#and making sure it's really him

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[azulhood]

DPxDC crossover but, instead of Danny being his ghostly-horror self, the justice league believe that he's just some guy.

Danny: *glowing eyes, sharp teeth, aura of eldritch being*

Villain: You're seeing this right?

Justice league: *turns around to find all the ghostly stuff gone* oh that's Danny *waves* hi Danny!

Villain: ...are you being serious right now?

It's not even that he's doing it on purpose, it's just anytime he does ghost things none of the heros are looking, and when they do have him in their sights he's just a normal person.

It probably wouldn't work for batman and his thousand cameras, but let's just say that it never got his attention cause no one in the league thought to mention it and the one time he did check it was just regular dude hours.

To the Justice league Danny is the humanist human to ever human.

Which is why they are so confused as to why this small branch of the government (mad scientist parents optional) is so sure he isn't.

[phaoi]

may i introduce..

THE phRATS

[nunkisketches]

I'll stay right besides you

[andrew-dramaqueen-minyard]

one of the standout things from tsc and tgr that I’m still thinking about is just everyone highlighting just how Unsettling Neil Josten actually is… Jeremy being unnerved by Neil’s smile, Jean noting the ice in Neil’s stare… incredible, amazing, give me more

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Phone guy was wild for saying that to Michael..

[superbat-lmao]

Jason travels to an alternate universe where Bruce only cares about being Batman. He took in each of his kids to serve the mission, not be his children.

Now, faced with alternate versions of his family, Jason has to grapple with the fact that his Bruce does care, that he is his father. Because the man in front of him now, trying to send him home, isn’t even close.

[suja-janee]

I’ve been losing my mind over these guys recently

[flwrkid14]

Letters in Green Ink: Phantom's Footsteps on Gotham's Rooftops

Tim Drake was no stranger to paranoia. It was practically a job requirement in Gotham. But this? This was getting weird.

It started small: the feeling of being watched on rooftops, a shadow a little too close. Harmless, at first. But then the sticky notes began.

Random, anonymous sticky notes. Clues he’d missed. Addresses for gang hideouts. Details on corrupt businessmen.

He found one on his motorcycle seat. Another on the Batcomputer. A bright green note scrawled with:

“Check the docks. Midnight.”

Tim had learned to trust his gut, and his gut was screaming: This is not normal.

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

Meanwhile, in another corner of Gotham:

Danny Fenton was hovering invisibly above a warehouse, nervously biting his lip. He was shaking. Not because he was scared of Gotham’s criminals. Nope. The real danger? Red Robin’s eyes.

Danny: internal screaming 'Why did I think this was a good idea?'

Also Danny: hovering invisibly above Tim, whispering to himself: “Okay, Danny. You’re helping. You’re useful. He doesn’t need to know you’re a stalker. A cool stalker. Like a… guardian angel! Yes. Totally fine. Not creepy at all.”

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

Tim, mid-stakeout, could feel the eyes. Again. He spun around, batarang ready. Nothing. Just empty shadows. The wind.

He scowled. “Alright, whoever you are. You’re getting annoying.”

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

Danny floated a few rooftops away, clutching his chest. “Oh my god, he spoke. And he’s mad. Why is that hot?”

He watched as Red Robin took down three thugs single-handedly. His fighting was brutal, efficient. Danny, invisible and swooning, whispered: “He’s so cool.”

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

The next night: a bust gone sideways. Tim found himself cornered by more goons than expected, already calculating the least-bad injury. Then, out of nowhere, a ghostly chill swept through the alley.

Blowtorch thug? Frozen solid.

Gunman? Knocked out cold.

And there, floating in the moonlight, glowing white hair and intense green eyes: Phantom.

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “You. You’re the one who’s been—”

Phantom blinked, stammered, “Uh, gotta go!” and vanished like a startled deer.

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

Back in his lair (aka an abandoned Gotham clocktower because aesthetic™️), Danny spiraled. “He saw me. He saw me! Oh god, why did I freeze that guy? Cool guys don’t freeze goons.”

Jazz’s voice in his head: “Danny, you have to stop.”

Danny: “I CAN’T, JAZZ. HE’S TOO PRETTY.”

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

Tim was in full detective mode. Batman-level scowling. “Phantom. Ghost powers. Clearly interested in my cases. Why?”

He scanned the city. Ran searches. No results.

But the sticky notes kept coming.

“Check the East End warehouse. 10pm.”

“Watch out for the armored guy. He has backup.”

Tim didn’t know what was more frustrating: the lack of information, or the fact that Phantom was always right.

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

Finally, one night, Tim cornered him. Literally. Phantom turned a corner and smacked into Red Robin. Hard.

