#its a gloomy day in gotham city

[lizardpersonyknow]

Tim Drake is responsible for the majority of Gotham's streams of the song skater boy by Avril Lavigne. This is because he keeps captivating people with his autistic goblin rizz. They play this song while daydreaming about wooing him by bringing the bedraggled rat boy at the skate park a zesti like they're y/n herself. Sometimes they don't even realise that That's Tim Drake Wayne. He's a cute, skrungly Thing™ that you could either fix or make worse depending on your romantic daydreams.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Burning Touch ♠︎

Bale!Bruce Wayne x reader

A/N: MORE BALE!BRUCE 🥳 I adore possessive Bruce, especially Christian's! So, have this treat for the weekend <3 Enjoy!

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: NSFW content. proceed with caution. cunnilingus, It's so filthy, and it's literally just Bruce eating pussy, he's a lil insecure in this one, and feral.

Word count: 3.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The chilly November air of Gotham city nipped at your cheeks, turning them a rosy shade. The cold wind was blowing on your face, making a few tears burn in your eyes.

Gotham was its usual grey and gloomy self, but the low temperature made it bearable. This kind of weather wasn't unusual for this time of year, after all. Snowflakes would cascade from the heavy clouds soon, coating the dark city in a powdery blanket. The long-awaited holiday season had yet to come, but snow would always awake that cozy and warm feeling in your chest.

Your arm was hooked into Bruce's as you two walked through the moderately bustling streets of Gotham. The two of you had decided to take a walk, not a regular occasion, but when it did happen it was lovely. Bruce had never been one to go outside for fun, the fact that there always were paparazzi hiding somewhere didn't really contribute to his lacking enthusiasm.

He did it for you, to spend time with you. The way you were all cuddled up in your huge scarf and winter coat always coaxed a smile onto his face. Your excited smile as you went on about whatever came to mind perfectly extenuated your red cheeks, the unforgiving cold stinging on your delicate skin. Little did he know you had similar thoughts about him. His adoring eyes as he listened to your ever on going rambling, and his hair that sat so perfectly, even on a day like this. The long wool coat he wore made him look incredible handsome and put together.

Well, he always looked handsome and put together, but there was something so uniquely different about that damn coat.

You'd told a really bad joke, but he still laughed, his head thrown back as that wonderful symphony reached your ears. Occasionally, a stray strand of hair would fall into his face, but he'd just blow it away without a care in the world. The center of his universe was right in front of him. Why would he care about something as unimportant as that?

"We should head home. I'm about to turn into a popsicle." You laughed, it was airy, your breath forming a little cloud in the cold air.

"Well, Honey, you'd be a very, very delicious popsicle." Bruce smirked, turning his head towards you.

"Oh, stop, you!" You playfully hit his arm as a pout settled on your lips. You really hoped he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks through the redness the cold painted on your face. If he knew he could still fluster you after all this time together, he would use it against you as much as he could. And all of it would be for his amusement and his amusement alone. He'd tease you relentlessly, and maybe you enjoyed it just a little bit more than you should.

"I'm serious! I'm freezing my ass off." You huffed, a slight tremble to your tone from the cold. His arm unhooked itself from yours, and it trailed down your lowerback, all the way to your ass before giving it a squeeze.

"Still there, sweetheart, you don't need to worry." He looked like the cheshire cat with that huge grin on his face. You squealed at the unexpected touch and smacked his hand away. "Bruce Thomas Wayne!" You scolded, your brows scrunching together.

"I'm just keeping you warm, Honey." Bruce snaked his hand around your waist and pulled you against his side before pressing a kiss to your temple. You could feel his smirk against your hairline as he kissed you, and you had to admit it made you smile.

"You're lucky I love you." Grumbling quietly, you let him pull you into his embrace. You were cold, and he was warm. It was a no-brainer, really. Well, you also loved him dearly, which made his embrace twice as warm.

"I'm very lucky indeed." He said with a small smile, littering more kisses along your temple. You giggled as his action, pressing your face closer to his coat covered side. His heart felt full. It never had before, no matter how many new dates he took to galas or how many new cars and expensive watches he bought.

Not even Rachel had made him feel like this. Only you did, only you could. He would cherish you and the way you made his heart beat faster, the smile that would creep onto his face whenever you entered the room and a subtle heat rose to his face, until it all came crashing down. He swore it. He swore himself, and he swore you, and he'd do everything in his power to keep that promise.

You continued your path through the city, getting closer and closer to a much needed hot shower and a hot beverage of your choice. It would probably end up being Alfred's hot chocolate. You don't know what he puts in there, but god, it's good. You were just telling Bruce some gossip from this month's book club, which you attended with Alfred and Selena.

Although the latter of your friends was very hesitant and not at all fond of the idea, she enjoyed the time after discussing the books, which she'd never read anyway. You didn't see each other much, so catching up during a cozy afternoon was always a nice experience. Not to mention Alfred's cookies had your fellow book clubers, who were mostly middle-aged women, absolutely swooning.

"You won't believe which book Carol recommended we read next."

He raised an eyebrow glancing over at you. "And what book is that?"

"The fucking Bible." You replied, slightly shaking your head.

"The.. Bible? I doubt she could finish that in a month." He grinned, making you laugh. You went on about all the gossip about their grown-up children, who quit which job and others, which relationship. It was quite entertaining, actually. It was also the only reason Selena put up with the bookclub idea in the first place.

By this point, she was more excited to go than you and Alfred were. Bruce listened to all the stories that had been exchanged during this months meet. He would gently guide you around street lanterns and people as you were too captivated in your storytelling to notice.

He wondered sometimes, did he make your heart feel as full as you made his? He didn't want to doubt you, or your love, but he couldn't help the dark thoughts that would worm their way into his brain in the late evenings. He couldn't help the deep, dull ache of jealousy and insecurity that pounded in his heart when you would talk to other men. Bruce knew you would never break his trust and love like that, but it just felt so.. wrong. Wrong when you would smile at the barista at your favorite coffee shop and that idiot would smile back, or even worse, start small talk while he was right beside you.

At Galas and charity events, he'd hold you especially close. What if you found someone who was richer? Better looking? Someone who was more charming than he was? Bruce was an expert at hiding his feelings, so events were no different for him.

He'd laugh along and smile as you talked with some handsome billionaire, who was already undressing you with his gaze. He always felt uneasy around men like that. What if you left him? He was shocked at how insecure he really felt when it came to you, but he never had something like this before, something real.

Everyone always left him, what if you weren't any different? What if you would leave, just like everyone else had?

Bruce quickly caught sight of a tall, well built buisness man coming your way. He was on the phone, very entranced in the conversation, as were you. Before Bruce could pull you aside, you collided with the man, making you grunt has the air was knocked from your lungs. "I'm so sorry, Miss," he bent down to pick up his phone, which he had dropped at the impact, "are you alright?"

"I am, don't worry. It happens." You smiled with a little chuckle. The man, who was way too close to you for Bruce's liking, touched your arm and bid you a farewell with a very charming smile.

You went on your way, but Bruce was a little absent from that point. He tried catching everything you told him, but he couldn't stop thinking about how that guy had touched you. He had just touched you, who does he think he is? First, he's careless and bumps into you and then he touches you? He could feel a mix of emotions bubbling in his veins.

First, there was Rage. The hot, red anger of that fool putting his hands on you. Even if it was an objectively nice and innocent gesture, it made his blood boil. And then there was it again, that strange, fizzy feeling of insecurity. Would that small touch and exchange of words be enough for you to leave him? Was he good enough for you? Was he doing this right? He had no answers to any of these questions, and they were bouncing around in the inside of his head, pounding against his skull.

"Bruce, my love, are you alright?" You brows were pulled together in concern. You'd noticed that he was in his head, barely listening to what you were saying. He'd slightly stiffened and sped up his pace as well. "Hm?" He snapped his head towards you. It took him a second to process what you had asked.

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He forced a small smile, but you could see through that immediately. He'd forget that you were in a relationship sometimes, being completely vulnerable around each other. There was no way you'd fall for his little number. He cleared his throat. "Let's get home, shall we?" He hastily pulled you along, resulting in you stumbling behind him.

Once you were back at the Manor, you sighed in relief at the warmth that eveneloped you. You rubbed your hands together, hoping they'd warm up quickly. Bruce was still acting strange, a stoic expression and he hadn't said anything on the way back. You couldn't even get your shoes off before he was dragging you up the marble staircase, quickly finding the way to your shared bedroom.

"Honey? What's going on- mh!" You were interrupted by your lover turning around and smashing his lips to yours, probably to shut you up, cupping your cheeks in the process. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands again and reached the bedroom with a very confused and flustered you in tow.

Locking the door behind him, he was on you immediately. Groping and kneading at your body, although you were still in your full outside attire, pushing you back on the bed. His kiss was hungry and desperate, he was practically devouring you. You fell back onto the bed as Bruce crawled on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"What- what's gotten into you?" You managed to ask between kisses, your breathing already heavy. "Need you." Was all he responded, mumbling the words against your lips. His hands which had previously rested on your waist slid down to your hips, over your thighs and calves until he reached your boots which he quickly made work of, making them hit the floor with a thud.

Your coat was next, being thrown across the room, same with your scarf, which then joined your coat on he floor. Bruce sucked and nibbled on your jaw as he eagerly pushed your top over your head, exposing your bra. He groaned at the sight, the vibration making your lips tingle. It wasn't a rare occurrence to see him like this, but usually, you'd know what caused this behavior. But today, you were clueless.

Not that you weren't enjoying it. It was an absolute sight to see Bruce like this. How this well-mannered, calm, and patient man lost his self-control so quickly when it came to you managed to ruin your panties every single time. He placed one of his hands on your back, making you lean slightly forward before he expertly unhooked your bra with one hand. Your soft tits spilled from their confinement, and you moaned softly as the cool air of the room hit your skin.

Bruce trailed his kisses down your neck and over your chest, but they weren't as slow and precise as usual. They were sloppy and rushed, it was like he was trying to reach as much skin as fast as possible. A few gentle sucks to your hardened nipples had your breath catching in your throat, but before you could say or do anything in response he had already moved on, hooking his fingers in your skirt and tights, quickly pushing them down your hips.

He slid off the bed, sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your plush thighs to pull you to the edge. "We have all the time in the world, no need to rush things," you breathed heavily, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

"No." He growled, already at work to bite and suck marks into the supple skin of your thighs. Your head fell back at the sensation and you groaned. He looked so fucking good on his knees. Bruce was almost feral, groaning and grunting as his mouth tasted more and more of your skin. Finally, he turned his attention to your soaked pussy.

He stroked over the wet spot on your panties, licking his lips when one of those sweet moans fell from you. Kissing your ruined underwear, he gently caressed your thighs, soothing the bruises he had left. The sound of fabric ripping made your head snap forward, looking at your lover with an alarmed expression. Bruce was in a different world. His pupils were dilated and his chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked at your glistening cunt. It dawned on you once the cold air it your sopping slit. He had ripped your panties off of you.

"Honey, those were new-" you were cut off, yet again, as he dove in, licking at your folds. A high pitched moan ripped from your throat and you were gripping the sheets so tight there'd surely be holes in them by dawn. Bruce hummed in delight at your taste, his arms tightly wrapped around your thighs whil his hands were splayed out on your tummy, keeping you still as he devoured you.

Goosebumps were rising on your soft skin. The room was cold and you laid bare, making the sensation of his warm mouth on your pussy overwhelming. The scratchy fabric of his wool coat rubbed against your calves, reminding you that he was still fully clothed. A dull ache of arousal shoot into your tummy at the thought of him being so eager to have you, taste you, that he didn't even have the patience to undress himself.

He laped at you, drinking in all you were giving him. The lewd, wet sounds echoed through the quiet room, accompanied by your beautiful moans. All of your nerve endings were on fire, his touch almost burning as he kneaded at your body.

"Oh, Fuck- Bruce, oh my God-!" You whined and moaned once he circled his tongue around your clit. Your blood was boiling, almost as if hot lava was flowing in your veins. He pulled away for air with a gentle kiss to your bundle of nerves. The sight made your cunt squeeze around nothing. His hair was messy, your slick was dripping down his chin, he was heaving, the breaths sitting heavy on his chest.

A light layer of sweat covered his forehead, from both the warmth of his winter clothes and the burning pleasure he got from fucking you with his tongue. His beautiful brown eyes were almost black, his pupils swallowing his irises whole as he looked up at you.

"You're mine, right?" He asked, with such vulnerability and softness that your brows furrowed. That question caught you off guard, frankly. "W-What?" Your mind was hazy, your otherworldly bliss having been ripped from under your nose.

"Tell me you're mine. Please, sweetheart." He continued slowly licking at your cunt again, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Tell me you're mine." This time, it was more a demand, a hard tone to his voice. His cold gaze pierced through you, but there was an underlying look of pleading, like he was begging you to assure him you were his with his eyes alone.

"Tell me." It was a desperate plea, the raw emotion was something you'd seen rarely. You didn't know what to think, the jump between emotions and his demeanor couldn't cut through the thick fog of pleasure hanging over your mind. In a rough manner, his hands settled on your thighs, prying them open.

His tongue was back on your clit with small licks and kisses before wrapping his lips around it and suckling. The sensation made pleasure shoot up your spine, your eyes widening and your mouth was slightly agape, breathy whimpers and moans left your lips while your back arched off the bed.

"Shit- Yes, yes I'm yours! Jus' yours.." it came off your lips as a drawl, a slurry of words as ecstasy gnawed its way into your brain. The grip he had on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into your delicate skin. A delicious feeling of the subtle pain seeping into the pleasure you were experiencing coaxed another string of moans from your lips.

"Good." He said it so lowly, it was unlike anything you'd ever heard come out of his mouth. It vibrated in his chest and throat, and in succession against your sensitive pussy as well. You were so close, the mere touch of a feather could tip you over the edge.

"B-Bruce.." You panted, his name was forced out of your throat as best as you could. Your hands were gripping at his hair by now, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. He knew you were impossibly close, he hungered for you to fall apart on his tongue and only think of him. Bruce buried his face even deeper between your thighs, finally snapping that thin rope that was keeping you from earth shattering bliss.

You came with a cry of his name, your thighs quivering. Your breathing was fast and uneven and your mouth was dry. The movements of his tongue slowed and became gentler as he helped you through your high. He slowly kissed his way up your body before finally capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

"Did you get all of it out of your system now?" You laughed breathlessly while a small smirk settled on his lips.

"I'm not so sure, actually."

"Oh, give me a break!" You whined as he pulled you close to his chest with a chuckle. It was kind of odd, seeing as you were completely nude, and he looked like he was ready to go out.

"Are you okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?" He inquired gently, pressing kisses to your head.

"No, no, it was really good." You smiled, resting your head against him with a sigh. You were burning up, your skin shinning with sweat.

"At least I'm not cold anymore." You glanced up at him with a smirk and one of those signature Bruce Wayne grins crept onto his face.

"Told you I'd keep you warm, Baby."

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There's more of our favorite playboy to come very soon!~ 🐝

[chaoticallyfluffy]

I'm curious about Billy Batfam

This one is a classic Billy gets fostered into the Wayne household fic but it focuses on a few things that I don't normally see in those fics, such as the weirdness and magic of Gotham and Fawcett city clashing and meshing together thanks to such an important resident of the most magical place in the world moving to the most cursed.

Billy is confused by Gotham's unnaturally rainy and gloomy days, the way that the people are much more resistant to illness, toxins, and dark magic, and the innate ability to sense danger the citizens all seem to have. All people in Fawcett have magic within them that is pure in nature unless corrupted, but here in Gotham it seems to be the other way around. It doesn't necessarily mean the citizens of Gotham are evil, just that they have a natural affinity to dark magic should they choose to practice it.

The Wayne's are confused about the way Billy seems to almost shine in tiny ways, like a light that refuses to be snuffed out by Gotham's dark, but it not just his personality. For example: he is much more susceptible to the toxins in the water and gets sick often, but he recovers faster than any Gothamite due to his magic fighting against it.

These differences come up in many different ways and everyone's just confused lol. My goal for the is to come up with ways that people would evolve differently in the different environments, especially with mass amounts magic changing them and speeding up the process, and then have the two interact and learn to adapt to each other and maybe even create something entirely new!

Its probably gonna be a "Gotham is alive" and "Fawcett is alive" kind of thing, or maybe just really really close to it.

Also lots of the typical hurt and comfort that comes with a Billy in the batfam fic + lots of Tawky Tawny being a mischevious little man + Billy befriending a new Villain everytime Bruce looks away for a split second.

