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greenglowinspooks · 6 months

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To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound

Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.

He can see ghosts.

The ghosts know this.

Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.

Except for this one very stubborn dog.

It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?

And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.

He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.

Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.

Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.

Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.

Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.

And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.

(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)

Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.

Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.

And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.

(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)

Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.

Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.

Cue shitstorm.

Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?

Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.

Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.

Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.

Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.

Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.

Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!

Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?

Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.

He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.

And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.

The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.

Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.

A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.

Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.

And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp prompt #literally Ace is too good a boy to pass on #this veered wildly into ‘Danny emotionally adopts Damian’ but really it’s what he deserves #sometimes family is an ex child assassin an undead college student and a ghost dog #also Danny gives literally no shits during investigations because he Cannot Die #he will just casually take 40 bullets to the chest like it’s nothing #if he encounters a rogue he will beat the everloving hell out of them and then give them Jazz’s card #(she’s doing confidential therapy for vigilantes and rogues)#except for the ones who are too far gone. like the joker #he’s a bitch and Danny hates him #if given the opportunity Danny would gladly kill him but Clockwork says he’s not allowed to do that #so he settles with beating the hell out of him and then covering all his stuff in glue #and of course alerting the authorities

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bruciemilf · 2 years

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One extremely underrated friendship dynamic is Bruce and the Gotham city sirens!!

Like. Please. I wanna see that dork be besties with these three badass, kick ass ladies who absolutely invite Bruce for movie and gossip night and facemasks.

Batcat ships the hell out of Harlivy, - Bruce, father of disaster bicon Tim Drake, picks up the vibes in a SECOND.

" I just don't understand. How can Ivy NOT see it? Harley's one bank robbery away from proposing and adopting 20 hyenas."

Selina scoffs, "You're, like...Kidding, right? Clark's been hot for you this entire time. You're his strongest kryptonite."

" If Clark was in love with me, I assure you, I'd be the first one to know."

Selina, glaring at the home-made lunch with ' Love, - Clark ' on top: Well. No one can say you picked ''Batman" for nothing.

SHOPPING SPREES!!! SO MANY SHOPPING SPREES! Give me a cliche, but adorable montage of these four cat walking in their chosen outfits. Give me Harley being an absolute menace and make Bruce chase her through the store for his credit card.

The sirens literally dare Bruce not to pick something grey, dark blue, or black. He loses. Loses miserably. He has to bail them out early for that.

Like, they still need to maintain that rivalry in their public lives, but behind the scenes they're just gossiping about villains and heroes alike on their brunch. " Now, I don't mean to be rude, but-"

" Oh please. You're the shadiest bitch I know. You make a thunderstorm look like a party, B."

" Harley, I know you, and your definition of 'party' doesn't check ONE box for normal."

" Come on, Bruce. We both know I don't know what that word means."

The Batkids are glad Bruce is making friends and actually touches some grass, but it'd just be so adorable to me if they were sorta jealous. Bruce is gone at least once a week. They're BATDAD DEPRIVED!

Clark plucks some flowers from his farm's garden, flies over to the manor, and asks, " Oh! Hey kids. Where's Dad?"

The batkids, grumbling: Girls night

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incorrectbatfam · 8 months

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Hey, I hope you're doing fine!

So, I've noticed that there is barely anything on Bruce and Barbara, so can we maybe get some Bruce and Barbara headcanons? (I'm talking about them as uncle/niece or pseudo dad/daughter or second father figure/kinda-daughter. The relationship Bruce Timm tried to shove down our throats does not exist).

Barbara offhandedly mentioned finding Benadryl Cucumberpatch attractive and the next day Bruce bought her five Sherlock posters

They watch black-and-white movies with period-accurate snacks, like mushroom toast for a 1930s mystery or French onion dip for a 60s thriller

They have a desk golf course and go 1v1 when they're bored or tired of work. One time Barbara flicked a golf ball into Bruce's ear by mistake

For Barbara's senior prom, Bruce and Alfred helped her tailor her dress to allow for a quick costume change if something happened

She invited both her own dad and Bruce to a father-daughter dance. Duty called at the last minute, so Bruce hurriedly took down a bank robbery before showing up to the dance as Batman. That's how the rumor starts that Barbara is Nightwing

Bruce gave both Dick and Barbara the shovel talk at the same time after he crashed their first date

She rehearses all her job interviews with Bruce

No one else in the batfam likes salt and vinegar chips except Bruce. Barbara, in fact, hates them with a passion. Still, when Bruce pisses her off, she puts on a brave face and licks all the seasoning off the chips let her be a little feral as a treat

Barbara took a pottery class. Instead of buying her supplies, Bruce gave her the leftovers from fights with Clayface. She made them matching mugs

Bruce kept apologizing about her disability so much that she wrote a letter she forgave him, framed it, and put it on his desk so he won't forget

She has a fish tank on her desk with rehabilitated fishes rescued from Gotham Harbor. They're slightly mutated and Bruce wants to run tests, but he can't get within ten feet without her threatening him with a pencil

