#that's why he fit in crime alley so well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adkawariatka · 20 days

Text

Hi, it turns out that fanfiction is really addictive and I still cant move past any recomendations without checking it out. So I have another idea for a dcxdp crossover….

Danny is living on Gotham streets for 4 months. Its perfect hiding place becouse of its aura. Many tradic deaths and general danger on every corner creats ideal barier for all sorts of ghost hunting equipment. Danny wos relucant about Gotham at first but after few failed attempts at finding hiding space, he decided that to hell with that and he will at least try. And thank the ancients that he did because its perfect. No one pays him any attention there is too much homless out there. Even if most kids are staying at Crime Alley seeking Red hood protection. thats one of the reasons why he hestitated at coming to ghotam: vigilinates. They are dangerous, becouse of partnership with goverment…. Who according to Anti-Ecto laws considers him non-sentient and in need of contamination or more often elimination. So yes Danny wos relucant but it turned out fine….. for now. No ghost or human gosthunter found him yet so he counts it as a success. Any other city, forest, mountains or everything else he tried didn’t last longer that a month. He might not be proud of his surviving technics like stealing, laying and dumpster diving but its not like he has a choice…. He is too much alive to be accepted in to infinite relams for good which is dumb if you ask Danny becouse he is at the same time its Crown Prince. But maybe Danny is just too naive or something. He does not care. On the other hand he is too dead to be accepted by humans so he kind of floats in between never to fit properly anywhere. He is surviving, and for about a year he wos completly alone until that one day…

Danny wos sitting on the bench in his favourite park close to lovely Café that had really beatifull cupcakes with blue whipped cream. He liked to pretend that he is a customer there and just waits for his order….that wos never placed…. Well who is he kidding he is just creepy homless kid that stares at people eating sweets from across the street. Pretty pathetic IF you ask Danny but he prefers not to dwell on his mental health thank you very much. So he is staring when a group of kids takes one of the outside tables. And like a serious creep listens in to their conversation. Well its not like he can swich off his super hearing.

The boys are talking about some homework from school. Danny assumes they are classmates becouse of their maching clothes. When to their table comes another one with darker skin and black hairs. The occupants share meanigfull glances and let the newcommer sit. Danny knows that look. It does not indicates anything good. Its the expression that Dash would make whenever he wos about to do something awful to him. Then the guy with blonde hair says

- Damian why don’ t you eat with us?

And then procedes to push the plate with cookies closer to the boy

- I thought I informed you Winser that I do not eat anything made of milk or other animals products. I am vegan.

Answered Damian with monotone voice. He sat incredybly straight and wos so stiff that Danny thought that must hurt.

- But its so good. beside I offered it. wouldnt it be polite of you to at least try?

Wisner insisted. Sly grin on his lips.

- Leave him be Mike he probably has problems with digesting such hard avaible products.

Said boy to the left with massive collection of pimples on his Chin. Danny named him spotty.

- I do not have any „digestive problems” as you put it Jenkin. I simply choose not to.

- of course pardon our lack of knowledge. Its just we worry that your… original diet wos a little lacking… or maybe you ate a little too much chocholate when you where younger. Thats all

And all of the group snickers to spotty „jokes”. Danny Thinks its primitive and disgusting. Racizm is low blow specially after Damians next words:

- I do not understand

And they laught even more. Damian just sits there confused and oblivious to insults vowen in to conversation. And Danny listens and decides that he must tell that boy the truth. He cant turn blind eye to that. He may no longer be a hero but that? He can help with that. Soon bullies get bored of throwing hidden insults at Damian and go away. Damian sits at their table alone staring at the crumbs of cookies. He looks lonely. Danny standard and walks over to him. But before he reaches the table his occupant whirles to face him. His eyes are very green. Not like ectoplasm but close. They are pretty expresive. Danny can see frustration and confusion in them.

-hi there!

Geats cheerfully.

- I don’t have any cash on me right now

Its the first thing Damian says to him. Rude Danny thinks even if he does looks like a beggar with his thorn jeans and dirty jumper, but he has a mission. And he does the one thing that helps him in stressfull, akward or life treathening situations: he turns it into a joke

- Shame but I will make an exeption for you and give you my services for free

- I am not interested

Damian seems irritated now. Danny procedes to ignore him and sits at the table.

- Well as an expert in friendship I can tell you that those guys weren’t your friends. Better keep away from them

- Thats none of your business. Go away

- well maybe not but you should know what they were saying to you….

And then Danny proceded to inform Damian about the hidden insults and racizem comments. Damian tried to say something and even walk away but Danny wos presistent. When he finaly finished Damian exploded

- Leave me you insolent lowborn go find yourself another imbecyle to milk for money! Or I will stab you!

- Wow that same fancy insults there. I havent Heard lowborn yet. Anyway have a good day!

And Danny proceded to turn on his heel and walk away. He left Damian dumbfoned staring at his back. if the boy decided to do something about this then good if not then Danny at least feels like he did everything he could in this situation.

Damian wos confused. That homless lowborn wos strange. He wos not familiar with Damian nor his family. But. Damian couldnt stop thinking about what he told him. About his classmates their words and hidden meanings. Damian wos not hier to Demons head and son of Batman without a reason. He had skills, keen mind and wos curious. So he checked, he spent almost all night reading different forums and sites about bulling and racizem. He tried not Think about how much he resembled Drake in the morning. What he found wos…. Not plesant. It turned out he missed a lot of signs of his position at school. It wos unbeconing of someone of his class. He wos glad to be aware of that problem but now he did not know what to do with it. Father and Grayson expected him to make „friends” and up until yesterday he thought he fullfiled their orders thru his classmates but now he realised it wos failure. He did not want father to Discover his mistake. So now he has different problem he does not know exacly what that „friendship” wos supposed to be. Internet wos not really helpfull, there were so many diversive definitions that he wos confused about what wos true. He wos not going to admit to father or Grayson his incompetence. He will find solution himself. He has one idea that just might work. The lowborn named himself expert in friendship. Damian just has to find him and ask. He seemed willing to sell his knowledge.

Danny wos a little confused and suprised to see angry boy from two days before him. In his defense Danny did not start this conversation. It wos Damian who came to his bench across the café and demanded his services. Which wos weird in itself even before he asked about the price. But he did remember that he made a joke about services so that checks.

- look I am not…

Started Danny but Damian cut him off.

- you introduced yourself as an expert in friendship so I require your services. I will pay generously.

God now Danny wos going to be arrested for child manipulation and thieft. No that can’t happen. He already is hunted for his halfa status that’s enough.

- Listen I don’t want any money. I joked that day. I saw a kid being bullied and stepped in. Further events does not concern me.

Danny tried to leave but the kid wos presistent.

- Well your knowledge proved usefull. I want more

-kid, Damian I don’t want to get in trouble by using you or something. I am pretty sure there is some paragraph for that. Ask Google, it’s better option. And without me involved

- you think I didn’t do it already?! I am not stupid, but the information there are contradicting itself and I can’t distinguish what is true and what is not!!!!

Danny looks at Damian. He is shaking a little, and his words are colored by desperation. Ancients this is trouble… but he wos in this situation before wosnt he? A boy who does not know basic social skills in foreign dimension…alone and lost. Fuck he can’t leave Damian hanging. He can feel his fear in the air. Damn ghost abilities.

- Fine what’s your problem?

Danny has been meeting with Damian for over 2 months now. the kid wos socially awkward but quick witted and genarlly nice company. Well Danny wos alone for so long that his judgement may be clouded by he does not dwell on that. It’s nice having someone around. And Damian talks to him. He missed that. First few meeting wos a little awkward but it got better. Danny tried to be helpful,?first they talked about the school interactions, who even wos a friend. But then they got deeper, it turned out that Damian knew about social interactions little to nothing. They talked about family how it works, what it should be like. It wos ironic considering Danny neglectful parents and dangerous home. But he knew how it should look like. Jazz make sure of that when she wos alive. Then Damian started to open up about his origin. Trainings, mother and weird hierarchy. Well Danny saw a lot wilder shit in the zone. A kid from assassin cult wosnt the most shocking but still fucked up. He thinks that Damian might be even winning his little competition: „who had more screwed childhood” He thinks that his calmness helped Damian to share. Ancients he feels like Jazz…. It is not that bad. Damian brings him snacks, becouse Danny refused any money. And Danny talks to him too. Tells him about the stars, laughs about stories of Sam and Tucker Damian will never know who is he talking about so there is no harm. First time from death of everyone loved he does not feel alone.

Damian didnt plan to get close to Danny. It wosnt the plan. But he wos such good listener. Danny wos systematic in his explanation of reactions and habits that are „normal” in society. He wosnt showing horror or acted surprised when he told him about discipline in league or it’s hierarchy. He didn’t even flinch when he conveyed stories of trying to establish his position in manor by attempting to murder Drake. He listened then pointed out how different manor and league functioned and then calmly suggested that he should talk to Timothy. Just like that no screaming or anger. Now he knows why father wos so frustrated with him. According to Danny family doesn’t have strict hierarchy or rules punishable by death. It wos strange to have everything finally explained. He understands so much more. He sees that Grayson tried to explain it to him before. But as much as he is fond of the man he wos unsuccessful in his attempts. But he still has one problem… father told him to make friends. It’s a mission that he is failing right now. And if he is being honest he is not talented in this department. Not that he will admit it to anyone… well apart from Danny. When he asked him what else he should do to accomplish this mission he got quiet and fidgeted for a while and then offered

- well if you want I can be your friend

Damian stopped his walk and stared at him. Did Danny filled all the requirements? He did helped Damian not expecting anything in return which friends are supposed to do according to Danny himself, his presence wos entertaining. They understood each other. Both suspicious of their surroundings and cautious in every situation. They know about each other a lot of useless information like favourite food (Danny loved burgers), colors, hobbies or general interests.

-yes that would be acceptable

Damian saw the happy glint in Danny’s eyes and the way he relaxed. They started to walk again as if it wosnt admission of most importance.

So I may post a little follow up about how Tim reacted to Damian apology? I will see. As you can see my writing isn’t the best sorry😅. So in here Danny’s family and friends from Amity are dead and he is 16-isch Damian is fresh from the league and is obviously confused.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc #damian wayne #batman #dick grayson #writing #homlessness #hiding

407 notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 8 months

Text

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 3

WC: 1861 Masterpost CW: mentions of blood, past experimentation, and torture

Duke tugged the sleeves of the hoodie he had thrown on as he rolled out of bed down over his hands. The Cave was freezing. Usually the temperature was nice. Dressing up in layers of body armor and fighting crime made a person hot and the cool air of the Cave was a relief. When pulled out of bed by an all-hands meeting it was another story and so Duke tucked himself further in the hoodie.

He was pretty sure it wasn’t even his hoodie. This family (and those let into the inner circle) were almost all clothing thieves. Duke had even caught Wally West with his missing Gotham Academy hoodie once. The weird lack of boundaries had taken some getting used to. Seeing various family members naked for decontamination showers or medical procedures helped hurry that along. It was hard to care about who’s hoddie it was was after washing off cuddle pollen together.

The roar of a bike filled the Cave and Duke didn’t even look up. He knew the sound of Red Hood’s bike.

Man, he really had been in this family too long now, he thought and buried his face in his arms. Would they notice if he just went back to sleep?

“Perhaps some tea, Master Duke?”

Guess so.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Duke said and dragged himself properly upright to accept the mug of tea. At least it was warm.

Duke sipped at the tea, his favorite blend of course, as Jason sped into the Cave like the badass bastard he was. He spun his bike to a stop in one of the open spots.

“Hood,” Bruce addressed the other, the Batman™ gravel seeped into his voice even though he was dressed down in sweats, a hoodie Duke was pretty sure was actually Jason’s, and a brace on his wrist.

They all knew what Bruce meant though: report why an all-hands was called, why Tim wasn’t there, did those of them not suited up need to, was anyone they cared about hurt?

“No, old man, you report,” Jason said as he stalked up the steps towards them. “Who the fuck were you fucking fifteen years ago?”

Duke pinched himself to make sure he was actually awake and not still in bed having the most awkward dream. Alright, well, that hurt. So much for being saved from this conversation by the T-rex suddenly coming to life and breathing fire and them having to take it down with squirt guns and pool noodles.

He’d had some weird dreams since coming to live in the manor, alright?

“Um, ask what now, little wing?” Dick asked, looking between Jason and Bruce.

“I asked what I asked,” Jason said. He’d made it to the computer and they all turned obediently to look at the screen. Jason tugged off his helmet and set it down as he leaned against the console. “Who the fuck were you sleeping with at that time, Bruce?”

Bruce stared at Jason for a long moment. “Selina, mostly. Some socialites and such maybe still. What’s going on, Jason?”

“Oracle,” Jason said, not taking his eyes Bruce. “Red should have sent you some media. You’ll get why. Throw something fitting up on the screen.”

Despite what the superhero community and Gotham thought, everyone in the Cave knew that Batman was far from unflappable. They had all pulled one over on him before. But Duke had never seen Bruce looking like that before. As that image went up on the screen, it looked like someone had just shattered his brittle heart into pieces.

Duke couldn’t blame him. The sickly looking guy on the screen made Duke want to go find someone to punch and it wasn’t his face the other was wearing.

“Holy shit,” Steph whispered.

“Father, what is the meaning of this?” Damian ordered.

“Jay?” Dick prompted when Bruce seemed unable to find the words.

Jason scowled down at the ground. “Red and I were on patrol. He noticed… blood.”

Babs brought another image up on the left monitor without prompting. It was a Gotham alley like any other except it was splattered with a green spray.

“That is Lazarus water, that is not blood,” Damian said. His words were as haughty as ever, but there was a wobble under them.

“It’s blood for him,” Jason said. “Trust me. I held the kid as Red stitched him up. Knife wound. It was the only… new wound. Oracle, did Red send you…”

A new image popped up on the left screen and Jason closed his eyes. Duke had to swallow heavily and look away himself. He got now why Jason came in demanding who Bruce had slept with. Bruce’s heart was going to break all over again.

“Who?” Cass signed. Her motion was sharp and aggressive as she pulled her thumb from her chin after the sign.

“We don’t know,” Jason said. “He was jumpy.”

The picture of the horrible injuries was replaced by a video, clearly from Red’s suit. The guy was pressed against the wall, one hand gripped tight over the wet, green stain on his hoodie. He looked dwarfed in it.

“Hey, looks like you could use some help with that wound before you bleed out,” Tim said in the video. Duke could hear how he was keeping his tone carefully light.

“…just who are you supposed to be?” The guy’s voice could barely be heard.

“You must not be from Gotham. I’m Red Robin, one of the heroes here.”

The guy snorted, curling further into himself rather than relaxing at that. “So you’re just going to hand me over to the government then?”

Everyone in the cave stiffened at that, including Jason, which was interesting.

“Why would I do that? I’m a vigilante. Do you know how illegal what I do is? I just don’t want to see you bleed out. Maybe I can even take you to a safe house where you can rest.”

“So that you can interrogate me? No thanks.”

“I mean, I’d like to know who tried to kill a kid, but that’s to make them pay, not you.”

As the guy gave a horrible laugh, Duke reached out and touched Cass’ elbow, reminding her they were all there. These sort of things always hit her hard. She sent him a grateful smile before focusing back on the screen. “Maybe I deserve it.”

The guy tensed suddenly, weight shifting like he was about to bolt as the video slumped slightly sideways.

Jason’s voice rumbled from close to the camera. “You’re what, sixteen?”

“…fifteen?”

“Uncertain,” Cass spoke. Duke had to agree, the guy didn’t know how old he was, not for sure.

“Yeah, no fifteen year old deserves to bleed out. You know who I am?”

Duke tracked the motion of the hood as it slipped. The white hair was curious, considering Bruce, but if the guy was a meta or had been in the Lazarus Pits long enough… or worse, both…

“I’m Red Hood. I protect part of this city called Crime Alley. I’m not afraid to kill a shithead, especially ones that hurt kids, but I never harm a kid,” the Jason of the video said, something they all knew was true. It was an argument still often enough on bad days. “I’ve got places to put you if you needed somewhere safe; places not in the system. Or we can get you somewhere. Do you have a place to go to?”

The guy laughed again. “That’s the thing. I do. I might, I guess. Just no one is going to believe me.”

It was Tim who asked, “Why won’t they believe you? Where do you need to get?”

After the photo earlier, they all knew what the guy would look like when he lifted his head, but it still made Duke glance over at Bruce.

“I need to get to Bruce Wayne.”

Jason motioned and the video stopped there and went away.

Bruce closed his eyes.

I need to get to Bruce Wayne.

Another son he didn’t know about. Another son he failed to save from a horrible childhood because he didn’t know they existed.

“He didn’t want to see you right away, but we think that Tim and I convinced him that we could arrange a meeting between you and him,” Jason said.