The only problem is that I don't swear so I'd have to call Nightwing "Richard" or something the entire fic lol

[sssailorvanya]

for once in my life, let me get what i want. [battinson]

please ignore my shit tenses | wc: 780(?)

You’ve never been one to ask for more beyond what you’re given. Your feet are always impossibly cold and your smile is missing from your face these days. Winter’s hard enough as it is. You didn’t know how to feel about the mysterious man dressed up as a bat, running around at night to fight crime.

You’ve heard what this mysterious vigilante does to the rogue criminals he catches. You’ve even witnessed his brutality a few times, thankfully never aimed at you. He saved you once. You were walking home, with your cold feet and blank expression, and a group of men had jumped out of a nearby alley. You had thought, ‘oh fuck, here we go again,’ and prepared to hand over your meagre possessions. You had not anticipated the fearsome vigilante materialising out of nowhere, throttling the living daylights out of all the men until they cowered in fear. You had watched, dumbfounded, as he picked up your small, bright pink purse and handed it to you.

You almost wanted him to keep it, if only for the comical juxtaposition.

So, no, you don’t know how to feel about him. Gratitude is a motivating factor but, nowadays, you barely feel anything at all. You certainly don’t feel anything when he takes your cold hand the second time you meet (another mugging foiled) and awkwardly massages it.

“For the circulation,” He growls softly.

You hum and let him massage your hand.

The citizens of Gotham call him “the Batman”, or simply “the Bat”. Sometimes they’ll call him “Vengeance” with a capital V, but nobody answers when you ask why.

You’re not native to Gotham, but you’re not from a city which was its polar opposite either. The gloomy weather and gothic architecture is a welcome reminder of the home you unwillingly left behind.

The third time you meet him, you feel braver than before. “You ever heard of the PJ Masks?” You ask softly, watching as he delivers a harsh blow to an unconscious thug (muggings are very common in Gotham, especially when they can sense that you’re not from here). He glances back at you, his lips pursed and his eyes smeared with dark eyeliner. You wish you could take off the cowl and see his full expression.

“I haven’t,” He says softly. His voice is jarring to listen to. You can tell he’s a man of few words so whenever he speaks, you are enthralled. You don’t know why. What sort of lunatic would be fascinated by a bat vigilante?

Lunatics like you.

“It’s a good show. Reminds me of you,” You say. Your lips don’t curl up in a smile but it’s a near thing. Your feet feel warmer today.

He’s a man who talks little, but he humours you anyway. “Must be good then.” You think you imagine the minute twitch of his lips as he turns away, his fearsome cape dripping with droplets of rain and blood. You watch him go.

Your hands are still cold.

The fourth time you encounter him makes you feel as if he’s started to keep tabs on you specifically. There’s no reason for the fearsome Bat to be lurking outside the 7/11 closest to your little apartment at 2am, but he is there. There’s no thievery to put an end to and no criminals for him to terrify. There is just you and the bright lights of the 7/11 and the jalapeños-and-cheese baked concoction in your hands. Your eyes are glimmering in the artificial light as you break off a piece.

You offer it to him, a small smile playing on your lips. He takes it from you slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt you. Your feet are cosy and warm tonight. He doesn’t smile back but he does stand next to you all night. Gotham is quiet tonight. It’s a blessing in disguise for you both.

The last time you meet him, you are hurting all over. There is blood sliding down your face and your vision is blurred, but you know it’s him when someone takes your hand. He rubs your hand soothingly.

“For the… circulation… right?” You croak out. It’s hard to talk with chapped lips and broken teeth.

He doesn’t respond. His grip on your hand tightens.

Some upcoming villain in Gotham decided to launch a nefarious attack in the city centre. You were caught in the crossfire, as were many other civilians. But it’s you whom he chooses to comfort, and it’s you whom he clings onto as you fade away.

Your hand goes limp in his grasp. It’s cold.

But there’s a smile on your face and your feet are warm.

[turnipstewdios]

Half-Lives

Something is wrong with Jason Todd.

That's not new.

Someone having answers about why... that might be. Someone maybe being able to help... that definitely was.

Danny just hopes its not to late. -----------------------------------------------

First ever fanfic! Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48120073 ----------------------------------------------- Chapter 1/? Danny didn't think he liked Gotham.

Oh, it was easy enough for him to avoid getting mugged, or shot, or involved in whatever chaos was happening on a given night. Invisibility was a great way to stay out of trouble, so long as he was careful. Nothing like walking around a corner and literally disappearing to lose a tail. He tried not to use it too much though. Tried to make sure he didn't blip out of existence on camera or in front of witnesses, or do anything else that might get the wrong sort of attention. So the ever present threat of crime was stressful, in a nagging background noise sort of way, but he could live with it. Or, well. Not Live with it. 

Half-way live with it. But the weather in Gotham was horrible. It rained. A lot. Or drizzled. Or it was foggy. He’d thought that maybe the weather wouldn’t be so gloomy in the middle of Summer, but it was. Even worse. It was gloomy and hot. Heat wave or no heat wave, the city was way too warm for a place with this much cloud cover. All the rain and the mist was just making things unbearably humid. Even days when the clouds had cleared out for a bit, the smog was still there. Hanging around like a stuffy blanket, smothering the city. Choking out the sky. It was hard to see the stars in Gotham. Danny wished he could just fly up over the city, out of the fog and the haze. Just to hang in the clear air and stargaze. Lose himself in the star speckled universe and forget things for a while. But he couldn’t. That would be stupid. As much as he wanted to. As much as he felt like he needed to. 

He needed to stay low profile. Use his powers sparingly. Carefully. Gotham had quite a lot of natural ectoplasm. Not anywhere near as much as Amity, but… well. Amity. It was enough to hide his ecto-signature, so long as he didn't go overboard. A bit of invisibility or intangibility was fine. Stuff like that didn't use enough power to show up on ghost hunting equipment at anything but point blank range, and if someone got that close he was in trouble anyway. In theory, flying didn't use much power either, but he couldn’t risk it. Not above building height anyway. Who knew what kind of crazy radar or lidar or whatever was scanning Gotham’s airspace. Batman seemed paranoid like that.

 So he was stuck at ground level. Which, at the moment, meant lying in bed in his stuffy, dingy apartment, with his shirt sticking to his skin, and trying to figure out how to get a job. Thank God or the ancients or whoever was listening for Sam and Tuck. Without them, he wouldn’t be able to do that either. Wouldn’t be able to lay here on his cheap mattress and think about the awful weather, and the gloom, and how much he wanted to go flying. The apartment, and what little spending money he had at the moment, was from Sam. She’d apparently been setting aside money for years, building up an emergency fund in case something happened. She’d paid for the little apartment for a few months in advance, so he had some time to figure out what he was going to do next. The funds were going to run out eventually though, and he needed a way to make money on his own. Fortunately, he had ID, courtesy of Tucker. Very good, very fake ID, that absolutely did not say he was Danny Fenton from amity park. ID with just enough of a background and personal history attached to it to get him an apartment, and hopefully pass muster for a job interview. He also had a phone! A phone he could use to look for a job, and order food, and navigate through the labyrinth that was Gotham city without getting hopelessly lost. A phone that was subscribed to BATWATCH and the Gotham Emergency Alert System, so he could stay as far out of the way of the local vigilantes and their rogues as possible. A phone he didn't dare contact Sam or Tucker or Jazz with, in case someone was watching to see if he tried. He didn't know what he’d do without them.

  Without them, he probably wouldn’t have made it out of Amity Park at all. He didn't want to think about that. The weather wasn’t the only off putting thing about the city either. Something kept almost, but not quite triggering his ghost sense. Whatever it was, it was weak. Very weak. Barely even a buzz above the background noise of the city’s own ectoplasm. But whatever it was felt… wrong. Wrong in a subtle, crawling sort of way. 

He didn't want to think about that either. 

So. A job. He didn't qualify for a whole lot. Couldn’t go for anything fancy, or anything that would look too far into his background. Which meant he was probably stuck with manual labor, food service, or retail. Or… well. Crime. This was Gotham. But he wanted to avoid that unless he got really, really desperate. Manual labor was probably out. He was more than strong enough in theory, but unfortunately he looked like a twig. Most people would probably take one look at him and laugh him off. And if the skinny twink started lifting things like he had super strength, it would get him labeled as a meta at the very least. Or worse. He’d made a list of stores and restaurants near his apartment to look into. A few of them were hiring, but he wasn’t sure being a cashier or shelf stocker was such a good idea. The idea of spending his entire work day under a camera made him nervous. Cameras tended to glitch out around him. It would be fine for a few minutes at a time as long as he was in human form, but the longer he stayed in the frame the worse the system would bug out. Somebody would notice that they were only glitching around him eventually, especially if they kept having the same problem even when they were replaced. And if someone was looking for the distinctive kind of anomalies that ghosts tended to produce on film, he may as well just paint a target on his back. 

And someone was looking.

So. He needed a job that would keep him off camera as much as possible, that wouldn’t require lifting things he shouldn’t be able to, that didn't require any special skills or degrees, and that wouldn’t do too thorough of a background check. And that was legal. Hopefully. He was thinking of trying to do delivery. It had its own problems. For one thing, he didn't have a car. Or a bike. The bike he could get, he had enough money for that. But Gothem wasn’t the most cyclist friendly of places even if he could avoid getting it stolen. He could get around on his own fine, even without using his powers much. If he was willing to run rooftops, he could probably manage just as well if not better than any car could in the city traffic. But he didn't think that would go over well in a job interview. And there were other people running roofs in Gotham. People he’d really prefer to avoid. He hadn’t been able to think of much else he could do though. It was frustrating.

  He wanted to fly. He couldn’t risk it.

  Danny groaned. It was way too hot to be thinking about this tonight. He wanted to just roll over in bed and sleep, and leave worrying about the future for the morning or whenever he woke up, but it was too hot for that too. He had showered before bed, but he already felt sticky and unpleasant in the humid, slightly musty air of his tiny apartment. So he was left tossing and turning around trying to get comfortable on the crappy mattress, and trying NOT to think about why he had to be here at all. Which wasn’t working. He needed something to do. Lying here trying to sleep wasn’t doing him any good. It was just too warm.  

He needed a fan.

 He probably should have gotten one already to be honest. Danny just hadn't thought about it when he’d done the bare bones shopping for stuff to put in his apartment a few days ago. He did have money left over, and it’s not like it would be expensive, he could get one. Maybe there was somewhere close by that was open late enough to visit. Getting out of the apartment might clear his head, and it wasn’t like he had something better to do. He pulled out his phone. A quick google search showed a 24h CVS relatively close by. It would take him a while to get there on foot though. The mattress made a testy sound as Danny pulled himself off the floor, and then stood up and walked to the window. The low clouds outside were stained a muddy orange color by the city lights, but it wasn’t raining. The forecast had said it wouldn’t, but he wasn’t sure he trusted the weather report here yet. He looked up at the roof of the building next door. He hadn’t actually tested his theory about being able to move around faster above street level. He should probably give it a try to see if his delivery idea would even work. Checking BATWATCH showed no vigilante sightings so far, and there hadn’t been any emergency alerts tonight. He’d probably be fine going out roof running for a bit. He went to get his shoes.

_______________________________________

Patrol had been quiet. Oddly so. Jason didn’t like quiet. Quiet should be good. Quiet meant things were calm for once. Meant Red Hood didn't have to start breaking kneecaps to remind people that his turf was supposed to stay quiet. Crime alley was never what anyone would call peaceful, and it never stayed calm for long, but tonight had been unusually violence free. It made something in him itch. He wanted to think it was just the heat wave. It had hardly seemed to cool down at all the last few nights. The whole city had slowed down in the muggy heat, including the less upstanding citizens. Nobody wanted to be out dealing with this any more than necessary. But if there was anything that Jason had learned in all the time he’d spent in the city, it was that Gotham didn’t do quiet. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But things were still going easier than usual. Most of the usual suspects were still in Arkham, (for now) the gangs were lying low, (for now) Batman was staying out of Jason's business, (for once) and everyone else was too damn miserable to bother making trouble. Jason hated it. He needed to do something. Needed to fight. Needed to move. Needed something to take his mind off Bruce, and the pit, and how damn quiet everything was being. He felt like that a lot, these days. Like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin. He could probably go on coms. Probably should go on coms. Ask if anyone else had found anything, or if they needed help. He could ask if Tim had made any progress on his case, or if Dick needed any help patrolling Bludhaven. He could just ask if someone wanted to get a burger with him. But somehow, he just... couldn't. Part of him just didn’t want to deal with them tonight. Not when he was already frustrated and cranky, and the pit was a whisper away from rousing. Not when they knew he was frustrated, and would be watching him from the corner of their eye the whole night, waiting for it to happen.

He didn’t think he could deal with that right now. Not with the way things had been going.

They probably didn’t have anything more interesting to do tonight than he did anyway. He did want that burger though. He had barely eaten before going out on his rounds, and that had been a while ago. And his gear was uncomfortably warm. He wanted a shower. Somewhat reluctantly, he started heading back towards his closest safehouse. No point in staying out just to be miserable. He might as well change into civies and go get something to eat. Jason grappled through the alley behind the place, dropped down onto the fire escape, and crawled in the window. He made sure to re-arm the traps and alarms behind him before moving deeper into the room though. He still felt on edge, and he wasn’t about to be careless, no matter how quiet it seemed.

 Talking the damn helmet off felt wonderful. Peeling off his gear and climbing into a cold shower felt even better. He stood there for a while, letting the water cool him off, and tried not to think about anything in particular. It didn't work all that well. 

Eventually, he managed to shut off the water, and dragged himself out of the shower to grab some fresh clothes. He did feel better now that he was clean and somewhat cool, but he still felt restless. He needed a distraction. And that burger. Jason sat down on the lumpy couch, and started lacing up his boots. It might be nice to go for a ride. Something icy cold ran up his spine. One of his alarms beeped. There was someone on the roof. 

That wasn’t necessarily concerning. Lots of people could be found on the roofs in Gotham. Especially in the Bowery and Crime Alley. They were often safer than the streets, and plenty of folks used them to get around, especially the kids. And this building was almost empty, except for him. It was unlikely someone was attempting to break in. There were other reasons someone might be up there though. His building was higher than most in the area. 

There had been... problems, before. 

He checked his cameras. There was a young, scrawny looking guy with black hair standing near the edge of the roof, overlooking the street. Not encouraging.

Jason shivered again, feeling cold for a moment, in spite of the hot night air

He got up and headed for the stairs. _______________________________________ Running across the roofs felt nice. Nicer than slowly stewing in his room anyway. It felt nice enough that after a while, Danny had kind of stopped keeping track of where he was. He thought he was still going in the general direction of the CVS, but he wasn't sure exactly where he was relative to it. That was fine. He didn’t mind exploring, and the air out here was a bit fresher and cooler than it had been inside. He wanted to wander for a while. He’d never actually done this kind of free-running before. Amity park hadn’t been big or dense enough for it. It was kind of neat. He’d been trying to see how much he could do without using any of his powers to help. So far, it was hard enough that he had worked up a light sweat, and complicated enough to keep his mind off other things. He paused for a bit to catch his breath on a building that stuck up a few stories above the surrounding roofs. It had a view down one of the busier streets in the area, and he took a minute to look out over the city. 

There were so many lights here. Way, way more than there had been back home. Streetlights and traffic lights and lights from the buildings. Cars and businesses and apartments, and the looming constellations of the towers downtown. Yet somehow, the city still felt darker than it should have. Gloom and shadows clinging to the space between lights like it was trying to snuff them out. It was pretty. In a slightly ominous, chilling kind of way. He shivered a bit. It almost looked like stars. “You ok up here buddy?”

