#also 'who's this' you ass

[twcfaces]

batman villains secret files and origins (2005)

[bioshzrd]

this random ass guy who’s entire bit is that he can move like this is the only good wesker fan ever

[sadmages]

In my mind palace my tav and Astarion are playing the exact same game of 5D chess and they don't realize it yet

[iwoulddieforienzo]

Personally I think percabeth is at its best when Grover is in it. I don’t necessarily mean in a polycule way I just think it’s great when he’s around

[catgirltoes]

"Butch women being treated poorly is evidence of anti masculinity" that is literally misogyny. It's just misogyny. Women being hated for being masculine is part and parcel of the misogynistic systems of domination that keep women oppressed.

This Post Was Made By A Transsexual Woman. Any Feminism That Excludes Trans People Is Fundamentally Useless.

[noxcheshire]

So I saw a few posts describing how the Pit’s in Jason’s body kinda acted on its own accord when spotting Danny “baby ghost” Phantom/Fenton and how they then co-parent with a half dead “baby” teenager.

But I raise YOU the idea that the Pits is already parenting Jason Todd.

When the Pits take over it’s the simple response of a Mama Bear going feral on some humans for making their little baby upset.

Jason disappointed by Batman?

The Pits snarl and rage at the man that made baby sad!

Jason disgusted at the idea of another Robin lined up for death?

The Pits howl and claw through the skin to fix the situation by beating the humans up so they can’t die!

Jason vulnerable and lost by the lack of acceptance in his return as Red Hood?

The Pits screech, biting furiously into the humans that had caused the baby to feel un-included in their games!

No one understands the reason for the Lazarus Pit’s in Jason’s body to constantly be acting up, that is until Danny comes into the picture and is like, “So your ghost parent is always watching you too, huh?” In reference to his own ghost parent (Clockwork) that likes to watch through his little tv’s on what Danny gets up to and sends a multitude of sticky notes like a distant helicopter mom.

[koobiie]

i love boys in a car simulator

the first pic is a redraw of an in-game selfie! here's the original:

[radiance1]

Tim traced Bruce's family tree, and that led him down a path where he finds out that apparently his ancestors, the fentonightingales, split off into the Wayne family and the Fenton family and decides to trace down the Fenton family history to see if Bruce had any unknown relatives.

He finds Jack Fenton, his wife, Madeline Fenton, their daughter, Jasmine Fenton, their son, Daniel Fenton, and their second daughter and youngest child, Danielle Fenton.

Then he digs a bit through their social media, finds out that reclusive billionaire and CEO of a morally questionable company, Vlad Masters, is the godfather of the three children. Unfortunately, for some reason it's been hard to find information about Vlad Masters that isn't involving his company or publicity stunts, anything past that and it's only bits and pieces of information.

The biggest piece in his past is that he was trapped in a hospital due to an unknown illness that left him bedridden, and then making an miraculous recovery one day, then going to found Vladco and become a business empire.

He thinks the only reason that tidbit of information was so easy to find was that it tied into his business as some type of origin story.

Tim does a bit more digging and, yet to inform anyone else of his discovery, finds a video titled:

"Pranking my godfather after he stopped trying to get with my mom and kill my dad!"

Which, was a concerning title really, then he found the godfather in question to be Vlad Masters, and the one who recorded said video was Daniel Fenton.

Curious.

He did some more digging.

He didn't really get very far, for some odd reason there isn't a lot of information to scrap together past the surface of Amity Park. Stuff like their museum, being a tourist attraction, it's history, normal stuff like that.

Nothing about the day to day lives of its citizens, nor any videos posted by said citizens or anything of the like.

He did come across some papers posted by the Fentons, however. Some research abouts ghosts, their behaviors and all that.

What he found wasn't pleasant, and he was thinking about telling Bruce before he came across another page.

The Fenton page.

It was, very, very clean of research papers of any kind having to deal with ghosts as a species, and while they are mentioned it's mostly in reference to take about one of their many weapons, or an installation to equip to your home as a safety precaution.

Then he went back to the page where their 'research' is placed, did some digging, and found it to be published by some kind of organization called the Guys In White, or GIW for short. Weird name, but he's seen weirder.

Although, this does cause some concern for him.

Tim, still not telling anyone of the information he's found besides Alfred (You can hide NOTHING from that man), decides to go over to Amity Park to check out the Fenton family firsthand, gather information about these ghosts to decide if magic is involved or not, and find out why the GIW are using the Fentons' name to publish their papers.