Tim crossed his arms. “Alright. Talk.”

Danny, blushing so hard his glow flickered. “Uh… hi.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Why are you following me?”

Danny, brain short-circuiting: “I LIKE YOUR… uh, CAPE.”

Tim blinked. “My cape.”

Danny nodded furiously. “It’s… cool. Flowy.”

Tim stared. Silence stretched. Then: “You’re helping me.”

Danny swallowed. “Um. Yeah?”

Tim’s voice softened. “Why?”

Danny, panicking, blurted: “Because I like you!”

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

Silence.

Tim’s brain: Error 404.

Danny: contemplating phasing into the floor.

Finally, Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You… are the most chaotic stalker I’ve ever had.”

Danny, grinning nervously: “So, um. Friends?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “We’ll start with coworkers.”

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

Danny, flying away, fist-pumping in the air: “He didn’t say no!”

Tim, watching him go, muttering: “I need coffee. And maybe an exorcist.”

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Yue Qingyuan has hanahaki. He accepts he’s going to die. He keeps quiet about it and quietly arranges for the sect to be taken care of when he’s gone. The sickness is getting worse and worse though and one day someone catches him coughing up flowers. The rumors spread. Soon everyone in the sect knows the sect leader is dying of the flower sickness. He loves someone so much it’s killing him.

Shen Jiu shows up furious and demands to know who Yue Qingyuan loves. Who did Yue Qi deem worthy of his affection. He mocks Yue Qingyuan when the man doesn’t answer and cruelty says that whoever it is obviously wise to not want to live such a moron. Yue Qingyuan begins to have another coughing fit and Shen Qingqiu jerks back upset, before storming away.

Yue Qingyuan’s condition steadily worsens and Shen Jiu is tearing the sect apart looking for whoever it is that rejected Yue Qingyuan. The other peak lords keep trying to convince Yue Qingyuan to have the flowers removed but he just shakes his head and says it’s fine before coughing some more. When Shen Jiu hears of this, he flies into a rage and corners him in his bedroom so he can shake sense into Yue Qingyuan, demanding once more to know who it is. They both know Yue Qingyuan’s time is almost up. He’s dying. He won’t live much longer.

“You’re going to die,” Shen Jiu snarls at the other man, eyes burning with unshed tears.

Yue Qingyuan smiles softly as a shaking cough tears through him once more. He shrugs. “I know.”

“No.” Shen Qingqiu is shaking with fury. “NO.” He slaps Yue Qingyuan hard. Yue Qingyuan's head snaps to the side, face plastered in wide eyed shock. Shen Jiu shoves him against the wall glowering at the stunned man before him. Yue Qingyuan gingerly touches his reddened cheek and stares up at Shen Jiu, his eyes bright with glossy tears. Shen Jiu snarls down at the moron's guileless expression and grabs the front of Yue Qingyuan’s robes, yanking him in close as he looms over him threateningly. “You don’t get to leave me,” he seaths. “WHO IS IT?”

“Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qingyuan breathes with a wheezing cough, chest heaving as he continues to stare up at him in a morbid, twisted awe.

“WHO!” Shen Jiu shakes Yue Qingyuan again, his knuckles going white. There’s a rattling sound coming from Yue Qingyuan’s chest and it’s infuriating. “Tell me who,” he demands, shoving his face in close to Yue Qingyuan’s.

“You. Are. Mine.” Shen Jiu snaps. “You don’t get to leave me again.” He drags Yue Qingyuan into himself and crowds him hard against the floor, pressing a bruising kiss hungrily against the other's mouth. Yue Qingyuan lets out a strangled groan and goes pliant under him.

Shen Jiu growls against Yue Qingyuan’s lips, “Mine. They can’t have you.” Yue Qingyuan hums lowly in agreement and presses into the kiss with a moan. He shudders under Shen Jiu and tugs at Shen Jiu’s robes, trying to pull him closer.

Shen Jiu pulls back and grabs Yue Qingyuan’s jaw forcefully, jerking his gaze to meet his own. “You will forget about them. You belong to me.”

“It’s as Xiao Jiu says,” Yue Qingyuan murmurs, dazedly, a slight smile tugging at lips.

Shen Jiu’s grip on his jaw tightens and he scowls down at the serene face. “You will forget about them,” he promises threateningly. “You are having those roots removed.”

Yue Qingyuan blinks up at him in infuriating befuddlement. Shen Jiu glowers and leans in close again, “They. Will. Be. Removed.”

Yue Qingyuan blinks. “There’s no need.”

“What the fuck do you mean there’s no need?” Shen Jiu’s voice burns with unconcealed fury.