Danny almost jumped out of his skin. It took a moment of concentration to make sure he actually came back down from said jump, instead of floating off the roof, and a moment longer to realize the embarrassingly high pitched yelping noise that he'd just heard had come from him. “Woah woah sorry!! I didn't mean to scare you!” Said the very concerned sounding man on the roof behind him. The man who had just snuck up on him. On Danny. The half ghost with super hearing. How the hell “Good God warn a guy! You scared the life outta me!” Danny sucked in a deep breath as he turned to look back across the roof, and oh dear lord he’s built like a tank pleasedontthrowmeoffthebuilding No one that big should be that sneaky. It went against several laws of nature. And possibly physics. The dude looked like he might be taller than Da- than Jack Fenton, and almost as buff. And kinda hot. And surprisingly contrite looking. “Sorry.” The guy winced a little, raising his hands slightly. “Bad habit. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.” He shuffled his feet a bit while Danny tried to get his heart rate back down to normal levels, (well, normal for him) and Danny caught him glancing down at something behind him. “What are you doing up here man?” “Ah, sorry! I can leave! I didn't mean to trespass or anything I was just… I needed to get out of my apartment and it was cooler out here and it seemed safer up here than down on the streets” And Danny was rambling. Great. He was probably trespassing on this dude’s roof, he sounded like a lunatic, and he was pretty sure that was a gun hiding under his shirt. “I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble!” Tank-Man waved him off. “Hey no, no it’s ok. Lots of people use the roofs in the alley. It’s more common than you’d think.” (The Alley. Danny had wandered into Crime Alley. he was on a roof with an armed guy in Crime Alley.) He didn't really look like he was gonna shoot him though. In fact he looked very concerned. “So you’re just out for some air? No other reason?” And he kept glancing behind Danny, and… oh. Yeah. He was standing on the edge of the roof, on the tallest building in the area. Shit. “Oh, no. Nothing, nothing’s wrong. Well, I mean there’s plenty wrong but nothing like…” he should just step away from the edge. Yeah. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about how that looked.”  He took a few steps towards the middle of the roof. “I just, needed to get out and stop thinking about stuff for a while.” Tank-guy relaxed a bit, and Danny did too. “Yeah, I hear ya. Couldn’t sleep?” “Too hot. No AC and I don’t have a fan yet.” “Oof, yeah. Rough.” He looked Danny over for a second. “You new in the area? You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham.” Danny answered without thinking about it to hard. He had a tuft of bright white hair. Oddly familiar white hair. “Yeah, just moved in a few days ago.” “Ah, bad timing then. Heat’s been brutal this week.” He looked sympathetic. “It’s not normally this bad” Oh shoot, he'd been starring. “Well, that’s nice to hear.” Danny looked back out over the city, hoping that he wasn’t coming across as awkward as he felt. There was a brief pause. Mission failed. Way to go Danny. “Where’ you from?” Shit. That was not on Danny’s list of safe small talk. “Uh, I moved from out of state. Nowhere important.” Please don’t ask. No luck. The guy looked even more curious now. “Why’d you move to Gotham ?”“I, uh…” Danny faltered. “It… seemed like a change of pace.” He got an incredulous look and a chuckle for that. “Change of pace.” he almost looked impressed. “Yeah that’s a change all right.” Yeah Danny probably deserved that. “I just… I needed to get away from… stuff back home.” A lot of stuff back home. Stuff he’d been trying not to think about. “I was looking for a fresh start.” The roof went quiet for a moment. When Danny glanced back over at the guy, he found him watching him. He had pretty eyes. For a moment, he looked uncomfortably analytical, like he was figuring Danny out. Then he just looked kind of sad. “Yeah. I guess it’s good for that.” Danny’s stomach growled. Loudly. The guy’s eyebrows went up, and Danny felt like he might have died of embarrassment if it hadn't already been too late for that. 

“Sorry.” He was apologizing a lot, wasn’t he? “I forgot dinner.” He had technically forgotten lunch too. And breakfast. He didn't actually need to eat as often as most people, and it was easy to ignore hunger for a while when he was busy. It tended to sneak up on him.

There had been other things on his mind for the last few days. 

… “You want a burger?” “Uh” Very articulate Danny. “What?” “A burger. I missed dinner too. There’s a place down the street.” Ok wait. Time out. Going somewhere with the hot dude who had snuck up on him on a roof was not in the plan tonight. He was hungry though. Danny hesitated. His stomach growled again. Roof Guy looked amused. Danny let out a breath. Might as well just roll with it. “Sure. Why not.” Took another breath, and held out a hand. “My name’s Danny, by the way” Roof guy smiled, and shook it. “Jason.” _______________________________________ Jason quietly opened the access door to the roof, and stepped out into the muggy night air. 

The possible intruder was standing on the edge nearest the street, looking concerningly melancholy. He did a quick threat assessment. Small. He had a surprising amount of muscle for looking so thin, but probably not physically a match for Jason in a fight. No weapons he could see. Looked about Jason’s age, with short, unruly black hair. Dressed in worn jeans and a NASA t-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. Looked like he’d seen better days in general. Definitely didn't look like a burglar. “You ok up here buddy?”

And the guy on the roof very nearly fell off the roof, and Jason flinched and tensed to lunge forward and catch him. “Woah woah sorry!! I didn't mean to scare you!” He must be more off his game tonight than he thought! He should know better than to startle somebody like that. Bruce had taught them better He had been trained to make noise around civilians, especially ones who were standing on the edge of roofs, Jason!!! “Good God warn a guy! You scared the life outta me!” The man, who had fortunately not fallen off the roof, pulled in a deep breath and turned to look nervously at Jason. Up close, he looked even scrawnier. Like a light breeze could pick him up and blow him away. He also looked like he hadn't slept in a week. It wasn’t quite Tim levels of bad, but there were still dark circles under his eyes.

He was also eyeing Jason like he was afraid he was gonna tackle him. Not an unreasonable assumption in Crime Alley.“Sorry.” Jason said. He raised his hands a bit and tried to look relatively non-threatening. “Bad habit. I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.” He was still standing way, way too close to the edge of the roof for Jason’s comfort. “Ah, sorry! I can leave!” The stranger started stammering. “I didn't mean to trespass or anything I was just… I needed to get out of my apartment and it was cooler out here and it seemed safer up here than down on the streets. I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble!” “Hey no, no it’s ok. Lots of people use the roofs in the alley. It’s more common than you’d think.” It was. Just not on his roof. Climbing up here from the nearby buildings was a bit out of the way for someone just getting around. “So you’re just out for some air? No other reason?” He didn’t seem like he was here to do something drastic, but he still wanted to get him a bit farther from the edge. He still looked nervous, but the question seemed to confuse him a bit. Then he seemed to realize where Jason had been looking, and he suddenly looked alarmed instead. “Oh, no. Nothing, nothing’s wrong. Well, I mean” He paused a bit, and looked worryingly strained. “There's plenty wrong but nothing like… Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about how that looked.”  He finally took a few hurried steps away from the edge, looking like he was trying to reassure Jason that he wasn’t gonna fall, or jump, off.  “I just, needed to get out and stop thinking about stuff for a while.” And wow, yeah, he looked tired. “Yeah, I hear ya.” Jason could relate. He’d just been looking for a distraction, any distraction, to avoid thinking about his own problems. Looks like he’d found one. “Couldn’t sleep?” Roof man sagged a bit, somehow looking even more miserable. “Too hot. No AC and I don’t have a fan yet.” “Oof, yeah. Rough.” Jason had been slowly melting all day and he had a fan.

He took a moment to look the stranger over. He didn't think he’d ever seen him before, but something about him seemed oddly familiar. Some faint feeling of de'javu. Maybe it was the hair and the eyes, which, yeah. They were blue. Oh boy. He didn’t seem like he was familiar with the area though. There was something about his accent… “You new in the area?” He guessed. “You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham.” “Yeah, just moved in a few days ago.” “Ah, bad timing then. Heat’s been brutal this week. It’s not normally this bad.” And Jason was going on about the weather now, because he was clearly a master of small talk. “Well, that’s nice to hear.” The guy looked away awkwardly. Great. “Where’ you from?” That was a bad question, apparently. He was looking nervous again. “Uh, I moved from out of state.” His feet shuffled on the roof gravel. “Nowhere important.” Sounded like he was a ways from home. Maybe even from a small town. That had to be one hell of a culture shock, moving to any big city, let alone this one. “Why’d you move to Gotham ?”

“I, uh…” He seemed unsure how to answer that. “It… seemed like a change of pace.” “Change of pace.” Gotham? Really? “Yeah that’s a change all right.” 

A wry look crossed the guy’s face at that. But then it shifted again, and he was looking back out over the city. “I just…” He stopped. Gathered himself for a moment. “ I needed to get away from… stuff back home. I was looking for a fresh start.” He sounded so, so tired. A fresh start. Yeah, Gotham could be that, if you were tough enough to survive here. Lots of people who came to Gotham were running from something. “Yeah. I guess it’s good for that.”

He wondered what this kid was running from. God. A scrawny, black haired, blue eyed kid down on his luck, with a mysterious past. He could never let Bruce see him, he'd be adopted on the spot. The stranger’s stomach growled. Jason raised his eyebrows, and the guys ears turned red. He smiled sheepishly, and chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot dinner.” That was… concerning. He didn't look like he should be missing meals. Well. Jason had been hungry. “You want a burger?” “Uh” He looked startled for a second. It was kind of cute “What?” “A burger. I missed dinner too. There’s a place down the street.” His stomach growled a second time, and the ears went even redder. Definitely cute.

Jason watched him debate something for a moment, and then his expression turned wry again. “Sure. Why not.” He turned fully towards Jason, and held out a hand. “My name’s Danny, by the way” He grinned, and shook it “Jason.” Danny’s hand was Ice cold.

[tourettesdog]

DP x DC prompt where ghosts cannot occupy Gotham due to the territorial hostility and oppressive aura of the Spirit of Gotham.

Danny’s parents drag him to Gotham for a convention and from the moment Danny steps foot in the city he feels as though a giant predator is waiting in the shadows.

Everything in Danny’s core screams at him to run-- to leave Gotham and never look back. Only he can’t exactly manage that while traveling with his parents. The most Danny can do is feign a migraine and stick to the hotel, fighting down every warning thrum of RUN-FEAR-DANGER-RUN issuing from his core.

Trying to ignore the way he can imagine that apex predator lurking about the city, its ears pricking with interest the same moment his eyes flash green.

Jazz doesn’t know what to make of it anymore than Danny does. She’s alert, worried that a ghost might have followed them, but nothing shows up. Gotham might be gloomy in a way reminiscent of Amity, but it appears to be lacking in the ghostly department. 

Danny spends two days cooped up in the hotel, his paranoia only increasing as his parents return both nights to gush about all of the supplies and new ideas they’ve gleaned from the convention. During a particularly dark rant about lab studies on ghosts, Jazz convinces Danny to walk with her to the Bat Burger near the hotel. Just a short outing to stretch his legs and, hopefully, clear his head. 

It’s not much of a walk, but Danny watches every inch of shadow with bated breath. 

He feels somewhat vindicated in his paranoia when someone jumps them, trying to rob the siblings at knifepoint. Danny wastes no time in flipping the man on his back and taking his knife, putting a bit of ghostly strength into his actions. 

The moment Danny uses that power he feels something in the air shift. What originally felt like a monstrous shark lazily swimming beneath him now feels much more akin to a great serpent rearing its head. Danny can imagine eyes upon him-- feel cold breath down his neck. The shadows darken perceptively as all of the lights of the city seem to dim to dying embers.

It’s the difference between sharing the sea with a predator and suddenly having its unwavering focus.

Danny panics in that moment, running on pure instinct. He transforms and grabs Jazz, yanking her away from the alley as the shadows coalesce and drip, running in inky channels through the brick. 

His core is thrumming so violently it hurts. The beast-- ghost?-- lets out a fierce roar when Danny transforms. It’s the sound of cracking stone, burning flame, booming thunder, shattering glass-- and so much more layered and layered until it’s all static in his ears. The shadows follow Danny’s every move, and there are too many eyes and teeth-- and the light is all but gone from the city around them.

The thing that materializes before him rises higher than the buildings, its body somehow as insignificant as smoke yet as dark and viscous as tar. 

RUN-RUN-FEAR-RUN, Danny’s core feels as if it might burst from his chest. He doesn’t know what the giant being before him is, only that it is ancient, that it is the thing that has lurked in the city, driving his fear--

That it is hunting him.

[cookeybg]

The Colony Possessed - Chapter 4

Title: The Colony Possessed

Main Characters: Gotham, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

Narrators: Hal Jordan, Barry Allen, OC - Kam, John Constantine, will add others as chapters progress

Honorable Mentions: Wally West, Talia Al Ghul, Damian Al Ghul

No romantic relationships

Stuff to Know: Cryptid Batfamily, maybe a bit spooky, Hopefully a bit amusing, Gotham LOVES Batman and she always will, it's concerning

[The Colony Possessed Table of Contents]

Chapter 4 - It feeds off you, mate

“I know you’re there.” John Constantine called out to the dark, hands buried in the pockets of his beige trench-coat, legs spread shoulder width apart, smoke rising from the lit cigarette he smoked. He knew that Bats would not appreciate his presence in his city, but anything out of the ordinary, anything remotely devilish or cursed was his business so, his old pal could suck it. The alley darkened to the point where he could only see a few feet in front of him. The shadows coalesced and bright green eyes shone, no pupil, no white, just pointy green like upside down half moons. The shadows giggled, they caressed his hair, a shiver ran down his spine. “Hello.” The voice echoed against the brick walls, female sounding, soft. The pair of eyes faded in and out in the dark. “No, no,” John shook a finger at it, “I need all of your attention.” John stomped his foot on the ground and an elaborate circle with sigils lit up, causing the shadows to hiss. All at once the shadows darkened and gathered in one spot on the ground in front of him. It was in the shape of a petite woman, long wavy black hair that moved like smoke draped her back, her body the color of coal and acid eyes green eyes glared at him. “What do you want, friend.” She hissed. “Friend, eh? What’s my new friend’s name?” She tilted her head and simply said, “Gotham.” John whistled in surprised, rocking his body back and forth on his heels, “A sentient city.” He knew it! From the day he met the Bat, something wasn’t right. If he ignored his broody countenance, his sharp words, and his gloomy disposition, he could feel another presence hanging off the Bat. It was subtle and vague, cleverly hidden.

He hadn’t been sure, thought that maybe it had been something else. He had even gone to the Watch Tower after he heard of the rumors of it possibly being haunted and found nothing. Bats though, exuded something supernatural, no matter if the grump claimed to not believe in the occult. Heck he had felt it in the man’s children, in his cave, but whenever he looked too closely the thing would disappear. Until recently. The presence had gotten stronger. The proof stood in front of him, it had taken a humanoid form, no longer just an essence. Mixed with something else, something vicious. “I know of your type. Calls herself Angela. Good for a fun time but brings me trouble. What do you want with Bats?” Gotham was no longer looking at John, instead she stared at her hands the shape of long pointy fingers shrinking into dull stubs, she wiggled them. “I’m his, my Bat.” She eventually responded. John watched her as she moved her legs, feet forming solidly, toes wiggling on the sodden cobbled stones. This was going to be troublesome. A city who thought it belonged to a human. Gotham touched her face, its shadowy tendrils taking shape into a proper jawline, lips, nose and forehead. Her hands trailed down her body and she jumped up and down, her breasts bouncing. John enjoyed the show. “You’re a city. You don’t belong to anyone.” Gotham flicked her wrists and a flowy black dress appeared to cover her body, she looked up at him, her almond eyes wide. “I’m his. Fixes me. Loves me.” John nodded as if that made sense. Gotham had an innocence to her despite it existing for hundreds of years. Honestly, he had expected her to be twisted and blood thirsty with the way Gothamites lived here. With all the corruption, death and the crazies. He was surprised that it seemed it hadn’t affected her. “Let me go?” she said tilting her head. John hummed. “Not yet, gotta figure out what to do with you. Does Bats know you exist?��� “They know.” Gotham pointed up. John’s eyes followed and were met with four pairs of white eyes, narrowed. They perched like the gargoyles that sat sentinel in the city skylines. He flinched at the crack of a bullet being fired. It ricocheted off the floor next to his feet. “Oy!” The circle flickered. Gotham jumped, floating up so that John’s eyes were met with hers. She cupped his face, her smile unnaturally wide, brilliantly white, and stared deeply into his eyes. Blunt fingers turning sharp, digging into his cheeks before relenting, before making him bleed. “Thank you, friend of my Bat.” She dissipated, leaving him with the ominous birds. He looked up at them, he could feel her presence within them. “Get out of Gotham.” Their words bounced off the brick walls around him, he swore he could hear the flutter of wings at their departure. “It feeds off you, mate.” John said, to no one.

