#amity's writing

[k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl]

uploaded most of my stories to ao3 if people ever want a different place to read them, ill still be posting them to tumblr as well just wanted to put them somewhere better.

also uh, my kofi if you wanna support me >_<

https://ko-fi.com/r0b0tg1rl

[fandomfuntimem]

Dp x dc prompt

Redhood didn't like people who took advantage of children. Fucking hated them.

So when he heard of a new crime lord employing children in there area, he had to put a bullet between that fucker's eyes. Apperently, the guy ran the original gang out of town and set the kids off on petty crime. Stealing money. Food, clothes, in some cases, even drugs.

Redhood stood outside an abandoned building, gun at the ready. There was no security, no goons. Did this guy know he was coming? Is this a trap? Redhood shook off his worries. No matter. He's just gotta get this bastard before it could get any worse.

He crept through raftors and boxes. He listened for footsteps. Step step step. The footsteps were heavy and dragging, sluggish. According to eye witnesses, the crime lord tended to drag his feet, maybe limp even.

Redhood slid out of hiding, pressed his gun up to the back of the man's head, and-

It was a kid. The kid turned around, so irely calm. His long black air hung down, obscuring his face, but Redhood could clearly see the way his pale sickly skin sank into his bones. How his dull blue eyes seamed to gloss over and stare into his soul. Almost daring him to pull the trigger. Yet, despite the dark of the warehouse, he almost seemed to glow.

"So?" He asked.

"Wha- so what?" Redhood asked. He was shaking. He hasn't put the gun down.

"Are you going to pull the trigger or not? I mean, you've got a clear shot. I just ask you to clean up after. The kids don't need to see that," The teen slowly blinked at him. Redhood slowly lowered the gun. Just a gang of kids run rampant, yeah. That's what this is.

The kid hummed and began to walk off. Redhood couldn't really call it walking or even limping. It looked more like dragging a nearly dead leg. Now that he was close, he could see it. The dragging leg, the dead arm in a sling. The lichtenberg scars crawled up his face, reaching his eye, blinded and half shut. How did this kid run a whole gang out of town?

Red Hood followed him. The kid only gave his a brief glance before shrugging. Redhood followed him to the back of the warehouse, where a group of kids slept. Redhood recognised them, street kids. All either homeless or too scared to go home.

"They helped me," the kid whispered, "I got rid of those people because I hated the way they hurt the people around them, and when I fell sick, those kids stepped up to help. The least I can do is give them a place to stay."

"You fell sick? You weren't always like this?"

"No. I used to be a lot stronger, braver," The kid gave a heavy sigh before slowly lowering himself to the ground. Crossing his legs and resting his head on his hand, "Now I can barely move without aching, I feel like an old man trapped in a teenager's body."

Redhood glanced between him and the sleeping kids. He was helping them, housing them. In return, they were stealing food and medicine for their sick friend, and Rehood almost shot him.

"My name is Danny, by the way," The kid- Danny grumbled.

Redhood sighed and sat down next to him, "Nice to meet you, Danny. I'm Redhood."

[soulrox]

DPxDC #32

Danny, Sam, and Tucker are on the outskirts of town, waiting for Jack to reveal what he dragged the kids out here to show them. A giant structure is covered by a tarp.

"Hey Dad, whatcha make this time?"

"Danno, my boy, this is," dramatically ripping off the tarp, "The Fenton Trebuchet. It automatically sends out a net to catch the ghost. Fire this bad boy and we'll knock any ghost outta the sky." Jack hits the lever, very excited. Nothing happens; it doesn't even move. "Sigh, another failed invention."

"Oh no, that's too bad, Dad, maybe next time," Danny says while thinking back to the other night when he sabotaged it.

Jack dejectedly drove back to the house, leaving the trio behind. Danny, Sam, and Tucker get very excited. A giant trebuchet the size of Fenton works, and no supervision.

The trio stares at the trebuchet with matching grins.

"Dibs," Danny calls. He quickly fixes what he sabotaged and hurries into the sling. "3, 2, 1 fire," Sam yells as Tucker releases the lever, and Danny gets launched.

An involuntary scream turns to laughter as he flies. Quickly switching to ghost form before he completes his arc right into the ground.

Sam gets launched. Laughing the whole way until Danny catches her. Quickly going back to allow Tucker his turn.

Tucker records and uploads their shenanigans to his blog, where immediately Wes Weston sees it and gets the rest of their year group to join. A chance to go "flying" and be caught by their favorite hero, even the A-listers join.

A good system gets going. Allowing Danny ample time to catch and release people, but gets interrupted by a sleek black plane.

-

"Red Robin I know you're mad at Batman but I think stealing the Batplan and hiding out in the Cave isn't the best plan." Conner says while lounging in the passenger seat.

"Well then B shouldn't have been such an idiot with my case which he completely ruined by BLAH BLAH BLAH and further more BLAH BLA-"

PING, the radar goes off. As quick as it came, it was gone. A moment goes by, and it happens again. Tim directs the plane in the direction of the unknown object. Tim and Conner look at each other, at the radar, then out the window, hoping that the other understands what they are seeing.

A person shooting through the air, making silly poses as they go, only to get quickly caught by a glowing, flying teen. Soon followed by another person being sent flying.