“Of course,” Bruce answered instantly.

Jason just gave a little nod and explained, “He doesn’t trust the offer, or us, completely. It was enough to get him to the safe house. Passed out on the way.”

“And still asleep,” Tim piped up from the computer. “I’ve been running analysis on the… collar he’s wearing. It’s definitely a one off, but very professionally made. There’s, well, there was a tracker in it that’s been crushed. It’s meant to deliver a shock if someone messes with it, but I can disable that long enough to remove it.”

“You should wait until one of is is there,” Duke spoke up. “Just… in case there’s a reaction when it’s removed.”

Duke ducked his head when all eyes turned to him, still bashful as the newest member of the family. Bruce had been trying to reassure the other, but he knew that was far from his own strength. Clearly he needed to try a different approach.

“Just, you know, he’s clearly a meta? Of some type? It’s probably a containment collar and it could release a, you know, backlog? Of power?”

“Good thinking,” Bruce assured Duke.

“Someone better get here quick then. I hate seeing this thing on him,” Tim grumbled. At least he agreed.

Bruce looked back at the photo still on the center screen to the pale, drawn face. Even in sleep his son’s face was etched with pain.

“Bruce?” Dick prompted.

Bruce took a breath and made himself focus, to be Batman, not a grieving father. How often had he had to make that choice? “Dick, you and Jason both should go. Tim, as soon as the collar is off I want you and Oracle working on it but stay mindful of traps.”

“Will do,” Tim replied.

“And what of the rest of us?” Damian asked.

His youngest had come so far, but Bruce knew this would be a big disruption for him. They would have to watch him. He caught Cass’ eyes and she gave the slightest nod.

“I want Robin, Batgirl, and Spoiler out on the streets. Don’t ask questions yet, we don’t want to lead anyone to him, but get a sense of the mood around the big players. If this is already on anyone’s radar, I want to know.”

“And you need to make a list,” Jason said. “Kid talked in his sleep, begged his mom to stop. Could just be nightmares…”

“I’ll make one,” Bruce said. His bedroom proclivities were hardly what the papers reported, but with how this new son wasn’t certain of his age, it could be pre-Dick, or even at the start of Dick joining the family. It certainly meant there would be more names then any of the years later on. Whoever it was though, Bruce would find them.

He had to try and do that much for his son.

--- AN: Not entirely sure about Bruce's part here, but he's always harder for me to write! I think goal is to get at least one POV with all of the kids, so I guess Dick's is next likely! I'm super fuzzy today (fatigue, day fuck it, seven? Eight? Of this headache), so I hope this is at least decent~

Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost to be notified!

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons #trauma tuesday

1K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 5 months

Text

Between the whole “clone trying to kill her original version” thing and the whole “trying to find herself after being freed from the millionaire fruit loop halfa” thing, Danielle “Ellie” Phantom figured that she’d fit right in with Gotham.

They’ve got shades, a concerning amount of undead, and the people there seem to have traumatic backstories galore. Perfect.

Danny might die again if she told him where she’s staying, though. So she won’t tell him!

Ellie touched down in an alley near the first bus stop into Gotham, returning to the visible spectrum and returning her intangibility. She wanted to explore everything, and where better to start than the entrance of Gotham?

She slips out of the alley, walking past the terrified looking tourists. Ellie ignores the smell of soot they gave off, attributing correctly that it came from the explosion she heard before she approached Gotham. The city, like any other major city, was littered with trash and odd bits of metal. There’s graffiti too, but less so than the sunnier cities. The clouds- and smog, because Ellie could smell it miles away from the city- that obscured the sky left the city in a chilling atmosphere. Hazy. Like, a graveyard at dawn. Perfect for someone like Ellie.

It’s so different from Amity, stone where she dreaded plaster, gloom and doom where she dreaded seeing sunshine she couldn’t reach.

Ellie wandered, under bridges, and in between paths. She danced through shootouts, glides past brawls, laughs when pick pockets find their hands empty after bumping into her.

She gets a coffee and one of those delicious lemon bars, with Vlad’s money. Hers, now that Tucker’s gotten his hands on Vlad’s inner systems. The barista gives her a suspicious look, but she brings out her strongest midwestern accent and the look melts into exasperation. And pity, but Ellie doesn’t really care about that. She “ooh’s and ahh’s” at the grimy stone, the gothic inspired architecture that Sam would kill to experience, goggles at the boarded up buildings. There’s a cathedral or two or five, she doesn’t remember, but the pretty glass seems to be broken at most of them. She wonders what happened. Then she remembers that there are vigilantes here, and concludes that she has to remember to look up more often. A giant clock-tower. A district with less people and fancier homes. A university! She might apply after she’s done traveling around and have gotten her GED.

Her shoes pound the pavement, something about the effort it takes to take a step burns in her soul. Yes, this is what it means to be free. She kicks the knees of two would be robbers in as she passes them on her way to purchasing three bars of the best chocolates she’s had in her short existence.

The cashier looks at her like she’s odd. Oh, well.

And then night falls. Ancients, does the city truly come alive. There are screams and sirens and surges in ectoplasm that balances her essence of being out. Ellie, with a new pep in her step, follows the trail of ectoplasm right into an area called “Crime Alley.”

“It feels almost like… a haunt…?”

Ellie hums and keeps walking. Maybe this is the territory of one of the undead Gothamites…?

She’s got a bit of Danny’s saving people thing after all, because the three bars of candy on her is gone in minutes to children with hollow cheek and dead eyes.

Ellie startles backwards as a body slams onto the pavement in front of her, barely missing the risen steps of the building they were in front of.

“Oh.” She says. Because this is one of the Undead. And he’s Red Hood. Danny is going to flip.

“Run- run, kid.”

Ellie tilts her head. “And why would I do that?”

“You’re gonna get hurt, brat!” The man barks, and winces as his ribs shuttered. The red helmet’s tinny voice doesn’t intimidate her nor does it hide the concern and fear bleeding into the guy’s body language.

“Not really?”

And with that, Ellie slams her elbow into Goon 1, knocking him straight into another building. Goon 2 tries to grab her and she phases out of his reach, floating upwards and slamming her fist into his face. He joins Goon 1 in decorating that building’s new mural, called the two dumbasses that picked a fight with a wandering Ellie.

Hood watches her, cradling his ribs.

“You a meta?” He grumbled at her, wheezing as she crouched down and poked his sides. He smacks her hand away.

Ellie, who has clearly spent too much time near Danny, replies, “Being dead is a medical condition.” without missing a single beat.

Hood, on the other hand, misses several beats.

“What?”

Ellie barrels on, amused at his fumble. “Did you know you died?”

Hood looks at her and Ellie swears she can see the dumbfounded expression.

Ellie laughs, free and sharp. Yes, Gotham is nothing like Amity.

#Gotham #Gothamites meeting Ellie and going this kid is gonna die #(fondly)#Ellie: you can not kill me in any way that matters #Ellie: I’m gonna do all the dangerous stuff #red hood #Jason told #creepy danielle lol #dc x dp #dpxdc #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #Ellie thinks beating people up is part of the tourist experience

680 notes · View notes

disillusioneddanny · 6 months

Text

A Place in this world

Danny took a breath and let it out slowly as he started to get ready for the day. It had been six months since his parents lost custody of him since he had been welcomed into the folds of the Wayne Family. Since Batman himself had saved him from his parents’ experimentation table. His parents were now safely locked up in Arkham Asylum where they would spend the next ten years serving their punishment and Danny was safely living within the confines of Wayne Manor.

Things had been going rather well so far. The Bats had been insanely understanding about Danny wanting to live a normal life now that the portals had all been shut down. The most they requested from Danny was the occasional help on their gadgets and Danny was more than happy to help with that. He had more fun working on the Batmobile and Batplane than he ever did being a vigilante.

And they had encouraged his special interests! They even indulged him in it, letting him have his own little study dedicated to just his experiments and inventions. It had been amazing when Bruce had first shown him all of the spaces that were just for him. He had a bedroom that was as big as his parents' old living room and had an entire space dedicated to his inventions. And on top of that, Bruce had encouraged him to build his own portal so that if he wanted to go to the ghost zone he could. He had even made a space in the Batcave that was just for him if he ever decided to build it.

Six months in and he hadn’t decided yet if that was something he wanted to do. He hadn’t gone ghost a single time since he had moved to Gotham. He was starting to miss it if he was going to be honest. There was something about his ghost form that was just truly comforting. It just felt wrong, though, almost like it was taboo to do such a thing. Which he had no real reason to feel that way. Batman or well, Bruce, had assured him multiple times now that he was more than welcome to change into his ghost form whenever he wanted. Had just requested that Danny let him know if he was going out when he was Phantom so that they wouldn’t think he was a new rogue or anything of the such.

He was missing it, though. The longer he went without shifting into his ghost form, the tighter his skin felt. It was starting to feel like he couldn’t fit in his human form anymore. He could feel himself growing more restless as the days went by, and could feel himself fraying at the edges.

Which was why he was letting himself spend the day in his Phantom form even if it was kinda terrifying the more he thought about it. It was the first time since Batman had saved him and none of his new family had ever really seen him in this form before. It was nerve-wracking but he was going to do it.

He let the bright rings wrap around his body and breathed out as he felt himself change into Phantom, it felt like taking a deep breath on a cold winter’s day. He let himself phase through the door, using his powers a little more than he used to dispel some of the pent-up energy.

The Fenton’s had hypothesized that ecto entities relied on ectoplasm to live, that they needed it like humans needed oxygen. But that wasn’t quite right. Ghosts were ectoplasm. Despite the fact that they were sentient and sapient-looking beings, they were more closely aligned with plants. They created their own energy to survive. And Danny had been letting the ecto that his ghost form created build up inside of him and now he was just about ready to burst from all of it.

“It’s fine,” he breathed out before floating out of the room. His feet were mere inches from the ground as he made his way down the stairs and into the breakfast room where he could already hear the rest of his family sitting around talking and preparing for their mornings. The only people who lived in the manor were Alfred, Bruce, Damian, and Duke. So it wasn’t like everyone in the Wayne family was going to be there to see him. Jason lived in Crime Alley, Dick was in Bludhaven, Steph lived on campus, Cass was in Hong Kong and well, no one actually knew where Tim lived now that Danny was thinking about it.

Why did no one know where Tim lived? He shook his head, he was distracting himself from the matter at hand. And that was having breakfast with his new brothers and adoptive father.

Things quieted as he floated through the wall and gave them an awkward smile. “G’morning,” he mumbled, dipping his head down as he took his usual seat beside Damian.

Bruce gave him a small, proud smile. “Good morning, Danny. Or should we call you Phantom when you’re in this form?” He asked and Danny felt his cheeks blush, a bright green color when he was in this form.

“Danny’s fine. Phantom’s just what I went by when I was out as a hero,” he said, stabbing at the pancakes placed in front of him. “Sorry, I just–”

“No need to apologize, Daniel,” Damian said, a small smile on his face. “We are happy that you feel comfortable enough to show us this side of you.”

Danny gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I uh, I realized I’m needing to take better care of my ghost self. And you guys are safe, I don’t have to worry like I did with the Fentons,” he said quietly.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Bruce asked him, arching a brow in curiosity.

Danny let out a quiet hum as he cut up his pancakes, frowning at the slightly strange texture. Dick had warned him that Alfred’s pancakes weren’t the best but he wasn’t expecting them to be like straight-up rubber. Jason had said that no one had the guts to tell him that they were gross and well, Danny had eaten much worse than rubbery pancakes.

“My ghost side has a tendency to create bonds with people I consider family, so it’s wanting to create those bonds with all of you,” he said carefully, staring at his rubbery pancakes rather than at his new family.

“I think that’s completely okay,” Bruce said with a small smile. “Can you explain a bit more about the social aspects of being a ghost? I think that we would all appreciate a quick lesson so that we can better support you.”

Danny blushed again and nodded. “So ghosts are protective creatures,” he said with a snort as he rested his chin on his hand. “It’s like your own personal protector but on top of that, we’re very social creatures who rely on one another, we get power from it actually. A lot of ghosts bond through fighting with one another, it’s a way to bond. But also indulging in activities together is another one. So, going out to hang out, spending time together, that all helps build the fraid bonds. A ghost’s family is its fraid. So the closer I get to you, then you’ll become my fraid which comes with a few perks? I guess you could call them perks.”

The halfa wrinkled his nose as he wracked his brain to figure out how to explain the perks. “Since you’re humans you’ll get access to a few of my powers,” he said slowly. “Sam, Jazz, and Tucker all turned kinda liminal because of our fraid bonds. It gave them some enhanced strength, they were able to see in the dark, and the shadows pulled to them a little more so it was almost like they could turn invisible at night. So you guys would get some of those same benefits.”

“That sounds awesome!” Duke said excitedly, a wide smile on his face.

“What benefits do you receive?” Damian asked with a frown, tilting his head to the side.

“I get the benefit of having stronger bonds which will make me stronger as well. I’ll also know when you’re in danger or not–something that I think will be a bitch considering your night jobs,” he said with a soft laugh. “But family bonds mean I’m healthy. If I have a lack of fraid bonds I’ll get sick and weak and grumpy. It’s why I finally gave in and changed to this form because I could feel it start to happen.”

Bruce frowned as he mulled over the information that Danny had just thrown at him. “What do we need to do to create these bonds with you?”

Danny blushed a bright green. “Spend time with me.”

“Tomorrow we shall go to the park together and take Titus on a walk,” Damian announced. “I shall have the strongest bonds with you, Daniel. Just you wait.”

Duke snickered. “It’s not a competition, Dami. We’re doing this for Danny’s health and to be closer to our brother.”

“And I will be the best at it, I will become Daniel’s favorite brother,” Damian exclaimed.

“You just want super strength so you can fight Jon,” Bruce said with a laugh and Danny giggled into his hand.

“I don’t know if you’ll be as strong as a Kryptonian, Dami. But I did see Jazz pick up the fridge like it weighed nothing one time,” Danny said thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side as he tried to think more about how strong his friends and sister were by the time he had left Amity. “So maybe don’t pick a fight with Superboy, it might just end with you covered in a lot of bruises.”

Damian huffed out a sigh. “I will still be the best brother, regardless,” he said, pushing his lower lip out in a pout. Danny snickered and took another bite of his rubbery pancakes, chewing far longer than he had ever had to chew a pancake before.

Danny just mustered up a small smile for his new family. Hopefully, this would go well.

Did you enjoy? Read the rest on ao3 here

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #dis dreams #batman #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover

507 notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 7 months

Note

Duke and damian headcanons

Please?

Dick: Hey, Duke, sorry to spring this up last minute, but Wally really needs me in Keystone City. Could you look after Damian for the day?

Duke: Yeah, sure, no problem.

Dick: Sweet, thanks. He's still trying to get a hang of being a normal kid, so maybe you could do some stuff together to show him how.

Duke: Normal kid stuff.

Dick: Exactly. Thanks, I owe you one.

[later that evening]

Bruce: So what did everyone do today?

Cass: Arson.

Jason: Murder.

Tim: Blackmail.

Stephanie: Blackmail but better.

Dick: Chasing Weather Wizard across Kansas.

Bruce: Duke, Damian, how about you? You guys had the day off.

Dick: Oh yeah. Dami, did Duke take you to do some fun kid stuff?

Duke, laughing nervously: I guess you can say that—

Damian: We bought an ATV off Facebook Marketplace and went mud riding.

Bruce: Well, that's not so—

Damian: Then we went to the planetarium and used Father's credit card to rent out the theater for an hour-long stargazing show.

Damian: After that, we made spaghetti tacos for lunch and ate them while swinging around in our civilian attire.

Damian: Then I met Thomas's friends and they introduced me to live-action roleplaying—

Duke: It's just called LARPing.

Damian: —Yes, whatever. Except their costumes and weapons felt lackluster, so we brought them to the Batcave for a much-needed upgrade. After all, why duel with cardboard battle axes when the real thing is so much better? Plus, Thomas found a use for the yellow kryptonite in the storage.

Bruce: Duke, is this true—

Damian: Oh, and we mustn't forget the mountain goat. It got tired so it's resting in Father's bed.

Dick: Sounds... interesting.

Damian: I didn't even get to Mount Crime Alley.

Bruce:

Dick:

Duke: ...Excuse me, please.

Duke: *sprints upstairs and locks himself in his room*

Alfred: Looks like he will fit right in.

741 notes · View notes

002yb · 13 days

Note

Hi! i love your blog <3 and I wanted to ask if you have any ideas/headcanons surrounding a Jason that was ressurrected maybe a decade or two later than in canon and his relationships with Bruce or Dick or Damian or Talia (if all of them are even alive by them)

No thoughts, just same-age!Damian+Jason!AU ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! Or rather, Batman!Dick + Robin!Damian save resurrected!Jaybin.