Sorry for the not updating, been having a rough few days (weeks, I guess). Been wanting to write but couldn't get myself to move. Anyways, I will be updating a few of my other fics now, I hope you enjoy them! <3

[profeyandere]

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑 𝐅. ─── ☾ 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐃

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏᴀǫᴜɪɴ ᴘʜᴏᴇɴɪx ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛʜᴜʀ ꜰʟᴇᴄᴋ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢ ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The first and gloomy hours of the morning were always the hardest for everyone in the small city of Gotham, the city that never allows to rest, regardless of what day of the year it was or the situation that each of its inhabitants was suffering. A place known for its high crime rate and poverty was supposed to not promote human trafficking in it, no one in their right mind would want to live there unless they had enough money to squander it wherever they wanted in the most expensive and expensive places. Anyone could buy a nice apartment in the rich part of the city because that was where there was a lot more security, but there was always some crazy person who thought that settling there would be a good idea just to tell others about how he survived a city where crime reigned, even if it had never been the best option, it was not currently and would not be in posterity to settle there permanently; such a gloomy city, with so much tension and self-loathing, only needed a small trigger for everything it was known for negatively to increase to stratospheric and unsuspected levels or to fade as it had arrived. Its citizens suffered from hunger, sadness, and pain. Each and every one of them had a tragic and horrifying story behind them, whether at some point in their life, they had been insulted by their next-door neighbor for not having shared sugar or salt with him or her, or it was because of some traumatic event that had been considered horrifying enough for oneself that one's mind had completely erased it, even if in reality that person continued to remember it every night in their worst dreams or nightmares that prevented from resting for much more than two hours a day; Living in Gotham was a survival game in which only the strongest or the wealthiest won, and that was what caused the city to be immersed in its small, central chaos.

For Arthur Fleck that was life, a game of survival in which his smile and positivity could not fade no matter how hard the day was. For as long as he could remember, people had always seen him as the 'weirdo', as that classmate who it was better not to approach or talk to because of the strange stupidity that could come out of his mouth and that would cause a great stir in the classroom or as the adult who it is better not to talk to because of how bad he looked, mainly because his extreme thinness and the poor condition of his clothes made people assume that he was some kind of drug addict who could become violent at any moment if they approached him, even if in reality it was quite the opposite and they were only based on prejudices when it came to seeing the people around them. But that was Gotham, a place where it was better to watch your back before some lunatic got the brilliant idea of stabbing you in it. He just wanted to live quietly, with his mother in their small, run-down apartment, and fulfill his dream in that city where opportunities are scarce or non-existent, where everything could be served on a silver platter as soon as you were born, or where you had to work hard to get everything you wanted. Becoming a comedian was complicated, the mere idea of making people laugh was something that truly made him happy because, from a very young age, he had been told that his mission in this world was to make people happy. But making people truly happy was complicated; Gotham was not at its best for its citizens to forget their daily problems because of a joke from a complete stranger, even if the intention was the best of all.

"Hey! You!"

The scream coming from a strange clown that was traveling at high speed through the central streets of Gotham City caused many passers-by to look around with curiosity, seeing the aforementioned running through the crowd of people who were walking in the opposite direction to be able to recover the clown enormous yellowish plank that had been stolen by a group of teenagers who were barely around fifteen years old; people with some education who preferred to make others suffer rather than fix their own problems and face them properly. They all laughed and made fun of the poor adult who wanted to stand up to them, being shouted and called by the one who followed them. It was an embarrassing scene for Arthur. These types of injustices were very typical to see in the city, and no one was capable of taking the step to stop criminals who only wanted to annoy a worker who needed to get his money honestly, even if he was a clown who earned very little at throughout the month; Belonging to one of the lowest social scales in Gotham, no one would stop for a poor person, but if it was someone who worked for one of the most important companies in the city, then there would be someone who would stop those young people. Evidently, no one would do anything, no one would notice the poor clown who was running as if his life depended on that sign, except for an intense and curious look of amber tones that did do it, that did notice that underprivileged person and, very contrary to what many would think, he would help someone else under the false mask he always wore with the intention of scaring someone else.

Arthur Fleck, the clown who walked around Gotham with his fist over his heart and on the verge of an asthma attack if he suffered from that disease, shouted in an exasperated manner as he crossed the avenue without realizing that a huge shadow was looming over him with every step he took, without paying attention to the agile steps of that person who was chasing them over the buildings, ignoring any indication that someone else was trying to help him; No, at that moment it was only him against the group of criminals that seemed so slippery to him. The boys were so young, so agile, and he was already a man barely over thirty years old, with a deplorable physical condition and with the health of a small child; It was evident that he would not reach them unless someone gave him a hand.

"Stop them!" He exclaimed again, accidentally pushing a couple whom he simply looked over his shoulder at an apology before continuing his chase. At that moment he couldn't stop to apologize to the citizens he ran over. "Thieves!"

The clown finally thought he saw a small ray of hope when he made sure that the young people were finally turning into one of the alleys of the street and, praying that this one would not have an exit, and they would be forced to stop and return the sign with which he had been working all morning, slipped clumsily on the soggy pavement and continued his run to reach them, without realizing that one of them was patiently waiting for him hidden between some of the boxes to attack him with his own sign. To everyone's surprise, before the hidden young man could even move to hit Arthur with his own sign, a strange weapon that none of those present could identify managed to destroy the sign before it hit the clown's face, causing the grimaces of surprise and fear appeared on the faces of those present; None of the kids had seen the armed clown, and there were no other people in that narrow place but them, or at least that's what they thought.

"What the fuck, man?" Said one of the teenagers strangely, thinking that the clown who was now lying on his knees in front of them had had something to do with the destruction of the board. "How did you do that? Which has been...?"

The entire group, including the adult who was trying to put together the pieces of the plank wet from the puddles of water around them, were enveloped by the darkness of the enormous shadow of the person who had come to the narrow alley to join the party. His soft whistle and his slow steps, with which the heels of his boots resonated, made the young people feel their hair stand on end, and a great shiver ran through their bodies, even more so when they became sure of who they had in front of them; that criminal, that whistle, that mask with small side horns, that intense pulse that he had to destroy whatever she wanted. Evidently, the boys, making sure who was threatening them with that amber gaze, ran in the opposite direction when they saw who they had in front of them, confusing Arthur into thinking that it had been him who had scared them away in some way; He had been so immersed in his attempt to reconstruct his sign that he didn't make sure who was standing behind him. He clearly noticed the shadow that covered the entire alley, so he turned his head slowly to meet the person who had scared away the young people, gasping when he saw behind him one of the most dangerous thieves in Gotham: Eclipse.

Eclipse was one of the villains that had emerged in the city a couple of months ago, one of the most threatening to tell the truth. Without distinction of age, without distinction of class, she always went after those she considered potentially rewarding targets for her person and extorted them intending to obtain money through threats and slight intimidation; very few had seen her, and people hardly talked about her because of the fear that the simple fact of mentioning her name caused in the hearts of those who knew her, and the only thing they could distinguish about her were her penetrating amber eyes that, before the little light in which she was usually found in Gotham City, they seemed to shine more intensely than the eyes of a feline and that his calm and impassive voice seemed like sharp daggers that he spat from his mouth and that stabbed into the skin of those who met him. They were with her.

"Look at this…" Her slightly threatening voice murmured that Arthur was unable to place. He had never heard her, so she was not a known person to him. "For such a happy man, you don't smile as much now, do you? Come on, clown, show what you have for me."

Eclipse's strange and exaggerated smile was slightly obscured by the woman's dark fiber mask, with which he could barely distinguish a feature of her other than the shape of her face or her amber eyes almost lacking pupils, causing my heart to jump. Arthur's heart was beating hard, and that uncomfortable lump in his throat that he hated so much appeared again for the fifth time during the week, being the first sign that that laughter that he hated so much began to come out from between his lips in such an exaggerated way that it replaced crying in situations of fear, stress, or anxiety. Seeing the sharp fangs of his attacker, his belt full of weapons that could perfectly harm him, and those boots just inches from his face that could leave a big mark on his face if he wanted to kick him, left him breathless. She could be on the brink of death, and he was just going to laugh about it. Just as Eclipse's smile had appeared, he vanished, hiding any trace of happiness or amusement as he saw the situation unfolding before his eyes. Arthur's outrageous laughter began to appear in a soft tone, at least at first, which he slowly increased as he saw death so close to himself; He would have suffered from robberies, from threats of all kinds, among which his own death stood out, but he had never suffered anything more than beatings or insults. He didn't think she could put an end to his own story.

"What are you doing?" Eclipse asked with confusion as he saw how the clown began to laugh. "Stop laughing. It wasn't a joke. Stop it! It's not supposed to be funny to you, damn it!"

Arthur couldn't stop, his attack prevented him from doing so. Contrary to what the villain expected the clown to do, he offered her a laminated card that Eclipse quickly took, turning her back to him so she could read it better due to the lack of light in the alley, while she listened to his scandalous laughter in the background and read what the card had written. It was there that the thief's pupils became more noticeable as she realized the anxious situation in which the clown found herself, which managed to confuse her at times because of how she was reacting contrary to how the rest of the population used to do, because which slowly turned to look at him to confront him, this time squatting in front of him while looking into his eyes, watching how the clown tried to cover his mouth and silence his laughter. It was a sad scene; A scared man laughed in the face of death.

"A disorder?" Eclipse questioned as she gently returned the card to its owner, being careful not to upset him further. "I don't know those things, does that mean you're crazy or something? Not in the sense that you have to be in Arkham, but you do need a person and all that stuff. Aren't there dogs that took care of that shit? You know, the ones that give you hugs and everything."

Arthur's rather hesitant nod made the villainess understand him better, at least in part, but her words failed to calm him down. She had never encountered a similar scene, and it was beginning to terrify her because she didn't know what to do or say.

"What am I supposed to do? There may be something..." Eclipse muttered, trying to get some answers to his questions so he could help the citizen dressed as a clown, watching as he hit his chest to calm down and grabbed his throat to avoid choking due to lack of breath.

The thief, seeing the way the clown looked at her with his enormous greenish eyes full of tears, felt something pushing her to place her small, thin hand on one of the trembling knees of the man who was still sitting on the ground while the other took one of his and placed it on her chest, allowing him to feel the soft beat of her heart through the black suit she was wearing at that moment. Her amber eyes collided again with his greenish ones, this time as if they were mutually in a trance that they hoped would not be broken in a short time, allowing him to guide himself with their breaths so that he could calm down, which he did as the minutes passed, listening to how the sound of his laughter diminished until it finally disappeared through coughs, causing the alley to once again be enveloped in a deep silence in which only the sound of the cars on the nearby avenue and the rapid footsteps of the inhabitants of the city could be heard.

"I have met people who have feared me, there are drunks who have pissed on themselves as soon as they see me, but no one has ever reacted like you," Eclipse murmured with some seriousness, remaining squatted in front of him, without making any gesture that denoted evil intentions towards him.

"And no one has ever calmed me down like you have," Arthur answered softly and shyly, feeling the thin material of the villain's fabric under his fingertips, receiving a frown as he believed he had acted badly. "Sorry."

"Don't say something like that again," the villain threatened, ignoring the gentle caress on his suit before removing the clown's hand from his person in the same way he did from him, standing up again to impose her haughty figure over his trembling one. "I'm one of the villains of this city, you have no right to say something like that. I am cruel, I must instill fear. You must fear me."

Eclipse's voice had tried to be threatening, scowling at him as he bared his teeth, in the same way an aggressive animal did.

"And you have calmed me down, that shouldn't be done by a villain," the clown said again, receiving a soft growl from the person in front of him. "You're not that bad."

At that moment, something seemed to change in Eclipse's eyes, and he saw in Arthur's eyes something more than fear towards her. Eclipse saw gratitude and happiness. Arthur saw surprise and remorse, she wasn't so bad after all.

[lesbianspeedy]

stephmia waking up in the early hours of the morning after going on patrol together and trying to leave to get back to their city without disturbing the other, picks up the wrong cloak because its so dark. gotham vigilante known as spoiler is seen the next day wearing a bright yellow cape in the gloomy streets of gotham. send post.

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Best Batman Comics In The Horror Genre In Batman's 80-plus years of DC history, the hero has proven to be versatile by taking on various subgenres in comics. Many will understandably be most familiar with the Dark Detective's street-level capers, but he's amassed an impressive horror-themed catalog. These series range from mainline canon to inventive alternate DC continuities. CBR VIDEO OF THE DAY SCROLL TO CONTINUE WITH CONTENT Given the gloomy setting of Gotham City and Batman's rogues gallery of heinous villains, the horror genre fits Batman's world as naturally as crime-noir. Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth is one of the most classic horror comic examples, while The Black Mirror is a grisly contemporary hit. RELATED: 10 Times That Batman Used His Abilities For Evil 10 Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On Serious Earth Grant Morrison's work on Batman is widely celebrated, but Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth is a standout. Alongside artist Dave McKean, Arkham Asylum sees the Joker cause a mass prison riot. The Caped Crusader goes in to quell it, but the plot descends into a horrific deep-dive into the twisted psyches of its inmates and Batman himself. Arkham Asylum is pure psychological horror, showing Batman in a much more vulnerable light. Likewise, McKean's blend of painting and photorealism-inspired artwork makes this an unsettling read in the best way. 9 Batman & Dracula Trilogy The Dark Knight Returns might be the most revered alternate-timeline Batman comic, but the Batman & Dracula Trilogy was an early success of DC's Elseworlds imprint. Doug Moench and Kelley Jones' series turns the Dark Knight into the embodiment of his symbol, as becoming a vampire is the only way to defeat Count Dracula. Given the character's motif and the Elseworlds label opening up new opportunities for creative liberty, blending Batman with classic supernatural horror was inevitable. It's as bloody and bombastic as fans would expect, putting a fresh Bram Stoker-like twist on the conventional Batman canon. 8 Arkham Asylum: Living Hell Gotham's infamous Arkham Asylum is unsurprisingly such a great setting for horror-centric Batman comics. Dan Slott and Ryan Sook's Arkham Asylum: Living Hell holds little back, showcasing the facility's fearsome inhabitants through Warren White's perspective. A Serious House on Serious Earth is a unique depiction, but Living Hell does well in its own right to lean into the "house of horrors" approach to Arkham. Using the soon-to-be white-collar villain Great White Shark's POV is especially refreshing, effectively conveying the punishing nature of the asylum and the terror-inducing rogues gallery. RELATED: 10 Darkest Batman Comics On DC Universe Infinite 7 Damned Black Label cemented its place as DC's Elseworlds successor, with Brian Azzarello and Lee Bermejo's Damned going in a darkly ambitious direction. Set in a continuity where the Joker dies, Batman awakens to no recollection of his death and needs the help of DC's supernatural heroes to solve this shocking case. Damned maintains a consistent and oppressing supernatural and psychological horror tone and themes, venturing into the grim recesses of Bruce's mind. Meanwhile, the likes of John Constantine, Zatanna, Etrigan the Demon, Swamp Thing, and more tastefully complement the story's horror atmosphere. 6 Dark Knight, Dark City The Riddler is one of Batman's most iconic rogues, widely known for his eccentric personality and obsession with besting the World's Greatest Detective intellectually. However, Peter Milligan and Kieron Dwyer's Dark Knight, Dark City paints the colorful villain in a bleaker light. Coming from the pages of the mainline Batman book, Dark Knight, Dark City shows the Riddler sinking to far more sinister lows in his attempts to kill the hero, leaving a bloody trail along the way. This story arc combines cosmic horror with Batman's mythos, as the villain summons an Eldritch monstrosity to gain an advantage. 5 Gothic Legends of the Dark Knight spawned some of Batman's greatest '90s comics, with Morrison lending their talents to it. Alongside veteran artist Klaus Janson, Gothic was an early-career arc that saw a grim entity lead a slaughter through Gotham's underworld. The city's mob bosses are being assassinated and dare to turn to Batman for help, but it unravels into something more engrossing, infinitely darker, and revelatory of Bruce Wayne's tortured past. What begins as a street-level case evolves into an otherworldly horror story delving into occult religious folklore. RELATED: 10 Batman Omnibus Collections Worth Reading 4 The Cult Jim Starlin has written one of the biggest landmark storylines in Batman's mythos in A Death in the Family. The Cult is one of his more underrated works, though, with Deacon Blackfire and his brainwashed masses nearly breaking the Dark Knight beyond repair. It also gives Jason Todd his time to shine as the Boy Wonder, as the stakes feel ominously sincere. The violent slasher-level scenes of Blackfire's acolytes make for a disturbing kind of Batman story. Meanwhile, the foreboding supernatural horror at the root of Blackfire's origins makes The Cult a consistently foreboding read. 3 The Black Mirror In the lead-up to the New 52, Scott Snyder teamed up with artists Jock and Francesco Francavilla for The Black Mirror. In Bruce Wayne's absence, while establishing Batman Incorporated abroad, Dick Grayson takes on the role of Gotham's guardian amid a series of mysterious and gruesome cases. This Detective Comics story arc strings together a series of mystery thrillers, incorporating body-horror elements to emphasize the harrowing atmosphere. It's the best example of a brutal Batman comic mixing crime-noir with horror. What's more, Dick Grayson provides a unique perspective from a familiar mantle. 2 Haunted Knight Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale are best known for their revered classics The Long Halloween and Dark Victory, but Haunted Knight paved the way for them. This anthology stemmed as Halloween specials for Legends of the Dark Knight, with Batman tackling a string of his villainous gallery's exploits. Haunted Knight makes fantastic use of its anthological storytelling format, with Loeb's writing and Sale's art setting a consistently eerie tone. A particular highlight is the finale's A Christmas Carol approach, showing how Batman fits seamlessly with Halloween and Christmas all the same. 1 The Mad Monk The Golden Age of comics saw a grittier version of the hero before the campiness of the '50s and '60s set in. While even those stories feel quite dated by today's standards, Matt Wagner's Batman and the Mad Monk is a wonderful modernization of this vampiric tale. Much of Wagner's Batman catalog chronicles the hero's early years, and The Mad Monk is an entertaining take on his first encounter with the supernatural. The series captures the spirit of the Golden Age but with a modern edge. Likewise, the vampire cult is a fitting antagonist for a pulpy-style horror caper. [ad_2] Read More

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 4

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

a/n: fuck, i just realised i've put the wrong synopsis of this story for the last 2 chapters i'm so sorry guys, my mistake LMAO. sorry to break y'all's reality like that, i really am. so hi. because this is the first chapter that really deals with the multiverse stuff head-on, i have to clarify that in this DC universe new york doesn’t exist. i haven’t read a lot of the batman comics, so i’m not really sure if it exists there. but since gotham (at least in my opinion) is based off new york city, i’m writing it so in this au that new york isn’t a place in America. hope you get what i mean :D happy reading. i’m seeing the batman again tomorrow!!!!! beyond excited

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part three

part five

warnings: descriptions of injuries, of fixing one; brief mention of using a knife, mentions of needles and catheters (i hate them so much); slight insecurity talk; oh and the best one - silent pining :)

word count: 4.8k

a/n: (who got you frowning like that baby girl) took me 15 minutes to find a suitable gif, god help. full credit to owner / maker!!! 

y/n grunts and wobbles from one foot over to the other, holding her side. it hasn’t been a particularly successful night, to say the least. one of their opponents had a nasty knife, and, unluckily, she wasn’t as agile to avoid its sting. “my place is so far away…” she whines, thinking of any other place to go where she could tend to her wounds and rest. just a little. only an hour or two of sleep sound heavenly right now. plasters and gauze around her waist sound nice, too. and she’d love some water. or hot cocoa.

bruce’s ears prick up at the desperation in her words, and he turns his head sharply to her. “we can go to mine,” he tells her in his vigilante-husk that she knows fades away as soon as there’s only the two of them in a room without their masks on. she gives bruce a confused look and quizzical eyebrows. he notes her unstable stance and tries to identify her injuries.

