Danika tells you gently, throwing a withering look in Will’s direction and smacking his mostly healed arm. You bite your lip and nod, skating slowly over to a nearby bench to wrestle with your skates.

Large hands shoo your shivering fingers away and you look up to see the top of Jason’s curly head as he kneels in front of you. He props your skate up on one broad thigh and untangles the knot in silence. Gently, he sets one foot down and starts working on the other.

“Look I’ll walk you back so you don’t have to worry, yeah?" he says as he sets your foot back down, still not looking at you. You can’t do anything but nod and accept his help as you change back into your boots, cold air still biting through your thick socks.

The bus ride home is fairly silent between the two of you. Jason manages to snag a recently vacated seat and ushers you into it, leans against the hand rail and shields you from the world. Unable to spend the 20 minutes or so just staring at his belt buckle, torturing yourself with the clink it makes as it comes undone, you lean your head against the window glass and watch the world melt past. It starts to snow again, fat flurries gently skimming through the streets. A quiet, still cocoon has built around the two of you and not even the bus coming to a screeching halt at your stop breaks it. Dreamlike and hazy, your body pilots you back to your front door, Jason holding your bag as you fumble for your keys.

He turns to leave you at your doorstep then hesitates, fingers running through his snow dusted curls. “Would it– would it be fine if I took a look around?” he mutters nervously. “Just, I noticed the other day that there’s some potential security issues and I’d feel better if I took a look and maybe you’d too?” His voice rises on the last syllable.

You stare at him for a second, baffled by his questions. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as you continue to stare.

“...yeah that’s fine,” you finally say. Looking for your phone to let Danika know you’re back, unthinkingly you add, “You already know your way around.” Facing away from him, you freeze, cursing yourself out mentally for the reminder of the last time he had entered your apartment. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’ll just be quick, yeah?”

Jason pads through your apartment quickly and surprisingly quietly for man his side as you unwind your scarf from around your shoulders and brush the half melted snow from your coat. Your sweater goes over the back of a chair to dry, leaving you standing in the kitchen in just your thin thermal undershirt. Jason chooses just that moment to walk back in.

“–should probably be fine, might want to change the lock on the fire escape window but– hey. C’mere.” He moves to hug you – he moves first! – and you fall into him, arms wrapping tight around his waist under his jacket. He freezes up at first as you nuzzle into him, the warmth of his chest cutting through the icy fingers that had grown around your spine at the sight of the dead girl that wasn’t quite you but could have been. Jason’s arms come around you, hold you tight to him like you’re actually something precious to him. A hand comes up to cradle the back of your skull and he sighs, body relaxing into yours.

“Probably just a bad coincidence, but I’ll look into it,” he whispers into the crown of his head. You can feel the zipper of his jacket pressing into you through the thin material of your thermal. “Don’t gotta worry about this at all, yeah?” His voice rumbles through your chest.

“You’re a good friend,” you mumble into his shirt. Slowly you lean back into his hand until you can look him in the eyes, nowhere for him to escape your searching gaze. He’s still tall, but there’s a half inch less of a difference between you without his boots on. Your hand slips from its python grip around his waist and tentatively winds itself around the nape of his neck. Finally, after what feels like months of yearning and waiting but had only been a few keenly felt weeks, Jason Todd looks you in the eyes.

There’s something unreadable there, some dark possessive emotion you can’t quite set your finger on. It’s too late. It’s everything you’d ever wanted from him. Makes the small part of yourself you’d tried so hard to bury over the last few weeks come clawing out of the shallow grave you’d dug for it. Vindication and bitterness go to war in your belly. Slowly you bring a hand up to trace over the sharp point of his cheekbone. His eyes close and he inhales sharply through his nose, full body shuddering as you move to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“S’all I want to be–” his eyes open wide, pupils rapidly eating up the blue of them “–your friend.”

“We are,” you reassure him. Tentatively you let the hand at his neck drift through his curls. Carefully note the way he relaxes into your grip. “Good friends.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Jason tracks the movement with predatory hunger. His own lips part in response and you’re so close you can almost feel his breath on your skin. Tension spools out into the space between you, so thick you could almost reach out and grip the knotted mess of it with your bare hands. You hardly dare to breathe know that you’ve finally got Jason’s attention, a physical, tangible thing that traces the swell of your cheeks and the curve of your lower lip. He swallows and you press the full length of your body against him.

“We can stay good friends, can’t we?” you breath out. Inch by inch you draw yourself closer to him, attuned to him in case he draws back, before gently drawing the tip of your cold nose from the hinge of his jaw to the sharp jut of his chin. Inhale the warm scent of him under the lingering smell of the cold outdoors. “We understand each other,” you say, almost directly into his mouth. “So well, because we’re friends, right?” His hold on you tightens. “So well, that we don’t even have to talk about this part, right?” you plead, desperate for him to let you have this.

Jason’s lips crash onto yours and delirious laughter bubbles up into your chest. Easy, so easy. All you had to do was amputate your sense of dignity. His fingers tighten in your hair as he pulls back, breathing ragged and rough.

“We’re just– just friends,” he pants, and the sight of him so out of control makes you giddy. “But so long as we don’ talk about it we can have this too.” 

You answer him by kissing him again, the soft, sweet touch of your lips turned into something filthier as he invades your mouth. His hand slides down from your waist to palm your ass as he walks you back into the bedroom, still familiar from the last time he was there. Efficiently, both of your clothes come off, his jacket and belt hitting the floor with heavy thuds. He takes his time looking at you, and you drink up the sensation. It’s been so long since he’s truly, properly looked at you and you want to enjoy it while it lasts.

Because it won’t. He’ll retreat again or get tired of you, or both. It’s temporary, this complicated, burning thing between you, or at least it is on his part. You won’t ever have his heart, no that’s something so far beyond your grasp it’s laughable to even think about, but you can have this. His desire. His attention. His base need to fuck someone wet and willing. You can have just this much of him and no more.

There’s no air of urgency this time as he explores your body this time, palms smoothing over the length of your ribs. You shiver as he trails still cool fingers across your hips, across the fat and muscle cradling your womb. Hiss as he parts your slick folds with them, his fingers freezing against the burning heat of your core. Jason grins at your reaction before pressing a finger in in in, causing you to arch off the bed and clench down at the intrusion. He laughs as your thighs tremble at the stretch in your cunt when he adds another finger. Peppers kisses down your neck until he can bite and lave at the bud of your breast, working his fingers in and out of you the whole while.

Jason draws back and you moan at the loss, try and chase after him but he pushes you back down onto the bed.

“M’coming back, just need the condom outta my wallet. Need you to be patient, yeah?”

You nod but whine anyway when he pulls his fingers out of your tight heat, already bereft by the loss of him. He rolls the condom on and you want to hide from embarrassment when you see just how shiny with your slick his hands are. Carefully he adjusts your limbs to where he wants them, hooks your thighs over his hips and threads one hand through yours as he slowly starts to press in.

And it’s not– it’s not tender, but it’s kind, the way he slowly feeds every inch of his cock into you. Kisses you as you hiccup and squirm your way through accepting the fat weight of his dick in your guts, tensing and unclenching as he tears you in two only to stitch you back together. Finally, finally his hips hit yours and your eyes close as you sigh in relief at having taken him all. With a sticky hand Jason brushes the side of your face, places a kiss to where your furrowed brows meet. He waits until you relax under him, nod and let him know that you’re ready, before he starts to move, both of his hands tangled up in yours.

It’s such a relief to feel the heavy drag of him inside of you again, where he belongs your traitorous mind whispers. Immobilized, spread out, and pinned down beneath him like this you can do nothing but eagerly accept what he chooses to give you. He swallows the gasps and sighs of pleasure directly from the source as he plunders your mouth. Kisses down your jaw and nibbles at your throat. He bites down at the cords of your throat in a cruel mark of ownership you know he doesn’t mean just as he thrusts into the soft gummy part of your cunt that has you seeing stars.

You can’t help the whine of “Oh please, Jay,” as it is torn out of you, but you feel the exact moment his strong body stops rocking into yours and you realize your mistake. “M’sorry, m’sorry. Know you don’t like– didn’t mean to say it. M’sorry,” you babble, mortified by your error and wanting to bury your face in the pillows to disappear because he’d told you.