Where Jason is resurrected ten years later and what happened a decade ago still feels like minutes prior. In his mind, it's not a casket and six feet of dirt Jason digs himself out of, but gravel and shrapnel. He's still just as hurt, just as scared, but it doesn't matter. Jason's awake and alive and he wants Bruce.

Nothing registering beyond that yearning to feel safe. Nothing mattering but going home. The trauma hitting hard and leaving him a wreck of a boy who just wants to apologize and be told that it's okay — that he is okay.

Jason wants to go back. Desperately. Tragically.

What he gets is this: the familiarity of Gotham with all its crime and corruption. The icy pinpricks of rain beating down on him. The daring hands of twisted men that pull him down alleys and laugh when he struggles. And yet it's not them who Jason hears...

HAhahHAhAHAhaHa!

Jason gets away after laying the men out flat. And that's when someone sneaks up behind him and Jason lashes out—only to get laid out flat, himself. By Robin.

Jason being in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Choking on a relieved sob because Robin is alive and safe. And that Robin came for him. But then realizing that can't be right because Jason is right here.

Something something one of the men stirring and looking to retaliate. Before Robin can act though, Jason flips them around. Protective on instinct despite Robin's protest (because Robin had it handled and now a 'civilian' is getting erroneously injured)

Enter: Batman

And Jason doesn't see him because of how he wraps himself around Robin, but he hears him—a familiar flutter of a cape and just like that, Jason is drawn to him. Sitting back to straddle Robin while looking over his shoulder at a dark shadow. Breaking at the sight of him, eyes welling with tears and lip trembling because Jason is still fifteen and just went through hell and he's sorry. He's so fucking sorry, don't be mad at him. Take him back, please. Please. He'll be better this time. He'll be good.

Robin's complaints falling on deaf ears as Jason stumbles to his feet, taking staggering steps towards Batman before Jason runs to him. Throwing himself into Batman's chest, arms wrapped tight around him.

Sobbing when those arms would come around him—as a hand would tangle in his hair and pull him impossibly close so as to not lose him again.

But it's wrong. Everything is wrong.

Because this isn't Bruce. It's Dick.

Still, they hold Jason like he's dear even as they sink to the ground with Jason half curled in their lap; broken over Jason and stealing his breath with how desperately they cling to him.

Robin!Damian not understanding what's happened with this emotionally distraught child or why it is that his partner looks like he's seen a ghost, why he looks damn near to tears. 'Pull yourself together. (¬_¬")'

Jason only placing who it is when Dick pulls away from him to look Jason over. It's the warmth of Dick's hands that come to rest on either side of Jason's face, thumbing away tears and dirt and grime. Tentative, gentle. It's the stormy blue of his eyes behind the cowl and that gravity that's always been about him that draws Jason in.

The sobs die down, choked down as Jason comes to the conclusion that he came back wrong. Because Dick is older. Because Bruce is gone.

A quiet moment where these two look at each other before they rest their foreheads together and Jason mourns too many losses. Because it's his turn for that now, it seems.

Bruce, dead. Dick, burdened by a hero's cause; clipped and caged by a mantle that never fit him, that he never wanted. It's sad. It's awful. What a terrible future.

Jason's only consolation? The Joker is dead. Killed by Dick's hand (as Nightwing's last hurrah). Also, Alfred, of course. But yes, very much an AU of 'making the best of it.' Also, an AU where it's all batboys coping with loss and moving forward together.

Extra thoughts:

Jason's body healing poorly, so resuming his role as Robin is a precarious thing. And being told 'no,' even temporarily (spoilers: it's not temporary), leads to the greatest of temper tantrums because the loss is too much. Because where does Jason fit if not as Robin? What purpose does he have? Robin was his connection with this family, with Bruce; don't take that away.

Just something with Jason going after Damian to literally fight for Robin's role. Only Damian lays Jason out flat. And he's not trying to be mean, but Damian is blunt about the circumstances. The truth is that Jason doesn't compare to him (condition, training, etc). Let it go.

Which upsets Jason more because denial. But Damian fights with him until Jason tires himself out. Taking hits and giving them back because Jason is acting a child.

Then Dick pulls Jason back and Jason screams in that way that breaks into a broken sob and oh.

Dick having to talk Jason down.

His heart breaking because Jason feels that Robin is taken from him not because he's physically incapable or because he's being looked down on—it's punishment. But he's sorry. Let him help. He'll listen this time. He swears it.

Just Jason being so beaten down and devastated because everything fell apart in an instant and he can't make anything right no matter how he tries.

All the mourning and regrets and guilt. It drowns him. He chokes on it.

Something something Dick helping Jason find his purpose again.

Something something Jason helping Dick find his purpose at the same time (because the Batman struggles are suffocating him, too).

More thoughts:

A talk between Dick and Jason at some point about how Dick always thought it would be Jason to take the cowl. Which baffles Jason because what. But Dick is being honest. ;3;

Jason being resigned to live as a ghost until Dick pushes him to be social (don't need to be legally alive to go to a book club, little wing).

Ahhhh, petulant Jason dragging his feet as he's dropped off at aforementioned book club. But then he gets to chatting with old ladies about some classics and some recommendations from over the past decade and it's not a bad time.

Oh. The old ladies flirting with Alfred whenever Alfred comes by ahahahaha.

Also, especially in the earlier days, Alfred not letting Jason wallow and carting him about the manor to help with chores, instead. And just being this quiet, supportive presence as Jason processes everything.

Sometimes Jason gets disoriented because Alfred looks so much older. Sometimes he gets teary eyed when he looks at Jason - overwhelmed with a gratefulness Jason doesn't understand because time passed so differently for them

Oh. Also, no more meta rule for Gotham because Dick doesn't give a fuck? So Jason can befriend all the heroes. Just Dick's (and Tim's) support network becoming Jason's.

Speaking of Tim. He's around. I don't know what he does, but Jason probably accidentally ends up being nice to him (impressed by Tim's competency and how it's a relief that someone so capable stepped in when Jason was gone and--) and Tim is mortally wounded forever by the praise from his second Robin lol.

Also, Dick and Jason developing this really sweet relationship because they got each other through times where they were struggling and were vulnerable and it just fostered a really warm sort of trust between them.

Random scene:

Something with Dick being worn thin and crumbling beneath the weight of everything Batman is. Hating life, but bearing it.

Jason sitting with him and taking the cowl off. Commenting on Dick's unhappiness. Leveling with Dick that this will kill him, same as Bruce.

It's hard because Batman is a symbol for this city, but the truth is that Batman has never been her only hero. She's had many - she'll have more. She can't have Dick.

Jason scrubs away some of the eye black and smiles a bit when he catches Dick's gaze. So damn blue.

Dick turning into the touch, sighing into the heel of Jason's palm. Gentle and reverent and for just a moment - Jason is taken aback by it all. The closeness, the familiarity and intimacy. This is all they could have been, huh? Or rather, it's all they are. All they've become.

So much changed and so much will. And it can get better. Loss still haunts him, but there are still safe places for him, safe people.

This AU runs away from me, but yes. Feelings. (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

Also, hi. Hello. Thank you for loving my blog. //3///

#dickjay #jaydick

81 notes · View notes

thebucketpail · 1 year

Text

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt.4

Alright bestie you know the drill. Uh, this one's a bit longer than usual though. Enjoy?

Pt.1

To say Danny was having a bad day would be the understatement of the century. Well it wasn’t really a bad ‘day’ more like a terrible series of events that just kept getting worse. Oddly enough, though, this terrible horrible day did not start with killing the Joker, then promptly getting interrogated by a surprisingly cute serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante. In fact it actually started seven hours earlier at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Danny’s roommate had practically kicked him out of the dorm so he could have ‘date night with his girlfriend’ but it was said in a way that made Danny nope out of there real fast.

‘It’s fine, I’ll just use this time to explore Gotham a bit,” he thought to himself. Turns out Gotham, with its incredibly high crime rate and massive amount of curses - seriously? How could one city be this cursed- has a lot of ghosts. Ghosts that seem to be very happy someone can see them. This would have been fine, Danny would have been happy to help, If they hadn’t swarmed him.

Mere moments after he had addressed a shade Danny had found themself in the middle of a mob, shades, imprints, spirits, etc, all vying for attention, help with something here, or just plain attention.

It took them 3 hours to lose the mob.

And it wasn’t even all of them, a few blob ghosts clung to him as he explored the piers, shades following at his heels, weaving in and out of shadows bringing general bad luck because of course, why not.

Danny just wanted a scoop of icecream? Sorry it fell on the floor. Oh look at that his shoes are untied, would be a shame if he- ouch that must have hurt. Just trying to sit on a bench and relax? Aww that's a cute seagull, here have some of Danny’s pretzel. Okay thats enough- ow what the fuck? Ack no stop! stop-!

So yeah, exploring the pier turned out to be not the most safe idea for all the strangest reasons. Danny had to leave before the shades did any real damage like throwing him into the bay, or splitting the boardwalk underneath him.

Danny had just lost yet another pack of attention seeking ghosts when he felt the eyes. It was the uncomfortable prickling that made the hair on his arms and neck stand on end. “Just find a place to get dinner, it’ll be fine," he thought, quickening his pace toward the batburger he had designated on a map he’d found at the pier.

Now what Danny didn’t know, being new to town and all, was that Park Row was not a place you should be walking by yourself, at night, with black hair and blue eyes. That was just asking for trouble, and oh boy trouble they got. Before a single thought could flash through their head, Danny had been pulled into an alley, a large figure pinning their hands behind their back. Danny twisted around, trying to gain purchase and maybe get a look at their attackers face, but stiffened as they spoke, low and gruff.

“Awww what’re you doing in crime alley all alone kiddie?” he crooned, “Don’t you know it's not safe?” Danny’s growing panic reached a peak as another figure melted out of the shadows of the dingy alley, “Boss, what do you think? He could be a Wayne." The ‘Boss’ leaned forward to inspect Illuminated by a nearby streetlight. Danny’s eyes blew wide at the painted white face, impossibly huge smile, puke green hair, and pristine purple suit in front of him.

He hardly heard him berate the goon

“This isn’t a Wayne you imbecile, it's just some random street rat” Hey

“But- he could be, he fits the bill,” the conversation drowned out as Danny stared, stock still. They could feel the ectoplasm in their blood pooling at their fingertips, the tingling sensation sending prickles down their spine.

The last thought that crossed their mind before a flash of green enveloped the alley was; ‘Fuck, I hate clowns.’

When the light died down they were free, the goon a few feet away on the ground, eyes wide in shock or horror, they couldn’t tell. Danny, eyes no doubt still glowing, followed his gaze to the crumpled purple mass at his feet. Oh shit.

“You- you- I’m getting out of here,” the goon shouted, pointing a shaking finger at him as he scrambled away. Danny just stared down at the clown in shock. Sure he’d fought a lot of dead people but ancients he’d never killed someone himself. Taking a deep breath he tried remembering those grounding tricks Jazz had taught him to ward off panic. He focused on his breathing, closing his eyes as the steady rhythm of his too slow heart beat in his ears. After a few moments he exhaled deeply, running a shaking hand through his hair as the other reached for his phone.

And, well, we know this part.

-------

It was almost 1 am by the time Hood got Danny back to their dorm. They had of course protested that they didn’t need the escort and it's all fine- because truly Danny had no intentions of returning to their dorm- but Hood had insisted, continuing the interrogation as they walked.

“Do you have any siblings”

“two”

“Where are you from?”

“illinois”

“What's your favorite color?”

“Green probably”

At the very least the questioning served to calm Danny’s nerves and distract them from the less-than-happy thoughts. There was also something about Hood that made Danny’s core pull in his chest. Aside from very obviously smelling like death- something he had chalked up to being a serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante - the man kept making his ghost sense go off, but it always caught in his throat rather than escaping. Danny had almost choked the first time and it was starting to get annoying, it reminded him of being around Vlad. It piqued his interest regardless.

So when the noises coming through the door confirmed that; no, Danny should not go try entering his dorm and that he would definitely not be getting what little sleep his body could manage after the night’s events, he decided on some reconnaissance. Because if he wasn’t getting sleep, he would be at least getting answers for that weird feeling. He let invisibility wash over him and retraced his steps back to the building entrance. Hood was long gone but it didn’t matter. Danny soon took to the sky, staying low enough he wasn’t breathing in the dense clouds

of smog but still high enough to scan the streets from above the rooftops.

It felt amazing honestly. He hadn’t been able to fly since before he got to Gotham, and while it the air wasn’t as clean and the sky wasn’t a glowing blanket of stars like it was in Amity, but with the rush of wind, subtle glow of the street lights, and the soft din of night traffic, it still reminded him of home. In a way it was peaceful, if you discounted the ever present police sirens, occasional pop of gunfire, and general filthiness of the city.

As Danny wove through the street and alleys of Gotham he couldn’t help but to think about his hometown. He knew Amity would be protected of course. The GIW hadn’t been a threat since the Meta Human protection acts were passed, even though ghosts weren’t considered metas the investigation had been enough to disband the agency. His parents probably couldn't pose too much of a threat to any ghosts, especially with the portal being closed (he'd made Valerie promise to keep it shut, since she'd decided to stay in Amity), and even if someone from his rogues gallery managed to make it through, Red Huntress was more than capable to handle it.

Jazz had even managed to drill it into their head that Danny wasn’t responsible for the protection of Amity, as much as they thought they were. Being a hero didn’t make them happy, at least not in the way they were. Danny actually loved helping people, and fighting his rouges on occasion. But being Phantom was so stressful, the late nights, the missed school, the barely dodged calls to cps, it was all so much. So Danny had given up Phantom just in time to start senior year. Granted it was a little late to completely turn his academic career around, but he made an effort and now he’s studying Engineering at Gotham University on a near complete scholarship from the Wayne foundation. All of this though and Danny still felt an inkling of worry for his town, even if it was in capable hands. He was working on it though.

He knew back at the start of senior year that he wouldn’t be able to hang up Phantom forever, afterall he was a part of Danny that couldn’t be ignored (it would quite literally be detrimental to his health), that and the fact that he existed on the precipice of life and death meant he would always have some ghost or another vying for his attention. One of his regulars wanting a fight, someone new deciding they want to test his mettle, or just a lower powered ghost wanting some help, and as long as it didn’t affect his schedule too much or get him too high on the Bats radar Danny would be happy to oblige.

So he didn’t mind it much when, after he’d started losing hope in finding Hood - Damn that guy can disappear- he felt his ghost sense go off. The sharp air escaped his lungs in a sudden gasp, never failing to stop his chest for a moment. Danny felt the ice melt in his mouth as he scanned the streets for whomever had set it off. He couldn’t see anything but something- someone- was pulling at his core, beckoning him to a nearby rooftop.

There wasn't anything special about this particular building, just an old beat down 24/7 convenience store. Danny flew around it a few times before landing gently on the roof’s edge. They didn't know what they should be looking for as the area seemed to be entirely empty. But his confusion proved to be short lived when the surrounding shadows seemingly condensed in front of them. The dim and flickering neon sign to their left somehow got dimmer and more flickery, and what little moonlight that had wormed its way through the thick clouds was all but swallowed by the swirling mass of shadow.

The massive shadow was towering almost three feet over Danny by the time it began taking shape. And it wasn’t quite humanoid, but the flowing gown and veil reminded them of a mourning widow. Her eye glowed a flickering grey, and her skin was made of the same shadow as her gown. She was beautiful, Danny’s breath caught in their throat. They didn’t know why, but they dropped to one knee, bowing their head to the shadowy figure.

The woman chuckled, a sweet chirping sound that echoed and reverberated around the rooftop. When she spoke, her voice was just more than a whisper, yet sweet and full, even behind that recognisable Jersey accent, “Rise child.” Danny obeyed. “You are powerful, young one, I can see it in you.” Her eyes flickered to Danny’s chest, hovering just where his core sat. “You are the ghost child from Amity, yes? I’ve heard much about you and your exploits. I must say, not many could go toe to toe with Pariah Dark and come out victorious.”

Danny’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he nodded, “It was difficult, but I had help.”

The woman hummed, “Even still. Is it true he still exists? In the forever sleep, you have not yet consumed his core?”

“I- no I have not,” Danny said. This was another of those things Danny had decided to ignore. A few months after they had locked Pariah away the Observants had tracked him down at school, resulting in a panicked request for the bathroom and a whole week of strife. Apparently, according to ghost politics, Danny had become heir to the crown of the ghost king. All that belonged to Pariah was now Danny’s, won in single combat. And if the news that he would become the new King of The Infinite Realms wasn’t enough, he had also been informed that to take the throne he would have to consume Pariah’s core, just as he had done when he won the throne from his predecessor.