“you sure?” she asks.

he’s never taken her to his place before. he’s never even offered to take her there, either, in the last four months of them working together. she doesn’t know where it is, what kind of property it is—but does that really matter? they’ve always gone to her place because it’s in the center of gotham, and she’s just always had the upper hand in that. plus, she has a first-aid kit and wound-tending skills, which—she’s quite sure—batman doesn’t have.

bruce nods and then struts the few steps over to her. he reaches an arm around her shoulders, his other arm circling the front of her torso, holding onto her hand above the problematic spot in her side, “i’m sure,” he tells her and begins to lead her down the dirty old alley, into the depths of the narrows, it seems to y/n, helping her with every step, “i’ll take you on my bike.”

she finds the last remnants of humor in her system and makes a chuckle, “that’s what a girl’s gotta do for you to take her on a motorbike ride—get nearly beaten to death?” she asks him teasingly. bruce has learned over time to take her humor as it is—as humor—even in gloomy situations. and so his lips tug upwards in a half-smile at her joke. but he can’t distract his mind from her being as injured as he was on the night she saved his life. okay, no, she’s worse tonight than that.

“here we are,” he says once they’ve rounded the corner far from the site of their recent fight, and a beautifully subtle motorcycle comes into y/n’s view. bruce rests her against a near-by wall while he goes to unlock the vehicle, and y/n can only make out a “wow” at the sight of the thing. all black and, though it has signs of frequent use, all the surfaces look like silk. this motorbike sure is worth getting beat up for.

bruce unlocks the bike and comes over to y/n again, with two helmets in his hands. he helps her put hers on—y/n’s vision has started to blur and sway a little, and her limbs grow weaker and weaker by the second—then he secures his own helmet on and helps her walk over to the bike, his hand on the small of her back, the other still holding her hand. once at the bike, he places both hands on her ribcage, right below her chest, and, trying to do it both gently and with strength, lifts her up onto the seat of the motorbike.

y/n cries out like a hurt child—first time bruce has seen and heard her like this in all this time—and her face twists up from the pain, her features and the tears in her eyes visible in the as-of-yet open screen of the helmet. it breaks bruce’s heart to hear that sound from her. “i’m sorry,” he tells her quietly, sincerity thick in his husky voice, “i know it hurts.”

she gives him a momentary glance through the slit in her helmet, and their eyes connect in a deeply private look for a few moments. trust, loyalty and submission are dark undertones in their eyes, and for those few moments, they just stare into each other’s orbs, searching them, exploring them, emerging themselves into them, not saying a single word. they’re sure that not even thoughts pass through their minds in that brief time.

their faces close, bruce’s hands on her body. care for her pulsating through them with every pump of blood his heart makes. y/n nearly reaches out and runs her hand across the side of his face. if only he wasn’t wearing the helmet, she could thread her fingers through that night-black hair and be even closer to him than she is now.

he knows her. he knows nothing about the her that she is on the surface. he doesn’t even know her name. but he knows her essence, he knows her depths. and he knows how important it is to her what she’s doing, and what they’re doing together. he hadn’t realized how much meaning it held to him, too, until now. and he, too, almost reaches out to touch her face. both of their shyness wins over their boldness to act.

but when he finally does, having gained the courage and boldness to, he touches her to close the screen protector on her helmet, so she wouldn’t get any dirt, mud or possible rain into her eyes or face while they drive. the air of disappointment hangs between them afterwards—a sour one. but y/n is losing consciousness and willpower too fast to dwell on it much. and he’s supposed to be caring for her so, even though his body screams at him to move his hand lower, to cup her neck from the side in the gentlest, most affectionate manner, he withdraws from her to get onto his motorbike.

y/n is feeling or seeing hardly anything at all right now, but when batman rests his gloved hands on her legs to move them on each of his sides, she almost moans. almost, and thank goodness for that. he finds her arms next and pulls them around his torso, pulling her body closer onto his. “hold tight onto me,” he tells her, “don’t you let go.”

and she tries her best to do that throughout the quick and bumpy ride around gotham. she has no idea where he’s taking her exactly, she couldn’t map it out in her current state if she tried. all she sees are lights and objects flashing past her at lightning speed, and she hears all kinds of different sounds around her, as well. the world blurs into one big tornado milkshake from her point of view, and she can hardly keep herself conscious. but she has to, otherwise her arms will let go of bruce and she’ll fall off. and merely the thought about those consequences sobers her up for the remainder of their ride.

the noises and lights fade away towards the very end of it, and y/n furrows her eyebrows as she feels the world around her go quiet, so quickly and suddenly. she sees only darkness now around her, the single light source in it being batman’s motorbike light at the very front. she moves her head slightly to the side and lifts it, too, to try and recognize her surroundings. as if that’s going to do her any good, what with her state and the unknown place she’s in.

then batman pulls his motorbike to a stop, inside a room or hall—y/n can’t really tell—that has some barely-working lights on the ceiling, as well as rows and rows of something moving, something alive. she can’t see what it is, but it looks like a huge quantity of some small creature.

bruce makes sure to move y/n off the bike before she can slide off it, and he hoists her up bridal-style in his arms, carrying her over to one of his desks afterwards. he lays her down gently on her back, lifts the helmet off her head, and does the same to himself, ridding himself of his cape and armor, too, immediately afterwards. y/n tries to move, tries to sit up on top of his messy desk, tries to get a hold of herself and the situation, but bruce captures her again before she can make any movement. “don’t move,” he tells her in a half-commanding and half-pleading whisper. he takes her mask off—he’s seen how she does it before, and he slips it off with complete ease—and looks into her eyes again. he sees her eyes for real now, and he sees her face, too—hurt. a bruise on her cheekbone, a cut in her cheek. how did he let this happen? her eyelids are fluttering in weak efforts to stay conscious, but she mostly fails. how can she look so heavenly even in a state like this? “just stay with me.” bruce finally tells her before scooping her up into his arms again. she won’t get the help she needs down in his lab cave.

perhaps alfred has some first-aid kits. no doubt he has those, he’s patched bruce up many times before. bruce gets into the elevator and presses the level number for the living quarters of wayne manor. he glances down at his partner, and his heart lurches in his chest. her face has gone pale. he looks down to where her side is hurt, her hand still lightly hanging onto that spot, and bruce gulps. her thick, dark blood is seeping through her suit. it’ll be ruined.

his trembling hand reaches over to the dark patch, and he cups the side in the gentlest way he can, so as not to cause her any more pain. and he feels the wet liquid against his skin, coating his pale pigment a dark color immediately. bruce grows scared of it, of how that feels. her blood on his hands. his first instinct is to let go of her, of what makes him scared. but he doesn’t. he can’t. he pulls her even closer into his hold, and now he looks at her face again. his blood-coated hand absent-mindedly reaches up to her cheek.

he just wants to feel her in his hand, feel that she’s still there, feel that the silk of her skin is still intact. y/n doesn’t feel much of anything at the moment, bruce’s touch on her in those multiple places is such a far-away feeling. one she wants to feel completely, but is miles away from, unable to reach. she’d much rather drift off to sleep now. she feels so tired. there won’t be any harm in simple slumber now, will there?

bruce doesn’t understand how this escalated so quickly. she was joking just some ten minutes ago, and now the very life is fading away from her. bruce doesn’t know if he’ll be able to… he doesn’t even want to say the words. in short, he’s not sure if he’s fully capable. he needs help.

and it arrives sooner than he expects. as the elevator pulls to a stop at the right floor, the door slides open and no other than alfred is standing right behind it. the older man is immediately confused about bruce using the elevator at all, he’s confused as to why the man who will always be a boy in his eyes has come up at all. bruce breathes a quiet gasp of pleasant surprise, and then he almost trips over his own tongue while trying to say something. “bruce, what are you—” but alfred’s question stops half-way when he notices the limp figure in his godson’s arms. and the blood on the figure’s side, the blood on bruce’s hand. and then he sees the desperate look in bruce’s eyes.

“help,” he manages to say, “help her.”

alfred sees the slowly-healing bruises on bruce’s own face and arms, but he nods. the woman in his arms is in need of much more urgent care than bruce himself. alfred doesn’t need any closer inspection to determine her state of health, and how important it is to act now. so without another word, he ushers bruce to the spare room he set up himself a month or two after bruce started his vigilante night shifts. a room with everything that a badly injured person could need. a bed, medical equipment, books, even a tv, and a bathroom connected to it. one of the guest bedrooms that alfred couldn’t bring himself to make into a storage room.

his breath trembling, arms shaking, eyes filling up with tears, bruce carries y/n to the large bed as quick as he can. he and alfred lean over her for the older man to determine what they should do first. cuts along her arms, those two bruises on her face, and the big, bad bleeding injury in her side. alfred looks to bruce. “what were you doing?” he asks his godson, and sees he’s staring at the woman before him with glassy, strong eyes so full of emotion as he’s ever seen.

bruce shrugs. “nothing extraordinary,” he says, “was like any other night. only…” he gulps, “only the thugs had more weapons we didn’t know about.” he shrugs. “i don’t know how it happened,” bruce’s breath hiccups in his throat, his voice now verging on crying, “can you just help her, please?” he finally looks at his godfather. bruce doesn’t care how he sounds. he just wants her to look alive again, to be alive.

“we both can,” alfred assures him, “we’ll need to take off her suit to get to that horrible wound. you do that,” he walks off towards the small trolley of medical equipment in the room, “we’re gonna clean it, and then we’ll have to stop the bleeding first and foremost.”

bruce looks at y/n again. he needs to take off her suit. will she be okay with that? would she be okay with that? he wants to ask her, but, judging by the pale, unconscious look on her face, that’s quite impossible now. bruce just doesn’t wish to expose her to him while she’s unconscious and doesn’t know he’s doing it. but he needs to get over that, over those anxieties. her life is at stake.

so he turns her over to her side just for a moment, while he finds the hidden zipper in her suit and unzips it. she makes a small noise, a near acknowledgement of bruce moving her around. much to his peace of mind, a bra comes into view, the black strap of it hugging around her back. as soon as the zipper is down enough, bruce turns her over to her back again and carefully, with all the caution he can muster up, he takes the suit off.

holes show in places where the suit—and her skin, too—has been cut into. dried blood sticks around the corners of them, but some blood is fresher than some other. bruce gulps at the sight of it, but keeps peeling the spandex off her. once he’s peeled off enough for the biggest injury to be out in the open, he leaves the rest of it be, the elastic fabric bunching around her hips now.

god in heaven, it looks really bad. she hasn’t just been cut, she’s been properly stabbed. somewhere near her large intestine, though bruce doesn’t know precisely where, and just hopes that it’s nowhere critical. alfred has come up beside the bed, where bruce sits with y/n, and prepares some disinfectant and cloths for them both to use. disinfectant. just the same one she always uses on her own and bruce’s wounds. he’d make a smile at that connection if the situation was any less grim than it is.

“here, just—” alfred hands the tools over to bruce, and he quickly takes them.

“i know how,” bruce tells him and immediately gets to work. alfred gives him a puzzled look, and bruce can feel it on his temple as he gets to cleaning her bad injury. there’s so much blood, it’s seeping down into the sheets. they’re gonna have to change them if she’s staying here.

alfred connects the dots. “so she’s the one after my job of patching you up nearly every night, is she?” he asks his godson. alfred begins to prepare a needle and catheter for the stranger’s vein, so he can hook her up on a pain-killer patch.

“think it’s the other way around now,” bruce tells him. alfred shakes his head with an almost-smile. no matter how long bruce holds a cloth to her wound to stop the blood, it keeps pouring like a waterfall.

“she’s losing a lot of blood, bruce,” he tells him, “you know a hospital would do a much better job than us.”

bruce gives him a sharp glare, “and you know why we don’t do hospitals,” he says in a grave voice, “she also heals faster than us.” he adds then, and keeps tending to her hole of ever-pouring blood now that he’s cleaned it. alfred raises his head after adjusting the catheter into her vein. she makes a small noise at that, too, obviously having felt the prick to some extent, no matter how subtle. bruce’s heart lurches in his chest at the small noise, his eyes immediately looking to her face.

“what do you mean, bruce?” alfred asks. bruce just looks at him momentarily.

“she’s enhanced,” he says, “doesn’t work exactly like you and me would in these cases.” alfred’s still confused, but he brushes it off, telling himself he’ll probably find out later or won’t need to. the important thing now is to make sure this woman survives the night.

“what about her blood? does that regenerate faster, too?” he asks, and then shakes his head again. “we’ll need to get more for her. you don’t know her blood type, do you?”

bruce doesn’t, but he can find out. he finally dares to look below her face, where those sacred letters lie, an abundance of information with them. that tells him everything.

y/n parker

birth date: 04/06/1994

city of origin: queens, new york city, NY

occupation: barista at saint jeremiah's coffee

former occupation: waitress at mudd's cave

OPEN MEDICAL FILES? the system suggests.

bruce hesitates a little, processing all this new information on her all at once already, but then nods at the system’s question. an out-poor of medical records, vaccines and tests done comes up in his vision. thank god he didn’t take out the lenses in the cave, or this would have taken a lot, lot longer.

allergies: lactose, strawberries, tulips

blood type: AB+

chronic diseases: none

blood type AB+. the same one as bruce’s. he looks to alfred, who meets the younger man with an awaiting look. “she has my blood type,” he tells him the discovery. and she wasn’t born far from his birthday, either. just a couple months earlier. how curious.

“interesting,” alfred says finally, “i’ll try not to drain you too much, bruce, so i’ll take just a drop now and we’ll see—”

“take as much as she needs,” bruce says with dark determination in his eyes, “i’m not injured.”