He jokingly bought her bat-themed string lights when she went off to college. She still has them in her room

They found a popcorn machine at a crime scene and fixed it up a little too well

#bruce wayne #batman #barbara gordon #oracle #batfamily #batfam #batgirl #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #tw violence mention #tw food mention #ask #anonymous

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sucky-username · 2 months

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I spent literally all day on these. Height comparison and backstory dump for Ed under the cut :-)

Ed got into college early and there met the first love of his life, Edith “Edie” Morgan. She was the only other freshman that was his age and they were both outcasts, she because she was an openly bisexual punk in the 1970s (?) and he because of his abnormally large intellect and lack of social skills. Edie was very kind to Ed, something he was unused to growing up in Gotham’s foster homes and orphanages. They became best friends quickly and started dating soon after. They were madly in love and vowed to get married right out of college.

While in college, Ed and Edie began working on a mystery-thriller novel together. Edie helped with plotting while Ed wrote the novel under their joint pen name E. Nygma. As they worked on the novel, about a bank heist, they began to realize the thieves’ plan was actually extremely viable. Once they’d both graduated (Ed some years early and Edie close behind), they both had a mountain of student debt and couldn’t start their life together until they paid it off. Because of this, they were desperate, and together decided to pull off the bank heist from their unpublished novel.

The heist went extremely well except for one small thing: a single security guard caught them while they were fleeing the scene. In the spur of the moment, Ed attacked the guard with a crowbar and brutally beat him to death. Once all was said and done, Edie was furious and horrified by his actions. Ed wouldn’t admit it, but the violence had felt good. He stood his ground, claiming the guard’s death had been necessary to ensure their safe getaway. Edie wasn’t swayed by this argument and kicked him out of their apartment with his share of the heist money, telling him to never contact her again.

At first, Ed remained stubbornly angry, but once he cooled off he knew he would hate to lose the love of his life. So though he didn’t feel truly remorseful in the least, he resolved to apologize and beg Edie to take him back. When he returned to what was once their apartment, however, he found something that absolutely destroyed him: Edie was dead. And not just that—murdered. He vowed to find out who had done this and get revenge.

As it turned out, the money they’d stolen belonged to the mob. One of the Gotham mob bosses had hired a hitman to track down the thief and kill them. The hitman had found Ed and Edie’s apartment but only Edie had been there. Ed found and killed the hitman first, then tracked down the mob boss and killed them too.

After this, Ed was left heartbroken and alone for many years. He stopped with the illegal activities for a few of those years and got a job as a software programmer, but soon turned to a life of crime again (though he maintained his employment (?)).

And that’s about all I’ve got so far, none of which is set in stone. I also know I want Ed to write more novels with Cain’s Jawbone-level plot complexity that act as clues to his crimes. At some point he meets Ozzie and falls madly in love with him at first sight. After Edie, he never thought he’d love again. Ozzie, meanwhile, has been burned by love in the past and continuously rejects Ed, even though he secretly finds him charming and his advances flattering. Ed tells him it’s alright if he doesn’t love him back, but begs him to let him stay by his side because he’s so grateful to feel love again. Of course, Ozzie eventually falls for Ed too and they live happily ever after.

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helpfandom · 8 months

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Yandere Platonic Two-Face {TAS} x Reader HCs

Ngl, I'm thinking about doing an analysis on the TAS villains. ALL of the TAS villains with the same kind of reader.

It's just that realistically, this is the type of reader that would be the most likely with how Gotham is.

Honestly, I have no idea on why he would initially be interested in a kid, if it wasn't for a bad reason. Not saying that yandere isn't bad, but more so that, I can't see him stalking a kid or anything for any morally good reason.

But, in the interest of fanfiction, we shall say that this reader is of the 'uncaring' variety, much like my Riddler (also TAS) reader.

So perhaps, Reader initially met him in a dark alley, so of course, without realizing, he pulls out a gun and threatens you. He was shocked with himself that he would do that to a kid, but on the other side, no loose ends.

So, he flips the coin. But reader tells him that it's not a 50/50 chance like he has always believed. {It truly is not, by the by, it is ever so slightly tilted to the heavier side, making it a 51/49 chance.} This catches him off guard and he fumbles, losing the coin.

The two-toned man rumbles to you. "Go ahead. Leave. Take your chance and live." You stand up from your spot, having fallen from the spook of running into one of Gotham's infamous villains. "Cool. Thanks man." You walk off, feeling his stares, but letting it slide off your back.

Why would you walk from someone who is a villain? A scary person who could kill you, simply for existing in the same area as him?

And with that, you sealed your fate. He couldn't get your words out of his head. Was everything he believed in a lie? Was everything he's doing for naught? With that simple sentence, you broke his entire world in half. He needs something new to focus on. Too bad it had to be you.

Without even needing the coin to decide, he knows that he has to see you again. You've haunting him, it's so stupid that you've been doing this to him. WHY! Why are you haunting, why are you stuck in his every waking thought?!