“There’s no need,” Yue Qingyuan says again, smiling softly. His hand tightens in Shen Jiu’s robes, tugging him down slightly. “Xiao Jiu’s cure works best.”

Shen Jiu stares. “What?”

Yue Qingyuan blinks up at Shen Jiu earnestly, cheeks flushed a light pink. “Xiao Jiu’s cure is effective.” Yue Qingyuan glances away nervously and wets his lips. “Xiao Jiu could keep curing me if he wants?” he says hopefully, embarrassment coloring his voice.

“What?” Shen Jiu blinks at Yue Qingyuan’s flushed face in angry, bewilderment. “Roots were just suffocating you to death. What do you mean there’s no need.” He yanks at Yue Qingyuan’s jaw to force their gazes together again and watches in bafflement as Yue Qingyuan’s throat bobs and his flush gets deeper.

Yue Qingyuan gives him a bright smile, “Xiao Jiu needn’t worry about it. Xiao Jiu has the best cures.”

[wuthering-tempest]

dads and the pet they didnt want

[ripplefields]

it's literally them

[vaguely-concerned]

the strength it must have taken for illario to not immediately go full 'lmao since when have you even had a kiss hello lucanis' sibling violence mode during the café talk. inspirational. rook and lucanis really were doing all that right in front of his salad huh

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.” 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[snail-day]

Based off of this ask. Angst -> Fluff

Fighting with you sucks.

Satoru hates fighting. Hates how sharp his own voice sounds. Hates how your eyes narrow when you’re angry, especially when he knows he’s the one who made you look at him like that. When you both get too prideful. The both of you begin to throw words like fire.

And yeah, maybe it doesn’t happen often. Maybe you two don’t really blow up at each other unless something’s been simmering for a while. Something unsaid. Something he was too stubborn - or scared - to bring up. But when it finally bubbles over, it’s like throwing gasoline on the fire.

You say something. He says something back. Then suddenly, it’s not even about the original issue anymore, it’s everything all at once. All the little moments that built up to this one. He watches it happen like slow-motion glass shattering, and Satoru still can't stop himself from throwing the next stone.

Then silence.

You pull away. And Satoru lets you, even if it makes his chest ache. Even if it makes his hands shake a little while he’s pretending to scroll on his phone or clean something up. He tells himself he’s giving you space. That you need time. That he needs time.

But god, the second you talk again, really talk to him, it’s like the air comes back into his lungs. He's like a puppy who's released from time out.

He doesn’t even know when it happens, only that he’s behind you now, arms wrapping around your waist with the kind of desperation he tries to mask with theatrics. Kissing your shoulder, then your neck, then wherever he can reach. Smothering. Voice muffled against your skin as he sing-songs, “My loveeeeee, my loverrrrr, my love my love my love...”

He squeezes you tighter when you don’t push him away. Teases your little huffs and sighs and small little toru stop noises. He doesn't stop because you gave him the okay the moment you uttered a single word.

“Do you love me?” he murmurs, quieter this time, slight teasing. Slight insecurity lingering. “How much?”

You roll your eyes. Say something like “Not after that performance,” but he hears the warmth behind it. Still, he needs more.

“Only a little?” he asks again, nosing at your jaw, lips brushing your cheek. “I just... I need to know you’re still here.”

He’s not trying to forget the fight. He’s not even trying to fix it, really. He just needs to feel that you’re not going anywhere. That after everything, you’re still his. That he hasn’t loved too hard and burned it all down.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Not Quite his Twin

Danny Fenton is not Danyal al Ghul. They’d wanted him to be, but he wasn’t.

He still remembers when he first woke up, his whole body feeling raw and ill-fitted. Even his mind felt wrong, his memories not quite his own.

Which, he supposes, they weren’t.

Because Danyal is still dead. Executed on the orders of the Demon’s Head for failing to live up to his twin.

But the spurned heir would make a perfect figurehead to build legitimacy for a coup, so a splinter sect of the League stole away some of his remains before they could be disposed of. They may not have had permission to access the Lazarus Pits, but they could still turn to some more unorthodox methods of attempting resurrection. A combination of cloning, a few stolen and processed samples of Lazarus Water, and pieces of necromantic rituals.

And it almost worked.

Almost.

The body they constructed did indeed come to life, and clearly possessed at least some of Danyal’s memories, but it wasn’t him. The memories were locked behind a barrier, present in abstract but not felt. This thing they created could never pass for the deceased heir, and thus could never be the figurehead they wanted. So they decided to dispose of him.

But the clone’s memories had shown him this sort of betrayal before, and he did still have some of the original’s skills. He struck first, killing several of their agents and managing to escape the lab.

He had no idea what to do next, but at least he was free. Free to form his own life, to become someone unique rather than just not-quite-Danyal.