“can’t exactly let you die, sir,” alfred argues back and prepares another needle and an empty plastic patch to withdraw bruce’s blood. bruce doesn’t care what happens to him. alfred might take every drop of his blood if it meant y/n would be saved. saved. certainly an interesting word.

alfred knows what bruce thinks of himself in this case. he never cares what happens to him. what matters to him is what happens to the world. that his job has been done, that it has been done well. bruce doesn’t care if he dies, either, as long as his message and goal has been fulfilled. this time, the world is swapped for y/n. she’s all that he cares about, all that matters right now. y/n. what a name.

knowing this, alfred fills two of those empty patches with bruce’s blood. just to see if it might be enough. the prince of gotham has to admit he feels light-headed already, he guesses his worries and stresses, and over-all regular exhaustion from the fight before have been slowly draining him, too. but he helps alfred patch y/n up with cotton and gauze to secure her injury, protect it from the outside factors.

alfred handles the patching up itself—plasters, balls of cotton and gauze. bruce merely helps move the unconscious y/n around slightly, so that alfred has no trouble wrapping the gauze around her waist, so that they don’t make her injury worse. bruce’s hands splay on her partly-covered hips, the very tips of his fingers only digging into her skin very slightly to lift her hips up and down from time to time. bruce has to say he feels awkward and not right, handling her the way that he is, while she’s unconscious and ignorant of the way he touches her.

but that over-whelming care he feels for her, that has gained almost an animalistic trait, seeps through and makes that anxiety of his sink. he’ll just have to tell her about what he and alfred did while she was unconscious, and she’ll understand. there’s no way she won’t. he won’t tell her, of course, how right her silky flesh felt against his rough hands, how well she fit into his hands, and how his first instinct was to touch the rest of her skin, as well. he’ll keep that to himself, and will hope that urge will pass with time.

after her injury has been wrapped up and secured in isolation from any harm, the two men of wayne manor work to settle y/n into bed properly. while alfred changes the sheets, bruce lays her on a near-by couch, and rids her of the rest of her suit, throwing the ruined piece to the ground. thankfully, she’s not as badly injured anywhere else in her body, so she can rest now. bruce searches the cabinets next to the large bed for any clothes, and, luckily, there are a couple pieces laying about. he chooses sweatpants and one of the plain shirts for her.

while he pulls the pants on her with ease, bruce experiences trouble with the shirt. how can he put it on if she’s connected to the blood patches through her vein? he has a bit of trouble figuring it out, but at once he does. he pulls the shirt over her head, puts her mobile arm through the sleeve, and then carefully puts the attached-to-the-patches arm through the sleeve, as well, but leaves the small wire that’s pumping blood into her to snake upwards. it now runs across her upper arm and sneaks out through the top opening in her shirt, further running up to the adjusted patch, just closer to her now.

she doesn’t make a noise or move at any point in all this ruckus, and bruce is glad to see her at peace. she’s not as pale anymore already, and her breathing has regulated. she’s healing herself and is getting the amount of blood she needs. as she now lays in the bed, dark grey sheets tucked around her, pillows in the same dark grey tone tucked behind and below her, bruce just watches her. alfred is cleaning up their medical equipment, but he’s doing it quietly in another corner of the room. bruce hardly acknowledges his presence at all. he just watches her as he sits in bed beside her.

how her chest rises and falls with long, even breaths. how her eyes flutter here and there—she must be dreaming—and how her fingers twitch slightly at her sides. he hopes it’s something pleasant she’s dreaming of. y/n. his whole world seems to have changed now that he knows her name. y/n parker. it doesn’t change her in his eyes, and it’s strange that he knows her name. he’s not entirely sure he wanted to know her name, now that he does. it’s strange.

her origin being new york city explains… exactly nothing. bruce doesn’t think he’s heard of a place like that before. the system showed him a state, too, behind the city, but it didn’t ring a bell, either. what could she be doing here, in such a place as gotham, if she’s from there? it sounds like a famous place, one bruce should know. but he doesn’t. though, he reckons, he’ll spend some time searching for it during the day, once she’s all settled in under the covers.

even though he wants to be at her side at all times. he wants to be here when she wakes up, he wants to be here with her when even the smallest thing happens. but he also has her suit to work on. that ruined, full-of-blood suit. after this incident, he can’t let her roam around the city in spandex and rely on her agility or his protection to keep herself safe. he won’t hear any protest from her about it, either. he can’t let her be this vulnerable to these thugs, or to anyone for that matter.

bruce blames himself for what happened to her. he never cares what happens to him, either if he’s fighting alone or together with her. he didn’t even catch one of the thugs striking her with a knife, brutally stabbing her, until the very end of the fight. how could he have not seen it? how could he have not heard it happen? he should have been by her side, should have kept a closer eye on her. yes, they’re both kind of independent in their fighting styles, but still, they work as a team, they’re supposed to be looking out for each other. how could he have let this happen?

the dawn rises and ignites light across the sky, which can be perfectly seen through the window of this bedroom. bruce sees it only when that light hits y/n’s cheek in a soft manner. he turns to look around the room, then, and finds alfred sitting in a chair in one of the corners. bruce rises to his feet and draws the big curtains closed, so that y/n wouldn’t be bothered by light from the world and could sleep as long as she needs to. he feels a sour tone as the last ray of the sun caresses his own face, but he pulls the curtains completely closed.

“you should get some sleep, too, bruce,” alfred says quietly as he rises from the chair, “she’ll be alright without you. just needs time.” he walks over to the door. bruce turns to look at him.

“how much?” he asks in a hush. his and alfred’s eyes connect. the older man shrugs.

“a couple days, if she gets better.” he answers. “a week, just to be sure.” he tells bruce. “if she doesn’t get better, well… then we’ll really need to get her to a hospital.”

bruce averts his eyes from those of his godfather’s, but nods. neither of them are doctors, scientists or miracle-workers, even if they try to be. so they can’t always expect themselves to be able to do everything. some things are out of their hands.

“i’ll send breakfast up for you, you need your strength. then you can get some rest,” alfred informs bruce, his ringed hand tapping on the thick mahogany door, “as for her,” he looks to the sleeping woman in the bed, “we’ll get her a meal as soon as she wakes up, alright?” bruce nods in response, still not saying anything. “good night, master wayne. or should i say—good morning.” alfred says and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. bruce knows he’s exhausted, too. the paper work usually keeps alfred up at night, but when that’s not the case, then it’s bruce that keeps him up. this time, it’s both bruce and his accomplice.

alfred will enjoy to get acquainted with the woman when she’s in a much better state, because, dare he say, she’s been keeping bruce busy in a healthy way, and she’s been caring for him now that bruce forbid alfred to do so. bruce has also been in better moods lately, and alfred can only thank her for that. he just has yet to know this wonderful person.

with half of the sent-up breakfast in his stomach, the blood loss and exhaustion wearing his body down and the darkness of the room due to the drawn curtains, bruce can’t keep himself awake anymore. sitting by the bed in one of the bigger sofa chairs, on the side she lays in, and watching her, he feels himself nodding off every once in a while. eyes drifting closed and head dropping onto the mattress. so he finally gives himself that sweet release—bruce gets comfortable with half his body on the mattress and half still in the chair—and lets slumber take complete control of his body and consciousness.

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[apixrl]

HERE'S TO A GREAT F*CKING LIFE.

jason todd x fem!reader

warning(s): death themes. blood. angst (sorry in advance).

word count: 5.0k

song: butterflies // abe parker

note(s): scrapped from an old jason fic of mine but turned the first part into a oneshot. kinda wanna write it again but idk :') stan jason for clear skin <333333

For the first time that September, Gotham City's usual dark and gloomy sky was sprinkled with an array of shining stars. A golden crescent moon hung over the city, acting as the finishing touch for the canvas of night. The sheet of light only added to the beauty and wonder of Gotham's fairground.

Classical circus music played from the ferris wheel as it spun round and round. The carriages made their way around the gigantic wheel, smiles and laughter spreading as the passengers reached its highest point. Horses bobbed up and down on the colourful carousel, and all sorts of spooks flowed out of the haunted house. Finally, the stalls that ranged from shooting games to hook-a-duck were filled to the brim with crowds. It was one of those nights in Gotham where it was like the city never slept.

While most were occupied by the bright dazzling lights of the amusement park, a pair of teenagers found more entertainment in their own company. Leading from the fairground was a great extending pier that stretched out far into the outer waters. The only guidance given was the light from the overhanging moon, its rays rippling against the water that surrounded.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Y/N spoke in awe, leaning against the fencing of the wooden pier, inhaling a breath of salty air to relieve the tension she had felt that day.

"Almost hides the fact that Gotham actually has a bunch of psychotic pansies running it half of the time," Her friend said as he met her side. One hand was filled to the brim with cheap prizes that had been won on their night out, and the other was maintained by a half eaten stick of candy floss. The two were sharing it between them.

"Psychotic pansies?" Y/N repeated, a rather amused but questioning tone in her voice. Lending her a side smirk and a shrug, the ebony haired boy rationalised his choice of words.

"Those were Bruce's words... not mine,"

"Yep. Sure thing, Jay,"

Y/N's sarcasm elicited a chuckle from her friend behind her. A few rustles that indicated movement, the boy, name of Jason Todd, put down the mass of prizes and joined Y/N's side. He cleared his throat, his free hand running through his hair.

There was a temporary silence that followed after. Both teenagers holding their gaze out to the view at the end of the pier. The only movement from either of them was the occasional picking of the soft pink candy floss in Jason's hand.

"Thanks for tonight," Y/N eventually said, hand reaching out to grab a large portion of the floss. One that made Jason's brow raise. She didn't even go to eat it primarily, her fingers kneading through the delicate and fluffy cloud-like candy.

"Don't mention it," Jason responded. The front of his shoe occasionally scuffed itself against the small stones that lay on the ground's surface. Small plops could be heard as the tiny minerals trickled into the water below. "I know things have been bad at home so... thought you could do with the distraction,"

He was right, things had been bad. Y/N's parents were hanging on a final thread of adoration for each other, attempting to snip the string through constant fights and screaming matches. Upon overhearing many, many arguments between them, she remained unsure of the true reasoning - her only conclusion being that, sometimes, people simply fall out of love. And the ones who don't realise from the get go cling on like there's something worth saving. A divorce was just around the corner and it felt like she was the only one in her family aware.

Y/N was thankful for Jason being in her life, as it meant she could retreat to him if she needed escape. And since Wayne Manor (where he resided) was so spacious, her presence was rarely ever an issue. She stayed there for an entire week once and Bruce never took any notice. He had been far too preoccupied with riddles left by the Riddler as well as a project at Wayne Enterprises, so he hadn't spent much time at home. Y/N always laughed at the memory of his face when he found out her visit had been one extended stay. It was one of the rare occasions where the Bruce Wayne actually cracked a smile and laughed. The memory was pleasant, one she missed from her own home and childhood before it all went wrong.

"Yeah...," Jason turned after hearing Y/N shiver. The hoodie she was wearing gave barely any warmth against the late September air. The evening had been quite deceitful and teased a warm autumn night. Making many feel the harsh chill of what seemingly felt like the cold itself laughing at its own deception.

"Here," The boy said and stepped back, shrugging off his jacket and handed it over to his troubled friend. She smiled in thanks, taking it with hesitance before she slipped it on. Once snuggled into the soft layered coat, Y/N gazed at Jason with a saddened and guilt-ridden eye.

"It's not just home that's bad," She admitted. Jason looked over, wanting elaboration.

"What do you mean?"

"W-well... you know that guy I'm talking to? The one from my school?" She paused to gain confirmation, and after a quick 'you mean Michael?' from Jason, Y/N continued. "He um, called it quits with me last night,"

Jason blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that at all. As far as he was aware, Y/N and this Michael had been crushing hard on one another for a while now. She would sit in Jason's bedroom talking about the cute good morning texts she'd receive every single day from him. How he'd flirt with her in Math or how his friends told Y/N he really wanted to ask her on a date but was too nervous to do so. They had been supposedly pining for ages, and oh how it made Jason want to find the closest wall, pretend it was Michael, and then shatter it into tiny, miniscule pieces.

He hated it. He wanted Y/N to speak of how he flirted with her, not the guy who went to her school. He wanted her to see his good morning messages and get flustered, a lovesick grin plastered to her perfect face which he never grew tired of. He wanted his face to be one she never grew tired of. What did this Michael guy have that he didn't?! Jason did everything Michael did and with so much more care and attention. He knew Y/N in a way Michael never could, and in Jason's deepest desires he knew her in a way Michael never should.

See, Jason was too struck with a crush, only on his best friend and poor Y/N had absolutely no idea. Jason had never plucked up the courage to tell her how he felt. There had been a number of attempts, but things always got in the way. Things always got in the way for Jason.

Not to mention, telling her made him vulnerable. If she didn't return his feelings then he'd get hurt, and their friendship would most likely be the cost. He couldn't lose her like that. She was one of the few people in his life that he cared about the most. Having her as a friend was better than not having her at all. So smiles all around it would be.

"What happened? I thought you guys were... y'know..., " He trailed off in order to imitate kissing actions with his hands, an action Y/N cringed at physically and rolled her eyes. With a gentle shove, the girl shook her head before replying.

"Please never do that again... but yeah. Were, "

"Oh... what happened? Did he finally realise he's not good enough for you?" Jason forced a smirk. "Or did he finally catch a whiff at those stinky armpits of yours? Hm? You big stinker,"

"No. He did not. And if anyone's the big stinker here it's you," Y/N sent her friend a look. "Nobody fights crime in spandex without sweating up a storm,"

"At least I have to do something in order to smell ba- hey!" Jason stopped as Y/N went to swat him round the back of the head. She giggled and muttered 'revenge stinker' and it was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. "Okay, okay. Just because you stink doesn't mean you get to hit me,"

"Wow, it's almost like you don't go out at night looking for fights with a man dressed like a bat. I think you can handle little old me throwing one your way,"

"Whatever," Jason let go of her sarcasm. "Anyway, what were you saying about Michael? Why'd he end things?" Her smile faded once back on track, a frustrated groan leaving Y/N's throat.

"He just decided I'd been a waste of time and was untrustworthy," Despite her efforts to sound as nonchalant as possible, Jason sensed a form of hurt in her voice. It was easy to notice one's coping mechanisms when they also happen to be your own. Jason used the exact same method to prevent anyone fussing over him, but with a Father figure heavily practiced in interrogation, Jason rarely got away with his. Which meant it would be the case for anyone he held dear who tried the exact same thing.

"What's he talking about? You're neither of those things, fucking jerk,"

Y/N merely shrugged as a means to downplay the situation. Something that surprised Jason. Usually Y/N vented everything to him but for once she seemed reluctant. The two would dive into an endless train of insults regarding the person that irritated them, the words growing so completely inappropriate and bizarre the saddened feelings became ones of amusement and humour.

Frowning faintly and focusing hard on the candy floss in front of him, Jason allowed his terrible stubbornness to do more good than bad for a change. He scooted closer to his friend and deliberately nudged her shoulder.

"Come on. You can tell me more. It's not like I'll go punch him in the face or anything,"

"Jason...,"

"Alright, alright. I will absolutely go punch him in the face but only if you tell me,"

By now her head had turned away, making Jason smirk in a confident victory.

"Even if your head isn't facing me I know you're grinning," When her head didn't turn Jason leaned forwards and prodded her three, maybe four times. "It's rude to ignore your friend, doofus. Especially when he's being a nosy asshole in order to get you to talk,"

Y/N watched him out her eye corners. Jason rested his arm on the wooden fencing of the pier, head held upright by his hand. Finally, a rather complacent yet innocent smile was planted on his lips. He could see the cogs turning in Y/N's head, her tolerance slowly cutting shorter by the second as she looked at him. The moment her head hung forwards in defeat Jason silently celebrated. At the same time as making himself comfortable for the bitch session that was about to take place. Or so he thought would take place.

Y/N fiddled with her fingers awkwardly, clearing her throat and thinking hard on how to begin. It was obvious she didn't really want to, but she knew Jason wouldn't stop bugging her until she told him what went wrong.

"Well, the reason he said that is because... because he saw us at that party Bruce forced us to go to last week," She stopped, a deep breath evident to Jason from the cold, night air. Y/N's eyes avoided her best friend as she said her next words. "After seeing pictures online, he now thinks we're dating and it turned into this whole thing when I told him we weren't, so y'know... he said I wasn't worth it and that I should just leave him alone,"

"Oh," Was Jason's first response. His primary instinct told him to leap for joy that he had a fighting chance, but he was conscious of the fact you were clearly upset. So perhaps that wasn't the most sensitive reaction to give. It could always come later, when he was alone in his room with nobody to catch him in the act. Where his dignity could remain intact. "Didn't... didn't you tell him that we're just friends?"

"Of course but -," She sighed. "He just called me a liar. Like, a lot. Over and over," Her face disgruntled. "I'm sick of hearing the damn word,"

"Piece of shit. He's the one not worth it," Jason angrily grumbled, brows furrowing together at the thought. The fact this guy had the nerve to talk to Y/N in that manner and call her such things. The disrespect had his blood boiling.

"I don't know, I can't really blame him," Y/N said. "I would be pretty insecure if I saw the person I wanted to date attending posh parties with the son of a billionaire, too,"

"You think that's why he did it?"