This news had overloaded Danny’s brain and he had spent the past three years pointedly ignoring that fact about his half life. He’d get around to it… eventually. Luckily three years wasn’t much time for immortal floating eyeballs so it hadn’t become much of an issue. But he’d run out of time and would have to face the music at some point.

“But it is true that Pariah still exists, in eternal slumber for the time being.” He continued, squirming under the woman’s scrutinous gaze, “Ah, but if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

This elicited another set of giggles from the woman, err, girl? She had shrunk to the size of a young girl in a knee length black dress, a feathered beret sitting on a curly bob of dark hair. Her giggles grew, consuming the rooftop in the joyous sound. The laughing ceased as the young girl tilted her head to the side, just a little too far for a human. A grin spread wide across her face and something sparked in her eyes.

“I am Lady Gotham, princling, I thought that was obvious…” She trailed off for a moment then continued with renewed enthusiasm, “ I heard that you are a protector of your hometown, do you intend to assist my knights while you are here?”

Lady Gotham, Danny had heard of her. The supposed amalgamation of everything that made the city what it was. A combination of the pain and suffering as well as the fierce stubbornness and love of those who called the city home. Being a spirit she wasn’t seen often in the Ghost Zone, but those who passed through the veil brought stories of their protectoress. A Lady fierce, vindictive and unforgiving to those she considered an enemy. A being that collected curses like postage stamps. But also one who cared deeply for her city, and even more so for her knights who cared for her just as much.

Danny felt humbled in her presence.

He ducked his head, sheepish as he answered her, “My apologies my Lady, I have long since hung up my cape to pursue the remainder of my life. But should you call for my help I will not hesitate to do all in my power to aid you, or your knights.”

Lady Gotham hummed, pleased, “I appreciate the promise I will keep it in mind. After all, just tonight you have already helped my city so much. I want you to know that no matter how it may weigh on you; what you did was good. By taking his life you saved countless more, accident or no. And for that I thank you.” Stunned, Danny nodded. “I am afraid I must depart now, holding form isn’t difficult but I must say it makes it harder to spread my shadows. I wish you the best princling.” The girl before him smiled then melted -like actually melted- into a pool of shadow at Danny’s feet. As the cloud dissipated, the faint light of the convenience store returned, casting a dim staticky glow.

Danny stood mulling over her words for a few moments before laying down on the roof’s edge. The silence was punctuated only by the faint buzzing of electricity emitted from the neon sign, but it did little to distract him from the thoughts he’s been running from all night.

The thought that he had actually killed someone.

What Lady Gotham hada said was probably true, the Joker's death was a good riddance, he had killed tens-of-thousands, and probably tens-of-thousands more. Taking him out of the equation was a good thing. But that didn’t change the fact that Danny had killed him. Danny had never killed a person before, not directly at least. He wasn’t deaf to the notion that some people may have died during one of his ghost fights, in fact he was painfully aware of each person he had failed to save. But he had never been at direct fault for a murder until now. It shook him to the bones.

Did this make him a murderer?

He stewed in these thoughts for hours, only being pulled from them by an inkling of sunlight breaking through the towering buildings hitting his eyes. Groaning, he sat up, painfully aware of how tired he was. “Probably not getting any sleep though” He could feel the bags under his eyes growing with the lack of sleep. However he did manage to get off the roof and transform back into his living form, ‘need coffee’ He thought blearily as he began making his way down the street, maybe he’d find a shop or something.

What he did not expect was to be pulled into an alley for the second time that night (Morning? Oh what does it matter he’s getting mugged).

Their assailant, no more than two inches shorter than Danny with an unkempt beard and suspiciously stained shirt, had them pinned to the wall, a knife at their throat.

“Empty your pockets!” he shouted, digging the knife further against their skin. Danny suppressed a yawn, they really did not have enough energy to deal with this. Luckily they didn’t have to. The rumbling of a motorcycle filled the air as a blur of red and black turned into the alley. The mugger barely had time to shout “Hey!” before Red Hood decked him in the face.

“Twice in eight hours?” He asked, the grin almost audible in his voice as Hood tied up the man, “I know you’re not from here, but that’s still gotta be some kind of record,” Honestly Danny would have been more upset if he wasn’t so tired, but even so;

“Wee it’s not like I’m Trying to get attacked. I just wanted some fucking coffee,” he ground out.

“At four in the morning?”

“It’s almost six,” Danny muttered after sneaking a quick glimpse at his watch - a black digital one with little blob ghosts on it, a gift from Dani. “Besides it’s not like I was planning on sleeping anytime soon,” he continued. That same weird feeling from earlier tugged at his core during the silence that followed. Of there being a ghost nearby, but his cold gasp getting caught in his throat before escaping. Danny could almost feel the thrum of another core, but there was something muffling it. It made Danny wrinkle his nose.

Despite his wish to investigate the fact of Hood’s weird probably-a-core, Danny also really wanted to get out of this awkward situation. But hey it seemed like Hood was stalking him anyway so this probably wouldn’t be his only chance.

“I should probably be going now,” they said, moving to exist the grimy alley, stepping over the unconscious form of his would-be-mugger-#2. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a bit more careful this time,” They threw over their shoulder with a grin before leaving.

A weight settled on their shoulder as they walked away. Ancients this night was eventful. Hopefully their roommate was finally finished with ‘date night’ enough to allow Danny a couple hours of sleep. But first; coffee.

+++++

Humans I am so sorry for this chapter (because yes it's a chapter). I was just going to write another little installment from Danny’s Pov and then ended up with over 3k words which is like adding up the word counts of all three other chapters. But i think it turned out good so win some lose some. Anyway, all the exposition is out of the way so we’ll be going back to silly goofy fun times now. Also sorry about the kind-of angst, I didn’t mean to, it just appeared.

What were your thoughts on Lady Gotham? I’m fairly happy with how I wrote her, she will definitely be returning

No I will not add you to the tag list, I don't mean to be mean but I just down have the brain power for that <3

Subscrib to the Ao3

Pt 5

#When You Accidentally Kill a Clown #bucket writes things #danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dp x dc crossover #jason todd #Obligatory Lady Gotham Cameo #exposition woAH #Man Danny's just ahd a bad day huh #like losing his icecream? getting attacked by a seagull? poor guy #threw out the GiW befoe rhe plot cause thats just angst in the making and im trying not to wnable bad habits #dead on main

473 notes · View notes

strong-with-the-sarcasm · 2 months

Text

part 16 - but I know where to start

“Feeling my way through the darkness, guided by a beating heart. I can’t tell where the journey will end, but I know where to start.” -Wake Me Up by Avicii

Regent Masterlist Part 15

Was it a cop-out to summon Jazz back to the Far Frozen? Yes. Did Danny particularly care? Nope!

Jason was comfortable, propped up with a book Ghostwriter who had popped by to personally deliver. How the ghost had known about Jason Phantom wasn’t going to question, but he suspected GW kept an eye on the bookworms that passed through the Realms- or at least those close to the “Royal family”. Phantom wasn’t much for reading, not unless it was space-related, but he enjoyed listening to the Liminal man reading out loud. He had a brash voice, accented with a cadence like those from Crime Alley, but it only underscored the passion he held for reading. Phantom didn’t interrupt him once, not even when the halfa pulled out his ecto-phone and texted Ellie.

(His little sister was in Kansas, spending time with another clone she’d literally run into.)

Almost another full day's cycle passed before Phantom realized Jason had fallen back asleep, a book resting open on his broad chest and soft snores coming from the man.

Yeah, he could see how he and Jazz fit together so well.

There was just something about the Once-Revenant, a part of what made him Jason, that resonated with the Phantom. It’s what made him talk to the man as Red Hood, feel comfortable enough to stay in his company for so long, trust him with his older sister- the person who raised him.

(Spent her birthday money to get him those cheap plastic glow-in-the-dark stars.)

(Taught him how to read.)

(Held him as the nightmares of his death shook him to his core.)

(Did not fear him.)

(Not as Phantom, Danny, or Dan.)

(Loves him.)

(Mourns him.)

(He would never tell her, but he understood how Dan could succumb to grief.)

(Jazz was his.)

(His first friend, his true mother, his rock.)

(She wouldn’t have claimed Regency without that tie.)

Remix & Original chat

Remix: Lol hows weenie Original: jasons x3 ur size pipsqeak Remix: ur point? Original: lol hes ok frosty says he got hurt wth shrpnel new healed core + shrapnel = bad time Remix: sucks 2 b him Original: so tru Whre r u? Remix: omw 2 spain barcelona Original: ooh send pics if u need me call Remix: pics or nay gotcha txt u l8r luv u Original: love u 2

Safely back in the living Realm and tucked away in Jason’s apartment, Jazz and Danny tried to investigate the bomb- unfortunately there was nothing for them to do but wait.

On the upside, the Justice League was about to hit the UN full force with all the subtlety of a tsunami and who had front row seats to the drama?

Yep, the Regent. Jazz wasn’t exactly thrilled that her presence was requested, even though it was on the path to the desired outcome the Nightingale siblings had fought for, but both her soulmate boyfriend and little brother would be by her side as support.

The Birds and the Bats Group Chat

Zombie: I lived bitch Spoiler-Alert: Jason! Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing! Blood_Heir: Todd. Zombie: don’t sound too excited there demon brat. Blood_Heir: Never. Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Where have you been? Zombie: Stayed overnight at my Docs for observation. Fly-Like-A-Dick: For three days? Blood_Heir: Fail to find that humorous Todd. Zombie: wasn’t meant to be a joke brat. I was actually at my Docs. Zombie: Got a shovel talk from my girlfriends little brother too. Spoiler-Alert: Whoa GIRLFRIEND!!!! 😱 Jason! Why is this the first were hearing this??? Fly-Like-A-Dick: Little Wing!!!!!! Quiet_Dancer: 🤗 Zombie: At least Cass and Dickiebird are happy for me Spoiler-Alert: Ecstatic! But details! Now. Zombie: No. Fly-Like-A-Dick: Is she a redhead??? Sleep_When_Im_Dead: Jasmine Nightingale. Zombie: Babs. Oracle_of_Gotham: On it. [member Sleep_When_Im_Dead has been blocked from the group.] Spoiler-Alert: too late!!!!!! Cass with me! Quiet_Dancer: 🫡 Oracle_of_Gotham: DENIED Batdad: Welcome back Jaylad. Zombie: Old man You and I need to have a talk with words Fly-Like-A-Dick: battle stations everyone!!!

Council of Uncaged Birds

Queen_Regent: Ellie, I want you to meet Jason. Officially meet him. WanderingPrincess: eh??? temp said wasnt srs Queen_Regent: Danny No InfiniteStarPrince: Danny YES Frosty said they are soulmates!!!!!! WanderingPrincess: 🤯😱 wha th fuck!!!1 Queen_Regent: language! WanderingPrincess: ENGLISH imma get a shovel gotta undead weenie 2 bury.

Template. [user InfiniteStarPrince has left the chat] WanderingPrincess: coward Queen_Regent: I have many regrets. WanderingPrincess: u luv us 👻

Lady & Knight chat Lady: Jay remember when I told you I wanted you to meet Ellie? Knight: She’s bringing a shovel isn’t she. Lady: I love how brilliant you are. Knight: I aim to please.

Lady & Knight chat Knight: you patrolling tonight? Lady: wasnt planning on it Knight: wanna meet me? Lady: same time same place? Knight: you know it

The abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts officially happened at three pm on a dreary Gotham Tuesday. Jazz was cuddled with Jason on his couch, dozing off to his heartbeat as he read Pride and Prejudice for the thousandth time. The comfortable silence they had wrapped themselves in only occasionally broken by Jason turning a page was completely shattered when Jazz’s phone rang with the Ghostbusters theme song.

“Danny?” Jazz answered surprised, “School isn’t out yet, what’s wrong?” She was greeted by Danny’s heaving cries as he replied.

“Batman, he- he did it!” Danny sobbed, “He saved us.”

It clicked then. The Dark Knight had completed the task he was entrusted with by a Spirit of Protection, the Once and Future Star King, and unknowingly kept the promise a ghost made to a young Jasmine Fenton.

One day my son will stop this. All of this. You only need to be strong. Take care of yourself and your brother. I promise.

She had waited years for the promise to be fulfilled, the sworn promise of the dead to a living child. Jasmine was a patient soul, but she had still been a child that night in Gotham.

(The Drs. Fenton believing the stories about a ghostly vigilante patrolling the streets, a never aging child by their side.) (Dragging their children with them. ) (Hungry and cold.) (A dead man who swore his son would end their torment one day.)

(She should’ve known it wouldn’t come fast enough to save Danny.)

How was she to know the ghost was speaking of the Realms inhabitants, not the abused and neglected children of Ghost Hunters? How was she to know that the hope such a promise kindled wasn’t hers to keep? Jason wrapped his arms around her, the book set aside and her phone gently taken from her grasp to be put on speaker so they could both talk to her little brother. Danny had dissolved from heaving sobs to muffled hiccups, seemingly now that he’d shared the news with his sister.

“He really did,” she muttered. “He really did it.”

(The furry fucker actually did it.) (She’d known that he was going to try, but humans are stubborn creatures.)

A/N: Hi! Welcome to an update for the Regent. Just to be fully transparent with each of my readers - The Regent is still on Hiatus.

I have deleted so much of my writing because I don't like the flow/dialogue/pacing. Original ending thrown out and rewritten twice- still don't care for it. Who knew something other than Angst would be so difficult.

(Not me!)

Having said that, this entry is of course beta'd by the wonderful @meditating-cat who has put up with my random messages.

(You are amazing!)

(In all honesty, I wish I could just skip right to the ending because at least I know 100% I can get it just right....eventually.)

Thanks for reading and happy easter!

138 notes · View notes

ghost-bxrd · 2 months

Note

Prompt

Robin Jason, thanks to time travel or whatever, meeting Red Hood.

Pre-Death Jason is the kid who grew up in crime alley, the kid who watched his mom die slowly of addiction, the kid who understands only too well how desperate people can lose their way.

He's the kid whose last act in his first life was to try and shield the woman who helped cause his death - he literally threw himself between Sheila and the explosion, even knowing what she did.

That kid meets Canon Red Hood - drug dealing crime lord who dishes out blatant cop propaganda of 'letting punishment fit the crime', who claims to protect children while attacking Tim and Damian, who considers himself as someone keeping people safe while killing random henchmen - a lot of them probably like his father, ending up in a life of crime to survive - and straight up murdering mentally ill people who are being treated in Arkham (no, not Joker or anyone, just normal ill people) because he could.

And all that is putting aside what he did to Dick and Bruce, Jason's family.

Robin Jason Vs Red Hood.

I think Jason would be properly horrified and so, so mad, because in his mind there is no excuse to act the way Red Hood does.

But when he finds out about how he died? How Joker (seemingly) only got a slap on the wrist and stuffed back into Arkham just to run rampant again a few months later? How his death had “little enough” impact for there to be another Robin not even a year later? How Bruce sliced Red Hood’s throat to save Joker?

Yeah, personally I don’t see Jason just being okay with that.

He still wouldn’t be on Red Hood’s side either, but it would throw a lot of things into perspective. Namely, Red Hood’s.

And also if Bruce truly believes everyone can be saved, why didn’t the same apply to Red Hood? What did Red Hood do that’s worse than any of the crimes Joker committed that would justify almost being killed by someone he considered a father figure?

It’s hurt… a very complicated situation. Kid!Jason doesn’t have any of the memories or experiences that would estrange him from the family the way Red Hood was, but he also can’t deny somewhere along the line, something went catastrophically wrong.

And he basically turned into his worst nightmare.

#Jason todd #very short character study maybe?#anyway yeah #just some thoughts #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #robin #jaybin #red hood

114 notes · View notes

prolix-yuy · 1 year

Text

Simulated

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Actress

Summary: You're a professional, which is why a sex scene with Dieter Bravo will be no problem at all. Now you just have to convince yourself to believe it.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, simulated sex, grinding, fantasizing about sex, anxiety, lil bit of size kink, probably incorrect method for filming sex scenes but I'm using what I know and making up the rest. Don't do this for real, this is fantasy and Dieter is a filthy boy.

Notes: This leapt out of my brain and was enabled by the Discord besties. Dieter brainrot is setting back in but I doubt anyone's complaining. This may be the sexiest thing I've ever written without actual sex happening, but you all can be the judge of that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Masterlist

Trembling on the verge of passing out is not how you wanted your first time in Dieter Bravo’s arms to be, but no amount of reprimands to your rebelling body have worked.

It’s not him, far from it. Dieter had been nothing but gentlemanly since you came in for scene blocking. The director offered to have stand-ins while they adjusted lighting and staged the shots, but you boldly offered to come in anyways. It wasn’t your first shoot, but it was your first sex scene, and you wanted to impress the director with your no-nonsense attitude about it.