Very concerned, Tim gets closer, dropping the cloaking, and into the line of sight of the glowing flying person.

"STOP FIRING! PLANE!" Yells the glowing teenager as he catches a little girl. The little girl in his arms giggles. "To the person flying, please move out of the way or land and join in." The glowing teen says before flying down to where a very large gathering of teens and kids awaits. They are standing around a very large glowing green trebuchet.

Tim quickly seems to understand what's happening. However, the glowing flying teenager is of high interest, so he quickly lands the plane for answers.

-

A hush falls over the crowd when the plane lands, and out walks Red Robin and Superboy. Tucker looks like he's gonna pass out about meeting his second favorite vigilante, Red Robin. (Oracle, of course, is his #1.)

Danny, Sam, and Tucker greet the duo. A quick introduction and a conversation occur, where the duo gets some of their initial questions answered. Enough information was shared that Red Robin decided he wanted to be launched.

RR gets launched and caught by Superboy. After, RR starts to mingle and gather more information from the crowd. Everyone starts to take pictures with him, and they are very open to answering his questions.

Superboy and Danny end up chatting while they are on catch-and-release duty. The conversation is sort of awkward. Both of them are in a gay panic over the other. Several teens who have been caught get front row seats to the awkward, bad flirting. Sam makes sure to get launched a few times to watch the show.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ignorantia Neminem Excusat

(Ignorance excuses no one, lat.)

"Commissioner."

Jim Gordon doesn't jump. They are years and years into this rodeo, he's stopped actually jumping at Batman's silent approach a long time ago. Yet, Bruce still notices the way his shoulders twitch just the tiniest bit, and his hand makes an aborted motion to his gun holster. Still got it.

The man turns around. Bruce can see the 'must you always do that?' in his slightly narrowed eyes. He presses his lips tightly together in order to not smirk: Batman doesn't do that, even if it's admittedly funny to see the seasoned Commissioner get spooked every time.

"There's a kid that wants to speak with you."

Bruce frowns. A kid that warranted a BatSignal? Not that he minds, but this is highly unusual for several reasons; however, Jim is not the kind of man that would fall for puppy eyes of any level, so it must be something more important than an autograph session or a victim of any of the recent cases.

Besides, the way Commissioner worded it implies that the kid, whoever they are, requested Batman specifically.

"He is a hacker," Jim puts both his hands in the pockets of his coat — he is either cold or uncomfortable, and Bruce highly suspects it's both. What's more, he starts to understand why. "I'm sure you're aware we were trying to track the person responsible for the few recent cyber attacks on GCPD servers," Jim glances at him, and Bruce nods. He is aware, yes, but the case was low-priority — it wasn't even an attack, really, someone just accessed the system foregoing the passwords and clearance levels, went through a few files, seemingly at random, and did a fairly decent job of hiding their traces. Bruce would have even thought it was Tim, if this happened a few years ago, when the boy was just learning the ropes.

Commissioner sighs and looks away, "But when we brought him in, the boy said he will only speak to you, and none of us have been able to make him say a word since." He pauses, a grim kind of expression on his face, "This was six hours ago."

Bruce is grateful for the way his cowl hides how his eyebrows raise. There are hundreds of scripts officers, detectives, and social workers can use to establish contact. Quite a lot of them could be attempted in the span of six hours.

Whatever the kid wants to tell him, Bruce decides it's worth a try. If not anything else, he can at least admire the sheer stubbornness.

—×—×—×—

The kid sitting in the interrogation room looks... younger than Bruce expected. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. He is dressed like any other homeless kid in Gotham — a hoodie and a jacket over it, jeans that look a size too big on him, sneakers with mismatched shoelaces — but he clearly hasn't been out in the streets for that long. His hair is braided into cornrows, and it looks professional, even if the roots have grown out so now it's just messy. What's more, he is missing that telltale wariness in his posture that Bruce has seen in every other street kid that has been brought into a police station. They always slouch and curl into themselves.

This boy is sitting with his back straight. Yet, there's a tension in his body that Bruce can only associate with a battle stance — give him the slightest reason, and the kid will lunge.

He steps into the room.

The boy — he hadn't given a name, and there wasn't a single ID on him — zeroes on him instantly. His eyes are a very pale, almost translucent green: a rather strange feature for a black-skinned person, genetically speaking, but Bruce doesn't dwell on it. Yet.

But then, the face recognition program comes up empty.

As in, 'there's not a trace of this person's prior existence' empty. Not a single camera footage, no records or reports of missing, no pictures, no social media, nothing. Bruce frowns.

"Hi," the kid says, his voice raspy, "My name is Tucker Foley. According to the government, I don't exist, so if your recognition program doesn't find anything on me, that's why."

Bruce doesn't say anything. Tucker wanted to speak with him, and previously, he was only merely intrigued by that request. However, as of right now, he wants to hear everything the kid has to say before asking any follow-up questions.

Because that always present, cautious and bordering on paranoid voice in the back of his mind tells him he is about to get into something way more serious than he expected.

Tucker moves — he kept both his hands on the table, palms open and visible, but now he closes one into a fist. Although, before Bruce can react to it, he opens it again. A small, the size of a flash-drive, dimly glowing green object rests inside.