"I'm telling myself that in hopes I can make the guy sound like less of a dick, but even after I reassured him he just kept making it worse," A slight pause as she sighed again. "I think it was the dress you bought for me that was the final straw,"

"Seriously? You had nothing to wear so why wouldn't I have got you one? That's what friends do," Jason shook his head in dissaproval. "Maybe he was just insecure like you said. But if I was him I wouldn't make that a reason to end things with someone as great as you. Son of a bitch clearly can't see beauty when it's standing right in front of him. I wouldn't be looking at the dress because of the price, I'd be looking at you in the dress because you made it even more perfect than it was,"

"Wait... what?" This time her gaze locked to Jason's in surprise, the words leaving his mouth the last thing she expected. Sure, Jason had complimented her at the party... but something as generous as perfect? Surprised was an understatement, really. The most she got out of him at the party was that she looked nice. And only when Bruce prompted him to give the compliment.

"What?" Jason almost instantly responded. Now it was his turn to downplay his words in order to palliate his implication. He looked away, doing his best to remain cool. Perhaps he had gotten carried away in his ramble, but he told no lie. Y/N was stunning at that party and Jason spent the whole night battling all urges to cram his lips against her own and reveal how he truly felt. Had Michael even looked at the public photos and thought 'wow, I'm one lucky guy if that's my potential girlfriend' ? Probably not. But he should have. Fucking asshole. If only he was aware of how lucky he was.

His attempt to play cool seemed to work in his favour. Y/N watched him, her heart's sudden lift at his words falling to her feet again. Unbeknownst to his actual meaning, she assumed Jason's reaction indicated he was oblivious to what he had just said. Which sent her more rock-bottom than she already was.

"Nevermind," She said. Y/N felt the candy floss in her grasp loosen and before she could catch it, the breeze took it away. It slowly floated down to the water. Once it hit the surface, its shade darkened and disintegrated before it sank below the depths. "Thought I misheard you,"

Y/N turned her gaze to him. God, it hurt to look. His luminous blue eyes matched with his raven painted hair sent her into such a spiral of emotions she practically felt her cheeks heat up with humiliation. The jawline that had altered his appearance over the years from a premature sweetness to a charming handsomeness sent butterflies to her stomach, fluttering everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. They came and went like heavy rain, always catching you at the worst of times, without preparation.

It was unknown to the seventeen year old how it happened. Better yet, when. She was attracted to a boy who had for so long now just been a friend. Yet here she was, questioning her feelings and what would happen if their friendship went that one step further. Michael was her first attempt at denying her true feelings, though soon became her way of preventing Jason from finding out the truth. Well, the parts she'd left unsaid anyway. Everything from Michael cutting ties and the fact he had genuinely wanted to ask her out was not fabricated.

Y/N sighed as her mind gave her no break. She felt bad telling her friend continuous lies about her emotions. Jason was the one person where secrets weren't kept, they could tell each other anything. They both knew so much about each other there was little left to tell. Yet here she was hiding the most important thing that needed to be shared. Maybe it was time. Even if she got hurt, she just had to let it out. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it inside. Humans can only tolerate so much secrecy before they start to lose their mind from the strife it gives.

So with one heavy breath as mental preparation, in and out slow, she chose her next words carefully.

"To be honest I don't even know why I made such a fuss about it,"

Yes you do.

"I realised after we stopped talking that I maybe didn't like him as much as I thought,"

Be real. You never liked him. A good math buddy but that was it.

"Well... why'd you feel the need to get upset?" Jason tilted his head to the side in confusion, making a good point which Y/N already knew the answer to. She quickly turned away from him, nerves hitting her like a brick had just been lobbed directly at her face.

Because there's no distraction from you anymore, doofus.

"Y/N?"

She blinked out of her train of thought, eyes lifting up to meet his. He was already gazing down at her, awaiting a reply. Y/N gulped despite a dry mouth, not really sure what to say. She was speechless, in fact. Once again blown away by her best friend's good looks. How was it possible for someone to be so attractive?! Her mind was a flurry of flustering thoughts that in her frozen stance, Jason slowly began catching on. And it seemed Y/N was able to express how she felt without needing to utter a single word.

The boy could read expressions and body language so easily due to his training, so Y/N wasn't getting away with anything in that moment. At first he was unsure, the entire concept something he had imagined in his wildest dreams. But it was when Y/N's eyes trailed down to his lips that the realisation hit. Her beautiful, E/C eyes, filled with want and yearn and her pupils dilating was merely the cherry on top.

In that small fragment of time where Jason realised. His heart pounded in his chest. Everything felt weightless and like no other feeling he had ever encountered before. He had all the confirmation he needed, and whether Y/N realised that Jason didn't know. But there was no way he was letting her wonder any longer.

Just as her stare drifted back to where it started, Jason took it upon himself to lean towards her. His eyes locked firmly onto hers, searching for anything in their intense, near-staring-contest-gaze that hinted she was off-put with anything he was doing. One can only imagine the adrenaline rushing through his veins when Y/N stayed put.

It was there that Jason left a gentle peck on her lips. A sample she could have more of if it suited her expectations. To him, it wasn't nearly enough and he resisted the want to kiss her harder. Just to be sure that she wanted it too, Jason pulled away, chills crawling up his back when Y/N followed - pushing their lips back together to prolong what both had wanted for so, so long.

He felt a smile form on Y/N's lips as they kissed, something that only meant what he had done was the right thing. That how he felt for Y/N was how she felt for him. That those curiosities were shared and the kiss was only the trigger to allowing them to become reality. Their eyes closed in their tender moment, Jason bringing his hands to cup Y/N's cheeks. Holding them so delicately as if they may shatter under his touch. He felt intoxicated, seeking more of her as each second passed. Her hands wrapped around his neck, fingertips grazing the nape, sending tingles of excitement straight to his chest and so intensely Jason's thumping heart near deafened him.

Everything felt so right. Everything felt so unbelievably perfect. So wonderous and amazing that the mere memory took his breath away. Gotham's moon gleamed on as the two embraced in the moment both of them discovered untold sentiments.

And Jason would have paid millions for that night to have ended exactly like that.

00:15

00:14

00:13

Jason's eyes opened, the memory from the previous week leaving his head as fast as it had flowed in. Except that wasn't the memory of what actually happened. It was the memory of what he wished had happened, instead.

Y/N felt nothing for him but friendship. Michael had asked her out. She undoubtedly said yes. Of course she said yes.

Why would she feel anything for a guy like you anyway?

00:12

00:11

00:10

The cloak that clung to his back felt like a thousand ton weight, one he had to drag fifty miles in order to get rid of. His battered and beaten frame screamed for a saviour as he tried to reach for the door handle one last time. All it would take was one...last...stretch...

00:09

00:08

00:07

She probably friended you out of pity. God, she would probably love you out of pity as well. Not that she ever loved you at all... not in the way you wanted. Definitely not in the way you had always, oh so desperately, wanted and needed for so, unbelievably long.

What would Bruce think? His sidekick failed him and so did his son. If he had just listened a bit more. If he had held back his temper for a few seconds longer. Maybe, just maybe, instead of being at the hands of the Joker... he'd be sprawled out on the couch having a movie marathon with the one person his age that actually made him feel human.

00:06

00:05

00:04

His feeble hands reached for the handle once an eternity had passed and granted him permission to grab a hold. A hefty tug that more than likely worsened his internal bleeding gave Jason enough clarification that the door was barred shut. Only an aggressive kick or shove would break the hinges and give him an exit.

If he could only... stand up...

A soft beep suddenly forced its way into his eardrum, making him stop and rotate his head to the opposite end of the room. At least to the best of his ability - his neck struggled to keep his head upright and even his eyes found it difficult to move around in their sockets.

Across the way sat a device with a timer painted in bold and bright red, that even his blurred vision could make out as clear as day. A timer, counting downwards all the way to zero. Further study wasn't required, Jason knew what it was immediately. And with as little time left as there was, he lost all means to try and escape the radius.

00:03

Nice one, genius.

You really screwed yourself over now. How did Bruce ever believe in you? How did you ever believe in yourself? That you thought you could actually pull off being as good a Robin as Grayson? As good a boyfriend as Michael? The boy who clearly had more guts than you because he actually told the girl how he felt while he had the chance?

00:02

Maybe it won't hurt as much as they say it does.

You know...it could just... tickle you from this distance.

As simple as falling asleep. Maybe. Hopefully. Please don't let it hurt.

00:01

He barely had the opportunity to cry a final tear. For goodbyes he'd never be able to say, for goodbyes he never said. For apologies he never said. For every single point in his life where he messed up. Regrets of all sizes and consequences flashed in his final moments, with no way to amend them. No way to atone or make them right.

Goodbye Alfred and Y/N, goodbye Bruce. Goodbye to all those missed opportunities. Here's to a great fucking life that you never deserved to have.

Jason Peter Todd stared directly toward the bomb, that would be his inevitable demise.

00:00

"W-well... you know Michael? The one from my school I really like?" She paused to gain confirmation, which she received. Jason nodded slowly, head cocking to the side in question afterwards. Y/N felt her smile erupt into something wonderful. "He finally asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes!"

Jason froze in time, eyes not focused on his friend, nor were they really focused on anything behind her either. He aimlessly gawked at nothing, letting the information sink deep into his skin as sharp as a knife. The candy floss in his hand wilted to a certain degree, the same way his heart plummeted straight to the floor. After a moment to process, he noticed how his friend expectedly awaited a response to her news. Y/N's smile never wavered, only grew with excitement that punched Jason so hard in the gut he felt the need to coil over from the pain.

"Oh... that's... that's really great Y/N. I-I'm happy for you," Jason forced out, sending a feigned smile in her direction to show his support. No matter how livid he was to hearing Y/N's news, being an asshole about it wasn't fair. Y/N missed his insincerity, too bubbled with joy to even consider his upset. Instead, she started to ramble about the how and the when of Michael finally asking her out, not checking if she even had Jason's full attention. That showed how truly and genuinely taken she was by this boy, how her heart ebbed for him the whole time. Jason's mask went up at the thought. The mask that hid his true emotion.

He had been so close. So, so close. If only he had grown the guts to say something earlier as he and Y/N reached the highest point of the ferris wheel. To take her hand in his and finally tell her how he'd been feeling. Part of him wanted to let it out, make some big, romantic gesture in Y/N's direction that would have her head over heels for him. Exactly like the stories and movies showed.

But he knew with his luck she would just laugh. Make it into some big joke and thump his back to congratulate him on the trick.

Except none of it was a trick.

Y/N looked out to the pier's view, her smile brighter than the shine of the moon above. In another instance Jason would have admired it, but the smile wasn't for him so how could he? It was for another boy. A boy who beat him to it and got the girl. The girl Jason wanted so badly he wasn't sure what to do with those feelings now he knew those feelings weren't reciprocated.

Due to this, Jason reached for his phone in his pocket, praying there was a message from Alfred or Bruce to call the night off early to put on his nightly uniform. When there wasn't anything, Jason decided to take matters into his own hands. Suddenly going back to the fairground for a couple more rides no longer sounded like the perfect end to a once perfect night.

"It's getting late... I think we should get Alfred to pick us up," He interrupted forcibly, not caring for cutting his friend off mid-sentence. Y/N frowned and then pouted her lip once she processed what he said.

"What do you mean, Jay? It's not even ten yet," Y/N protested, a certain whine to her voice that Jason purposely ignored.

"I know, I-I'm just tired," He cleared his throat and was already walking back up the pier before Y/N could respond. There was a scowl on his face now, a shadow casting over once his back was turned from Y/N.

"Oh. Okay. We can go then... I guess all that Robin work catches up to you," Y/N laughed awkwardly when her light-hearted attempt was overlooked. She stopped to pick up the prizes that Jason had forgotten, or he just simply lost all want to carry them around. She found it odd, his sudden change in mood. Jason had been fine the whole night up until the last couple of minutes. What was wrong with him?

"Sure," Was his reply. Hands shoving themselves into his pocket as his walk became sluggish. Y/N caught up to him, studying him for a good second or two.

"Are you sure it's just that?" She asked, knowing that action all too well. There was something he wanted to say, from the way his lips were tightened and his eyes were focused hard on his trainers as he walked on. Jason glanced back at her, reaching to grab a few of the prizes when he saw Y/N nearly drop a few and made his answer pretty clear.

Maybe if Jason had been more confident with his feelings and if Y/N had pushed him a little more on what bothered him so, the conversation may have taken a different course and not cut so short. But alas, like all things went for Jason, luck was never on his side.

"Positive,"

Never.

[fixing-bad-comic-art]

What’s off about greg’s art? As someone who can’t draw, I’m legitimately curious. None of those drawings look weird to me, so there’s obviously something I’m missing.

A. shout out to me for straight up forgetting about this for a few days. lmao anyways im half brain dead and have a migraine from fumes rn so excuse the hashtag jank in this one pwease

B. thank you to everyone who submitted examples for this post, u r the real mvps here

C.:

To start off, greg land traces other artists work, usually photographs sometimes drawings without permission or credit. This is what the cool kids call ~copyright infringement~ and ~art theft~ or alternatively ~just a real dickish move~. But talking ethics gives me hives so we aint doing that. ethics are a matter of perspective and all o that.

So, this is a Complicated question. or like, its a simple question but the answer is stupid long. or like, the answer is very short but explaining it is stupid long, and requires a Lot of art theory talk.

Anyways! short answer first: Gregarious Landmark's art consistently fails to deliver as comic art.

Long answer: there's three main things every single pannel in a comic book needs to deliver on: Characterization, Narrative, and Appeal.

Characterization: Who is in the panel. Characterization is all about personality, how everyone holds themselves, how they hit their poses, how they present themselves to the world. Characterization can also apply to setting and background elements, think the gloomy skys and gothic/art deco inspired architecture in gotham and how that conveys the vibes of the city.

Narrative: Who's doing what and how do they Feel about that? What's happening in the story? What is the panel trying to convey? 

Appeal: Does it look good? the other two categories are objective, but this subjective one is probably the most important. is it pleasant to look at? is it compelling? is the composition clear? 

lets go down the list:

Characterization: Grenade Launcher traces pretty much everything, we've already gone over that, but he continually uses the same stock of images over and over again, which makes everyone he draws hit the same poses the same ways and make the same facial expressions, all while he fails to make any character have the same facial proportions panel to panel. Beyond that, he prefers to pick sexy poses over poses that make sense for the character, which takes us into the next category,

Narrative: by using these stock poses, again, usually traced from porn, he consistently fails to actually convey any emotion or action in the scene, effectively neutering the writing for the sake of some perv pandering.

Appeal: again going back to the stock poses, his pages end up looking like a collage, random elements slapped into the pannel with no consistent perspective all while making everyone look pretty much the same, same build, same expressions, same (read: no) personality. 

tldr: it usually takes effort to be this bad at narrative illustration but Great Lakes does it without breaking a sweat. good for him.

[dutchess-of-fear]

Top 7 favourite movies I love

1. Nightmare Before Christmas

A favourite movie of mine growing up, I always would watch it during Halloween and Christmas, first ever Tim burton movie I first saw and well I fell in love with this movie, that I would sometime would watch it not during Christmas or Halloween.

2. The crow

Rip Brandon Lee, another movie I grew up watching, and this movie is very close to my heart, love the goth aesthetic vibe with it's dark gloomy city, I did see the other three but nothing beats the first one (city of angels was good but the other two...not good) and the cure song burn always a classic (plus the soundtrack is a banger) 🤟

3. The lost boys

I used to prefer werewolves over vampires until a dear sis @ghoulsister1 told me to try out this movie, and well all I want to do is sleep all day, live young and wild like the lost boys😈, love the songs, how the vampires look in this movie...just amazing

4. Batman Returns

Oh god, Catwoman a total bad ass, love the dark grin version of Gotham city that Tim Burton made, it feels like how Gotham should be like, and Danny Devito as the penguin, I literally nearly cried when the penguin died.

5. Rocky Horror Picture Show

Love, love Frank n furter, I felt sad that he died in the end, he was just so funny, so much entertainment all around, the music is just so fun and literally made me realise I am bisexual cause of this movie (and i have a feeling everyone was like that when anyone watch the movie)

6. Labyrinth

A cult classic which I enjoy watching, love the ballroom scene its just so beautiful and I love David Bowie song for this ballroom scene, I love watching the muppets show that Jim Henson created so when I heard he made this movie I had to see this movie and I love everything it had in the movie, with the actually Labyrinth maze, the puppets and well the Goblin King himself I enjoy seeing on the screen

7. The mummy

So much fun, I love stuff that involves with ancient Egypt, though it wasn't an accurate of the ancient Egypt with it's mummy curse, but this movie did got me into Egyptology.