All that confidence flew out the window when you came face to face with your scene partner, Dieter Bravo. Well aware of his aloof playboy nature, you didn’t expect his handshake to be so warm, the quirk of his smile to make your heart flutter, or for him to smell so strongly of eucalyptus. Apparently his agent mentioned you would be there for staging, and he decided to come in to test your chemistry. No issues there, your curious eyes roaming over his wrinkled cargo pants and threadbare sweater. He could be wearing nothing and you’d still melt into a puddle. Which, shockingly, wouldn’t be that far in the future.

Calm down, girl. Be professional.

To be fair, Dieter is fucking gorgeous, even under the bloodshot eyes and air of annoyance. His curls are even softer looking in person, heavy shoulders stretching his t-shirts and bulky forearms complimenting his thick thighs. Even the little pooch of a tummy makes you salivate. While your friends drool over Tom Hiddleston or Harry Styles, your heart beats fast for men who can crush you under their bulk. “Weighted blanket boys,” you like to call them, and Dieter wholly falls into that category.

Which is why when you got the casting call for a bit part in the crime drama Midnight Alley, which Dieter had been co-starring in for three seasons, you leapt at the opportunity. Even if you didn’t get to share a scene, at least you could catch a glimpse, maybe say hello. That was surely worth the long hours. His proclivities for casual sex definitely didn’t fit into that plan. No sir. Definitely not.

It all became real when you got the pages. Your character was a one night stand, relegated to three scenes - the bar where you make eyes across a crowd, the tasteful sex scene (though only barely - tv ratings have really changed in the last twenty years), and the morning after when he leaves to go to a crime scene. The “gaze across the smoky dance floor” was easy enough; anyone with half a brain and a pulse would blush at Dieter’s intense stare, raised eyebrow, and sly grin, a signature of his questionable character. It raises goosebumps down your arms, his parted lips and the slip of his pink tongue resting just inside, the crinkle of his eyes when he knows he’s got you. If a man ever gave you that look you’d be in his bed in moments.

Scratch that. Not just any man. Dieter’s the only one who could pull that off.

The blocking should have evened out your nerves, and in the moment you believed it did. Dieter was an absolute gentleman, even warmer than you hoped, as you waited to be called on set.

“Ever done a scene like this before?”

“First time. Can you tell?”

He thumbed through his thicker script.

“Wasn’t going to make you more nervous by pointing it out. But yes.”

You blew out a puff of air, making Dieter smirk even more as you crinkled your sheets.

“How do we…?”

“You know the direction?”

“Yeah, it seems…straightforward.”

“Well, today we’re just going to do the major movements - positions, angles, you know - and while they mark focus and shine a light directly up my asshole, we can talk.”

A burst of giggles pulled a wider smile onto his face, waiting for you to calm yourself.

“What do we talk about?”

“What’s comfortable for you. What would pull you out of the scene. What you’re open to. You’re our guest after all.”

So your afternoon was spent pantomiming the sex acts written for you and…talking. Which wasn’t supposed to be sexy, or like two hours of incredibly hot foreplay, but your body apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Anything you really don’t want me to touch? Besides the obvious,” Dieter asked, coming down from his hands to his elbows by your face. The tip of his nose brushed briefly against yours. A hairlight shifted in your periphery.

“My ribs are pretty ticklish,” you admitted, nodding to the assistant director Ramona when she moved on to the next setup. Scooping his hands behind your back, Dieter pulled you on top, showing how to sit a little further up on his stomach to fake the grinding. Unfortunately, the plush flesh against your core didn’t help with the ache.

“Here’s okay?” he asked, wrapping his hands just under your breasts, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the swell. You nodded, body getting jolted again when the director Adiel asked for Dieter to scoot up the bed a few inches.

“My, uh…” you said, then stopped as you lost confidence. Dieter took his hands off your chest and laced them on his own. He looked up at you expectantly. “My…nipples are really sensitive, so I know I’ll have pasties on and everything, but, it’s like, uncomfortable if they get touched certain ways. So I just wanted to…warn you of that. It shouldn’t be a problem, just, ah, you know, just in case.” Your throat closed up, embarrassment at even saying anything crushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.” Dieter patted your thigh and his smile was a little more tender than before.

God, he really looked good underneath you.

“My skin’s sensitive too, scratches show up really clearly on it and it pisses off the cinematographer. So that’s the only thing we’ll have to watch out for there.” The shuffle of changing positions interrupts your conversation until you’re on your stomach with him pressed against your back.

“Sorry if I pop one too, it’s kind of par for the course with these. I’m good at keeping it under control for the most part.” You giggle into the pillow as he hovers over you.

“My biggest advice?” Dieter murmurs, mouth close to your ear. You hum into the pillow. “Let yourself have fun. It’s not gonna feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s gotta feel cold. You won’t offend me if you go off script. I might too, if it feels right. If we’re having fun, the audience will too.”

The weight of his body bearing down on you drives any more anxieties out of your blissed-out brain.

The day of the sex scene comes quicker than you’d like, and the tender crush you’d been nursing for Dieter has become a panicked bird inside your ribcage. You’d spent the hours before preparing, mentally and physically with an indulgent morning routine, but nothing can stop your nerves when Dieter catches sight of you and gives a little wave. He’s in jeans and a black button-up, hair being artfully styled but sunglasses still on. One knee bounces in the chair but otherwise he looks cool as a cucumber.

The sliver of golden chest you peep through the neck of his shirt sends you scurrying to your dressing room.

Everything leading up to the moment you step on set is distraction. Chatting with makeup, hair, props, with the fucking boom operator who looks just as confused as you are that you’re asking about good places to eat in the area. You talk with the intimacy coordinator, who gives you final notes on the scene. (“If Dieter makes you uncomfortable at all you give me The Eyes and I’ll correct him. No questions asked. I’ve worked with him for years, and I will cuss him out to his face.”) Eventually there’s no one left, and you’re standing alone clutching a water bottle to your chest when Dieter sidles up.

“Nervous?”

You almost jump out of your bathrobe. Which would suck because all you had on was a dark lace lingerie set, pair of pasties and the strange modesty patch protecting your lady bits. Sometimes seeing the behind-the-scenes really did erase the movie magic.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a little more real now than the rehearsal,” you sigh, and Dieter’s bray of a laugh actually calms you. He puts a hand on your back and rubs firm, soothing circles that bring your heart back into an acceptable rhythm.

“You’ll do fine. And I’ve done this…eh, probably more times than it’s polite to mention. You’re in good hands.” He pulls off his sunglasses, treating you to rich brown eyes you could lose yourself in if you weren’t a professional, goddammit.

“Close the set, please!” Ramona calls out, and the nonessential crew files out until it’s just you and Dieter and about eight other people who will be watching you writhe and moan. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly, you shake your limbs and metaphorically gird your loins (since they already are pretty girded).

“Can I have actors on set please?” You stride up to the bed with as much confidence as you can muster, Dieter strolling up behind you. Now that he’s close he smells like fresh cotton and spice, a sharp shift from the earthier scents you’d been experiencing. Even a hint of mint from his breath, suddenly thankful you’d brushed and mouthwashed twice.

“Positions for Scene 17.”

Yes, the first shot. Dieter would be hovering over you, kissing you as he pulls his shirt off. You would be in your bra and panties, slivers of your body visible in the frame but Dieter’s broad chest and unbuttoned waistband on display. Sliding the bathrobe off and placing it off camera, you arrange your limbs on the bed, hands shaking just a little now. Dieter stands at the foot, and if you weren’t about to simulate sex you’d swear he was devouring you with his heavy gaze.

Just getting into character. Breathe.

“Roll sound.”

“Speed.”

“Scene 17a, take one. Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“...Action.”

As the set drops to silence, you watch Dieter change from the slightly aloof but sympathetic actor to a brooding morally gray detective needing to bury his failures in a soft body. Despite your coaching, your eyes widen at the set of his jaw, how dark his eyes become when he wrenches off the offending button-up. He sinks to his knees between your thighs and hovers over you, hands pushed into the mattress on either side of your head.

“Be good for me, yeah?” he husks, deeper and full of gravel. You nod, and he descends to crush your lips together. He urges your mouth open and works your lips together, but his tongue stays obediently behind his teeth.

Fuck, for a second you forgot you were acting.

His hips dip, denim scraping along the inside of your thighs. He parts from your mouth with a gasp, forehead coming down to press against yours. He takes a deep breath, then…

“Cut! Reset.”

You blink slowly, Dieter already lifting back up to stand at the foot of the bed, rebuttoning his shirt.

“Any notes?” he asks, voice so calm and clear you snap back to the reality of the situation.

“When you’re kissing, pull her thighs up around you,” Adam says, Dieter’s head swiveling back.

“That all right by you?” he asks, smoothing the shirt on his skin.

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you answer, trying not to croak out the words. It was just the first take, it’s fine that you’re a little off-kilter. It would be easier by the second one.

It was not. Not by the third either, still swimming in the heady arousal that wafts from Dieter’s commanding presence. The director complimented how you clutched at his shoulders when he squeezed your thighs, which you tried to pass off as purposeful rather than hanging on for dear life. You were doomed, you’d bitten off more than you could chew and you were going to mess up this role and had no idea how to stop it.

Three more scenes to go.

You take a lap as they reposition the cameras, flip-flops slapping against the concrete floors of the soundstage as you debate if you have enough time to rub one out before going back, just to take the edge off.

“Actors back on set!”

Dammit.

Scene 18 has you riding Dieter, his hands guiding you until he bares his teeth (your signal to move with him) and rolls you on your back to pound you into the mattress. The lingerie is gone now, the cool air of the soundstage caressing over curves of your body that most people rarely see. Dieter averts his eyes when you disrobe, and carefully arranges himself below you. You’re feeling more centered, straddling Dieter with a little less fire burning between your legs, but your troubles take a sharp turn.

“Lean forward a little more, you’re half out of the shot.”

“A little faster.”

“Put your hand on his stomach about ten seconds in.”

“Never mind, back to how we had it before.”

“No, we said no hand, remember?”

“Do you need a break?”

Your body shakes after take 6, half from the exhaustion of lifting up on your knees over and over, your toes starting to go numb, and half with anxiety over forgetting another cue, or missing another note. The smile you keep shooting the director is getting strained, and mortifying tears start to prick your eyes. Dieter is watching your face closely, and with a pointed look at Ramona she calls a brief break.

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed. You cross your arms over your chest, and he reaches over to give you your robe. Draping his own over his lap, he strokes that soothing pattern of circles over your back as you shake your head.

“Sorry, it felt so easy in rehearsal, I’m having like, a weird lockup right now,” you stammer out.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I know what it is.” You look up at him with more desperation in your eyes than you mean. He nods sympathetically.

“It’s the cock sock, isn’t it?”

He delivers the line completely deadpan. The shock of the phrase, plus the serious set of his brow, makes hysterical laughter burst from your lips. You bury your face in your hands and shake as Dieter’s deep chuckles tickle into your ear.

“That’s better, just need to get a little of that tension out,” he soothes, meeting your eyes with a charming smile. If only this could be a real moment, not something looked on by several men and women drinking coffees. Dieter seems like the kind of partner who would always make you comfortable, and seen, and absolutely satisfied.

That last thought tingles the baby hairs on the back of your neck as you move back into position. Straddling Dieter once again, the ridiculous genital covering out of sight, he grips your shoulders.

“Okay, let’s get back into character here, yeah? Remember your motivation?”

You nod. Not that the scene really needed a deep backstory, but you’d decided you were blowing off steam after a rough few days at work and an ex texting you to get back together. Dieter was mysterious, exciting, so different from your past boyfriends, and when he met your eyes across the room all you wanted was for him to wash the bad taste of their memories out.

“Got it? Good. Here’s mine,” he says, leaning up while the last few preparations finish around you. Lips to your ear, he whispers only for you.

“Another dead end, another long day, and I want something to distract me. I’ve got my eye on my usual type, but then I see you. You stand out in the crowd, bold, confident. You hold my stare, challenge me. I thought I wanted something easy, something mindless, but looking at you, I changed my mind. I wanted something with substance, someone to give as good as she gets, and I know you’ll give me even better. My cock got hard just looking at you, you’re fucking perfect. And then when you let me buy you a drink and you criticized my whiskey choice, I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. So I’m taking you home to bury my troubles, but you can surprise me as many more times as you like. I like to be surprised. I want you to take me as much as I’m taking you.”

Dieter lies back with a hell of a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Action!”

Your body moves with an ease that had been eluding you, liquid rolls as you take your time riding him. His hands come up to your hips, urging you faster, and instead you grind down on him, pressing your hands into his chest and pinning him into the bed. You’re not supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so right to arch and rock harder into him. His bare legs flex against your ass, meeting your hips with his thrusts. You can imagine how good he’d feel if you weren’t faking this, how his powerful thrusts would hit your g-spot. His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth bared in warning as he rolls you onto your back.

“You’re so sexy,” he growls in your ear, hooking your legs around his waist and smacking his hips into yours. The impact is softer than it looks, aided by your moans and writhing beneath him. He goes for a handful more thrusts before “Cut!” is shouted again.

“There we go! I like the improv, can we do just one more for coverage?” Ramona says, giving you an approving smile when you immediately get into position.

“I could go all night,” Dieter shoots back, earning an eye roll from half the crew and a dry mouth from you when he flicks his gaze back and winks.

The second take flows even better, your bodies finally speaking to each other. Dieter palms your ass, you slow your hips. He urges you to go faster, you grind down on him. He grits his teeth as you push his chest, nails just about to bite into the supple flesh. His eyes capture yours over and over, and the hunger inside them is some damn good acting.

The cues, the flip, and you’re on your back again, but this time Dieter drops his head to cover your breast with his hot mouth. You arch, a strangled gasp as you wait for his tongue, his teeth, but he works his jaw against the flesh and nothing more.

Fuck, you want something more.

When he pops his mouth off he resumes the script, thrusting frantically into you but with more force this time, even an edge of desperation. You meet his energy, throwing your head back and letting him yank you against him over and over. The slap, the friction, this gorgeous man before you all makes slick weep from your untouched cunt, clit aching for the act you’re simulating.

“Cut! Excellent, really good work guys, you’re hitting your groove here. Let’s move on to 19.”

Dieter stays above you for a few seconds more, your chests heaving. The lust bleeds away to a soft smile as he pats your side.

“Good work, you take direction really well.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying, “Just from you.”

You take one more walk around the soundstage to try and calm your rebellious body, but the moment you see Dieter again, kneeling in the bed with the blankets bunched in front of his hips, it’s all dashed away. Even his respectful touches as he guides you to your stomach, checking in if you’re comfortable, all burn across your skin. You just need to get through this scene.

“Action!”

This is indeed the finale. Dieter would finish above you, pounding into you from behind. You were supposed to lie there and take it, let him cuss and choke into the back of your shoulder before his breathing slows and you cut to the next morning. You could do that. You totally could. Most men you’ve been with hump you into the bed like this and it does very little for you. This would be fine.

The moment Dieter starts rutting against your ass you know you’re done for. You’re too worked up, and the position lightly teases your nipples. A wrinkle of blanket rubs against your mound just enough to relieve your clit, and while you know you should stop you can’t help but grind into the bed just enough to light up your nerves. Dieter hovers above you, thick forearms planted by your shoulders as he hisses and grunts his way to a fake climax. You press back against him, giving your own satisfied smile as he drops his forehead between your shoulders and rolls his hips again.

“Not bad, can we go one more time?”

Shit. You’d hoped that would be enough, arousal rising dangerously between your thighs. Rearranging the sheets to deny you pleasure, you catch Dieter slumping to one side and watching you. It’s intense, being in his stare, but also warming and protective. When you lie back on your stomach and give him a nod that you’re ready, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

“If you want it, you can have it. I won’t tell anyone. You take it when it comes.”

You barely get a moment of shock before the cameras are rolling and the scene begins again. Did Dieter just…insinuate that he’d cover for you if you came? The thought makes wetness gush between your thighs, now lacking the friction you were relishing in earlier. The need aching in your cunt makes you roll your hips back against Dieter, a strained “fuck” spitting through his teeth. He grabs your hips and guides you against his narrow ones, not quite hitting where you want but the snap and slap of him against you still works you up more than it should. You cry out, bury your face in the pillow, fist the blankets as he chases his release. The practiced groan signals the end, this time his cheek pressing against your back and a kiss dotting your spine.

Thank God. You were finally in the clear.

“I think we need one more, guys. I want a little more…intimacy this time. You both okay with that?”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“I don’t…” you started to protest until Dieter’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck.

“I think you can do it. I know you can. One more time?” he asks, but in his eyes is a promise that makes you nod, even against your better judgment.

This time I’ll make you cum.