Needless to say, he's a very quick yandere. I mean, he already has an obsession, it just moved to you.

I wouldn't say he's quick to kidnap. To me, he seems like more of a stalking type at first, but then, when he goes to flip his coin again to see what to do tonight, he thinks of you. He thinks of how you interacted with him and your words get stuck in his head all the time.

Would he be prepared for you? No. Not really. I mean, it's not like he sees himself as a dad either, it's more of just... He needs you there. You need to be there for him. His obsession with the coin flipped over to you, and now you're the one reason he's still here, able to articulate his words, be alive, and live his life.

Batman and Robin wouldn't be able to help you out either, for he wouldn't let any sign of you actually affecting him show, unless...

Set the scene: Two Face is robbing a bank, he flips the coin and right as it lands in his open palm, you walk by, unflinching at the alarms going off or anything. you. You. YOU. He drops the coin, everyone who knows him even a little bit is shocked at that. Why would he ever let it drop? Everyone knows that he's obsessed with it.

That would be the only sense in which Batman and Robin would ever find out of an obsession with you. The way he pauses when someone says something that sound like your name, the way that he purposefully selects the spots away from your home so you're less likely to be caught in the crossfire...

I can see Batman connecting the dots, but at that point, its too late.

He's already kidnapped you.

Goodbye.

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prismuffin · 1 year

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Ik he’s not on your list but would you be willing to write Male!Reader who is a very talented detective in Gotham meeting Superman for the first time? Like Superman is filling in for Batman maybe and the reader catches his eyes? If you don’t want to do that that’s fine to but if you do take it I hope you’ll have fun with it! (Oh and a one shot if possible!)

A/n: Hunterrrr wassup with you and detective readers huh? 🤨💀 It's not necessarily Henry Cavills superman I just couldn't find another gif- but if thats who you want to imagine then go ahead!

Intrigued

Superman x male!detective!reader

( summary: As you waited for your emo vigilante friend to show up you're surprised when a Kryptonian fills his spot )

warnings?: light swearing, mentions of burglary and crimes, bullets and fighting, also mentions of heights

!-!more under the cut!-!

You sighed, getting out of the cop car as you took in the scene before you. Gotham never sleeps huh? Your eyes scan over the front of the bank building, the front windows are completely smashed allowing you a small view of the already labeled crime scene inside. “Do we know who did this?” You asked a lead cop as you entered the bank and he nodded, pointing to a symbol on the wall that was made with bullet holes. A circle with a y in the center, a symbol for one of the many criminal gangs that flooded the streets of Gotham. “We already tried to take them into custody sir but they found loopholes within the law that don’t allow us to arrest them.” “Shit,” You cursed to yourself before an idea popped into your head. Maybe you couldn’t deal with them the lawful way but you know of a certain vigilante that would be pleased to help stop the crime that littered the streets. “I have an idea, finish up here yeah?” You clapped the cop on the shoulder and they nodded as you turned to leave.

Pushing past all the press and their microphones you made your way towards one of the tallest buildings in the city. You used your access to get to the roof, sighing to yourself as you prepared your ears to hear things like “I am the night,” and “I am justice.” For the next couple of minutes. Turning on the light, you stood back with the your arms crossed. Part of you wondered if he’d even show up, it’s been a minute since you’ve seen him brooding on the top of buildings, lurking as you arrive at a scene of a crime or even since he’s called you to tell you he’s rounded up some criminals for you to pick up. Only a few minutes went by before you heard something loud from behind you. Turning, you expected to see Batman's tall figure, his dark cape flowing about despite their being little to no wind. However, you were mostly shocked to come face to face with...Superman?

You'd heard about him before, not only from Batman himself but also just from media headlines and news stories. "Thought I called the Batboy here," You cocked your head to the side, arms crossed as you stared at the tall man dressed in blue. You could feel his eyes scan your form a few times actually before he stepped forward, his cape flowing a little less dramatically than Batman's. "I'm filling in for him," you raised a brow and he continued. "He said he had some personal matters to attend to and asked me to watch over Gotham while he was gone." "He asked you? Huh, that's shocking." You mumbled, though it was clear that he'd still heard it, his head cocking to the side. "He told me that whenever this light turned on it meant someone was in trouble." He took another step, watching your every move as you went to turn off the sky light. "Yeahhh, I need help but not for myself per se. There's this gang of criminals that stole from the bank and they somehow are getting over the law so I was hoping Batboy could round them up and stop them before they strike again." Now that he was closer, you noticed the smile he bit back at the nickname for Batman. "Well I'd be more than happy to help." "Great, we got the location of the street they usually occupy, might be a lot of them, think you can handle it all by yourself." He chuckled and gave you a firm nod, crossing his arms and flexing as he began to hover a little ways off the ground.