“Shhh shh shh,” he soothes, running the pad of his thumb across the outer corner of your eye, collecting the tears of frustration gathering there. You’re cursing yourself, terrified he’s going to take even this away from you because you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut and not let the name he hates slip from your tongue. “It’s okay, s’okay. You can call me Jay, okay, but only here. Just for you, just here, yeah?”

You nod, keening your agreement as he punctuates his words with a slow thrust back into you. His pace increases, no longer leisurely but controlled. Sharp thrusts in accompanied filthy, slow drags out. Your’s so full you can practically feel him at the base of your throat, carving out any claim to your body that isn’t his. Pleasure crawls up your veins, burns deep in your belly as Jason fucks you. The wet squelch of you around his cock makes your cunt flutter and he groans into the side of your throat at the sensation. Sweat beads at the base of your spine as the too much too good feeling winches you up higher, muscles curling tight. It only takes Jason growling into your skin, cock curving up at just the right angle, to shove you off that final ledge.

Sightless and weightless, stretched thin around him, you scrabble at his solid weight, desperate for something to anchor you to the present.

“ ‘ank you. Thank you. Please, god. Jay. JayJayJay,” you sob, words slurring together as he fucks your brains out, fucks you through it. He comes to the feel of you rippling around his cock and his name on your lips.

Jason’s still there in the morning, warm and whole in the bed next to you. Your heart isn’t so lucky.

part 10

[ravenlilyrose]

Gotham does not want to lose one of Her children again. She's already gone to the trouble of bringing him back to life (a challenge to be sure, it took her months, but worth it for him, for them) and She was not about to let this... this... woman take him from Her again.

(She would not kill the woman, for the sake of the boy--tiny still and not yet fully Hers---the boy who was Her child's child and who would one day, she knew (because time was not linear, not to Her), also be one of Hers. For his sake, his mother would live.)

So, at the border of Gotham City (a purely political line; her true influence spread several miles more, and Her children would never be fully out of Her reach), Talia al Ghul steps over the city limits without so much as a thought, but Jason Todd--catatonic and being led by Talia's hand around his wrist--is stopped, as though he ran into a solid wall.

They are, for now, unobserved, and Talia tries thing after thing to get him through, getting more and more frustrated. Up until this point, she has not harmed Jason, but the moment she goes to grab his arm hard enough to bruise, a bubble pops up around him and she is thrown back. While the 'wall' at the city limits could not be seen, this bubble shimmers in unnamable colors. (Jason's eyes dart from place to place, following patterns and movements only he, so far, can see.)

Talia doesn't stop trying, but they now start to attract a crowd. Maybe Talia wasn't being as careful anymore, maybe her plan had depended on having been gone by now, or maybe Gotham drew some of Her people to this spectacle.

They watch, for a while, and a few even try to step through the bubble. It is fairly clear that the woman was trying to take the boy somewhere and that the boy was in no state to even realize what was happening. So, a few try to step in, but they also cannot pass through the bubble.

This is when Tim Drake comes along. I don't know when, exactly, Jason's resurrection falls in the timeline, so maybe he already has a plan, maybe he's already started to put it into play, but today, for once, he is doing something entirely mundane. Maybe he's on his way to school, or to the skate-park, or to a friend's house, but it has nothing to do with the local vigilantes.

Tim, the obsessive little stalker that he is, recognizes Jason immediately. A true Gothamite, he takes no more than a second to wonder about the resurrection before accepting it and moving on. Talia al Ghul he doesn't recognize, but he's fairly certain he would recognize anyone who should be taking Jason anywhere. Which means this woman shouldn't be. So Tim decides he's going to take Jason home to his dad. That should fix Batman.

Having decided that, Tim tucks his skateboard under his arm and walks toward Jason. He passes through the bubble like it isn't even there, and comes to a stop mere inches from the boy who would soon be his brother. (Bruce Wayne, elsewhere, gets an itch that would, were he in a better state of mind, have him starting to prepare the adoption papers.)

Despite not having been thrown into a Lazarus Pit, Jason is still taller than Tim, though by less here than he would be in other universes. So Tim is looking up at him. Jason's eyes drift to somewhere just over Tim's shoulder, but when Tim looks behind him, there's nothing there, so he figures that's just Jason acknowledging his presence as best he can at the moment.

"Hi, Jason. I can take you to your dad, if you want. Bruce?"

(Tim's planning to take him to Bruce whether or not he wants to go. It might be a little harder if Jason objects, but Tim has calculated, and it is the best plan for everyone. Still, it is polite to ask.)

At Bruce's name, Jason makes a soft humming noise and his eyes drift to Tim's forehead. Tim decides that's a yes.

Tim hooks the arm that's not carrying the skateboard through Jason's arm, and turns in the direction of Wayne Manor. (Talia, furious now, starts after them, but Gotham locks her into a bubble now, and moves it until it's outside the city limits. She can try all she wants, but Gotham is not going to let her back in.)

Probably, the citizens watching should stop the preteen? young teen? from wandering off with the older boy. Anywhere else in the world, someone would have tried. But this is Gotham. And these are Gothamites.

It was obvious to everyone that this was Gotham's doing. They had all gotten a sense for Her, one that Outsiders really didn't understand and Gothamites couldn't explain, but understood perfectly. This whole incident was clearly Her doing, and if She let that boy into the bubble, then She was perfectly happy to let him take the older one.

And none of them were going to argue with Gotham. To them, to every Gothamite, She was the highest authority. Over the law, over parents, over those pesky little things called morals. (Those who believed in a god would be hard-pressed to decide who they would obey if it came down to a decision between God and Gotham. It went against most of their religions to put anything above their god, but they were Gothamites.)

In any case, Gotham had let the boys through, and they weren't going to argue.

In fact, Tim was not the only one who could have gotten through. The criteria to get through the bubble were, in this case, that you had to be one of Her favorite children and you had to mean Jason no harm. So Steph could also have gotten through, though she had not yet put on a cape and wouldn't have tried. Dick could also have, or Bruce, or Alfred, or Barbara, but none of them were there and Gotham thought it would probably go smoothest with Tim being the one to find Jason.

(Some of the Rogues probably also could have. Not the Joker or Bane, but if the Riddler or Harley or Ivy were having one of their less murderous days, they could have done it. They probably would even have returned him to Bruce.)

But right now, Tim is leading Jason toward home (Jason's home, and soon Tim's too) and the Gothamites watch them go. Talia rages outside the city and Bruce and Alfred sit at the manor, unknowing that everything is about to change. Dick and Barbara still go about their usual lives, a light haze of grief about them that will soon explode into so many more infinitely complicated emotions.

Here we leave them, but Gotham doesn't, and She never will. She is happy to have them together, though, and will work on getting the rest of them gathered. But she's prevented one from being stolen, and that's a day well spent.

[ananashart]

"It's always open for you"

Roy Harper x reader

Summary: startled awake, you found yourself caring for someone. Or Roy seeking shelter.

Word count: 2 053

CW: the grammar is dead/English isn't my first language | hurt comfort | self loathing | minor character death | mention of drugs/drugs addiction

The sudden metallic sound in your quiet apartment woke you up like someone threw a bucket of iced water at you. Eyes wide opened, breath stopping, you tried to focus on any other sound. But nothing made its way to your ears, forcing you to leave the safety and comfort of your bed. Straightening up, you caught the angry red number of your alarm clock reading three A.M. Before deciding anything, you unlocked your phone. Maybe one of your friends had texted you they were going to crash tonight, and it was just them being clumsy. However, as you had thought, there weren't any messages. Whoever, or whatever, was in your apartment wasn't supposed to be here.

Putting your feet on the cold wooden floor, your eyes were trained on the door, expecting any possible and terrifying scenarios. Gaze not leaving the only thing separating you from the intrusion, you blindly extended your arm to your nightstand, taking the gun out of the drawer. Thankfully you had lived, not to say survived, long enough in Gotham to know that anything could happen. Even more at night. The city was a hellhole, and most of your relatives had tried many times to talk you out of it. Sure Gotham wasn't a forgiving city but at least it was a rather cheap one. And that, in your mind, was enough of an argument to stay. Despite being dangerous, in the years you had lived in Gotham, someone breaking in your apartment was a first.