"Do you know what this is?" The boy asks. He hasn't looked away from Batman's face once; Bruce is not even sure he blinked at all since he entered the room. Come to think of it, even with his tense, rigid posture, Tucker is too still, almost unnervingly so.

Bruce glances down to the boy's hand.

"Yes," he answers curtly, and there it is, the smallest shift in Tucker's face: he clenches his jaw like he's trying to hold the words inside his mouth. Bruce doesn't like it.

"What is it?" Comes the next question, but it's not curiosity that prompts it. It's a test of some sort. Bruce likes that even less.

"A power source," he decides on a neutral answer, not entirely certain what the boy is expecting to hear.

It seems to be a wrong answer because for the first time, Tucker's emotions slip from under his mask, and he takes a sharp breath in, looking like Bruce had just slapped him across the face. It lasts only a moment — Tucker closes his eyes for a moment, slowly exhales, and speaks again, calm and focused once more.

"And what exactly powers it?"

It's an important question, judging by the desperate, searching look in Tucker's eyes. His hands are not shaking, and there are no visible signs of distress, but for some reason, Bruce just knows that the boy's whole life seems to depend on the answer.

But.

"It's classified." Bruce doesn't take his eyes off the boy, but he still fails to see when he gets to his feet; the movement is quicker than the blink of an eye. All he knows is the aftermath of it, the screech of the chair legs on the floor and the loud slam of Tucker's palms on the table.

"Fuck the classified!" The boy yells, his face twisting in an awful mix of anger, hurt and a broken, terrified sort of hopelessness that almost breaks Bruce from the inside. "I need to know what they've told you, I have to- Tell me you think it's just a battery! Tell me you've never broke one to see what's inside, tell me you believe in science! They've showed you the research, didn't they?" Tucker's voice, so agonizingly different from the composed way he was talking before, breaks into a sobbing, almost hysterical laugh. His pale eyes are wide open and almost panicked, searching Batman's face for something he is not sure he can find.

"Tell me you've never seen one being made," this time, the boy doesn't yell, he whispers, his breath hitching and his knuckles white. "Please," he adds a moment later, and Bruce knows this kind of plea.

It's the plea of someone who is begging for the world to have mercy on them. A plea of a boy standing on their parents' grave, a plea of a man kneeled in front of his son's corpse.

Bruce swallows the bitter taste on the back of his tongue and takes a step closer. He sees the boy in front of him lean back and bend his knees, like bracing for impact, but he answers before any more misunderstandings can occur.

"I have seen the research. It provided enough information that I've never investigated further," he offers, and Tucker's shoulders slump like months and months of living in a constant state of fight-or-flight leaving his body all at once. Then, the boy's hands start trembling just slightly.

"Really?" He quietly asks, his eyes still glued to Batman, and there it is, the hesitant, uncertain hint of hope in his voice.

Bruce suddenly feels like not only this talk will be much, much worse than he ever feared, but also like in the end this will be another one of the things he will be blaming himself for. Things he could have prevented if he just tried a little harder.

"Really," he nods, taking a seat opposite from Tucker. "So explain what I've missed."

The boy keeps looking at him for a few more seconds, like trying to x-ray his thoughts for any sign of a lie. But then he blinks — for the first time, maybe — and rubs his face with his palm before all but dropping back in his own seat.

"Okay," he breathes out, evidently trying to collect himself and go back to the strong, focused self, "Okay."

[ part 2 -> ]

[bluerosefox]

Prom Invite

Wanna know what would be funny.

DeadTired Prom story.

Like no really hear me out.

As a bet or a dare or just Danny deciding to shoot his shot, Danny asks Tim Drake-Wayne to Casper's High Senior Prom via social media. He honestly thinks it will NEVER happen because come on its the internet and stuff.

But what if, what if Tim whose had an argument with Bruce or something and wanting to have some normal fun again before he became CO-CEO of WE or Red Robin see's the @ Danny sent him and decides you know what.

WHY THE HECK NOT?!

Danny wasn't expecting the guy to show up on prom night to pick him.

[thebubblesareevil]

Harley Quinn is Danny’s therapist

Danny needs therapy… desperately.

Jazz know this and acknowledges that it’s not a good idea for her to fill that role, so she goes out in search for the next best thing.

While in Gotham for college Jazz breaks into harley and ivys hideout and waits for them to return.

She waters the plants, she does the dishes and she even cooks some dinner setting the table just as they arrive.

The smells coming from the table prevent the immediate attack.

Jazz introduces herself and offers Harley the opportunity of a lifetime

“How would you like to be the personal therapist to a dead superhero?”

Of course jazz is more than willing to pay Harley (Danny gave her some Aztec gold for spending money while at school) but harley refuses to commit until she meets the kid

The 2 join jazz when she goes home for break, introducing them as some upperclassmen

(Her parents don’t really question it. Not bad parents just super accepting, they don’t know about Danny yet, though Danny stopped hiding it awhile ago)

Jazz brings them up to Danny’s room and knocks on the door

“Hey little brother, got a minute?”