Dieter changes tactics when the cameras roll. He starts off fast, yanking you back against him. Sitting up on his heels he arches you off the bed with his expansive hands. His thighs cage you in, squeezing tight. Something thick and soft slides against your ass, and you realize Dieter is hard behind you, cock still wrapped up but the weight of it against you obvious. You want him between your legs, fat head sliding over your clit, but you let him adjust you to exactly where he wants.

With Dieter’s guidance you rock and writhe against him, drips of praise reaching your ears. With a deeply groaned, “Fuck, baby,” he folds over you, stomach pressing into your back. His fingers lace with your own, hugging you to his chest as he pumps his hips in long strokes. His cock nudges your lower back, little gasps keening out. He noses your cheek and guides you to turn your face to the camera.

“This okay?” he mouths into your ear and you let out a, “Yes, please,” loud enough to mean anything for the camera. You slide a hand into his hair, gripping the thick curls to a stuttered sigh of pleasure. The pressure and motion finally gives you the stimulation you need, and it’s barely any time before your orgasm barrels to the forefront. You tighten your grip on Dieter’s large hand and school your face just enough to not look like you’re cumming through the hottest scene you will ever act in.

“That’s it, take it, take it baby, you’re doing so well, fucking god, look at you,” Dieter groans into your ear. He presses you deeper into the mattress, muting the uncontrollable bucking of your hips for the camera. Teeth scrape along your jaw in tender nips as he stutters to his fake finish, a guttural groan and relaxing of his body signaling the end of the scene. But Dieter lifts up on one elbow and pinches your chin between two fingers, turning your face to his. He looks at you like a mystery to be solved, like a gift, and then kisses you, slow and indulgent.

“Cut! Excellent, loved the ad libbing Dee, but you gotta stop saying fuck, we’ll have to cut that out,” the director says. Dieter laughs against your back, and the warmth of his skin makes you want to melt into the bed and never leave.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lifting up off you and tugging both your bathrobes over to give you some modesty. He fists his own over his swollen erection, a little pink high in his cheeks and sweat along his hairline.

“Yeah, perfect, absolutely,” you say lightly, legs wobbling when you try to stand up. His eyes drag over you, a prideful smile playing on his lips as you try to cover up your dazed affect. “One more scene?” you say brightly.

“Yeah,” he says, distracted. “One more scene.”

The final shot of your day is the following morning, soft yellow light traded for the cool blue of daylight streaming in. You’re facing away from the camera, Dieter waking and looking over at your naked shoulder. He sits up and strokes along the curve of your waist, making you sigh in your sleep. He watches you with a mix of regret and resolution, kisses your shoulder, and gets out of bed.

The scene is done in one take. You wish it took all day.

The end of the shoot is quiet, taking off makeup and getting back into your public clothes. You strain to hear someone coming to your dressing room, a certain wild-haired brown-eyed man giving you a sendoff. A kind word, a piece of advice, you’d take anything. But he doesn’t come, and you leave the soundstage with your check and thanks and promises of references.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, music even feeling too loud for the moment. Weaving through LA traffic, the moments of your day slip through your mind like silk ribbons.

You suppose this is what meeting your heroes is like. A moment in the sunlight of their presence, then back to the real world of auditions and day jobs and hoping your parents never see this particular part of your portfolio. The dishes need washing, calls need to be made, and you have to go on with your life. It was an excellent experience, albeit a slightly inappropriate one. But if that’s the worst you got up to with Dieter then it was fairly tame.

The fleeting thought of what you’d actually hoped you’d get up to with Dieter comes and leaves without incident.

By the time you get home you’re planning what casting call you’d go to tomorrow, making your grocery list, and considering if you can get away without doing laundry tonight. Which is why you walk past the bouquet of flowers in the atrium without checking who it’s for. Waiting for the elevator, however, curiosity gets the better of you and you peek at the card.

Your name. It’s your name on the perfectly imperfect bouquet of garden roses and eucalyptus. You’re opening the card as your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, you greet the Midnight Alley casting agent on the other end.

“Are you open to a semi-recurring role?”

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the director and AD were really impressed with your chemistry with Bravo. They’ve been trying to write him a love interest in the show, but he’s turned down all the potential actresses and guest stars. No chemistry, bad chemistry, whatever, but the point is he asked for them to consider you.”

Your hands shake, the clean white card pinched between your fingers.

I think we can do better together than that. Dinner?

-DB

“What do you think?”

Your heart flutters as you set it free.

“When can I start?”

END

#dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble fanfiction #midnight alley #prolix fics

834 notes · View notes

hentyehottie · 1 year

Note

i am so upset. we’ve been moots for like a month now and i haven’t come to throw some filth in your ask box yet 😩 buT it’s not too late!

alsO hI miya it’s nice to officially greet you 👉🏾👈🏾 i’m glad you enjoyed reading warm bodies! how are ya?

clears throat this is so long and i’m sorry but i like to ramble when i have ideas

So, I was lowkey just scrolling through your blog (i need to read more of your tasty ass work fr fr) and I noticed you reblogged a short fic about villian Kiribaku… A concept that has been untouched by my brain and was probably for good reason because now all I can think about is Red Riot the hardening villain who uses unbreakable to strike fear into civilians, heroes, and villains who dare to threaten his authority. Red Riot the villain is fucking huge and bulky and still has a smile of sunshine but a heart darkened by a selfish society. He honestly gives me Pain vibes, and idk if you’ve ever watched The Boys but I think he’d fit in perfectly with them, he definitely wants to kill heroes who don’t deserve to be called heroes.

Red Riot is very meticulous about the crimes he commits but there is one thing for sure— he loves a good fight. Doesn’t matter where the fight is or when it is, if there’s a fight brewin’ he’ll be there to find it. Also, random fact, he likes rocks soooo… he robs a lot of jewelry stores when he wants to add to his collection or he goes “shopping” at museums.

For example, big boy Riot has left the headquarters in search of a way to get his knuckles bloody, cruising around, looking for a hero to pick a fight with. Listen, even he’s got standards. He’s murdered a couple of people but never innocent ones, only heroes that don’t deserve their titles. And for that, he’s wanted by the Japanese government… Why’s he still walkin’ around like he’s some regular civilian though? I don’t even know. But… oh! Look at that, a hero.

The name of this hero doesn’t matter, he’ll scrapbook it later. A grin spreads across the villains face, a set of razor sharp teeth reveal themselves as he begins to approach the unsuspecting hero, following them to a more secluded part of the city to minimize witnesses as well as collateral damage.

This particular hero has quite a destructive quirk, so it’s truly no surprise that as soon as Red Riot attacks him, the hero begins to lay in blows that aren’t held back in the least. Indiscriminate waves of the disastrous quirk, that Red Riot easily dodges or blocks, cause nearly irreversible damage to nearby buildings, which no-doubt is putting civilians in even more danger than Red Riot’s presence alone. This is exactly /why/ he does the things that he does. With just one stupid fucking test, anyone could become a hero, even psychopaths like this.

As the hero is attempting to knock Red Riot down, the redhead villian doesn’t halter in anyway, getting closer and closer to the hero that looks like their about to shit their pants right in the alley. He’s nearly a foot away from the hero when he hears a blood-curdling scream that appears to be coming from above. He takes a moment to glance up and sees a woman plummeting to her death from the destroyed building that was just beside the alley. Then he looked back at the hero to see if he would do anything.

No. He was far too busy trying to keep his own ass safe. And for some reason, that pissed him off beyond comparison. He’d been holding back since the fight began, giving the hero a chance to defend himself, but it appeared time was running out. Hardening his fist, he aimed a blow directly to the hero’s face, satisfied with the sickening sound of flesh and bone breaking from the heavy punch, and watched the hero fly back into a pile of garbage bags, deserved.

With the screaming come closer and closer to where he was, Red Riot used the debris of the crumbling building to propel himself upwards and easily captured the woman who’d been falling, only then taking note of the bundle of life that she had protectively curled over. As they approached the ground, he hardened his legs and landed with ease, causing quite an indent in the earth.

While she’d been falling, hero eyes remained shut the entire time, but when she stopped falling, suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings and the big strong arms that were wrapped around her rather protectively, she slowly opened one eye to take a peek at her savior.

In all his glory stood the infamous new Hero Killer, staring down at her with an arched brow on his handsome yet rugged face. The childhood scar on his eyelid had somewhat faded but fresh scars had been added to his face, a few nicks on his chin, cheek, and forehead, but they didn’t take away from his handsome appearance. He’d been wearing a red sleeveless hoodie, that showed off his muscular arms and a sleeve of ink that started from his right wrist, up the entirety of his arm, and disappeared under the hoodie no-doubt covering his right pec with a decorative tattoo, along with some plain black cargo shorts. His hair was spiked in the front and the rest flowed down his back in a mullet of sorts. She hadn’t realized she bad been silently staring at him in awe until he cleared his throat, asking if she was alright. Weirdly enough, she felt comfortable enough to answer him honestly, along with thanking him for saving her life. Unexpectedly, a cocky grin spread across his face and an idea came to mind.

“I’ve got other ways you can thank me, lil’ diamond.”

Next thing she knows, Red Riot aka Hero Killer 2.0 is mumbling some name that starts with a ‘K’ and a portal of purple smoke suddenly forms beside them out of thin air. Poor girl is basically kidnapped right then and there, but who woulda thunk Red Riot wanted a reward for taking down another hero and that reward just happened to be the lil’ milf who’d just dropped from the sky (or destroyed apartment building more specifically).

Don’t worry though, he may be a villain but he’s sweet and kind when he wants to be. And that includes taking care of you and your kid. Just like any normal abductee you question this motives and why’s he suddenly taken you from your home. He easily corrects you, saying that your home no longer existed and it was the manly thing to do to offer his surface to provide for you until you were able to get back on your feet.

(insert that one Soulja Boy audio where he says ‘HUH?!’ hella loud)

Why in the flying fuck would this man offer to take care of you? He had to have some kind of objective. But… to your surprise, he didn’t. In fact, you were free to leave whenever you wanted, and he made that clear.

Much to your surprise, Red Riot didn’t live in the LoV headquarters, he lived by himself in his own lil’ cabin in the woods that could easily fit a family or two. It was strange. You were thankful that he saved you and your baby’s life, but he was still a villain. A really, really handsome one at that. After his oh-so-caring suggestion, he mentioned if you wanted him to he would drive you back to the city and drop you off wherever you wanted to go. You dunno how it happened exactly but he’d been holding your baby while he was speaking to you, rocking the sleeping infant in his arms like he was their biological father. How was this man so fucking charismatic and sweet to you? He HAD to have some kind of ulterior motive.

Spoiler alert: yes, yes he did, but not the one you would expect from him.

Y’see… he’s always wanted a family. And here you were, dropped right into arms for the taking, and you didn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon, so he was going to use this opportunity.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into a month. And just as he promised, he took you out the house whenever you wanted and asked you each and every time if you wanted to be left in the city after your daily adventures (shopping and shit y’know, yes this man goes grocery shopping). But you always went back to his cabin with him, each and every time. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? No… couldn’t be, he openly told you to leave if you wanted to, then did that mean you were falling for the rugged mass-murdering villian? Looks that way.

As expected, the developing relationship between the three of you was not normal in the least, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d even introduced you to some of his buddies from LoV, only the ones he trusted tbh, and after that— you now had some willing and ready babysitters on call whenever you two needed.

Who wouldn’t abuse this opportunity? After some time convincing you, Red Riot, who had disclosed to you his real name was Eijirou Kirishima, managed to get you to go on a real date with him with just the two of you. And soooooo, ya did.

Who knew a villain could be so romantic? Certainly not you. He’d wined and dined you like his life depended on it and you were now putty in his hands. Perfect. The real games could begin.

He’s called a driver to take you both home and before you know it, Eijirou’s carrying you over the threshold like the two of you had just said ‘I Do.’

cracks knuckles

Now, this is where the real fun begins.

Red Riot, the hero-killing, tall, muscular, BDE, long-haired, thick-thighed, scarred, tattooed, smiling, thieving, hardening villain… has a breeding kink. And not just that, he’s got a big fucking dick that’s usually impressively hidden behind his usual wardrobe of loose fitting pants. But, you’ve seen him adjust himself more than a few times when he thinks you’re not paying attention, but you’re sure he just does it subconsciously without even realizing.

So there’s no real surprise when he’s dropped you onto your shared bed after a date and you can see the imprint of it through the black slacks he chose to wear. You coulda swore you saw the fuckin’ thing throbbin’ through the fabric but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

He’s now staring you down, noticing how your eyes have stayed glued to his crotch, with a timid look with some worry hidden behind your eyes. He grins and decides to have a little show for you. You’re struck back into reality when he suddenly grabs it, giving it a lil’ squeeze and a tug, causing your thighs to rub together in anticipation.

“No need to be nervous. It ain’t gonna hurt ya, baby. Promise.”

He purred, stroking his cock a few for times for you through his pants before moving his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“Think you could strip for me, mamas? I like that dress on ya… Think I’d rip it to shreds if I tried to take it off.”

Sweet fuck, when’d you become so obedient???

Before you know it, you’re both naked and on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the comforter or the sheets. Seems you two were impatient.

Eijirou was splayed out on his back, cock on fully display as it rested against his stomach that wasn’t exactly chiseled with abs, it was a lil’ squishy but the muscles in his arms and chest were hard to ignore. And would ya look at that, you were right, he did have a nagasode and hikae style tattoo with a dragon, flowers, and other symbols. His monstrous cock was almost teasing you with its ridiculous width and length, how was that going to fit in you? With its thick tanned shaft, and its fat brink pink circumcised tip that was dribbling precum despite being only half erect. The happy trail that led to a trimmed bush of onyx hair made you think about the hyped mane of hair on his head.

He’d decided to leave the gel out of his hair this evening so the bright crimson locks flowed in waves under his head… what kinda conditioner did this man use? Them locks shiny as a muhh’fucka- No, no, no, don’t get distracted.

Where were you?

He’d had you sitting on his chest, beckoning you to straddle his face with your thighs, and when you hesitated he took matters into his own hands and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you right onto his face.

Maybe I should have mentioned earlier that he’d got a forked tongue…? Y’know, the kinda tongue a snake has… He kinda got into a bit of body modification after dropping out of U.A.

And the way he uses his forked tongue on you is heavenly. So heavenly, that you nearly hunch over and run away from his skilled tongue, whining and whimpering his name, pathetically asking him to calm down and give you some time to adjust. The iron grip on your hips forces you stay right where he wants you, thick digits easily sinking themselves into your plush hips like memory foam. He’s absolutely ravishing you with the rapid fire motions of his tongue, writing out every Hiragana symbol in the charts, observing how you react to every trace of ever symbol. And when he draws out that one symbol, his tongue acting as a brush drenched in ink and your pussy acting as the paper, he notices the way you shudder and let out a guttural moan, clenching at his hair hard enough to make his scalp burn just a fraction— he smirks, abusing this new power.

ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki.

Ironically, the symbol that makes you shudder and silently scream sounds a bit like laughter, and laughter you shall receive. It is the best medicine after all.

Abusing this particular symbol, it is no surprise that the hardening villian soon rips an orgasm right out of your body, the searing heat that builds up inside you releasing into his mouth as you squeeze his head between your thick thighs.

Easily, Eijirou laps up your sweet nectar while groaning about how sweet and delectable you are, and gives you a moment to collect yourself, hearing the sweet pants and huffs that escape you as he rubs comforting circles onto your hips. That won’t last long, however.

“Think ya can cum on my tongue a few more times, lovely? Gotta make sure you’re slippery enough to bounce on my cock a lil’ later after all, hm? Be a good girl f’me, ya know ya can.”

my bad, my bad… went a lil’ crazy on this one 🧍 do with this as you please, aLsO i had an urge to draW hIm but i haven’t colored the lineart yet 😩 ill show ya when im doNe

You’ve been reduced to nothing but a whining, whimpering mess on the redhead’s tongue. He’s flipped and twisted your aching body so many times to get you in the perfect position, but nothing beats that good ole spread eagle.

Your hero turned villainous lover has both of those big hands holding you wide open for him, fingertips sunk into your plush flesh.

One knee is flush against the bed, the other is up against your chest, leaving nothing hidden from his fiery gaze. Your pretty pussy is his to abuse, at the mercy of that dexterous tongue and those razor sharp teeth.

Your moans and sounds are so cute to him, so pretty he wants nothing more than to keep fucking you on that long tongue.

You peer down at the beast between your thighs and the sight has you immediately tossing your head back, a breathy sigh passing through your lips.

Eijirou looks so precious—crimson eyes hooded and low, the thin sheen of your slick spread around his mouth while he licked and sucked you to another release.

‘Cu-cumming.’ Is how you’ll warn him before your pussy is creaming around that tongue again. You’re so sensitive, clit so swollen and red even the waft of his breath hurts.