Standing up, you tiptoed to your bedroom door, tightening your grip on the gun. The door cracking open made you cringed at the noises. You waited a moment, holding your breath trying to see if the intruder had heard it. Judging by the dead silence, you got on your merry way, hugging the walls of the hallway. You didn't see any lights on, but you heard shuffling noises confirming that someone was here.

The silence was heavy on your side as you crept to your living area, desperately trying to avoid the creaking part of your old wooden floor. Why was this happening? You were racking your brain trying to see if you had angered anyone enough. But again, you were living in Gotham, no one needed an excuse to break into someone's house. No one needed excuses to steal and even kill. But that couldn't be occurring. Not to you.

However, the closer you got to your goal, the more your resolve started to waver. Hands slightly shaking as you brought the gun upward. You couldn't possibly die tonight, you had too much to see and live. But could you kill someone to survive? How were you supposed to live with yourself after that? Blood would be on your hands, even if it was from self defense, you were confident your mind would never recover from it.

Taking in a deep trembling breath, you collected all the determination left inside, trying to persuade yourself that you would be fine, that you could do this.

And just when you were going to switch the lights on, the fridge was being opened, forcing you to retreat to the wall to hide. You swallowed with difficulty, not sure what to do next. Maybe it was a simple robber, and being robbed was better than being dead. But then you guessed you would have to make a statement to the police. One that was going to get nowhere. The worst being to have to buy everything all over again. Now you were frustrated more than anxious and scared. You guessed that was what the people here meant by becoming a true gothamite.

And Not hearing the fridge's door closing added to your building anger. Worrying about your bills, you craned your head to see who was disturbing your night out of pure spite. Squinting your eyes, you saw a familiar figure looking inside the fridge, ginger hair visible thanks to the blue lights explaining why. Trailing your gaze a little down you discerned what you assumed were splatters of blood, then looking around, you spotted the well-known bow resting on your small kitchen island, next to a green cap.

Retreating back to the wall, you pinched the bridge of your nose. Unbelievable. You had started panicking over none other than Roy Harper. Obviously that was him. He was the only one who would show up unannounced at three A.M like that. You felt a chill run up your spine as the last drop of adrenaline left your body.

Composure back on track, you left the refuge that you found against the wall and walked into your living room, switching the lights on. The intruder's head immediately snapped upward, possibly startled by the sudden lights.

“For heaven's sake Roy, close that damn door.” You were frustrated by the redhead, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.

Standing up, the vigilante executed your demand, an apologetic smile painted on his face. “Sorry..”

That when you settle your eyes on him, taking the time to really look at him in a better light. He was, indeed, covered in what you hope was dry blood, bruises starting to swelled on his bare arms, busted lips. He was harboring a defeated expression. He was tired. And knowing the man, you guessed he needed shelter. You couldn't possibly know what he had been through that night, against whom he had to fight, but that had obviously taken a toll on him. And even with the mask, you just knew he wasn't looking at you.

Letting out a small sigh, you made your way to Roy, getting around the kitchen island stopping in front of him. Slowly you took the soda out of his calloused hand, putting the can on the island, never letting go of his hand, pulling him with you to the bathroom. He didn't protest, didn't try to, letting you do as you pleased. His hand was cold in yours. You silently hoped you were able to give him some warmth.

Pushing the bathroom door open, switching the lights one, you indicated for Roy to get comfortable on the closed toilet seat. He did without saying anything, which at this point was pretty out of character for him. He was wrapped deeply in his own head, that did well to worry you. But that wasn't the time for this. So quickly, you gathered what you needed; disinfectant, elastic bandages, salt water, tweezer and cotton balls. As you kept looking for anything else, you eyed the bottle of painkiller, not sure if the vigilante was going to accept some. Even if his addiction issues were now far away and dealt with, you knew Roy was still refusing what he qualified as unnecessary drugs.

So you simply turned your head to him, taking care to keep the bottle of pills in the cabinet. “Do you need painkillers?” You asked softly, not holding any judgment or pity.

At your question, he shaked his head. Of course he wasn't going to take some. And thankfully, the state Roy was in wasn't the worst you saw him be. So physically speaking, you

weren't truly worried.

Nudging his legs, you settled in between, taking his mask away revealing the green eyes hidden underneath. And as you had thought earlier, he wasn't looking at you. “Hi there stranger.” You whispered softly, scared you would startle him away if you raised your voice just a notch too much.

Taking the man's chin with your unoccupied hand, you started to wipe the dried blood off his face You both stayed silent. You were focused on your task, not caring one bit about the emerald eyes finally settling on you, studying each parcel of your skin.

It felt like it was the first time Roy really took the time to look at you that night. You weren't supposed to see him like that. You weren't supposed to see him all weak and defeated. Why did he have to come here, really? He could have, should have gone to Jason's. You didn't need that. Landing his eyes on yours, the vigilante felt even more guilty seeing the fading dark circle below them. Of course he had to be clumsy, putting his bow down a little too harshly on your kitchen island. Why did he have to be like that?

“I'm sorry I woke you up.” The sudden sound almost startled you as you finished with his face. You didn't answer right away, slightly turning away, throwing your things in the trash.

Turning back toward him with the roll of elastic bandages in hand, you locked your gaze in his. “I know.” You were sincere, frustration and anger far gone. “You're lucky it's my day off today, but you could have texted though.” You added, trying to light up the room while you started delicately wrapping the swollen bruises on Roy's Arms.

Looking up from your task at hand, you saw the small shadow of a smile shaping the man's lips before he winced, the cut on his lips stinging. Done with the bruises, you took the last items you hadn't used yet, and started working on the busted lips. And after around twenty or so minutes, you were done fixing up the vigilante.

“Feeling better?” You asked, putting your stuff back inside the cabinet.

Turning back to him, hips leaning against the furniture, you watched as Roy stood up stretching his entire body, before sitting back. “I'll survive. Thanks.”

Another wave of silence settled above your heads. Neither of you had moved, waiting for the other to talk, to say anything. Knowing he wasn't going to, you indulged first, “Roy, what happened?” Your worries were back on track, showing in your voice even.

The vigilante wasn't looking at you anymore, eyes focused on the tiles of your bathroom floor. Of course he knew you weren't going to drop it, that wasn't in your nature to do so. You were stubborn. Always asking, harassing him to tell you what he had on his mind when he was feeling down. Now being no different. Strangely, this part of you reminded him of how Dinah was with Oliver sometimes. That was why he complied, raising his head back, locking eyes with yours, a resigning sigh crossing his lips. “Mission went south. A kid didn't make it.”

This time, you were the one looking anywhere but at him. You could have guessed it was going to be something along those lines. He had probably projected Lian into the kid he failed to protect and save. That was why he was here, he couldn't get home to his daughter. He was ashamed. Fearing anything could happen to his girl if he stayed too long.

“Did you call or text Jason? Or Oliver?” You inquired, not knowing how to comfort him. You weren't even sure he wanted to be comforted. Casting your eyes back on the redhead, you watched him negatively shaked his head. Nodding you continued your interrogation. “You wanna sleep here?”

“Yeah, that would be cool. If it's OK with you.” He wasn't trying to fight you anymore, he was too tired to do so. Deciding to take everything you were going to give him instead.

It was odd how he felt around you. Your apartment had grown into his refuge over time. He was safe here, away from his problems. It had crossed his mind that you were too good for him. Or just like with Lian, something terrible was going to happen to you solely because you were around him.

He had tried in the past to drive you away. Trying to explain why it wasn't good to be in his inner circle. But you never listened. Instead you told him how stupid he was for even considering you were going to leave because he'd asked you too. There was no getting rid of you, was the first thing you told him. Your apartment would always be open for him, was the second. The last thing you told him that day, before closing the door to his face, was that you would always, always, have a place for him in your life and heart.

So instead of walking away from your life, he had decided to take you words for it.

Maybe hit a reblog?