A garbled yes comes from the other side and she opens the door to reveal half the room is missing and in its place is a gaping hole in reality where a large woman was cooking

“What’s up? New friends?” he asked looking down from where he was floating mid air reading a book about stars

“What’s with the portal?”

Danny just shrugged “lunch lady’s making spaghetti, want some?”

“Hell yeah!” Harley piped in. “Honey, I think we’re gonna get along swell”

Ivy just sighed.

The two move to amity so harley can have easy access to her favorite patient and Ivy ends up getting her own green house and somehow a job on the city council to reduce pollution and to push green areas in town

Do with this what you will

[sakuravalenp]

- Thats... definetly not healthy - But it looks beautiful, doesn't it? - DC X DP

Inspired by this prompt, but a bit too far away from it to be a prompt fill (I think?). It's also more of a prompt as well, since I don't know how to continue it nor have the time to do so at the time.

So what if, instead of Danny being sent to find Jason because of Clockwork, he just notices the jewel because it looks really pretty… but in a deeply unhealthy way? Like how looking tubercular was considered fashionable in the Victorian era.

Set this in liminal Amity Park. Danny’s class is in Gotham for an event that Jason, Dick and Tim are attending too. I’m thinking, classical book convention: Lancer saw the opportunity to take his class on a field trip. Who cares if it’s in Gotham? They’re Amity Parkers. Jason of course wanted to go, there’s this section on old photos that caught Tim's attention, and Dick saw it as a sibling bonding opportunity, so it ended up being a 3 siblings bonding activity. 

The Amity kids are allowed to roam freely, and Danny, while walking with Sam and Tucker, suddenly spots Jason, the sight is so beautiful he has to stop, Sam and Tucker continuing to walk deep into one of their rants. 

Little jewels orbit Jason’s soul like a miniature planetary system, and Danny finds himself staring, mesmerized. He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring until the trio approaches him, and the one with the shiny soul asks bluntly:

“Why are you staring?”

Danny, too used to Amity’s deep liminality, just assumes the guy knows what he looks like and made this aesthetic choice deliberately. So Danny, completely deadpan, responds:

“I mean, I have to ask how and why, obviously.” He gestures toward Jason’s chest. “I admit, it’s mesmerizing, but… doesn’t it hurt?”

Jason, utterly confused, opens his mouth to respond, only for someone else to beat him to it.

“What hurts?” Sam peeks over Danny’s shoulder, having finally noticed he’d stopped walking. “Whoa, that looks so cool! How’d you get it like that?”

“Cool?” Tucker says, appearing on Danny’s other side, squinting at Jason.. “I say it looks uncomfortable.”

“But you gotta admit the shining is quite captivating.” Danny responds. 

Tim and Dick squint at Jason, trying to see what the kids are seeing. Jason does not appreciate being talked about like he’s a museum exhibit, and he still has no idea what these kids are talking about. But before he can ask, the goth girl is calling another girl over, who gushes at him too, and then she calls over another group of teenagers.

Before the Waynes know what’s happening, an entire class has surrounded Jason, arguing about whether the weird, beautiful, thing they’re seeing is worth how visibly unhealthy it looks.

Dicks efforts to calm the teenage group is futile, and Jason is getting increasingly more frustrated, Dick is sure he’s close to sploding and he wants to avoid that. This outing was primarily for Jason. Tim, realizing there’s no use trying to question the teens yet, focuses on being an annoying little sibling and records Jason's slow descent into rage.

It isn’t until Lancer appears and scolds his class for the scene they’re making that the group is dissolved. Lancer apologizes with the three and makes Danny apologize as well since he obviously started all the mess. Danny thought that would be it, but now the bats want their answers.

[justhereforsomethingnice]

Many people and even governments have tried to take down ao3 to no succes. So, that’s how the anti-ecto acts come to light. I’m thinking either Tim, Jason or Stephanie for this. Just scrolling on ao3 with the real life hero fandom or a specific tag they were looking at, and they come across works of one real life hero named Phantom. Que a heartwrenching 10k oneshot about the hero and his own selfdoubt about why he would continue while humans want to tear him down, his enemies want to tear him down and he seemed to have no support.

Well damn, this hero sounded interesting. Clicking on this specific hero, they start reading more of the hero named Phantom. Just… every story contains some mention about the government and something called the anti-ecto act??? What’s this?

That’s how the JL finds out about this and resolve to abolish the laws. When Danny finally meets the bat that had discovered the laws I imagine it going something like this.

Danny: thank you, I was starting to loose hope of ever being considered my own person. *starry eyed, very thankful and just a bit (giant bucket) of hero worship*

Tim/Jason/Stephanie: ehhh, *cough*, I mean, detective work. Yes, a good detective knows the ins and outs of the law, it’s only natural I found out.

Danny: *hero worship and complete trust* you’re amazing🤩🤩🤩

I think using AO3 fanfic is an under rated way of figuring out your governments atrocities. Do with this what you will :)

[k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl-wr1t1ng]

When you were 19

You had a fairly normal childhood. You had a good relationship with your parents. You did reasonably well in school. You struggled like everyone to figure yourself out, and for the most part you did. But as life continued, something felt off. You didn't enjoy the same parts of yourself as others did. You didn't find joy in the same activities as others did. You couldn't quite place it but something was wrong, there was something different.