But Eiji loves seeing you squirm, so much that he’s lathering your poor clit in spit, sucking the nub into his mouth just to hear you squeal as you claw at the sheets.

“Ei, p-please baby.” You’re begging, pleading for just an ounce of mercy from your lover’s tongue.

He raises his head to look up at you, or what’s left of you, granting a brief intermission as he flips you onto your belly.

He’s palming the fat of your ass, spreading you until he’s face to face with your delicious cunt and puckered asshole, his moistened lips curling up into a devilish smirk.

He loves this. He loves you and your perfect fucking pussy so much that tonight he plans on making you a mommy again. As soon as you cum for him one more time he plans to split you open and breed you.

“Just one more pretty girl, I promise.”

It’s nice to meet youuu, I love your work 🥺❤️Villian Kiri makes my pussy brain melt 🥹 I hate that it’s so short but I’m writing like 4 other one shots and my brain is a can of baked beans right now 😭

Hey bae, care to join us? @darkmajesty-xo

#kirishima smut #villain kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

792 notes · View notes

dairy-farmer · 5 days

Note

Jaytim where Jason gets cucked by.... *gasp* Willis Todd!?

Instead of dying he simply served a long sentence and was released shortly after his son's marriage. Of course he wants to reconnect!

One of my favourite headcanons is that Jason has a mommy kink, so it would fit well if Tim shared some traits and mannerisms with Catherine.

Anyways idk if Tim would ever willingly cheat with Willis, or if this is some dubious/non-consensual scenario, but it might end with patricide, a retraumatized Jason and Tim giving birth to at least one of Jason's siblings. Not neccessarily in that order.

yes yes yseby yes ye sye s YESRESS YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i LOVE this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

where willis was never killed he just got sentenced to serve a long sentence. when he gets out its been years, a lot of his old stomping grounds have been bulldozed, crime has been severely cracked down upon due to batman's presence. a lot of the simple "honest" work that willis used to be able to use to get by has been all but made oblique. plus he's behind. since getting locked behind bars the world has essentially left him behind. his wife who used to put money on his books had stopped, not because she'd met another man but because she'd gone and died.

when willis gets out he has nothing, no one. but the rule of his probation was that he needed a permanent address where the officer could roll by and check on him at any minute.

all of willis' old contacts, mainly women who he'd messed around with, had either changed their numbers, disappeared, or moved on from him.

willis' options are limited. he'd been born nothing into nothing but he'd still made use of what he had to crawl himself up. decent looks and enough charisma to power a steamboat had been his saving grace. it was what had landed him a nice loyal woman that always put up bail money and raised his bastard.

but willis wasn't so young anymore. that dark hair had faded to streaks of gray, his features had weathered due to age. he was still good looking but not young enough to get stupid little girls to offer him anything he wanted in exchange for a little attention.

but willis was lucky. the gotham prison system had under gone revisions in recent years and a database had been established to help recently released felons reconnect with family and friends to keep them off the streets and therefore away from re-offending.

it's how willis manages to find out his son was alive and not dead in a gutter or rotting in some prison upstate.

what a pleasant surprise!

the little shit had never deigned to visit willis and the address the secretary gives him is in one of the nicer parts of crime alley.

willis can't say he didn't resent the kid a bit. getting a baby dumped on him by a girl he fucked once or twice was a pain in the ass. moreso that when he brought the baby home to catherine she'd cried.

hurt and betrayed that willis had cheated on her.

willis would admit that beneath the hard exterior, part of him had felt a churn of something in his gut at making his cathy cry. she was different from the other women, from the girls he fucked and dumped. it was why he'd kept her around, married her.

she was genuine. sweet. she looked at willis with a look of concern his own mother had never given him. she worried about him, patched him up when he'd return bruised and cut up. she was the only one who ever believed willis would make something of himself, citing willis' head for numbers which had landed him pretty decent jobs as a number runner and accountant that had given them a comfortable life.

until the baby arrived. then all of a sudden willis' meager pay was going towards diapers and milk and all the million things babies needed.

willis would admit the kid had single-handedly ruined him and cathy by draining their finances. cathy had tried to assure him it was alright, that they'd figure things out. she'd even tried going down to the welfare office to get help paying for the kid.

but she'd been rejected. both their criminal records made it so they were on their own.

it meant willis had been made to start taking riskier jobs from shadier employers. cathy had to call up old contacts and start working as a courier again just so they could make ends meet.

so willis hated the kid.

oh he pretended he didn't. for cathy's sake. she'd grown attached and willis had lost the opportunity to suggest they dump the kid at the firehouse or an orphanage.

willis admitted he'd smacked the kid around a bit. mostly when he'd cry that cathy wasn't around.

when willis had gotten the rotten end of stick and landed himself nearly 20 years in prison on a trumped up charge it hadn't felt real.

he'd felt like he was in some sort of waking nightmare as his bumbling public defender fucked up his case.

20 years was a long time to spend behind bars. some of the guys willis got locked up with turned to religion, others tied their identities to the prison gangs and sank deeper into the tar pit of crime.

willis did what he could to maintain his sanity.

until the day of his release when he's handed back the clothes he was arrested in along with his belongings. a wallet with a wrinkled 5 dollar bill, a receipt from the bus, his old house key, and a notebook of addresses that'd landed him in lockup.

willis feels lost when the prison bus dumps him on some random street corner in gotham, a pamphlet of resources in hand, alongside about 12 other inmates.

unlike most of them, willis was literate enough to actually read what was printed and made his way to the listed office. the office which directed him to the home of his estranged son that he hadn't seen since the day he got thrown over the hood of a police car for entering the wrong damn building run by the wrong damn people.

willis may be old. he may have spent the last 20 years of his life in prison. his wife may be dead, his old apartment bulldozed to make room for some gentrified apartment building, and he may have nothing but the clothes on his back- but willis still had his mouth. and that opened a world of possibilities.

jason was taller, broader. he looked disturbingly like willis' father which meant he probably looked a lot like willis.

his hands were thick and calloused, scarred over from hard work as he stood in the doorway in a wife beater and low hanging sweatpants.

willis knew what it felt like to have no lost love for a father. so he just says what it would've taken him to open his door to his father if he'd somehow come back from the dead.

jason's home is cluttered, stacks of books and knickknacks littering shelves and low tables. it's full. but full in a way that willis can tell the home is well loved and occupied. there are paintings and posters on the wall along with pictures. little details are scattered throughout the home that tell willis his son does not live alone. and he's right when he spots the curious figure lingering at the entrance to the kitchen.

willis nearly feels his breath hitch at the sight of the other person. from a certain distance, from an angle...they almost looked like cathy. short dark hair, small figure, soft sloped hips, pretty pink lips, big wet doe-like eyes, long curled lashes...

looks like his son had gotten himself a nice little woman to keep him company in this cozy little house of his.

a clench of something warm and wanting swirled in willis' gut but he pushed it down. no. he could think more on that once he was comfortable and secured a bed.

jason was reluctant. he was recently married, had started some new job at a city planning office, and had just started settling down with his little wife that introduced himself as 'tim'.

saying the right words to squirm his way in comes natural to willis, no amount of time locked up could change that, and jason's little wife also helps.

just like cathy. having faith in a stranger's words, believing that people were better than they actually were.

jason doesn't give in too easily though. willis wouldn't have either.

but willis gets the spare bedroom in the apartment and jason warns him its temporary, just until he gets on his feet and so the parole officer doesn't get on his ass about it.

willis would admit it was nice to have the privacy of a room. a bed that wasn't more of a gym mat than mattress and running hot water whenever he wanted. jason rarely left the home those first few weeks, eyes always locked on willis when he'd come out of the room. more than once he'd dump a newspaper on willis' lap and tell him to start searching the classifieds, that plenty of people were willing to hire ex-cons.

apparently jason's little wife knew better than anyone since he worked for a charity helping underprivileged youths. it must have given him some divine need to help because he often helped willis fill out job applications after willis pretended to struggle reading the words printed on the newsprint.

the night after willis' perceived illiteracy some part of jason seemed to have lightened up. he and jason are washing up the dishes when jason quietly inquired.

"can you really not read?"

of course willis could. he wasn't some kind of fucking moron.

but it seemed to earn sympathy points from people. after all there was nothing more uncomfortable seeing a grown man struggle to read. it makes people not view someone as much of a threat.

its probably part of the reason why jason starts lightening up a little. starts making short trips out of the apartment to do errands while willis remained on his best behavior.

willis was good at maintaining the facade. he'd done it for 20 years in prison, pretending to be a browbeaten, meek, mouse of a man that stuttered so hard he nearly passed out when confronted.

it had been a different kind of humiliation to endure that for 20 long years. being used as entertainment by bigger fish who'd chortle and laugh as willis had to pretend to nearly piss in pants in fear just at being spoken to.

but he'd done it. so he could survive.

being demeaned and degraded day in and day out did something to a man''s brain.

it changed him biologically. made it so the minute he got something he wanted he did anything he could to keep it.

willis was still living under his son's roof, was still at the mercy of his benevolence. was still stuck in a little room without any real freedom.

his son might believe they were reconciling to an extent but jason was still a man in his own home and that meant he couldn't help but try to make willis prostrate.

willis listens to his son fuck his little wife from the next room with a throbbing cock in hand.

20 years was a long time to go without pussy. cathy was long gone but there had been no one who compared to her hot little cunt that had stretched so good around him.

willis pumped his cock listening to breathy moans and high pitched whines of jason rocking into his whore, imagining the stretch of little timmy's cunt over his cock, thinking of fucking him so hard that tender pussy would be bruised and red from the force of it all.

willis can feel his self control start to slip.

going in and taking his son's woman was highly risky and could land him out on the streets again.

but willis didn't know how many more nights he could take before his hand wasn't enough.

then willis reconnects with old acquaintances. ones who haven't changed at all.

no suspicion is drawn about him going out for a beer with old "friends". not that willis would ever consider any of the trash he surrounded himself with as anything more than 'associate'.

but they do have their uses. like one of the men who mainly dealt near the colleges and financial areas.

its not hard to score a few pills from him.

willis crushes them to a fine powder in his room using two heavy books until he had a baggy small enough to fit up his sleeve. from there it was a matter of waiting.

waiting for the next time jason would go out for a few hours.

the gods must be smiling down on willis because he catches a break.

a problem at one of the sites jason works at has had a problem and he'll be gone until the next morning fixing it.

willis doesn't act immediately even though every part of him wants to. he waits until it's lunch and prepares a glass of fruit juice for tim as usual, bringing it to him with every bit of forced casualness as he can.

tim is working and takes occasional sips of the juice and bites of a sandwich while willis hovers nearby, waiting.

eventually the pills kick in.

tim starts shifting. his head starts lolling side to side as tim massages the back of his neck. hands start scratching at the edges of his clothes and wiping away sudden sweat.

when tim stands up with a low call of 'bathroom' but then stumbles- that's when willis swoops in.

bootleg pollen was stupidly easy to obtain. it was untraceable in a tox screen, had a half life of 45 minutes, could be ingested orally, snorted, or absorbed through the skin, was borderline impossible to overdose on, increased body temperature, and made sex so much hotter.

willis had only heard whispers of it, mostly from men who were serving sentences for having used it and how they said it was fully worth it with wistful looks.

willis couldn't help but agree with them as he sank with ease into a dipping little pussy with a relieved gasp that ripped out of him. willis had to just sit there for a little, eyes closed and just feeling the vice of a hot cunt all around his cock. jason's woman let out a soft whine and little murmurs under him, his limbs lax and heavy as his head tilted one way and the other. his brows were furrowed and eyes closed as he softly squirmed, soft bottom inching away until willis reached down and pulled him closer, forcing more of his cock in until he was fully bottomed out. willis felt his pelvis be pressed flush to soft little baby cunt and how nice of jason's woman to keep himself so beautifully waxed.

willis started slow, grinding and grunting against the neck of jason's woman, trying to hold him back from going too fast for fear of cumming too quickly. but that thought left just as soon as it came and willis started furiously fucking the hole under him, insides desperate for release. willis had all day to take his time but for the moment he was going to make up for 20 years worth of fucking.

jason's woman was quite the champ. usually after a few rounds willis was getting pushed away by exhausted broads who'd whine about being too tired to keep going.

not cathy though. never his cathy, no she always let willis go for as long as he wanted until he was satiated. she'd wrap her arms around him and hold him to her while willis fucked her cunt full of load after load. even if she wouldn't be able to move in the morning, even if her cunt would be bruised to the heavens- she'd just press a kiss to willis's forehead and thank him.

god he fucking missed her. 20 years and he hadn't even known they'd buried her in some nameless fucking plot under a number instead of her name.

jason's woman looked so much like her. those pretty eyes, that soft hair, those full cheeks.

god his cathy hadn't aged a day.

willis snapped his hips into a whining cathy a little faster, letting her tilt her head back while he panted over her, nowhere near as young as he used to be.

willis pressed their faces together just like he used to when they'd spend all of saturday and sunday just fucking in their shoebox apartment. willis felt his breath grown heavier as he pumped his cock into cathy, her cunt letting out a wet thick noise everytime he tugged out.

"gnnn, cathy baby i missed you-" and he had, god willis had. he'd never had a good thing in his life but cathy oh fuck his cathy was the only worthwhile thing he'd ever had.

he's borderline lightheaded as his hips stutter, chest tightening and jaw clenching as he tightens his bruising grip on the hips of the hole under him until he's spilling and flooding hot cum into the welcoming womb below him.

willis isn't sure how long he lies there, fucking and cumming and filling a womb with his cum. it must be hours, maybe the whole the day. everytime jason's woman starts struggling a little harder, willis reaches under the couch for the baggy and dumps some over his face, pinching his nose so he has no choice but to swallow and then he's wet and loose all over again.

willis is so focused on it and lost in the sensations he doesn't hear the key in the front door turning. doesn't hear the boots and the steps. doesn't hear how they freeze, how they pause and then start moving rapidly in his direction faster and faster.

willis didn't know jason kept guns. he just assumed his son was too much of a pussy about them. but he was wrong. if he'd checked the closet beside the door or underneath the table by the kitchen he would've found the legally registered, fully loaded fire arm.

willis only sees it when he's ripped back and off tim, the glint of the metal the last thing he sees before jason empties the clip into his head.

willis is not present for the fallout, to see the way he has permanently re-traumatized his son.

his son who had believed his piece of shit father's words about reconciling, the piece of shit father he invited to his home, the piece of shit father he left with his wife, the piece of shit father he arrived home to find raping his wife.

jason is not alright. he's only ever been disappointed by father's his whole life- he should've known better. the moment his father refused to get revenge on his murder should've been the only sign he needed to know better. but jason was just determined to shoot himself in the foot everytime.

and now tim was paying the price for jason's stupidity as well.

jason is meticulous in cleaning the apartment. tim was already unconcious by the time jason arrived, pollen was scattered all beside his head.

so jason rests him on the couch and covers him with a sheet, careful to wipe between his legs to catch...emissions.

tim will awake from the pollen and remember nothing from it and maybe that will be a mercy. the only one to remember what happened will be jason whole cleaned his father's splattered brains off the wall. jason gathers what's left of the corpse and takes it out to an abandoned bridge overseeing one of the rivers in gotham that drains to the ocean.

he weighs each of his father's limbs down with a cinder block and pushes him off the railing. when his parole officer passes by jason will tell him he hadn't even known his father got out of prison.

jason cleans tim carefully, tenderly. he only has to hold himself over the toilet to dry heave once after he'd finished scraping his father's cum out of his wife.

in the morning tim wakes up in pain and delirious with a fever from the pollen.

jason tells him what happened and holds him while he cries but its hard to be traumatized over something you can't remember. its more the paranoia and the thoughts of wondering what happened that drive the depression.

weeks later the parole officer arrives looking for jason's father and it takes everything jason has to remain calm.

another few weeks and jason and tim decide they can't continue to live in their little apartment and they move. another few weeks and tim's period doesn't come and dread fills them both as they realize that it's unlikely that willis was able to get real pollen that it was likely bootleg pollen, the ones that had the effect of forcing people into ovulation.

they think about getting rid of it, they think about ignoring how they've been trying for a baby but have had no luck because jason was essentially a cadaver powered by kiddie pool magic.

they think of not going through with it.

but in the end they can't bring themselves to. they've wanted a baby so badly for so long. they can't do it.

its hard to come to terms with. they tell no one about willis, its easy because they'd told none of the family he'd been staying with them.

they assume jason is the father and he is. jason has been slowly training his mind to disregard the technicalities of genetics, to ignore how if bruce or anyone ever ran a scan on his and tim's baby they'd find he's closer to jason's half brother than son.

they ignore it. they celebrate tim's pregnancy and prepare with all the joy they were holding in for their baby.

and they're happy.

it takes awhile but they are.

their baby is born pink and screaming with a thick head of hair and the most gorgeous little eyes. she has the same little dimple as jason does when she smiles and dick coos over it when he comes to visit them.