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Supersons +1 propmt fill Part3 Tr3s

The sprinklers activated in an instant and covered the centre in a deluge of water. Whatever scientists remained scrambled to recover what remained of their creations before the water could irrevocably damage them. In a hidden corner, one Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent made knowing glances to each other, a mutual agreement reached in seconds after decades of friendship. With the help of a crowbar, the men quickly pry open one of the exit doors, making way for panicked civilians to exit the premises, 'Brucie' giving comfort to those distressed by the recent events. It wasn't long before they had to make themselves scarce. They had their sons to rescue, there was no time!

As Bruce and Clark snuck out into the empty hallway, having been quickly evacuated by a Gothamite's natural self-preservation instinct and discipline from years of attacks. They nodded, and went their seperate ways. Clark to go change into his Superman outfit, and Bruce to calm the inevitable deluge of reporters before changing into his own costume.

Cameras flashed over the front entrance to the event, blinding the last few stragglers to leave, and Bruce, standing tall against the crashing sea.

"Mr Wayne! What can you tell us about the new villain that Joker has teamed up with?"

"Mr Wayne, how does Wayne Industries intent to secure future events from attacks on this scale?"

"Where is Damian Wayne? Sir how can Wayne Industries secure the future of Gotham if you cannot protect your own children?"

"Mr Wayne is it true that you allowed Jack Fenton to attend the event despite knowing he was a quack?"

And on and on and on. Bruce never intended to give these people what they wanted. He had children to save, and investigations to conduct. Before he could excuse himself, however, a roaring boom echoed down the street like summer thunder. Reporters screamed as they trampled over each other to escape the path of a silver behemoth charging down the road. Thick metal plates lined its exterior. A large satellite dish adorned its top, and jutting out from the sides were massive guns. The van sported too many OSHA violations to be anything less than a tank on four wheels than any civilian vehicle. Batman will have to crack down on whatever corrupt whitecollar criminals allowed this monstrosity on the roads.

The van charged right up to where Bruce was standing on the pavement, before coming to a terrifyingly rapid halt, so sudden that the entire vehicle jerked forward from its momentum. It would have been cartoonish if it hadn't stopped cleanly right in front of him. The front door slammed open, and a pair of black-gloved hands grabbed Bruce by the shoulder. In public surrounded by cameras, Bruce was helpless but to comply.

"BRUCIE WAYNE! I'VE BEEN LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU!"

Bruce scanned the interior of the van in an instant, clocking in the undignified Clark Kent clinging to his seat like a child to their parents leg, tie messed up and suit creased. His classes were crooked on his face. "He just scooped me up like I was paper mache, Bruce!" The man's voice was shaking.

"Strap in Brucie, because the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle cares for no trivial matters like traffic laws, or even physics laws!"

What kind of branding was this? "The Fenton Family wha-" Jack slammed the gas. The GAV rocketed into max gear in an instant. The force threw the poor man off his feet. Bruce went hurtling into the backside of the GAV and crashed with a bang. The G-forces kept him glued to the wall like a black-suited starfish, at least until Clark extended an arm to peel him off.

"I'm starting to think you might be right about him being a supervillain." Clark whispered.

Bruce grimly nodded.

"Alright so now that we're all together, here's the plan folks!" Jack said, tone all too cheerful for the chaos he was creating on the road. Innocent cars swerved out of the way of the advancing war machine. Pedestrians clung to lampposts and fences as gale force winds blasted them from its wake. "Let's start with the bad news: Our kids have been spirited away by suffering spooks! The good news: The Fenton Radar works!" Jack tapped on a screen on the van's console, showing two beeping dots on a radar map.

"BUILDING!" Clark yelled. They were rocketing right into a townhouse.

Jack yanked the wheel to the left. The GAV turned 90 degrees in about half a second, turning both passengers into ragdolls thrown across the side. On the outside, a subtle Superman-shaped dent was visible. "Thanks for that, Clarkie! Now I'm sure you guys aren't as experienced as me and my lovely wife Maddie are in hunting ghosts, but don't worry! I can give you a crash course."

"Please don't say crash course." Clark quivered.

"Could you maybe slow down?!" Bruce yelled over the roaring engines.

"No can do, Brucie! Any slower and the GHOSTS will leave the Fenton Radar's range, and then we'll never get our kids back!"

"I think I'm going to be sick." So Kryptonians can get nausea from high-speed vehicles, interesting. He'll have to update his file.

"The Joker and his associates entered your portal and set it to blow, how can we even get the kids back if they're on the other side!"

Jack turned around with a smile. "That's what the Fenton PortaPortal version 2 is for! Never leave home without a spare, my grandpa Fenton always said!"

"Dr Fenton, that bridge was destroyed in a gang fight!" Bruce shouted. Construction workers were already scattering, but a thick concrete barrier stood in their way.

"No need to worry, Fenton engineering can handle a little hole here or there!"

"The entire bridge was destroyed, we're going to fall off!"

"I love your sense of humour Brucie, but even if we did it wouldn't matter!"

"I really think it does, Dr Fenton!" Clark gripped the bottom of the nearby seat hard enuogh to dent.

"Nonsense, watch this!" Jack pushed the gas even further, as if that was even possible. The GAV reduced the concrete barrior to smithereens. "Go go Fenton Famliy Ghost Assault Vehicle: Aerial Mode!" The mad scientist's shouted in glee. He pulled another lever, activating a pair of wings from the sides.

Clark would deny screaming like a girl to the end of his days.

~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the Zone...

Danny shifted nervously in his position, atop the swarm of Lydia's bats, and flanked by the freaking Joker of all people on one side and Freaking Freakshow on the other. What did he do to deserve this?

If It was just the Joker and Freakshow, he would just happily transform and kick the snot out of these clowns, but sadly he's not alone.

Also tied up with rope both human and ghostly were one Damian Wayne and Jon Kent, the former of which looked none too pleased about the current situation. While Damian spat vitriol upon the Joker and his "D-list half-rate assisstant," with man himself largely ignoring his words to fawn over the chaos of the Realms, Danny contemplated his options. Good news: Freakshow hadn't blown his secret yet, which was cold comfort for the moment, seeing as if he had, he'd just be able to punch these suckers and be done with it, but nooo. Maybe he could overshadow the other boys and hypnotise them into forgetting? Was that a thing that can be done? Would've been convenient, and because of that, Danny suspected it's wishful thinking. If it worked, great, if it didn't work, well Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne have ties to the Justice League, who have ties to the government, who hire the GiW, so there's a non-zero percent chance such a stunt would end up with him on a dissection table.

Which means he's left playing the waiting game, spectating the Joker jumping up and down like a fangirl over all the green, and purple, and fighting, and death. First day in Gotham, guys.

"Psst." Jon whispered to him.

Danny said nothing, but leaned a little on Jon's side.

"Don't worry, we're gonna be ok, I'm sure the J-J-Justice League will be here. Just sit t-t-tight, ok?"

Wow, that was really touching that he was trying to comfort Danny, but the ghostly part of him didn't even need to feel Jon's shaking, or hear his stutter to know the kid was absolutely terrified. Now that he thought about it, it really should be him doing the comforting.

"Eh I wouldn't hedge my bets on it." Causing the other boy to squeak in fear. Curse you, snark instinct. Why can't you be heroic and reassuring instead.

"Neither would I, boy." Freakshow said, almost like he was rubbing in just how much danger his secret was in.

"You will unhand us, or you will know the meaning of pain in every sense of the world. This I tell you. I will feed you to my chickens. I will cut up your flesh and grind it into paste and then fertilise my vegetable garden with it. You will regret crossing me."

Jon let out the faintest whisper, something Danny would've never heard if he wasn't a ghost, and a master of quiet sounds. "Really selling the normal kid act here, Damian."

"On the contrary, lovely chlidren, I believe it is you who will soon become ghosts. NEYEHEHEYEHEH" Oh god here comes the gratuitous laughter. "I can't believe such a t~~tttttTANTALISING opportunity has been out there for me this whole time! AHAHAHAHAAH. And for you, my little children, to have come to this wonderful little science expo alongside your dear old daddies only to become part of the exhibit?" The Joker cracked into laughter, slapping his knees and collapsing in fitful giggles.

Each of the free boys gulped, each of them considering how to save the apparent civilian(s) among them without exposing themselves...