Show off, you chuckled and he held a hand out towards you. “Point me in the direction of the street and I'll deal with them now.” You were confused as you naively took his hand, practically screaming as he hoisted you in the air and flew above the cityscape. He laughed at the string of curses that exited your mouth, seemingly enjoying the way you gripped onto him for dear life. "Calm down, I do not plan on dropping you but if you keep squirming like that you'll fall right out of my arms." You stopped your movements at the sound of his deep voice, though it didn't stop you from talking. "Who the hell just grabs someone and flies off like that?! I couldn't get a warning at all- oh for fuck's sake we're so high up! Just put me down!!" "Right here?" He asked, his eyebrow raised as he waited for your words to sink in. "NO!! Don't drop me you insolent prick!" "So you want to stay in my arms?" You huffed and he chuckled at your struggle before asking you once again to point him in the direction of the street of criminals. You breathed to ground yourself (ironic isn't it?) before peeking at the city below you.

From this height it almost looked pretty, though you knew Gotham was anything but. Shakily removing one of your hands from his neck you pointed down towards the correct spot. "There, by the flashing green light." He hummed and you were quick to grip his neck again as he started flying towards said spot. Noticing your discomfort he slowed his flying speed and held you a bit tighter to ensure your safety. Landing on the ground with a much softer thud than before he looked around, scanning his surroundings before realizing you hadn't let go of him yet. "We're on the ground now." He said and your eyes shot open, quickly releasing his neck and stepping away from him though his grip on you didn't allow you to get as far as you'd like. He smirked at you as you brushed off your clothes, seemingly flustered, you cleared your throat and thanked him. He nodded and slowly let you go, you immediately missing the feeling of his warm strong arms wrapped around your body. "Meet me at the station once you're done here." You said, fixing your clothes once more as you made yourself look presentable again. "You know where that's at right?" You asked and he nodded. You mumbled a 'good' before walking away, your heart pounding in your chest as you attempted to calm yourself down from an encounter with the good looking male. His eyes followed you until you turned the corner, he was intrigued by your behavior to say the least. He cracked his knuckles as he began walking towards the street of the gang, he was gonna get this done quickly so that he could see you again, and maybe he'd show off just a bit to impress you.

----!----

( He was totally listening to your heartbeat as you walked away )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are OPEN so feel free to request anything! Just make sure you check out my Request Info first!

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Masterlist

#superman x reader #superman #clark kent x reader #clark kent #superman x male reader #clark kent x male reader #male reader #x male reader #superman x you #x you #dc x male reader #dc x reader #dc fanfiction #dc universe #dc universe x male reader #dc universe x reader #prismuffin

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fandomnerd9602 · 1 year

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so I played Gotham Knights and saw Harley using helium in a scene for that high pitch voice and thought Harley explaining something and Reader wants to listen to her with helium please

Harley: you got that?

Y/N: maybe. But can you do it all again in a helium voice?

Harley sucks helium from a balloon…

Harley: (high pitched) so we’re gonna break into the first national bank of Gotham

#dc comics #dc comics incorrect quotes #dc comics fluff #dc comics imagine #harley quinn x reader #harley x reader #harley quinn #gotham knights

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strangestcase · 6 months

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Ok ok i now i might sound weird. but i personally believe BTAA is probably the best Batman media available rn . due to my tastes.

-lots of rogue drama

-i mean it. it's like 80% rogue drama.

-evil and fucked up riddler let's go

-harvey makes me cry

-two face? written like a human being with a personality and a life? his ocd? i love him your honor

-the bruharvey

-worldbuilding through ad spots, tv/radio broadcasts, songs and snippets of dialogue. every now and then you'll hear some filler that tells you so much about how the people of gotham have adapted to the evil peanut rogues gallery- an ever-growing aversion to clowns, companies banking on supervillain attacks, politics, etc...

-penguin and catwoman have gone from being my last faves to being faves! every scene w em is a TREAT

-vicki vale. return of the queen!!!

-it's made me invested in ROBIN??? i can't hate any of the characters honestly.

-and the dialogue is so YUMMY everybody talks like it's a competition and i love it!!!!

-NARRATOR SASS

-the joker is amazing. he manages to be the most threatening presence in Gotham without overshadowing the other villains or overstepping on their niche and those are like the main two issues of post-silver era joker characterizations.

-the music is amazing, and so is the acting

-and of course, my favorite batman adaptation trope: ambiguous time period

please. please listen to BTAA.

#gotham rogues #batman #btaa

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rewrittenwrongs · 21 days

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Vaguely dead (I kept you alive)

Rating: general

Warnings: offscreen gun violence, blood and injury, (probably) medical in accuracies

Wordcount: 3875

Characters: Nico di Angelo, Jason Todd

Summary: He tries to listen, reaching out with his powers and trying to catch the feeling of a dying soul. His instincts make him bank sharply back to the mouth of an alley he just passed—why does this city have so many alleys—and he rounds the corner just in time to see a body slam into a pile of wooden crates.