"oh she looks so much like her daddy!"

the words only cause the slightest of aches but it fades when jason hears his daughter giggle.

they were good. they were happy.

at the very least willis had been good for one thing in his miserable life.

tim heard him say that and gave him a small, soft look before leaning up to kiss him.

two things, tim would whisper before bending down to give their baby another kiss.

jason pretended like the words didn't choke him up and rested his head on tim's, holding him close while they listened to their sleeping baby take soft, slow breaths.

#answered asks #anonymous #asks #jaytim

31 notes · View notes

intriq · 3 months

Text

chapter 1 of my fic;

I’m sorry I’m the one you love

i went w this title cus it fits how i perceive AK jason feels towards being loved (he feels unworthy of it ur honor)

keep in mind this fic is.. gonna be both fluff filled AND angst filled (did you think i’d ever let you and jason always be happy? lmao no. ur getting the same treatment my ocs do)

In the eyes of the world, you didn’t matter. You were nothing more than a pest, a filthy rat scurrying around Gotham City. Even if you haven’t lived here your whole life, you still became a part of it’s problem. Not like you had any choice, considering you were but a child. Long since abandoned by your parents in a city you’ve since skipped and left, you find surviving in Gotham just as hard. But it’s tolerable. You know how to defend yourself, with bruises and healing knuckles to match. Gotham wasn’t an easy place to survive, much less for someone who barely knew how the city worked. All you knew is that danger was constantly lurking, in every corner and every street. You had no wariness of who the streets belonged to, of the rules etched into its architecture. All you knew of was survival.

Scavenging whenever you could, stashing the little food you could. Of course, because of you being essentially new to Gotham you weren’t aware of the rules. Or the territories and who owned what. All you knew was to run and fight to survive. Perhaps thats why he took a pittance to you. Seeing you do your hardest to survive, like him. He’s a scrawny kid, like you are. You’re both doing what you need to, in order to survive. The first time he’d seen you scrambling to steal food in the section of Crime Alley that he’d gotten in exchange for selling out his parents, Jason felt like you and him would get along. Defending this strip of land was lonely, granted him few allies considering no one wanted to even attempt to challenge him.

The first time you two talk, you worry he’ll attempt to take your hard-earned spoils like anyone else had. You’d clutched them closer to yourself, almost glaring and poised to strike like a snarling dog. The only difference being the lack of bared teeth. At the time, you were more like a wounded, cornered animal. You’d been injured because of a previous fight, pain flaring in what felt like all over whenever you attempted to move. So moving around was futile, the headache that accompanied it being the source of most of your discomfort.

It was cold, as cold as the alley you called home was dirty. It smelled and was located right outside some bar that smelled absolutely horrid. A putrid stench that lingered and seeped into the clothes of whoever hung around it. The stench clung to both you and him, mixing with the smell of car exhaust, trash, gasoline, and the other smells that clung to Gotham about as well as it’s crime rate.

But that’s fine. Jason’s been sitting still, inching closer to you every few hours. You’ve been defensive, and Jason doesn’t quite get why he is bothering at all to get you to trust him.

The first week he meets you it’s all he seems to do. When he’s finding himself food he can’t help but let his thoughts drift back to you, the only other scrappy kid that has bothered to stay around in what is essentially his turf for longer than usual. Jason’s come to learn most of what makes you tick, for the most part. Like how you refuse to move when he’s present or even looking at you, how you refuse to eat when he’s present. Jason doesn’t even get why he still bothers with you.

And you?

You don’t get it either. You don’t get why this kid just keeps coming back. You don’t bother talking back to him, just sitting there and nursing what hurts. The alley smells enough to make your head pound and hiding behind the dumpster when more rowdy drunken folk stumble outside for a variety of things. But you make it work, you suppose. And you don’t mind how the free food that comes with his company. You don’t get him sometimes, though. Don’t get his tenacity. Why he still bothers.

But maybe it’s because you also don’t understand looking forward to his short, fleeting visits. But perhaps it’s the idea that the moment your stupidly painful bruises and whatever else is wrong are healed and you can move, that he’d up and disappear. The silence between you both is as equally unsettling as it is comforting. The faint chatter of drunken patrons from the bar you rest near is just loud enough to have the same faint buzz of insects. And the air is warm and putrid, filled with the hideously disgusting odors that every city such as Gotham brings. Just any other sensible Gotham kid would give you a wide berth, but yet here he is.

Here this random scrawny street kid is, insistent on getting you to trust him. He used to talk to you, or try to. His words were always met with silence on your end. But perhaps he only continues to try after the first time he heard what sounded like a faint breathy laugh underneath that sigh you’d made to cover it up. You can’t even remember what he’d said that had been funny, but he does. It was a stupid joke, something about how this disgusting alley was at least a little warmer and better than the colder, draftier parts of the city and that the warmth was the only thing that made it worth staying in. Truth be told you’d rather be anywhere but here, even back with your parents even if they just might barely give a damn. But it was warm and never smelled. Maybe that’s why you laughed, because there was places better than this shit-hole of a city you now called home.

Yeah, maybe that was it. Maybe that’s why he sticks around, you think. Jason thinks that’s why, too.

#dc universe #jason todd #may be non canon compliant #ak!jason todd x reader #ak!jason x reader #ak jason #arkham knight jason #arkhamverse #dc fanfic #arkhamverse fanfic #this is gonna be slowburn #prepare for shenanigans bc these guys r gonna ve #SO OBLIVIOUS #like so oblivious you and alfred will be standing there #going oh my god PLEASE #JUST CONFESS ALREADY #and its gonna be glorious #with angst!#intrique's dc things

25 notes · View notes

inlocusmads · 4 months

Text

Nora Can't Draw For Shit ~ trystan x nora, crimes of passion

A really really quick drabble I wrote with a half-baked idea haha

wc: 698; teen and up for strong language, you get the idea

_____

The after-party was in full swing and by swing, there were actual swings involved. You’d expect some sort of an orgy under such circumstances, but it was more along the lines of a fashionable extravaganza.

Trystan was ever so graciously invited, on account of his sister’s collection being put up on display and honoured. Suffice to say, the after-party was entirely for networking purposes. Glossy champagne, lush couches, suited-up beautiful people-- what more could someone ask for? Trystan had a list though. Tacky parties were quite right up his alley but this one was no fun. Not even a chicken fight over Uno, how sad.

He watched across the bar to find Nora who was caught in a group conversation. For a second, he assumed she was enjoying herself - being around people, so many people and their chitter-chatters about how much they had to starve to fit into a dress, their sad stories of switching between diets according to their fitness coach and oh the horror of giving up a specific kind of cheese because they were partially lactose intolerant - not fully enough to milk it (pardon the pun) for all its worth - as their publicist intended. The worst part was Nora didn’t even have a roll of blunt to help her get through this. Most parties would be kind enough to distribute them so she didn’t have to be sober for this conversation. Would help her relax her anxieties. Stop fussing over her blazer so much. Go through five existential crises whilst someone’s talking to her about etiquette school.

Trystan assumed she was more than happy to talk to people and go “haha, totally get you about those damn porcelains!” but he appeared to have misinterpreted her. Nora met his eyes and was pointing subtly at herself and another finger at the exit.

Trystan gave her a perplexed expression. What?

She tried to mouth her words.

“Kate Mihir is out of the -- eggs?” Also who the hell was Kate Mihir?

Nora shook her head. Trystan threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. She then proceeded to put her arm on the table, make a stickman with her index and middle finger and moved her hand across- in a swift motion to the exit.

“You need two more of what?”

Nora buried her face in her hands. She gestured her hand at him. Wait. Trystan watched as she proceeded to take a pen from her pocket and grabbed some rolls of tissues. It was remarkable how well she did so without earning people’s attention. She then drew a face, an arrow pointing at a square - a door - in the most horrible caricature known to mankind. The face was lopsided; the door was not even a door and looked more like a shot glass. She didn’t care. She held it up like a billboard sign. Trystan had to take a couple steps closer to see what she’d drawn. And even then, the dimly lit area didn’t do her drawing much justice.

“Erm.” One of the people she was talking to, tapped on Nora’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to tell a guy with blurry eyeballs that I need to go. It’s nothing personal. I -- really cannot have another conversation about porcelain plates. I just don’t care about plates, okay? I’m sure someone else out there knows a lot about them.”

The person gave her a disgruntled look before walking away. Trystan, still perplexed, approached her.

“Subtle stuff.” Nora sighed.

“That is not a stick figure. What were you drawing? A potato?” he laughed. “Why does that -- thing look like a skirt?”

“It’s a door.”

“Remind me to never encourage you to pursue art, by the way.”

“I briefly dabbled in sketch artistry for my precinct back in the day, okay?”

“And how did that go, hm?”

“Like I said. Briefly dabbled.”

“And what was that -- action? It looked like you were signalling the bartender for two more of your potato skirt shots. Potato skorts.”

“What is this? Be Mean To Nora day?”

“I read somewhere that honesty is the most valued trait among friendships, partnerships- among human beings. It’s okay, Nora. I love your potato skorts.”

“Stop.”

***

not tagging people cuz, it's a quick drabble and not my most polished work if that makes sense lmao

tagging @choicesficwriterscreations

#w:inlocusmads #trystan x nora #crimes of passion #my drabbles

20 notes · View notes

rubykgrant · 4 months

Note

Imagine RvB characters with superpowers. But just one each, like in RWBY or My Hero Academia. Could totally see Sarge being an unstoppable force, or Tucker being the center of attention, or Caboose being able to make things not work properly. Church splitting off parts of his psyche as clones. Maine having permanent copies of powers. Wash making a memory fog. Kimball having a speed buff for herself & others. Jax making videos of his memory. Just so many possibilities!

There are a handful of RVB Super Power AUs out there that are all very interesting (the two I'm more familiar with are the "Villain AU" by @smilysstuff , and "We Didn't Even Kiss Until Issue 26" by @cinaed . I've also seen some cool Spider-Man/Spider-Verse concepts from @leonardalphachurch and @donut-entendre ~)

You've got some cool super power ideas for them too! The characters are all so weird, it is easy to take the various talents or certain personality traits and turn them into super abilities, either ones that fit easily with them, or perhaps ones that seem like the "opposite" of what is typical.

If I was going to put them into a Super Hero setting, but maybe try to make it a little different from some of the others I've seen... I might put them in a Batman scenario! Except it doesn't totally follow the same formula... because NONE of these dudes are a billionaire playboy who is also a scientist and expert martial artist. So instead...

"Blood Gulch" is actually the name for a small area of the city (basically, Crime Alley), and through some random (or perhaps connected) events, a lot of people have had an unpleasant experience there... Church woke up with no memory besides his name and a few vague bits of info of his life. Tucker was attacked, and his child was kid-napped. Caboose lost his penny (everybody thinks this is stupid, but you don't understand; it was the GIANT penny!). Donut got nailed with a grenade. Grif got ran-over by a tank (followed by Simmons agreeing to give up some organs to try and save his life at a hospital, but when doctors insisted Grif wouldn't survive the surgery, Simmons followed a very shady tip that somebody from that area could help them both... and so Simmons got a back-alley operation, then woke up a Cyborg. Grif is OK). Sarge got shot in the head. Tex "died" for the first time, and discovered she doesn't STAY dead. A strange villainous voice seems to "haunt" the area, but is only ever heard when Doc is around. Nothing bad happened to Kai, but she got busted for throwing a rave in an old warehouse there once.

Not all of this happened on the same day or anything, but it sure is a COINCIDENCE that all these people hurt somehow in this general area, isn't it!? Anyway, Church meets Tucker after Junior got kidnapped, and despite seeming so unfriendly, he's the only guy that listens to Tucker's weird story (because the group that took Junior didn't seem... human). The cops won't help, and Tucker doesn't want to leave the city unless he has a lead, so... Church takes him to where he's been crashing.

Which turns out to be a HUGE mansion, that has sat abandoned for years. Church may be a hobo, but he's a hobo with standards (also, he seems to know all the combinations for the locks. wonder why). Eventually, they run into Caboose out on the streets, sobbing over his penny. He follows them around all night, and Church finally agrees to let him com back to their mansion. Once inside, Caboose's clumsiness and nonsensical luck allows them to discover SECRET PASSAGEWAYS! There is a whole underground lair below the mansion! With some very interesting (and suspicious) technology. Oh, and it seems to be OCCUPIED as well?

So, while all that was going on, Sarge has been running around Blood Gulch at night, being a weird vigilante about it (he still has his own shotgun, but after it got damaged, the thing doesn't actually fire anymore. instead, he carries it around for the AESTHETIC, and a lot of people in the city start rumors about a guy who has a gun he doesn't shoot for some "metaphorical" reasons, but it really isn't that deep; it broke, he doesn't want to throw it away, he can't afford to get it fixed, and he's too stubborn to just get a new one. on the plus side, various bad guys have gotten the idea that if they don't use guns, the vigilante won't shoot them, so everybody has gotten less lethal in general). Sarge also collects weirdos who have gone through their own odd incidents...

He likes the idea of having a cyborg on his team, and Grif seems to be good at... not dying? That comes in handy. Donut just kinda invited himself and stuck around. Sarge finds an abandoned robot one night, so now they have a robot! His speech functions are stuck on Spanish, but Lopez is very capable at just about any task (he will still complain the whole time). Sarge decides to call their group... The Red Hood Gang! He still wears the red hoodie he had on when he got shot when doing vigilante stuff (plus a mask, and other gear). They move into what they THOUGHT was an old cave system outside the city... and find it has LOTS of interesting tech inside!

When Church's group finds out the Reds are basically living in their basement and hoarding all the cool junk, and the Reds realize these guys have an upstairs with actual bathrooms and a kitchen, they proceed to have a whole war over who gets to keep everything. As they fight and claim certain things for themselves, one of the big computers comes online... and a strange, high-pitched voice who introduces himself as Vic starts giving them info and "advice" on how to find the people that have caused their problems. Begrudgingly, the two groups decide to work together (Church's team calls themselves Blue Birds, since the gear they get is blue, and themed after birds; also, they get a cool vehicle! Sheila is their Batmobile~).

So, now the Reds and Blues are all doing vigilante stuff. They still bicker with each other, but no longer enemies. Other people in the city do not know how to deal with these chaotic weirdos. They eventually meet up with Tex, and Grif's sister figures out what her brother is up to. Doc has a brief time being "kid-napped" by the :evil voice" as O'Malley tries to be a full-on villain like the Joker, but eventually he settles down, accepts that he's really part of Doc, and they other accept Doc is part of their group too. Tucker even gets Junior back, and Caboose finds his GIANT PENNY! Things seem to being well... but THEN-

A corrupt police force doesn't like all these vigilantes exposing their own criminal activity, and hire outside help of a special agent; Washington. He initially tries to very seriously solve some of the problems in the city, and when he gets framed for even BIGGER problems, he just has his own villain-moment, taking it out on the Reds and Blues... but they win him over. New vigilante hero! He moves into the mansion with the rest of them, but one night when they return, the place has a new guest; Carolina, who informs them that this is HER FAMILY'S HOME. She's been away, doing all kinds of cool secret martial arts training around the world (that's right, she's the REAL Batman~), and comes back to to find a whole circus moved in while she was gone?

She also explained that the underground caves were where he father once had a whole secret project going on, with people being part of several experiments that claimed to make them "super heroes", but those running the show had ulterior motives (some of them were selling tech to other groups, thus creating lots of criminals with a huge advantage). Wash had been part of this program, but like the Reds, he never knew about the mansion above ground or the connection to Carolina's family. Tex was part of it too, but she kind of forgot some of it. Church... well, it seems that one the plans of Carolina's father was to try and bring her mother back to life, and one attempt involved a sample from a supernatural pool of energy, which he tested on himself first. The result was Church (this is a bit like all the R'as al Ghul/Jason Todd stuff).

More Batman-tastic shenanigans ensue... meanwhile, over in Metropolis, all the Chorus problems are happening! Instead of a surviving child of Krypton coming to Earth, a ship containing the collective history and technology landed on the planet. In secret, a group has been slowly using the advanced tech for personal gain, and some people are also stealing it for themselves. Two sides of a "war" break out, each being manipulated into fighting because once they're all gone, nothing will stop a certain rich business man from taking everything for himself (Hargrove is basically Lex Luthor. Felix and Locus use lots of Krypton tech, and also have access to the temporary Super Serum that gives them small doses of powers).

Sorry, that was a LOT for a basic "Batman/Superman" AU haha

#ask #answer #anon #red vs blue #rvb

20 notes · View notes