@impyssadobsessions

[thesharktanksdriver]

Being a Magical Girl in Gotham (Platonic)

Y/n is 15 in this and started being a magical girl at 10

I don’t read the comics so the timeline is likely fucked along with some characters maybe being out of character. I don’t care tho cause this took a long ass time to write and I had fun writing this. So please enjoy

Part 2 Part 3 part 4

3302 word count lol

Becoming a magical girl like in the cartoons you watched as a young girl initially seemed like a dream come true

A wish wrapped in a big pink sparkly bow that when unwrapped opened Pandora’s box to the amount of responsibilities that would be carried over to you

You were naive back then, but after years of being one your much mature now

That initially girly sense of joy soon fading away as the glitter and glam could no longer shield your eyes from the weight of something bigger than yourself was voluntarily placed on your shoulders

Doesn’t matter much in the end. there's no turning back time no matter how you longed to reset its hands

You hunt shadow-like creatures you had nicknamed shadowmites. Entities from a different realm that feed themselves off of traits like greed and anger before sucking out its targets life

You hunt shadow-like creatures you had nicknamed shadowmites. Entities from a different realm that feed themselves off of traits like greed and anger before sucking out its targets life

You hunt shadow-like creatures you had nicknamed shadowmites. Entities from a different realm that feed themselves off of traits like greed and anger before sucking out its targets life

You hunt shadow-like creatures you had nicknamed shadowmites. Entities from a different realm that feed themselves off of traits like greed and anger before sucking out its targets life

You hunt shadow-like creatures you had nicknamed shadowmites. Entities from a different realm that feed themselves off of traits like greed and anger before sucking out its targets life

You hunt shadow-like creatures you had nicknamed shadowmites. Entities from a different realm that feed themselves off of traits like greed and anger before sucking out its targets life

It’s no surprise that they ended up gravitating towards earth. Even more so Gotham, a breeding ground for the worst of the worst

Their mindless creatures. Just feeding and taking over entire universe’s to suck them dry until moving to the next

You used to feel sympathy for them, how horrific it would be to one of them. but now you feel nothing for them. 5 Years of watching them shrivel into nothing and hurt others made that go away though

Their screeches of pain becoming background noise along with their snarls of hunger.

You're now desensitised to it all. The loneliness and sadness at watching others you age enjoys their lives oblivious to everything.

Sometimes it makes you smile though. Knowing that because of your actions those same girls can live their lives, happy and full of joy.

At least you're not truly alone though. Your mentor/companion/eldritch-type being in the form of a ferret named Rigel.

They're an odd company. A being of seemingly endless knowledge and power, one that traversed through countless dimensions and universes, something that could end the world with a single thought…in the body of a adorable ferret that curls around your neck and perched on your shoulder

Rigel is stern but caring. A mentor who pushes you to your limits but knows when to stop and when you need a break despite how much you protest.

Someone/something that cares for you despite the fact that compared to them you're a single dim star in an entire cosmos of brighter shining ones.

As a Gothamite you know the streets well, and its people even better. Giving you the advantage at tracking down and stopping shadowmites as the midnight hour ticks onwards

You usually get rid of around 7-16 a night. Most being weaker varieties but occasionally having to toughen up to defeat the strong ones who had found a particular rageful host.

During the 5 years you had been doing this ever since your 10th birthday you surprisingly (and luckily) hadn’t had the chance to meet Batman face to face

Sure, they had been times you saw him off in the distance but you hadn’t fully talked to him by a stroke of chance

His enemy’s on the other hand, oh boy do you know them well

You had saved quite a few of them.

The goal was to eliminate the shadowmites, it didn't matter who you saved in the process…unless it’s Joker.

Even Rigel would allow you to let Joker be sucked dry like a cool-aid packet lol

Anyways

Because of you saving a ton of them you're on their good lists. A metaphorical safe card given to you as you spend your nights saving more people

After saving Penguin the older man allowed you free use to the iceberg despite your complaints of not wanting anything

You have your own little private table set up.

Mr.Cobblepot insists you don’t need to pay but you do so anyway

The food is much better than the McDonald’s you buy on a daily basis. It deserves the money you insist to spend on it

Most of His goons now know you. Sometimes joking you when off duty to talk while you eat

Most are pretty nice (to you anyways), often times rambling about their day or talking about their families

Some have kids your age. Some of them you even recognize from Gotham academy

The waitresses are also nice. Most of them very pretty and always fawning over how cute you look.

Penguin himself occasionally joins you in his spare time. Making causal talk, asking of your hunting and how your life has been

It’s….nice?. Kinda weird to be having a mob boss ask about your day but it’s a change of pace from your relatively lonely life

Kinda reminds you of some rich uncle who swoops by every now or then. Spoiling you before being whisked off on a new endeavor

He tells you that you're welcome during closing hours as well. This place serving as a safe haven of sorts if you should need it

Riddler is another though you see him less than Penguin

It’s the occasional blink and you see it kinda encounters but their amusing

The green clad man finds it fun to bitch about how the Gotham time’s riddles are too easy or how Batman is a dick

He (of course) also tells riddles. Seemingly getting a ride out of watching you try to figure them out

He also seems weirdly protective. Warning that if the bat gave you trouble then come to him

He’s not the only one to say that to you but you appreciate the sentiment

Seems oddly worried that if your in school and if your getting a good education

You tell him you are but don’t specify where just in case

He’s satisfied with that answer though. Even offers to help with math and or science homework

Gloats a lot and talks even more. Seems to appreciate that you actually listen to him and his ramblings

At one point he suggests making your colour scheme to match his

You politely decline saying you couldn’t pull it off like he did which makes his ego expand

Sometimes he hacks into security cameras or large screens to give you a riddle cause he’s bored

May or may not slip Rigel a 20 for you to have some spare change that you desperately need

Harley, Ivy and Catwoman fucking love you

You had initially only saved Harley but after that the two just joined in with her on basically becoming your honorary aunts

You end up running into them a lot during your long nights. Usually stopping by Ivy’s and Harley’s apartment for small breaks

They patch you up as best they can, ivy fixing you a cup of tea as Harley’s hyena’s curl up near your lap

Catwoman usually stops by during these breaks. Sometimes with a box of kittens whom she has you name

All of them are worried for you both mentally and physically so they make you a deal. On Saturdays after 12am unless super urgent you have a girls night with them, in return you have their help in patching up your wounds

They prep popcorn, drinks and the whole 9 yards to give you a break. They play a movie (usually a chick flick) and just let you rewind

If they hadn’t made this deal you probably wouldn’t have taken any breaks

Their all silently impressed that you’ve not only survived this long but also somehow ended up befriending half the villains in this damn city

You say that their just acquaintances but Ivy argues that Mr.Cobblepot is a cheapskate who wouldn’t give you a basically lifetime pass to his lounge for nothing

Harley warns you to stay away from Joker no matter what. And that if he even walks 10 metres near you he’s getting a lifetime trip to deadsville

Red Hood is the first of the bats that you run into. During his whole escapade to take over the underworld something that was kinda considered a myth to the rest of Gotham but was confirmed by the many people you saved

The meeting was ok…but then derailed when you noticed the black clawed tendrils clinging into his shoulders

His shadowmite that feed off his rage was fucking hard to beat. It took a lot out of you, almost killed you and left you hobbling to Harley’s for help before passing out

You woke up in a warehouse, patched up by him personally before he began to question you

Like usual you gave him the rundown of things. The entities that feed off negative emotions, eventually drained their life force, your the only one who can stop them with your magical powers etc etc

What catches you off guard though is when he asks if your parents know

The silence answers his question. One that feels deafening to his ears as he realizes that your basically alone in this

Pitted against a cruel world with no one but yourself and the kindness of literal criminals to accomplish an impossible task

It seems to shake something in him, something that’s not your business to ask about but makes him seem fragile in that moment

It’s not a word you’d associate with him yet that’s the only thing you can describe him as in the moment

The dim blue glow of his helmet’s eyes seeming now less intimidating to your smaller shaking form

He then asks how you got away with this so long without the bat (he says it with a certain poison in his voice) didn’t stop this

You just answer that you were just lucky in evading his notice. You were careful not to gain public attention and just focused on your job (his fists tightened a bit at this wording)

He helps you after this, dropping you off at Harley and Ivy’s

He seems hesitant in letting you go but trusts your decision enough once he sees the two fuss over you from a distance

He appears commonly to you after that. Inviting you to sit atop the old Gotham library with a bag of Dairy Queen in hand

It makes you wonder if he has younger siblings, if this is how it felt to be cared for by a older brother

You used to wonder what that felt like along with having parents. It makes your normally hollow chest feel warm and fuzzy

Couple months later he ends up working with batman. Whatever disagreement with the man now resolved as his uniform now has a red bat added to his chest

Your initially nervous until he promises not to “rat you out to the old man” as he put it

He opens up a bit more during your talks with him. Talking of how he grew up in the slums, had to rely on himself to survive just as you do

It’s kinda comical to see the gun wielding, motorcycle driving, leather jacket clad vigilante talk about Jane Austen but it certainly becomes a fun pastime as you work on an english essay

Just like the Gotham Sirens he worries. But even more than they do

He suggests tagging along with you on some of your hunts but you decline. Appreciating the sentiment but making a clear line in what you are comfortable with.