Nico flinches at the crash of wood splintering—the feeling of death just got a whole lot stronger. It takes him a second to realise the stranger just fell off a roof. It takes him another to remember a group of people are yelling and chasing after them, both on the ground and across rooftops. What with all the gunshots and threats their intentions aren’t hard to guess.

Dammit. He was going to have to actually do something, rather than just point whoever it was to the nearest hospital (not that he knew where that was). Ugh.

Or: The first thing Nico does in the morning is find some guy bleeding out in an alley. The first thing Red Hood does is get shot.

Ao3 link (registered users only): https://archiveofourown.org/works/54802189

I might write more of this in the future, but for now it’s a oneshot. I did try to write another scene from Jason’s POV but the words weren’t wording, and after almost a month of it sitting untouched I decided to just post it like this.

The first thing Nico does in the morning is find some guy bleeding out in an alley.

You might expect the first thing he does to be something reasonable, like wake up or get out of bed, have a shower or brush his teeth. The reason it isn’t any of those is because Nico didn’t go to bed or to sleep in the first place. He’s been too busy wandering around this city he’s found himself in—‘Gotham’ if his memory serves him—and acquainting himself with the local shades. There’s a worrying amount of them, to the point that he’s claimed a more or less abandoned graveyard as a temporary home, just so he had somewhere to sleep between dismissing countless souls to the underworld.

He was about to go back to that graveyard now that he’s realised how late—early—it is when he hears gunshots. Worryingly enough, that alone is quite normal for Gotham, but what truly concerns him is how close they sound. Well, that and the state of his eardrums. He didn’t realise firearms were so loud.

Nico watches the sky as he ducks into the shadows, curling them around him. He’s seen numerous figures jumping across the rooftops during his time in this city, vigilantes and heroes chasing burglars and drug dealers across the skyline. He’s about to make a guess as to the cause of the gunshots when something tugs on his powers.

Ten minutes ago this wouldn’t have been concerning. He would’ve dismissed the otherworldly tug in his gut as a distressed ghost. But the gunshots… concerned him, let’s say. One side effect of his ability to sense the dead is that he also sensed people who were dying.

So. Closing his eyes he focused on the feeling, ignoring the shadows trying to leach into his limbs, and tried to map it out. It was a few streets down and moving fast, vaguely in Nico’s direction. It didn’t feel like a shade or a lemure, even a revenant, or a ker, or an animated skeleton or corpse. It wasn’t as strong as a demon or devil but there was a similar sense of… not quite evil, maybe chaos? The soul felt corrupted somehow. It wasn’t vague and shadowy and intangible the way a monster was, but beneath the haze of not-quite-death Nico could just barely pin-point a wrongness clinging to it like a second skin. It felt like it was almost dead, not a creature of the dead, but like it’s spent more than its fair share of time dealing with the underworld.

It was probably someone dying. A cursed someone dying.

Nico wasn’t one to busy himself with the affairs of strangers if he could avoid it, especially when he’s already exhausted from dismissing shades. But the tug on his powers unnerved him. It felt real and dangerous, like it was important he help whoever this was. There was also a certain feeling of curiosity as to why a human’s soul could feel so out of place, maybe helping whoever they were would give him answers.

(Part of him was very aware that most people at Camp Half-blood would expect him to ignore whoever was dying. There was a bit of satisfaction in proving them wrong, even if they’d never know.)

Nico breaks into a sprint, flying down alleys and trying to follow the sensation like a deadly game of hot and cold. It’s moving fast, slippery and faint, and seemed to be coming from above him? Not directly above him, it was still a street or two out, but the soul was definitely on or around the rooftops.

The gunshots were getting louder. His ears were ringing, but he’s still able to parse out people shouting insults and threats. After a few more turns he also hears faint footsteps rapidly approaching. He tries to listen, reaching out with his powers and trying to catch the feeling of a dying soul. His instincts make him bank sharply back to the mouth of an alley he just passed—why does this city have so many alleys—and he rounds the corner just in time to see a body slam into a pile of wooden crates.

Dammit. He was going to have to actually do something, rather than just point whoever it was to the nearest hospital (not that he knew where that was). Ugh.

Nico ducked closer to the person, further annoyed to find them unconscious. They—he?—were wearing a black and grey body suit and a brown jacket, several knives and guns strapped to their—his person. He wore a vaguely familiar red mask that covered his head and had suffered significant damage. A pool of blood was slowly soaking through the clothes around his stomach.

The cloying feeling of death covered the person like a weighted blanket slowly suffocating him. The inherent wrongness simmering underneath was making it so much worse. It felt like an actual presence in the air, catching in Nico’s throat and making it a little difficult to breathe. He tried to ignore it, grabbing the strangers arm and taking hold of the shadows around them, until the darkness picked them up and deposited them inside the mausoleum Nico had taken residence in.