[audreyscribes]

Answer my Riddle, Challenge Accepted (Riddler x Reader)

You have the habit of challenging people, but specifically on those who believe they're the only one who is right. Living in Gotham, this is probably not the best thing to have actually. Well it's just the Riddler and his riddles...right? Right. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- a/n: no specific pronouns used for reader. Can be interpreted as romantic or platonic.

It was Gotham City and it was…interesting to say the least.

You were a born and raised Gotham-ite, and were one at heart. Despite how concerning that may be to the ears of others; especially your family. At a young age, you always heard them talk about moving out of the gloomy and dangerous city, but it was just talk. You assumed those talks were wishful thinking and had resigned yourself to living in Gotham until the day you died.

But those talks weren’t just talks anymore.

When you were half-way through high school, your family had excitedly picked you up from school when it was over. This was already odd because despite them declaring that Gotham City was too dangerous, they let you walk to and from school; even late at night (though not without them regularly preparing you a phone, pepper spray, and a few other questionable items but would be looked the other way for self-defense. The benefits in living in a city filled with crime is that it was inevitable to arm yourself).

Your family had bright smiles plastered on their faces as you awkwardly and confusingly entered the car. They let you play the songs you liked to listen, but your family frowned upon (on high volume to boot!) and drove you to eat your favourite meal on top of all the dessert you want.

The thought of their true purpose at hand was pushed to the back of your mind as your stomach won out with the food. But as you were finishing up your favourite food, your parents were looking at you with their full attention. That attention that you knew you had to listen.

You were about to shovel in another spoonful of ice cream when your parents spoke.

“(Y/N), we have some news for you-“

You panicked at the intrusive memory of what happened at school earlier.

Although you were relatively a good student (whatever the requirement of being a good student consisted of and was considered by the Gotham School Boards), you had a habit of challenging your teachers. Not of their authoritative positions but at the education system.

In English, it was the grammar structure or how books were interpreted. You knew the structures of grammar were there for a reason and were to be used properly, you argued that sometimes if the writing was done right, then using the words: But; However; And at the beginning of sentences could be done. You read the assigned novels feverishly and wrote down your interpretations but were only to be told one their interpretation and that was the only one.

You argued with your math teacher when you had learned another method to a problem that was far more efficient, yet you were taken points off because you didn’t use the one you were taught to use.

These were daily occurrences and were an academic headache.

You wondered if your parents had caved in and were going to send you to that school were they ran it like a military camp. Or maybe you were going to be sent military school.

“-We’re finally moving!”

You froze as the grip of your spoon was lax, dropping it onto the plate. Your mouth agaped.

“Wait, what?” you mumbled out confused.

“We finally decided to take the chance at that relocation job opening in Metropolis and we were approved! We wanted to wait until everything was verified before telling you!” your father said excitedly.

You blinked a few times. Somewhere in your mind you remembered something like this. You parents worked at the same company and building (but at different departments) and the notion of moving from Gotham was because of the branches that were slowly opening all over. The opportunity was always there but for whatever reason in the last decade, they never went for it despite talking about an opportunity to leave.

You were only a few years from graduating high school; with friends and classmates you’ve known since you were in Primary School. And now they wanted to move?!

“Why now? I’m almost done high school!” you argued.

“I know it’ll be hard but it’s for the best” said your mom.

“You had those opportunities and offers years ago, why now? Why couldn’t you have decided to rip from me from all I’ve known until now!”

Your voice was getting louder and were starting to gather the attention of the other diners.

“Keep your voice down (y/n)-“

“No! I have friends and classmates since I’ve known I was little and are in high school as me. You want me to abandon them like they’re nothing? You always talked about moving from Gotham, a city you always felt too dangerous and forsaken to remain, but you never tried to! So why now? Why couldn’t you have waited until I had gone off to college like every other parent!”

You were standing up and were glowering at your parents.

“That is enough!” your parents chided, “We’re moving, and you’ll be the better from it. We’re your parents and we know what’s best for you.”

“Oh, like ripping your child away from everything they ever known, their security and social environment is what’s best for me now.”

Your parents were silent and paid for the meal before you silently followed them to the car. You could feel all the eyes looking at your backs and your parents tried to get you to quickly enter the car. You defied them by walking as slow as possible and felt slightly satisfied as they were nervously looking at the other patrons and at the car.

The ride back was tense and silence, and you couldn’t care less.

Your defiance got worse as the remaining days at your high school. You were half-way through the school year when you were going to be pull out, leaving you a fish being transferred from one water to another without being adjusted to it.

You still questioned your teacher’s methods but instead of arguing the benefits of it and why, you just straight up left the classroom or skipped altogether, causing more disturbance. The school eventually called your parents over and over again because of it. Your parents came together at first, apologizing to the teachers and trying you to apologize.

Typically, you would say sorry, even if it was empty, but now you straight up ignore them. It wasn’t going to matter anyway and if your parents were adamant on leaving, you were going to leave trails behind you. Eventually, your parents were reduced to one of them as your trouble with the school system were delaying their moving progress, then none of them came.

That hurt your heart as you watched the office call your parents repeatedly. This left the teachers having to talk to you and you broke down, no longer able to hide it. There was no reason not to and if at least one person was going to listen to you, might as well be the teachers who tolerated your defiance.

You expected something to happen, but you moved to Metropolis. It was bright and clean, unlike Gotham which was gloomier in every sense. Yet why did Metropolis feel gloomy?

The school were put in was nice and you did somehow make friends, but it wasn’t the same. You were too out of your element that the brightness of Metropolis makes your heart gloomier. You still tried to question the methods but unlike Gotham, they listened, and your methods were tolerated.

You should’ve felt satisfied and felt like a winner. But instead, you felt…empty.

Days passed by like that. Everything felt more hollow and less satisfying until you were bored. Your parents tried to get you to ‘lighten’ up but that just made you feel worse.

As you graduated high school, it was blissfully enjoyable to hear the announcer tell the audience full of other graduates and families that you were attending one of the best universities in Gotham with full scholarship and honours.

The shock and despaired look of your parents’ faces made you laugh out loud, causing some odd looks to be pointed at you.

You couldn’t care less even when the ceremony was over, your parents tried to argue with you after all the pleasantries were over.

You just held up the letter of acceptance to them and the other letters of acceptances from other schools in Gotham. You only applied to one college in Metropolis but never went further for application.

Just as you said you would.

Days turned to years as you had moved out of your temporary home in Metropolis and moved back to Gotham; where your things were already at one of your childhood friends’ /best friends’ home.

It was a long game but you were finally home.

Life was great from there. Sure it was Gotham but it was felt more right. You never noticed it but after living in Metropolis for a while, there was something about Gotham that made it feel right after doing things just a bit differently then the average and still be fine.

Life back in Gotham was great!

Well, maybe except for Batman and Gotham’s super villains. The existence of crime was no secret here with the mafia and gangs that seemed to as much leeway as the politics there, but superheroes and villains?

‘Hmmm’ you thought as you found yourself in a sticky situation.

You were on your way home from university after classes after classes. You were tired from sitting for hours in lectures, absorbing all the information and participating in discussions. The discussions were the best thing in post-secondary education because unlike back then, whatever you said and argued was still regarded seriously and had reason. But it didn’t make everything else easier though.

It didn’t help that you had finished your first degree and working on the next.

You and your childhood/best friend had decided to join your fellow class for a late-night food drop and while you were all talking, you were all too absorbed to notice the impending situations.

Thus how you and your university mates joined several others as you were at the hands of The Riddler.

You were too tired and hungry to listen but as the Riddler had gone on a spiel, your patience was ever waning. It was almost at its end as the Riddler begun to give riddles to the general populace to kill time while waiting for Batman. Many of the answers from the civilians accepted as wrong, you finally snapped at the next riddle.

“Riddle me this: What 4-letter word can be written forward, backward, or upside down, and can still be read from left to right?”

The Riddler pointed a microphone at your friend who stuttered terrified. “Uhhh-“Their eyes were terrified, looking between the Riddler and you and that was it.

You grabbed the microphone and growled out, “Noon”.

Your friend’s eyes were wide as you got up and the Riddler rose an eyebrow at you, amused.

“Oh, someone is finally interested!”

He opened his mouth to add on that it wasn’t the correct answer but-

“But knowing you, you want a more specific answer and not the obvious answer. So it’s forward, backward, or upside down, and can still be left to right? It’s Level.”

The Riddler widened his eyes. “That’s right. I see you have a keen observation how about-“

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that off. There are several answers to that riddle that can be considered correct but you would’ve gone in circles but it wouldn’t be your correct answer.” You continued to rant off as you took a step forward, annoyed.

Your friend grabbed the edge of your clothes to pull you back but you were too annoyed at this point.

“Oh do you have something to share with the class then?”

“Oh boy, do I! Noon would’ve been the assumed corrected answer for the average person and you knew that, because of course you would, so you decided to be clever and put more word play in it. Well news for you, that’s a stupid choice Riddler!”

“It’s not stupid” growled out Riddler, his hand gripping his cane.

“Then would’ve you have accepted ‘Noon’ as an answer then?”

You stepped closer-

“Everyone knows the answer is noon-“

“Is it? You failed to take in the cultural, social, and ethnic background of your audience. Out of us here, there’s a good chance that English is not our first language. Do you know how hard it is to understand word play, references, and the like of a different language?”

The Riddler opened his mouth as you cut him off by pushing a finger up near his face as you stepped even closer. “HARD! Not to mention other factors to consider like auditory processing issues and such. So taking into that fact and logistics, not to mention the pressure of time limits and this hostage situation, the chances of everyone giving different answers is high depending on their understanding of how you formulate your riddles. So it is unfair to put everyone at risk of their life because they each have varied comprehensions of your riddles.”

“What other answers would they have given-“

“Oh I don’t know. Noon and Level are Palindrome words along with,” you took in a deep breath as you heard your best friend and childhood friend let out a quiet “oh here we go” before you launched, “Redivider, deified, civic, rotor, kayak, radar, madam, refer-“

With each word, you stepped closer and closer.

“Must you-“

You had gotten closer to where your chest almost touched his as you stood up to him. Both of your eyes staring at each other, filled with anger, annoyance, defiance, but also interest and mirth. You could feel each other breaths and were fully aware of each other’s stares.

“Fine, you want to be a smart ass and want it in sentences? ‘Live on time, emit no evil-’"

“I get your point now-“

“HANNAH, BOB, AVA, OTTO!” you yelled.

At that point, you friends who conveniently were named like that, all got into action as you charged at the Riddler; tackling him by the waist. Your arms wrapped around his lithe waist and your ear happened to press against his heart as it beat rapidly.

The man yelped and screamed for his henchmen to move but your friends, Hannah slammed the emergency alarm on the nearest wall while Bob and Otto charged like they always did in Football. The two tackled the two henchmen as Ava judo-flipped another.

You and the Riddler went at each other, one who was used to fighting because they were a villain and the other…well, you did get into a ton of fights: verbally and physically.

Your other friends and classmates scrambled, your best friend and childhood friend groaning but also laughing at the entire situation before helping the others get everyone out. Fists swung at each other, neither truly as hard as it could’ve been.  The Riddler had begun to sound of riddles and after you forehead smashed him to get him stop, but he continued-

You bit at his lips in anger, and he yelped, before growling before pushing you to the side. You didn’t let him go as you grabbled him once more.

You weren’t aware of what was truly happening, but you managed to get above the Riddler and slammed his hands on either side of his head, trapping them there.

The two of you stayed like that, catching your breaths but also groaning at the pulses of pain from your fight. You two looked eyes as the Riddler sneered.

“My Riddles are fine.”

“Oh, they are but you’re an ass for not considering other people’s technically right answers. They weren’t wrong.”

“Perhaps but they’re my riddles!”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh come on, that’s like saying there’s only one accepted formula for math when there’s a much more efficient way of doing it. It’s all correct in the end.”

The Riddler rose a skeptical eyebrow, “That sounds awfully personal now.”

You felt your face flush, “Well…it wasn’t like I wasn’t right but it sucks when you were technically right but they only accepted in a certain way.”

“Ahh, a conundrum that I’m familiar with.”

“So you also know that giving Riddles to people who are on a time limit isn’t the best way either right?”

The Riddler rolled his eyes, “Like those simple-minded brains would have anything invigorating to provide to society.”

You grunted, “And you just pissed off a tired and hungry university student who has a penchant of challenging people.”

“Uh, (y/n)? You can probably get off now-“

You turned back, pressing harder on the Riddler to make sure he wouldn’t escape. You and Riddler craned your necks to see.

Your friend was glancing between you and the Riddler with a small awkward look but also glanced to the side where there stood Batman. You somehow could make out a raised eyebrow and then your turned to the Riddler, realizing you were too close for comfort as you were practically sitting on his stomach to keep him down. Hands still pressing down to keep his hands down by his head.

Realizing what this looks like, heat rose up to your face as you quickly released the Riddler and got off him. The Riddler took in a deep breath but you didn’t bother looking as you quickly backed away.

“Uh, okay- nice chat. Bye Riddler, Bye Batman- uh, have a good night!” you stuttered off embarrassingly before you ran out of the doors of the building you were held hostage in moments before. Your friend called out to you, slamming the door open with your bags in tow but you were too high strung at the moment.

If you had looked back, you would’ve seen the Riddler obediently still lying on the floor. His body still in place as you had gotten up. But what was more notable was his face as his eyes were blown wide with surprise and awe, a smile appearing on his face.

The police arrived as you had gotten out and there were series of questions. More than once, you had gotten several strange looks from others, no doubt getting a rundown of what had happened.

You groaned, face red as you remembered what kind of position you were in.

Your friend was patting your back, if albeit awkwardly. You two heard the doors open roughly and you all turned to see the Riddler led forward by the Batman. The Commissioner looked as if nothing unusual was happening but as you looked on, you noticed.

The Riddler’s eyes had landed on you and focused. You couldn’t help staring at him and then he gave a smile.

“Don’t change wisecracker! I’ll be sure to have more riddles for you to crack for me!”

A promise. A challenge.

Everyone turned to you and Batman pushed the Riddler into the vehicle, but you still saw the Riddler give you a wink.

You let out a groan and buried your face in your hands. You were so tired and over at this point.

Weeks had passed since the incident with the Riddler. The first few days were awkward and tense as you were questioned by the Police and even by Batman. What didn’t help was the incident had spread across and you couldn’t walk in the halls without gathering some attention. Your parents had called demanding you return to Metropolis but when you wouldn’t, they had the gall to be superior as they chided at your tendency to challenge others.

At that point, you really did not want to go back to Metropolis to prove your parents wrong.

More days had passed and the incident with the Riddler became more and more faint. But what didn’t fade away as you wanted was his promise.

“Don’t change wisecracker! I’ll be sure to have more riddles for you to crack for me!”

The words should make you afraid or irk you. And at first it did. But as days became weeks, the words still remained strong and strangely, make your chest flutter. For what exact reason, you didn’t know.

But,

You couldn’t challenge the feeling that talking to the Riddler didn’t feel as bad as it should be. Aside from the whole hostage situation, it wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

Your chest fluttered with excitement at the memory of proving your point to the villain and you snickered as you closed your work. It was a late night at the library and practically no one was around.

Your friend had other obligations to tend to for a bit, so you had the apartment and time to yourself for a while.

You packed your bags a bit, wondering what you should do next when you heard a chair pull up in front of you. At first, you ignored it but you noticed the familiar stark of green. You widened your eyes as you flickered to see who it was.

You breath hitched as you confirmed your suspicions.

“Riddle me this: You can break me easily without even touching me or seeing me. What am I?”

Your mouth had gone dry. You went to lick your lips as you shook to answer. It wasn’t just fear, but it was also disbelief and excitement.

“Come on wisecracker, answer my riddle.”

“A promise…but also silence” you whispered out while pressing hand to your chest. ‘Or a heart.’

The Riddler smiled, his eyes twinkling with delight as he reached his body forward; face a bit too close to be friendly but not hostile either. Fingers shuffled closer together as the fingertips barely grazed each other.

“Correct. Now should I you give your prize?”

You smiled.

“A promise or my silence?” ‘Or will you offer your heart as its prize?’

The Riddler smiled softly. “I promise you nothing but good times. But answer me this riddle.”

You scoffed but chuckled good-naturedly. “Fine.”

You took his out-reached hand as he led you away, asking you both a riddle and a question.

“ What costs nothing but is worth everything, weighs nothing but lasts a lifetime, that one person can't own but two can share?”

“Love”                                              “Friendship”

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

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It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?