He accepts but there’s still a sense of worry that seems to claw at him everytime he finds you with cuts, bruises and dried blood caking your elaborate uniform

Eventually during your meetups with him your talk of pride and prejudice is interrupted by Nightwing

It’s kinda awkward sitting there eating ice cream with Rigel as the two grown men bicker like brothers about you

You end up leaving midway though to hunt again

But then the blue wearing hero ends up finding you much to your displeasure of just wanting to get back to work

He’s much more cheery and charismatic compared to Red hood. More of a people person by how he easily seems to break down your hesitation to talk to him

Like hood he’s definitely worried for you but seems to hide it a bit better with humour and general polite talk

You notice he does acrobatics a lot, leading to you asking him him about it

He kinda ends up being your teacher and you now know how to cartwheel and a few other tricks

Like hood he promises not to tell Batman he even jokes that at this point he should get red Robin and Robin so Batman is the last to know

He talks about a variety of subjects but kinda focuses in on how you have a healthy way to relive the stress you have

Doesn’t exactly approve of you stopping by the Gotham sirens for that but he relents after red hood calls him out on also being friends with villains before (an apparently more than friends in some cases?)

Both he and Red hood argue quite a bit but it’s funny especially when it has both grown men throwing fries at one another like 10 year olds

He has you swear not to drink coffee cause apparently red Robin is addicted to that shit and he doesn’t need another coffee adict

Briefly mentions how he has a friend named Raven whom you should meet

Y’all have mock battles cause he wants to see you in battle. Safe to say he likes the sparkles and the glamour of it all

He finds it interesting that your magical girl weapon can change depending on the situation and still looks cute

Those once cold and lonely nights that you spent fighting evil shadow creatures has changed seemingly for the better

Despite the fact that frost nips at your fingertips through your gloves, attempting to suck the warmth from your flesh you feel oddly warm inside

During the day your a seemingly normal 15 year old student at Gotham academy. Someone who blends into the Background, someone who no one really knows about but doesn’t question why

The only really noticeable thing about you is your above average grades and quiet nature

You're just known as that one seemingly nice student. That’s really the only thing people can label you as, you don’t really mind.

It was your goal to be unnoticeable, to just be another face to everyone.

It kinda becomes a bit complicated though as through your normal school year you notice the infamous Damien Wayne seemingly gaining an interest in you?

Odd. You never really interacted with him other than polite hello’s and the occasional moment you’d sit near somewhat near him in the library for lunch

Hell he wasn’t even in the same grade as you. He was 13, you never even had a project or something that led you to actually talk to him.

And now for some reason he decided to have a curiosity in you. The one thing you didn’t want happening.

During lunch you end up eating in random places. Randomly Rotating between areas and locations like the courtyard, library, empty classrooms and the gym

He’s smart though, scarily so. Almost as if he was experienced in tracking people down. Leaving you light on your toes as you dance to weave past and try to outsmart and outlast him until the bell rings

It doesn’t get any better when you leave for the end of the though. He waits for a few minutes by the front of the school, limo ready to take him home yet he still tries to spot you as you leave.

Eventually you up and ask him why he's been stalking you for the past 2 weeks, turns out Damien saw Rigel and wanted to pet them plus his older brothers encouraged him to make a friend

Safe to say he got to pet Rigel who crawled out your bag and scurried up his arm

The friend bit is a bit more complicated

You never had a friend your age after gaining your abilities. Being so busy had deterred people at the orphanage before you ran off, faked some paperwork and found yourself an apartment who didn’t ask questions as long as you paid for rent.

You had purposefully made yourself invisible to everyone, to avoid becoming gaining attention and becoming attached knowing they’d leave you for being so busy

You know you should say no but…your heart tugs at the somewhat nervous look he has in his eyes despite how much he tries to hide it along with the feeling of joy clawing at your heart

For the first time at school you smile genuinely as you nod. His eyes light up with joy, a small somewhat prideful smile painting his face

Your days at school after this are much more eventful, less of a cycle like it was before

Due to your new friendship with the elusive and loner wayne it causes some stir but the young boy quickly silences all hushed talking with his infamous glare

He’s actually quite fun to be around, always talking about his pets or how his step-brothers were a pain in the ass

He still sometimes has an attitude but you got to eventually see past that. To see the real Damien who nerded out over random animal facts or had his dog as his screensaver

It took a long time to get to this point but you don’t find yourself regretting the decision because of the fact he’s understanding of you being busy or having a far off look in your eyes that looked eternally tired.

His are the same sometimes, drained and empty of colour and life

You asked him one day while you both ate lunch in the courtyard, laying down on the dark green grass, why he decided out of all people to befriend you. The wallflower, the name without a face, the kid whom everyone just knew as nice and that’s it

He said it's because of your eyes. How they reminded him of himself, not in personality per say but in the fact they held untold secrets and a weight that no one else but you would understand.

That day he invited you to his home. The glorious wayne manor as to finally meet his canine friend Titus

It feels kinda out of nowhere but with some hesitance you agree, hopping into the limo that picked him up everyday as a old butler greeted you with a surprised smile

Damien greets him with the same fondness he seemed to hold for you, introducing the older british man as Alfred

[loraliewritesthings]

Concept: inspired by @bluerosefox and they're work about danny demanding the jokers soul. I wanted to write the joker and Danny's interactions too.

Danny groaned as the next set of paperwork was slipped onto his desk.

Joker would soon croak.

He would slip on his own banana peel and fall down the stairs.

Gothem would celebrate that night with alcohol and music. The ghost zone would brace itself for the trial...

Honestly it was bound to happen. It wasn't that danny was surprised. But it would be a long drawn out case. When a human dies they become more of what they are after all.

It's like their souls are condensed to make up their ghostly form. As if their passions were their hearts.

For some that was amazing. Fiery passion can be useful in all sorts of situations, but for joker this would be a nightmare come true.

The ghost looked at him his eyes worried, almost teary.

"Should I alarm the Gothamites of the infinite realms."

Danny thought for a minute, let out a low hum, and thought some more.

He knew what he could do in theory.

If he was to judge the jokers soul in the room that he dies in, the ghost zone would be free from his wrath.

But if the joker defeated him in combat he shuddered at what that monster would do with all the power in the afterlife.

He didn't really think joker could take him down, but knowing others thought the same for him and his predecessor....

So Danny was left with one option.

"Call my knights," he commanded

The fright knight was captain. Head of the army and keeper of the soul shredder.

Danny only needed to borrow it, but when he explained the predicament the ghost dropped to his knees, the metal clang sound echoed through the office. The fright knight began to speak,

"You wish to spare me from looking into the eyes of evil, and I thank you my liege. But I can not and shall not send you alone to your second death."

Danny told him to rise to get off the dirty floor, but he continued.

"As captain of the guards my liege is only under my obligation to the knights under me."

Danny remembered the conversation that made that a possibility. That changed the priority of obligation completely and totally, hopefully for once and for all.

Danny hid a small smile and told him to get of the floor again

............

It didn't take long to find joker amoung the living. He was surrounded by weeping souls unable to move on.

Danny clutched his scale. A gift from clockwork, to a "good and fair king to continue to strive to be better."