Nico feels the darkness sinking into him, laying a weight over his shoulders and giving his limbs pins and needles. When he tries to stand up a wave of lightheadedness pulls him back down. He takes a moment to breathe and look around, absently finding a bullet hole in the stranger’s bodysuit and applying pressure as best he can with a shadowy hand. They’re in the communal space Nico repurposed into a living room with a couch, coffee table and armchair from yard sales. There’s still a coffee mug on the table that he forgot yesterday. A book he borrowed from a library in Barcelona is abandoned on the floor.

The stranger is also lying on the floor, which Nico guessed wasn’t good for the floorboards if he was bleeding out. Speaking of which: Nico fumbled for a moment with the man’s jacket before managing to pull it off, dragged himself to his feet, then did his best to pick up the unconscious body. He feels like he might pass out, but he manages to get a good enough view of the stranger’s back. There’s no blood.

Great. The bullet is probably still inside. That’s likely better for the stranger’s overall health, and actually makes Nico’s job way easier, but he really doesn’t want to go rooting around in this person’s guts looking for a bullet.

He shoves the unconscious body onto the couch then leaves to search through his medicine cabinet. He returns a moment later with a suture kit, gauze pads, saline solution, bandages, tweezers and a celestial bronze dagger. He leaves his sword leaning against the armchair and washes his hands before getting to work.

He’s just started cutting away the material over the stranger’s torso when he catches sight of the bat silhouette splayed across his chest.

Nico is vaguely aware of the Justice League’s existence, but he barely knows anything about them. He knows one or two of them are aliens, and he’d probably recognise most of the names thanks to gossip around the camps, and he’s pretty sure Hades has mentioned a few of them once or twice. But still, it takes a long moment to recognise the red bat symbol across the stranger’s chest.

So he’s a vigilante. Good, Nico would prefer not to be helping some crime lord that was caught in the middle of setting an orphanage on fire or something. The guns are still off-putting. A few people at Camp Half-blood are obsessed with Batman, and they’ve made numerous jokes about how many vigilantes he works with and how he picks them up like strays and adopts them on the spot. He must not be picky about his children(?) running around with guns.

Concerning, maybe, but no worse than Hades, so Nico doesn’t feel qualified to judge.

It’s surprisingly hard to cut through Stranger’s suit. The material is thick and fights back against his dagger as if he’s trying to cut through metal. Nico’s pretty sure he nicks Stranger once or twice, but he sees no blood, so either he’s mortal or Nico’s knives are a lot duller than they should be.

Eventually he manages to hack away the fabric, and he realises he’s going to need more than just gauze to soak up all this blood. It’s dark enough that Nico’s pretty confident there aren’t any cut arteries. He fetches a towel to soak up the excess crimson, a black one, because he’s learned that lesson too many times to forget. He also grabs a battery lamp so he can actually see what he’s doing—this place doesn’t have electricity, and even if Gotham knew what the sun looked like the curtains are too thick to let light in, especially after midnight.

Now that Nico can see what he’s doing, he hesitates holding the tweezers over the wound. There’s too much flesh and blood in the way, he’ll have to hold the wound open with something to get a clear shot at the bullet, and he doesn’t own anything to do that with. Technically he could leave the bullet in and Stranger would be fine as long as he sewed it up, unless the bullet was lead or laced with poison, but having a bullet in your stomach sounds really inconvenient and it was best to remove it if he could.

A voice in the back of his mind wonders when he got used to seeing life threatening injuries.

Maybe he could use his powers? Even the thought makes bed sound so much more enticing, but if Nico is doing it at all he has to remove this bullet ASAP. It’s the best option at the moment, or at least the best one he can think of. So Nico breaths slow, deep breaths and reaches out in the way that doesn’t command skeletons but rather something else, searching thoroughly and slowly for a chunk of metal.

Every second makes his headache ten times worse. Every tug on his powers sets off another twinge of pain. Every forced exhale becomes shallower the way it only does when he’s concentrating. His fingers twitch and start to cramp, but he can feel the lump of metal lodged in Stranger’s abdomen, and begins tugging it back.

Stranger’s body gives a little jerk. His head turns against the couch cushions and his breath stutters. Nico pays him no mind, wrapping the godly parts of his soul around the bullet like a gentle whisper, and guides it ever so slowly out the way it came.

Nico’s nose starts dripping blood. He uses a clean corner of the towel to wipe it off, then stiffens as he becomes distinctly aware of eyes on him.

For a second he braces himself to jump up, to wrench his sword back to his side, to resign himself to what has to be the millionth fight for his life this past year—when he remembers he’s operating on a person who isn’t under anaesthesia and thus can wake up any time.

Nico glances at the unsettling whites of the broken and battered red mask, feels the distinct expression he’s being stared at either in confusion or wariness, and says “Don’t worry. Just a flesh wound.”