When you were 19 you started reading about advancements in robotics, whispers of cybernetic upgrades, you were strangely filled with joy at the thought but also, a deep feeling of unease crept up your spine. When you were 20 you asked your friends how excited they were about breakthroughs in cybernetics, they barely showed an interest. You tried to bury it, convince yourself that it would never be possible. You lied.

When you were 24 the first person was given a robot body, that feeling returned. When you were 26 you made a friend. She was always talking about those people brave enough to undergo the process. You asked her if she wanted to, afraid. She said no. She said no but she understood. She understood why. She fought for them. For you. 

When you were 29 you broke. You couldn't take it anymore. The chronic pain was too much. The empty feeling in the mirror was too much. The envy was too much. You broke. 

When you were 29 you made a decision. You were done being broken. You were sick of being someone else. You became you. 

You were ready. 

What you weren't ready for were the looks. The whispers. The stares. Your parents pulled away, disagreeing with your “lifestyle”. Some of your friends withdrew, claiming you’d changed, you weren't yourself anymore. People rallied to stop the program. Governments labelled it “unnatural”. You weren't prepared. 

You weren't prepared for the friends that stayed. Those that rallied around you. The people fighting back when you couldn't. The love you found in yourself. The joy every new sensation brought. The new spark ignited within. You weren't ready for her. 

You were 31 when you met her. She was one of the first to transfer to a new body. A pioneer. You admired her strong personality. Her unapologetic self. You couldn't look away from her lazer engraved tattoos. Her ability to be who she was without fear. Your friends introduced you, knowing she’d understand. You were ready. 

She took you back to her place. She pushed you against her wall. She asked if you wanted this. You needed this. Her lips met yours. Her tongue danced across yours. You felt lightning through your artificial veins. She knew exactly how to melt you. How to undo you. How to make you feel. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re pulled back to your thoughts as she throws you onto her bed. Her visor barely displaying emotion, but you know what she’s feeling: hunger. You feel your fans kick up a gear as you're laid out under her gaze, her smirk causes coolant to desperately spread throughout your systems. You can feel your synthetic cock throb in your panties as she crawls across the bed towards you, excitement building deep inside you. Biting your lip in anticipation she begins to kiss her way up your thigh, her cold metal lips leaving the faintest of marks as she works her way towards her prize. Her metal fingers grasp at your hips as she curls them around your panties, threatening to pull them down.

“P-please…” you breathlessly whimper.

Having your consent she quickly and gently frees your half hard cock, licking her lips as she watches it grow slightly harder under her gaze. Before you have time to react she takes you completely into her mouth, sending sparks shooting up your body, synthetic nerves on fire as she holds you inside. Slowly working you up and down in her mouth you can barely think, every system in your body working overdrive to make sense of the fire spreading through your nerves and pathways. Minutes pass in what feels like hours, desperately holding onto the sheets to ground yourself. Releasing your cock from her mouth she climbs up your body, bringing her face within inches of your own, her body draped over yours.

“I'm going to make you cum, pretty bot” she whispers, just inches from your lips.

You reach up, connecting your lips together, seeming confident as you come undone so completely inside. She takes the sign and deepens the kiss, her tongue so delicately dancing with your own. Her hand grabs ahold of your cock, gently stroking you between the warmth of your two bodies, the pressure of her bearing down on you only adding to the overwhelming surges rushing through every inch of software you’ve got, her deep kisses and low moans into your mouth driving you and your fans wild, the heat almost overwhelming you. It's not long before you feel something building, something deep and animal, but entirely new, the animal now made of metal and code as you feel it forcing its way through you. You start to cum into her hand as she practically vibrates on top of you, you feel her smiling into your kiss as you lose control, your mind goes blank as you are hit with waves of pleasure. You’ve completely lost control.

You begin to come back to your senses, you fans still working overtime to vent the heat created by the two of you, your stomach slick with your own artificial cum. Laying on her side next to you, looking gently into your visor, she smiles and your insides melt once more. You say nothing as you nuzzle wordlessly into her chest. You never want this moment to end.