[juniper-clan]

Moon 16: Mystery Kittypet…

PREVIOUS l NEXT

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

[ricky-mortis]

Richie doodles bc my two current WIPs are actively trying to murder me dead.

Feat. my trans + hard of hearing HCs

[saewokhrisz]

good morning mr detective

[slttygeto]

he’s the worst 😭

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[kelin-is-writing]

fwb!touya who despite your agreement on not necessarily having to stop seeing other peoples, has deleted the contacts of the two or three girls he used to occasionally hook up with, when you weren’t around, the moment you two had started your relationship and everytime he crosses paths with them at school he barely even acknowledges their existence. why? ohh that’s because the moment you, the girl he desires on a soul-type of level, has agreed to be in all this with him touya’s eyes haven’t been able to look away from you, not even for a split second.

fwb!touya who a mere call or text for you telling him how much you miss and want to see him, is enough to make him skip practices with his rock band only to run over to your place and spend time with you. be it doing homework, watching movies or those weird reality shows that secretly pique his interest, playing games that usually end up in heated makeout sessions, you putting on nail polish while he styles your hair, cooking together, napping together, having sex four or five times. just you two basically being all over each others at any given occasion. touya wanted you close to him as much as possible and he was going to have exactly that.

fwb!touya who keeps telling himself you two are just ‘friends with benefits’ but from time to time he finds himself playing the guitar, compose and writes songs while thinking about you. he would’ve never wanted to admit it, for the moment, but you’ve been his muse since the first day you guys meet and the major reason for it was your smile, your laugh, your voice… that beautiful spark in your eyes whenever you looked at him… it made his heart warm up and a pleasing emptiness take over his stomach… shit… this wasn’t good at all, he was going into a dangerous territory right there and it wasn’t supposed to happen.

fwb!touya who has never marked any girl he’s sleep with before nor has he ever permitted them to mark him, because he has never felt the need to do that with his past flings; yet it took only one week, three days, fourteen hours, thirty-two minutes and twenty-six seconds in your relationship to make him go around the campus proudly, a shit-eating grin on his face, with your glossy lipstick imprint onto the side of his neck right where everyone could see it while you walked around with his teethes’ mark on your neck; a statement dedicated to everybody in the school that told all of them he is yours and you are his.

fwb!touya who never holds back from showing off to everyone your close relationship. you could be talking to a classmate and he would walk up to you surrounding your waist with an arm, pulling you flush against his side, and ask genuinely curious and interested what you guys were talking about while leaning his cheek against your head as he hummed along to the explanation you gave him with that voice of yours that is as beautiful as you are, completely smitten and mesmerized. once you were talking with another classmate of yours, that was assigned as a committee with you for a school festival, about some preparations when he came up to you ignoring the other person’s presence and just fixing his intense gaze on you while asking if everything was alright and if you needed any help while delicately moving a strand of hair behind your ear and then rest it gently on the back of your head to let you know that it was fine to lean on him whenever things became too much.

fwb!touya who keeps telling you and himself that the two of you are just ‘friends with benefits’, but the way he fucks you, talks to you and overall treats you are far from being those of an actual ‘friends with benefits’ and he doesn’t notice until a random guy who’s a schoolmate of you two and fan of his band starts asking him about you, throws glances your way, tries (but fails) to flirt with you and touya is watching over you two seething as he smokes by the fences outside the school’s building, tomura being the one who makes him notices that he’s clenching his jaw so hard they can hear his teethes scratching together. it’s right then that he realizes that the reason he had suggested all that thing between you two wasn’t only because he was attracted to you, but because he has been in love with you the whole time since the start of your friendship.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 129

Danny, now an adult, has just moved to the city of Gotham. Actually he’s been an adult for a while, but every once in a while he has to end his life, at least legally, lest someone get suspicious. Usually whenever Dan or Ellie does an oopsie and pulls a firebird with being reborn through their core. 

So legally, one Danyal Nightingale, has just moved to Gotham to open a bakery (Thank you for the wonderful recipes and bonding Clockwork) while taking care of his practically newborn son Jordan. Of course Elnath- Ellie- had to pull a core retreat too, which is just his luck. 

It wouldn’t be a problem, but he’s trying to not be so broody. A ghost- even a half-ghost- carrying another core though, has instincts turned up to like, eleven. Which again, wouldn’t be much of a problem if not for someone falling into his dumpster late at night bleeding. A vigilante, which he’s sworn to stay away from that life years ago. And it’s not a lethal wound…

But his instincts are screaming to not let the person bleed all around his nest, and he knows from experience that it would continue to bother him. Which is how he ends up with Batman on his couch to Dan’s glee if the ghost chirps are to go by.