Clockwork had, in the end taken up the role of advisor. As such he stood by Danny's right side, his captain to the left.

When they entered the room he was already dead.

The soul of the man was laughing hysterically.

He got louder when he spotted them.

Danny sighed and despite the noise tried to read him his rights.

He argued with each and every one in nonsensical logic.

The third time Danny slapped him across his ghostly face, leaving frostbite and cold crystals on his white cheek.

"I am not batman, I am death. I will not play as he does, I am the ghost king, death himself."

After the rights were read Danny peared into his soul, sticky and tar like, it made him feel ill. He put on the extra gauntlet brought and separated the dead from his deeds.

It felt like lifting a semi, and weighed him down about a foot.

The joker cackled with pride. Danny wondered if he didn't understand the gravity of the situation, or if he didn't care.

Then with the other hand he did the same to himself.

Both sets of deeds were set on the scale at the same time. Danny barely caught the peice of his own ghostly form.

The scale broke the table on its way down, jokers sludgelike, corrupted deeds stuck to it. The scale hadn't twitched once to the other side.

The knights went to pick up the piece of soul and put it back. It took three of them.

Danny put his deeds back were they belonged.

When everything was dead and done, joker was declared guilty and chained down, something he escaped out the window and around the block to avoid.

Danny took out the soul shredder.

It wasn't the fright knights job to play executioner.

Then the joker was blindfolded, he made this difficult via attempted biting, but once it was done, it was done.

Danny didn't ask for a last word.

He took the sword and swung as he had been taught. And as the jokers very soul was torn, the bells rang in Gotham for the first time in Years.

He didn't miss.

[your-local-gothamite]

dudee did i tell you i saw signal run into a billboard this morning 😭

ALSO HURRY (no particular reason i just feel like rushing you)

Signal, seeing me sprinting across the street like the devil's chasing me, screeching the lyrics of 'my bag' by (G)-Idle: "...What the fuck is wrong with this city"

@your-local-gothamite I'M COMING

[dooralight]

staring at the shattered reflection

Stephanie held back a chuckle as Damian and Bruce continued their, quite frankly, idiotic argument.

“I said no, damian. My word is final.” Bruce stated with his ‘no nonsense’ tone. ‘Honestly’, Stephanie thought, ‘he ought to know by now that this tone will always lead to nonsense.’

“I must wear a tuxedo to the gala to let the gothamites know I am my father’s true daughter!’’ yep, more nonsense.

Bruce sighed. “Damian, I am flattered that you want to dress like me to the gala, but trust me, there are other- more reasonable ways to prove to Gotham that you’re my daughter.”

“Yeah, like the birth certificate your old man published.” Stephanie chimed in. Damian's head snapped to her direction, her expression laced with absolute betrayal, her mouth opening to to make another point. Bruce quickly stopped her. “Damian, when you grow older,  you’ll get to wear whatever you choose. But right now I need you to trust me when I say that if the press will see an eleven year old wearing something that is considered to be grown man’s wear, they will not let you live it down. I will not have you harassed by the press if I can prevent it. Understood?” 

Ooh, he used the Batman voice this time. Stephanie watched Damian as the young girl’s composure slowly broke down and her face lost its scowl to welcome a new, sad expression. wise choice.

“Good. Stephanie here kindly agreed to take you to dress shopping. I trust you'll have a lot of fun.” at that new piece of information, Damian sulked further. bruce looked like he wanted to say something, but after a moment, he sighed and turned to speak to stephanie. "here's my credit card," he handed her a golden plastic card, "buy yourself something nice to wear to the gala, too." 

stephanie couldn't help but get defensive. "I have a job, bruce. i don't need your money."

bruce rubbed his forhead at the familliar arguement as he led the girls out the room. 

"where do you all get your stubborness from?" she heard him mutter under his breath. if alfred was in the room, he'd probably raise a pointed eyebrow at the man.

“Let's get this over with as soon as possible, brown.” damian commanded as she left the room, fists clenched at her side and the knife in her bag clattering softly everytime she bounced.

‘...this is going to be fun.’

--------------------------------------------------------------

Despite her asking for the shopping trip to be fast, Damian sure took her time choosing a dress.

“How ‘bout this one, dames?’’ Stephanie held up a red dress with fake, pink roses sewn on the bottom of it. The younger took one glance at the dress before rejecting it with a single shake of her head. 

“Oh, c’mon damian! This is the fifth store we’ve been to! You have to like something!” Damian crossed her hands. “It’s not my fault all of the dresses here are ugly.” Stephanie was about to respond, probably something about Damian being a spoiled brat, before her eyes caught on something; Damian had her hand folded tightly inside her bag- probably around the knife hidden there. 

she must've caught on a potential threat.

Stephanie's instincs kicked in; she immediately took Damian's arm and threw her into a changing room (which gained her an outraged shriek from the younger)  before closing the veil behind her and searched around the room for a possible threat Damian might have caught on before her. After a good minute of finding none, stephanie felt a hand pulling her into the changing room.

 “What are you doing?” Damian asked, baffled. She didn’t look alarmed, or exited for a good fight; just… stiff. Stephanie responded, just as confused, “what are you doing? Why are you holding a knife in the middle of a clothing shop? Didn’t you see something suspicious?’’ Damian stared at her for a split second before recovering. “I- Yes, yes indeed. The cashier seemed-” 

“Damian.” A split second is like an hour when you learn body language from the Cassandra cain. 

“Brown.” Damian challenged, the bat’s glare clear on her features. 

Stephanie considered glaring back, before realizing she was picking a fight with a ten years old in a clothing shop. The older made sure to soften her tone before tucking a stray dark curl behind her pseudo sister’s ear and asking the question she’s been dying to ask all day:

“Why don’t you want to wear a dress?”

Damian puffed her chest defensively. “My father is going to wear a tuxedo.”

Stephanie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “So?” she asked. “Tt, so I need to dress like him!”

That gave Stephanie nothing to work with. “why, though? You think people will underestimate you if you dress… girly?”

Damian looked upfronted at the idea. “Underestimate? Me?! My mother wears dresses all the time and she still defeats all of her enemies. I will cut the tongue of whoever dares suggest I can't easily do the same.”

Stephanie sighed and began opening the veil of the changing room. “Y’know what? I did what I could. It’s B’s problem now. I just don-” Stephanie froze, letting the newfound information Damian provided her sink in. 

“Tt, let’s just leave this cursed sh-” Damian jumped back when Stephanie twirled around,grabbing the younger’s wrist as she crouched to meet her eyes. “Gotcha!” she said in a not-quite hushed tone.

Damian asked. “If that’s what you call a whisper, brown, then maybe you are unfit to the vigilante life after all.” 

Stephanie ignored the jab at her skills like she did for the last four hours. “Is that why you hate dresses? They remind you of your mom?” 

Damian bristled. “I don’t hate dresses!” then, in a softer tone, “and i do not hate my mother.”

Stephanie shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. “Okay… but, im going the right direction, aren’t i?”

Damian looked down. ”I suppose your detective skills aren't as bad as your-”

“Damian.”

The little one sighed in a rather childish way. “I…i just… everyone keeps telling me i look like her. Act like her. Even roll my eyes like she does. And I know I should be taking it as a compliment. I know it; my mother is a beautiful, graceful woman with perfect mannerism.”

Damian added the next part in a nearly mute voice, and Stephanie had to read her lips to make out what she was saying.

“I don't want to be like her, stephanie. I want to be- I want to be good. Like my father. I want people to look at me and see a kind, empathic person. Not… not mother.”

Stephanie’s heart broke for her pseudo sister. Now all the times Stephanie remembered seeing Damian in front of the mirror, trying to narrow her eyes to hide the green in them made sense to her.  Damian trying to mimic Bruce's real, rare smile only for it to look strained and shaky made her heart clench painfully for the younger. 

“Damian. You are a beautiful girl. from the outside, sure; you’ve inherited the best features of both your talia and bruce- you’ll grow to be a real supermodel.”

As Stephanie talked, her fingers traced Damian's puffy curls, to her eyebrows, to her thick lashes, that fluttered when the blond’s index fingers brushed them. Stephanie lowered her fingers to pat her chubby cheeks. Damian’s eyes didn’t re-open.