You were 31 when you knew you were right. You were 31 when you knew you were safe. You were 31 when you found yourself. Truly. 

~~~

If you wanna support me - Ko-fi

[k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl]

I think in another life we could’ve been girls drawing together with chalk on the playground during lunch time

i think in another life we're walking home in the rain because we just want those extra 15 minutes together

i think in another life we linger far too long outside your house, neither of us wanting you to go inside

i think in another life we're standing so close it hurts

i think in that life i want to kiss you as badly as i do in this one

[verekatt]

Don't Go To Amity Park

Amity Park changes people.

At first, no one notices. The residents are all changing at the same time, and so new social customs and more violent greetings aren't seen as odd. Their senses changing and expanding is easily dismissed too. After all, if grandma can hear what's happening a city block away, maybe that's just normal. Humans can hear that far, right? Everyone you know can, anyway. And the reflective, feline eyes, sharper teeth, pointed ears - that's all normal, right? Kids compare with their friends, and yeah, everyone looks like that. Everyone's normal, everything's fine.

The visitors and outsiders notice though. Anyone from Amity Park looks unnatural, predatory, like a wolf trying to blend in with sheep. They move too quietly, they see too much, and something about them is just inherently terrifying. Casper High's football team starts winning more through pure, unintentional intimidation (with a side of unnatural strength and durability). Their debate team has the same effect - no one wants to argue with someone who looks like they could and would rip your throat out with their bare hands. Amity-based businesses start thriving as their competitors fold in meetings. Eventually, the wider world decides to just avoid the town and anyone from it. The GIW, however, moves in to study it.

The drifters, the people from surrounding cities who work in Amity or go to school there, they change too. It's slower than the residents, but their access to an outside perspective means they notice it more, so they can't deny the changes like the Amity Parkers can. Their bodies are changing, their minds are changing, and some think to follow the rest of the world in avoiding Amity.

They can't, though. They're always drawn back. Whether it's by choice or impulse or drunken walks that somehow end in the woods on the edge of town, everyone who's been changed by Amity Park will end up back there eventually.

And the change happens faster and faster. At first it took weeks or months in town to see or feel any effects, but after a year or two, even a couple of days in town was enough to change you. To see your face in the hotel mirror at night, and not recognise yourself when you look the next morning.

The Amity Parkers take a long time to notice it, but when kids start developing real powers, it's undeniable. The goth can grow a whole garden in minutes, the cheerleader can breathe fire, and the basketball player will tell you your deepest, darkest secrets unprompted. It's not just the high schoolers either. Toddlers are floating out of their beds like something from the Exorcist, and old folks are outpacing Olympic sprinters. Most people hide their powers when the GIW comes around, but the unlucky few caught unaware disappear overnight. Some return, with haunted eyes and new scars and whispered gratitude for Phantom, but not all of them. The Amity Parkers learn to shut up and work together to try and keep each other safe. They learn to cultivate and train their abilities in secret, ready and waiting for the time to fight back.

The borders of town become dangerous - the GIW has learnt to camp along roads and capture the drifters who wander in. Phantom patrols just outside the GIW's range, intercepting people before the GIW can. The changed ones are smuggled to safehouses and families with free couches, warned and trained and supported by the community. The random travellers are redirected or scared off, left with nothing worse than a ghost story. There aren't tourists or amateur ghost hunters anymore, the outside world knows to stay away or risk disappearing into Amity Park.

This could continue in a few directions - my first thought was a DC crossover with a junior team like Young Justice or the Titans. They hear about the ghost town and decide to investigate, and meet Phantom as they're walking through the woods. He warns them that if they go any further, they will be permanently changed and won't be able to leave. They dismiss his warnings, and enter the town anyway.

Full psychological horror as they observe the eldritch nightmare of a town and learn about the GIW, only to go to sleep at night and wake up Different. They freak out, and their host explains the rules and customs of town, basically saying "We told you so, you're one of us now, get used to it".

After freaking out, they run to tell the Justice League about what happened (and to prove to themselves that they can leave). As they give the JL their inadequate information (because they ran before finishing the investigation) and get scolded/medically examined, they realise they're itching to go back to Amity. Undeniable, like a magnet pulling them in, or like sharks following the scent of blood. They realise they won't be able to resist the pull forever. Cue another team panic attack.

The JL investigates remotely, buys protective equipment from the GIW/Fentons, and plan their strategy. While they're distracted, the young heroes find themselves drawn back to Amity, regardless of their dread. They learn more about what they are now, coming to an uneasy acceptance of it. They join the Amity Parkers in planning their revolution against the GIW. By the time the JL finally shows up, Amity Park is a warzone, with their kids on the front lines with glowing eyes and bared fangs.

Amity Park is freed, but at the cost of their kids' humanity, and now the kids can never truly leave. Sure, they can stay away for a few weeks or even months, but eventually they'll end up back in Amity Park, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. The world notices how different these young heroes look, how terrifying and violent they've become, how they all go missing regularly. What was once quiet whispers in the towns around Amity becomes loud, international news.

Don't go to Amity Park, or you'll never come back.

[starz-n-stuff]

Dc x dp headcanon/prompt idea thing! If u wanna use just tag me on here with a link if it’s ao3 or wherever else

What if the GIW controls what’s accessible on the internet? Okay so imagine that for whatever reason Tim Drake has a laptop from Danny or maybe Tucks PDA:

“Hey, Tim, you called while I was in class so now you’re on speaker and everyone can hear you.” Danny tells him quickly before he can say anything.

“Alright,” Tim doesn’t seem to care if the class is able to hear, “so the laptop is fine now, but it wasn’t letting me into some things, citing an error code that shouldn’t exist so I did some digging and Danny is there only one network provider in Amity?”

“Yeah, everyone uses it, why?”

“I think they’re controlling what is visible to you all on the internet. Because there’s no result online for Superman or, or, the Justice League, none of that.”

You could hear a pin drop in the classroom, even Lancer, who had been intending to tell Danny to hang up or take the call into the hallway was staring at Danny and the phone, spinning a pencil in his hands.

“Who… who are those people? Superman and…” Danny trails off.

“Superman is an alien from the planet Krypton. Our sun gives him powers like flight, heat vision, ice breath, and a whole lot more.” Tim explains, “and The Justice League is an organization of superhero’s dedicated to protecting Earth and its inhabitants. If they knew about Phantom or Amity, or had received any sort of distress call they would’ve sent someone over with a similar power set and helped train Phantom, since he’s a newer hero.”

It’s silent in the classroom. Nobody has anything to say.

“Can you fix it?” Danny asks, voice scratchy from the burning in the back of his eyes and throat.

So yeah— I know nothing about technology n stuff so feel free to like play around with the idea. Also did anybody else’s teachers make us answer our phones on speaker if they rang in class? Or was that just my terrible high school?

[starry-bi-sky]

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[breannasfluff]

The roar of a motorcycle cuts off the conversation and Jason turns to see the bike cruising down the road. It’s a beauty; a long body with an extra seat and multiple chrome pipes. The number 13 is framed on both sides of the chassis. 

“Hey kid,” the rider calls, pulling over to an idle. “Haven’t seen you around in ages.”

“Hi, Johnny! Only back for a few days. How’s Kitty?”

“Complaining I didn’t bring her with but I just wanted a quick look around.”

Jason edges a little closer until he has Johnny’s attention. “I love your bike. Did you customize it?”

“Something like that.” 

Johnny launches into the logistics of the bike and Jason follows along with his explanations. Danny throws in the odd question as well, although his in-depth knowledge of bikes is a lot less. 

The bike is finally turned off and Johnny gets off to walk the two of them around it. Not only is it nice to talk bikes with someone else who understands, but it’s fun to interact with someone…normal. There are no secret identities, no villains, just three guys and a similar interest. 

For Jason, being the Red Hood is an integral part of his life. Just like when he was young, giving up being a vigilante isn’t something he could ever consider. Like this though…well, it’s easy to see the appeal. 

“Welp! I will have returned for your hide!” The voice comes from the air and Jason glances up and does a double take. That's a whole-ass ghost in the air.

Danny throws himself over Johnny’s bike. “Why me?”

“Oh yeah,” Johnny says with too much relish, “I forgot. Skulker followed me out of the portal.”

Read more here

[bluerosefox]

To Protect Them

Another DPxDC idea with twins Danny and Damian.

'He knows.'

That was only message Danny received before he felt like he had dropped in freezing cold Arctic waters naked and felt if he remembered to breathe at this moment he would see his own breath, even though he had an ice core and no longer felt actual cold anymore, and for a moment the world around him faded into nothing.

No sound, no touch, not even smell.

Nothing.

Then like a supernova, everything around him exploded.

Everything was too loud, to strong, his skin felt hot and cold at the same time somehow. The feeling of dread crawled up his body.

He needed to go.

Run.

This message was his only warning. The only thing his birth mother could send him in regards of help. He knows it, he knows she can't do anything else but this. He also knows she wants to do more but in order continue to be the eyes and ears inside of the hellhole he once called home, a place he both hated and feared yet somehow still loved if only for the memories of his mother and brother, she could not do anything more.

"Hey Dann-o! Anything good in the mail today!?" Came the loud voice of Jack Fenton, his adopted dad, from the doorway. The same man who took one look at a muddy, dirty, tense, untrusting, almost fully feral little six year old Danyal al Ghul who held onto his only daughter hand when she dragged him home after finding him behind the Nasty Burger looking for food, and decided point blank that he was now a Fenton. That Danny, Daniel was his son as if he always was.

Danny could feel his lip tremble when he realized if he ran, if he booked it out of Amity now, the people he loved, the people he would happily die for, would be targeted. It wouldn't matter if he faked his death, or just left with no warning and never contacted them ever, ever again.

They would be killed for just knowing him.

For their deaths would be his punishment.

Danny could feel the rest of the mail in his hands, the ones he had went outside to get before breakfast cause his mom asked him to, fall out of them, the only one staying was the message from his birth mother. He took in a shaky uneven breath and turned around.

His face no doubt was pale, paler than it normally was, and his body trembled, and Danny had no doubt that despite all the training he had learned when he was in the League that even if he brought it out and pretended he was fine, his dad would be able to tell something was wrong.

Because his dad's happy cheerful face shifted to a concerned worried frown, a frown Danny hadn't seen in a few years, a frown that was common when Danny would wake in the middle of the night screaming, begging, or cursing in his native language or when he would be spooked enough to reach for a knife. But even with those moments the man never ever found fault in Danny, instead he would lower his voice and speak softly to Danny, waiting until he calmed down before asking if it would be okay to touch or hug him. Then he would sit with Danny for hours, keeping his normally loud and booming voice soft as he talked about random things, like family fudge recipes and how they came to be.

"Danny?" Jack asked softly as he took a small step forward, one of his hands lifted up as if asking permission to reach out.