He doesn’t know why the first thing to come to mind is a movie he saw once in a hotel beyond the boundaries of time, but at this point he’s pretty sure the strain of his powers is making him a little loopy. It wouldn’t be the first time something similar happened. That was a waste of perfectly good Lucky Charms…

A tiny clink startles Nico, and he looks down the see the bullet resting neatly against his tweezers as if waiting to be picked up. He does so, and places the bullet and tweezers on the coffee table, trying not to vomit as even just turning around causes a wave of lightheadedness and nausea.

“Dick,” a quiet voice mutters, hoarse and slurred and with a distinctly mechanical edge.

Nico huffs at the stranger. “Rude.” His hands are made of shadow now, he can’t do anything but stare at them and will them to become tangible faster. As if that’s ever helped.

“Why’re you in’m saf’house?” Stranger slurs.

“I’m not, you’re in mine,” Nico tells him calmly. Safe house is an accurate description as any.

“…Blüdhaven?”

“Uh, sure.”

“…Mmkay. Don’t tell B I got shot.”

“I won’t.”

“Hm.”

Nico’s hands are a bit more tangible now, but not enough to have the precision required to clean or stitch such a deep wound. Actually, it’s not that deep, probably less than an inch. The clothes definitely slowed the bullet. He might have to get some of it for himself.

Stranger’s breath hitches painfully as he tries to say something else, and the sentence tapers off into a groan. His hand twitches like he means to gesture obnoxiously but can’t make the effort.

It’s bleeding too much. Nico’s current shadow levels will have to do.

He grabs a gauze pad and the saline solution, fingers shaking as they fight to stay intangible. He manages to soak the pad without dropping either items. He starts dabbing it against the wound before immediately abandoning it and grabbing the tweezers again. Using them to hold it proves much easier, and he starts cleaning the wound as quickly as he can, ignoring Strange’s pained groan.

“Hurts,” Stranger gasps, turning his head and tightening his hands into fists.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have painkillers”

“Thas dumb.”

“It is.”

Stranger huffs, then winces audibly. “…Can, can I sleep?”

“Go ahead.” Nico doubts he could stop him if he tried. He must be having a crazy adrenaline crash after the chase, not to mention a possible concussion from falling off a roof.

…He’ll have to check his head soon.

For now, Nico lets the stranger sleep, and focuses on the repetitive but nerve wracking task he’s forced upon himself.

By the time he finishes cleaning the wound his hands are much more solid. He manages to hold the needle forceps dextrously enough to begin sewing flesh back together. The needle shakes where his hands still fight against the material plane, but it’s a halfhearted fight at best, and he manages to weave the thread in and out without dropping or snapping it.

A while later—could be an hour, could be hour minutes—he tugs one last stitch into place, and swiftly slices the excess thread before his hands start cramping. His entire body droops from exhaustion, but now that he remembers concussions are a thing he has to check.

Ughhh. This sucks. Why does he have to get invested in the business of strangers so often? Stranger barely radiates ‘I’m about to die’ anymore. Can he just leave him like this?

Nico’s conscious, apparently, decides that no he cannot.

It takes an annoyingly long time to figure out how to take off the red mask, mostly due to how dented and cracked the frame is. In addition to cracking when he fell it looks like it’s been shot. He suspects Stranger might also have a cracked rib or three because of how much breathing seemed to hurt him when he was awake, but there isn’t much Nico can do about that. He focusses on the much more simple and realistic, but no less time consuming, task of taking off Stranger’s helmet.

Eventually, Nico succeeds, and he feels kind of bad. Stranger’s sure to fear for his secret identity once he wakes up, but Nico really needs to make sure the fall didn’t give him a concussion or fracture his skull. If it did he’ll need to bring him to a hospital, or at very least shadowtravel him to Will.

Much to Nico’s surprise, sliding off the cracked frame of his helmet reveals another mask. A cloth one around his eyes that doesn’t actually do much in the way of obscuring his features, especially since it leaves a startling streak of white hair visible above his forehead. Nico can count on one hand the number of people he knows with white hair streaks. Especially people so young, he only seems to be in his early twenties or late teens. What’s the point of wearing two masks at all if one of them leaves your most defining trait out in the open?

Whatever. It’s not his problem.

What is his problem is the mess of congealing blood coating both the helmet and Stranger’s forehead. There’s a sickening amount, enough to stick his hair in matted clumps to his scalp, some of it having dried and left red flakes sticking to his skin. There’s enough of it that it drips off the helmet onto the floor.

Nico carefully adjusts Stranger’s head to catch sight of the wound, annoyed to see it still bleeding sluggishly. Thankfully it’s blunt force trauma and not another bullet wound. He quickly presses the already soaked towel to the injury, a mostly feeble attempt to soak up the mess of crimson that’s going to be impossible to clean tomorrow—he’ll probably have to burn the couch cushions. The floorboards will never recover.

Combining the head trauma with the bullet wound Stranger’s lost at least a litre of blood. Will has said before that head wounds always look worse than they really are and bleed way more than you’d expect, so he still doesn’t know if Stranger has a concussion. Either way Nico’s going to have to close this injury fast if he doesn’t want to bring him to the hospital for a blood transfusion—which he really doesn’t.