“But you’re beautiful from the inside, too. And I'm not talking about Bruce's beauty, nor Talia's. I’m talking about your own beauty.”

Damian’s eyes stayed shut as her eyebrows dug into her face. “I’m not beautiful from the inside. I'm -bad.”

“No.”  Stephanie stated firmly. “Bad people don’t risk their life every night to protect the innocent. Bad people don’t save animals from abusive owners or from starving on the street just because they know no one else will stand up for them. Bad people don’t regret bad things they’ve done in the past and spend everyday in their life trying to make up for that. You are not a bad person, damian wayne.”

If Damian's eyes were open, Stephanie was sure that they’d be rolled at her for that claim. Dick and her have been saying that to her for two years, and she wasn’t anywhere close to believing it.

 But Stephanie was persistent; she’s never had anyone who’d comfort her when she felt trapped by heavy, demanding emotions, silently  begging to be held, loved, cared for. When she saw the tired but angry, adult-like look in Damian's young features, she promised she would not let this little girl end up like her, a girl who was so desperate for recognition that it got her killed. 

(but she did; she would never forget how it felt, hearing about Damian's death, by the hands of her own mother, the woman who was supposed to love her. Hearing about another girl who got killed trying to prove she is something. )

“Damian.” never again, she swore. “You and I are going to find the clothes you would feel the most comfortable with. Screw bruce.”

Damian’s eyes finally opened. “While it's appreciated, brown, going against father’s direct orders for such an unimportant reason would be wasteful. I’d much rather satisfy him now so I could get off defying his underestimating orders on the field. “

Stephanie, despite herself, felt pride blooming in her chest. “you brat.” She ruffled Damian's curls as they exited the dressing room, or at least attempted to before Damian swiftly slapped her hand away. “Maybe you should just find a different angle to look at the situation, dami.”

“What do you mean ,brown?”

“Well, Talia is not the only woman in the world who wears dresses, right? You just need to find someone you consider good, and think about dressing like them- then you’ll feel better about the whole dress thing. Maybe cass? Or your friend, maya? Does she wear dresses?”

Damian seemed to think about it. Then, in flushed cheeks and a scowl, she took a stride to a row of hanged dresses and took out a dress.

A bright, decorated, purple dress. 

Stephanie felt a grin splitting her face as her view became blurry. 

“You brat!”

-------------------------------------------------------

“They’re late.” 

Dick sipped on his champagne, watching with Tim as Bruce sent Stephanie another text before politely joining a bunch of men in a conversation about the last big sale another centerpiece made. 

“I bet you 50 bucks she’s late on purpose,” Tim offered, fingers drumming on his lap subconsciously. 

Dick snorted. “I’m not dumb enough to bet against that, timbo.” he slid off his chair and took out his phone, already ready on camera mode. 

“Hey, what’re you-”

“What I am willing to bet, though, is that they’re going to make one hell of an entrance.”

Like practiced, as the band started playing a jazz version of “devil woman”, stephanie and damian emerged from behind the large, wooden door, sporting the same hairstyle, matching sunglasses that looked cartoonishly large on damian’s face, and similar dresses.

Purple dresses.

Dick caught Stephanie's peace sign on camera before focusing it on Bruce, who locked eyes with Stephanie before shaking his head and face-palming with a tiny, barely noticeable smile. 

“We should totally do that too sometime.” dick told his brother as he pocketed his phone.

“...sure.” Tim muttered, his eyes locked on the blond, admiring her from afar, unaware of how creepy he looked. Dick smirked before walking up to the two girls, high-fiving steph. Now that he got closer, he could see that Stephanie's dress looked much cheaper than Damian's fancy one. Dick couldn’t help but admire Stephanie's independence and refusal to use Bruce's unending resources, choosing to fend for herself, much like he did all these years ago.

“You two look great.” he smiled. Stephanie rolled her eyes, smiling to herself, and winked at damian. “I’m not the one who chose the dresses.” 

Damian puffed proudly. “I suppose we do look great.” she admitted, slightly twirling before realizing what she was doing and stopped.

Neither of them commented on the action, though dick felt like trying his luck:

“Whatcha say, dami? Next time you’ll match with me? You’ll rock a blue dress.”

Damian tsked. “Are you planning to ‘rock’ a blue dress with me?” 

Dick slumped. Stephanie laughed.

[disillusioneddanny]

Spread the Love Fic Recs <3

There's been a bunch of negativity lately and I think that means we as a fandom need to spread some love around. If you get tagged please add some fics that you think deserve more love, only request is that they aren't insanely popular fics (think like fics with less than 50k hits) this way we can get some other fics out there for others to read and enjoy!!

1.) Premeditation by Chromatographic (Lia)

The problem is that so few people are even able to see what the problem really is. The problem is that things that manage to find the balance on the knife’s edge of life are so, so hard to kill. The problem, Jasmine Fenton realizes, two weeks after she moves into Gotham, is one that almost no one, in any dimension or realm, is able to solve. The problem is simply put, though, even if it’s almost impossible. The problem is this: The Joker is a Halfa.

this fic has the hardcover ship (Jazz/Jason) and everlasting trio (danny/sam/tucker) it's beautifully written and keeps you on the edge of your seat as you watch the story progress. Absolutely amazing. The writing is just amazing, Chroma sucks you in with beautiful storyline that just blows my mind. And the ending is just absolutely perfect!

2.) Halves by TourettesDog

Jason wasn't sure why Dick thought it was a good idea to drag him along with Tim to Amity Park. His brother seemed to think the strange case would offer a decent opportunity to bond-- without Gotham (and Bruce) close at hand, perhaps it wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had. Unfortunately, Amity Park is far stranger than Dick anticipated, and Jason hasn't quite been himself since they arrived. Going to FentonWorks for answers was their first big mistake.

honestly one of my favorite fics atm, I just love Gothamites going to Amity Park, i'm just such a sucker for the idea and we just don't see it enough so this fic is just my dream come true!

3.) Pitch-Dark Shades by SummersSixEcho

Danny Fenton is trying to build a new life in Gotham after closing up the connections to the Ghost Zone. Not that all connections are entirely broken, still being able to perceive shades and give them strength when he connects to one of their prized objects. Tim Drake is trying to find his own place in the world, focusing on becoming a better detective by solving cold cases in his spare time. When Tim and Danny meet, a new (begrudging) partnership starts to bloom to solve even the hardest of cases. Or it would if only they told each other the truth.

I truly just love Danny and Tim together in literally any kind of capacity. They just cause so much chaos together and it's amazing. This fic is just absolutely lovely and the prose is amazing. Summers fics are truly enrapturing and just pull you in so easily.

4.) Beneath A Different Light by AKelaNakamura, SummersSixEcho, TourettesDog

When a convergent event hits unexpectedly, Damian and Danny find themselves in the last place they’d expected: In the body of the twin they’d thought long dead. With the after effects still coursing through them and danger lurking in both cities, the brothers must figure out who they can trust—all while slowly learning about the life their twin has led without them. Or, none of these bastards can catch a break.

Demon twins. Just--just Demon Twins my beloved. This fic is two chapters in and i'm just so utterly in love with it. Summers, Akela, and Dog are just a match made in heaven when it comes to cowriting a fic. The fic just yanks you in so easily and you find yourself thinking about it even after reading the fic. Just a wonderful fic!

5.) Come Little Children by Die_Erlkonigin6083

American Chestnuts were once one of the most important trees along the East Coast. The blight destroyed most of them, but not all of them. There was one chestnut tree, one that entranced a child, and then, what it wrought, enchanted an entire city or two

YALL when i tell you that the storytelling in this is absolutely breathtaking I'm serious. This fic has brought a tear to my eye because of just how beautifully it's written. It's got cool fantasy aspects to it, it's based off of an old fairy tale, it's just so amazing and it's one of my favorite fics to reread if i'm having a bad day. Just truly a lovely fic.

Now, I would like to see @halfagone @spite-sapphic-starlight @noir-renard and @midnightenigma recommend some of their favorite fics if they're willing <3333 let's spread some more love in this fandom!

also even if you aren't tagged--please feel free to recommend any fics you enjoy!!