Danny wanted nothing more than to rush into his dad's arms and hide in his large frame. Hide from the world around him but Danny knows he didn't have time, none of them did.

He took in one more breath and could feel his body stop shaking, his mind no longer chaotic, and his nerves steeling up. For the first time in a long, long time, he wasn't Daniel 'Danny' Fenton anymore.

He was Danyal al Ghul again.

"Dad. Get mom and Jazz into the GAV. Now." Danny ordered, his eyes narrowing as he clutched the message in his hand tight.

His dad knew something big was going down.

And he trusted Danny enough to do so quickly.

Danny closed his eyes as his dad ran into the house, yelling for Maddie and Jazz to get into the GAV. Danny opened them when he could feel the message in his hands slowly being covered in ice and knew his eyes were now glowing green.

He didn't have a lot of time. He needed to get his family, Tucker, and Sam out of Amity.

He needed to get them someplace safe.

He needed backup. More than his family and his friends.

He needed-

Danny nearly jumped when he realized who he can call to help.

In a flash he took his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number he barely liked calling but needed to do so at this moment.

He waited, it felt like ages and it was agonizing, before the person on the other line finally picked up.

"What do you want-" came a somewhat same but rougher sounding of his voice but Danny cut him off.

"Dan, he knows." was the only thing Danny needed to say because he could hear the sharp intake of breath.

"Get them here now." was the order.

"Already on it. Is Ellie and Vlad with you?"

"Yes."

"Good. We'll be there shorty. Keep them safe."

"And then what?" Came the gruff question.

"Then... Then we'll prepare and call in Father and Damian. We need all the help we can get."

".....He won't be happy... About everything. Our... your fake death you know."

".... I know. But hopefully Father and the rest of his batclan will keep him from lashing out too much, especially with civilians and innocent lives on the line."

The two, Danny and Dan fell into a silence for a moment. Danny could hear his dad trying to hurry his mom and Jazz into the GAV despite their questions

".... Explaining all of this is going to be a shit show isn't it." Came Dan's voice after a couple of minutes.

Danny winced because yeah, not only explaining his actual past as Danyal al Ghul to the Fenton's, Tucker, Sam, and to Ellie, and Vlad but also having to explain his new life to his birth father and twin brother, a brother who thought he was dead, was going to be a hell in a handbasket.

"Yeah... it will be." Came his only response as he heard the GAV starting up and the garage door opening. Dan must of heard it over the speaker phone and said "Get Sam and Tucker and get here soon. No stops. We'll fortified Vlads dumb place in the meantime."

Dan didn't wait after that and instead just disconnected the call. Danny removed his phone from his ear and quickly pull up the group chat he had with his friends, sending them a quick message to meet him now. He used the code they had set up incase the Fenton's didn't take to him being Phantom well, he never had to use it since they took the news good, well as good as one could be after finding out their invention had half killed their son and that they had been hunting his ghost side down, but since this was important he needed them to be ready now.

He frowned as the Fenton GAV pulled up towards him and knew that what happens next would be...

Stressful.

[terrestrialnoob]

Not Martha Wayne stood in the foyer of Wayne Manor. She looked exactly like the painting in the den, same dress, hair, and makeup. Bruce had spent hours staring at it. She turned to look at him when he entered.

"Sorry for entering your home without permission." She said with a small bow of her head.

"Why do you look like that?" Bruce said, getting further into the room, but still giving her space.

"In all honesty, I was hoping it would make you more likely to say yes." She gave him a hopeful smile.

Bruce lifted en eyebrow, "I don't appreciate it."

"Then I apologize." She took a step towards him, dress flowing longer, hair growing dark, flesh and bone shifting under greying skin. Standing before him now was an easily ten foot tall skeleton-thin being. Long hair draping out of a wide hat with hanging veil shading a thin face with glowing red eyes. Her dress had turned Victorian in style, but was open from her neck to her waist. Her ribs were on display, but more importantly, a glowing, pulsing orb of red energy in her center. "Is this preferred?"

"Yes." Bruce didn't feel any more comfortable but it was preferred. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"You may call me... Amity, and I have a favor to ask you." She flared her dress and when it fell back, there were kids on the ground. One looked to be around five, carefully holding a baby to his torso, and one that looked around three, standing protectively in front of the other two. "I need a babysitter."

Bruce stared at the children. "A... babysitter? And you chose me?"

"You have a glowing track record." Amity said, a gentile smile spread across her face and Bruce can see the photo she'd been looking at when he'd gotten there. It was of most of his children, he'd taken it himself.

He sighed and looked at the children next to her, they hadn't moved, the older two still positioned to protect the baby. "Who's kids are they?"

"Mine."

"They look human." Bruce stated but it was a question.

"They have human - no, they had human parents, but they were born in me."

Bruce looked at them, the older two glaring at him, the third too small to know what's happening. "How long would they be in my care?"

"Not too long."

"What does that mean to a being like you?"

Amity actually looked surprised by the question. "I don't know. I supposed even hundred years is not too long for a being like me. But that is not what I intended from the statement. You will not have them for more than - a year. Maybe a bit longer, if things become... difficult."

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Is there anything specific I should know? Any dietary needs or special powers I should be made aware of?"

"They will be fully human and need only what a human needs until they come in contact with the Realms -my origin place- again."

Bruce nodded. "Okay. I will take care of them until you return for them."

She laughed a strange echoing laugh that sent a shiver through the entire house. "I know we can count on you, Martha said as much."

"Martha?"

"She is loyal to my sister, both recommended you. And we thank you, Dark Knight." Amity began to fade at her edges, her dress turned to rotting leaves, her bones crumbling to dust, until there was nothing but the three children left behind.