He ends up flipping Stranger onto his stomach to get better access to the wound. He cleans it quickly, not bothering to tangle with the mess his hair has become. He’s both thankful and a little concerned when Stranger doesn’t show any reaction. Does that lessen or increase the probability of a concussion? He doesn’t know. Whatever, either way he needs to stop the bleeding.

Thankfully it is already quite slow. It probably stopped on its own and was jostled when Nico took off the helmet. He gets a little sloppy disinfecting the wound because of all the hair in the way, and he briefly considers shaving some of it before remembering he doesn’t own clippers.

Sewing the wound is even more tedious. It’s quite shallow to have spouted that much blood, but also larger than he would’ve liked. He has to wipe hair out of the way every other minute. Nico’s exhausted by the time he finally leans back and cuts the suture thread. He feels like a wire stretched too far.

He grabs another towel to clean up the blood. Some of it has dripped down Stranger’s face and neck and dried into his skin, which Nico wipes away with a wet wash cloth. He throws the suture kit back together halfhazardly and shoves it under the coffee table. He shifts Stranger onto his back again. He throws a blanket over him and leaves him a glass of water on the table. He makes a halfhearted attempt at cleaning the helmet, then gives up when he sees the mess of circuitry and sensors that line the inside.

The haze of death around Nico’s kidnappee has lessened considerably, it’s barely even noticeable unless he focuses, but he still finds himself hovering the same way Will did during those three days of torture, checking Stranger’s pulse and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. There’s still something not-quite-alive-but-not-quite-dead about the stranger. Something otherworldly and strange and inherently wrong in a way that blares alarms in Nico’s head. His powers don’t seem to know quite what to do with him. It’s unnerving.

It almost scares him, if Nico’s honest. He shouldn’t be able to feel Stranger’s presence at all, which either means he’s indebted himself to a demon or devil, sold his soul to an underwordly entity, cracked his skull, or there’s some sort of poison lacing his bullet wound. Nico doesn’t know what to do if it’s either of the last options. He only knows basic first aid, he was mostly copying things he’s seen Will do, and without absolute certainty that this guy is a demigod he doesn’t want to risk ambrosia or nectar.

It’s actually quite dumb of him, in retrospect, to keep his medical knowledge limited to basic splints and crooked sutures. He certainly can’t rely on godly food every time he gets injured, and this is obvious proof of that. Though, he can’t be blamed for not expecting to come across some guy playing dress up bleeding out in an alley.

Whatever. He can do research tomorrow, maybe borrow some textbooks from that library. Actually, he probably won’t be able to shadow travel that far. Now that he’s stopped he can feel the exhaustion dragging him down like mud. It’s the kind of draining ache that tells him he’s overused his powers. Still, he doesn’t want this stranger to die.

There’s a trick Nico learned after the second Titan war, a sort of trigger he could set with his powers that would wake him up if his patient’s condition worsens. He first started doing it unconsciously, actually, back when everyone was dying or dead and he was in charge of organising their funeral rites. It’s pretty simple and doesn’t take a lot of energy, but it’s quite time consuming.

It takes an annoying amount of time and power to wrap his godly presence around the stranger, gently settling it around his injuries until he can feel his immortal side resting over him like a guardian Angel. He keeps his powers poised until they get the memo, sharpening his awareness and tuning him in to the slightest disturbance in Stranger’s soul.

Nico becomes all the more aware of the strangeness in it, and it almost reminds him of a zombie.

His arms are shadow past the wrists by the time he’s done. His feet are intangible almost to his ankles. He sits against the coffee table for at least five minutes waiting for them to go back to normal, fighting to keep his eyes open. When his limbs finally remember how to exist he retrieves a blanket and a protein bar, which he starts dejectedly gnawing on more for the sake of future-him than any actual hunger. It isn’t long before the shadows at the edges of his vision become too much to ignore.

He slumps into the armchair, still with flakes of blood clinging to his hands, and is unconscious before even tucking the blanket over himself.

#my writing #fan fiction #riordanverse fanfic #dc fanfic #batman fanfiction #oneshot #no art #Batman fanfic #nico di angelo #jason todd #red hood

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shinishmermaid · 7 months

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My thoughts on Harley Quinn Season 4 episode 10: "Killer's Block"

🖤Making Joker's family evil is one of the most random and not reasonable decisions this show ever made. It came out of nowhere to me (I know it happened earlier this season but It got more of a spotlight this episode)

🖤Ivy and Steppenwolf friendship is something I didn't know I needed but IT SERVED (even if it was for 2 minutes overall in this season)

🖤Poor Alfred, he freaking robbed a bank to meet Bruce and then Bruce was like 'hey man how are I gotta go my beloved Gotham needs me'. It was funny though

🖤Yeah Jim avenge Barbara for us!

🖤Birds Of Prey name-drop!

🖤Gotham's Sirens!

🖤A scene with Talia and Damian together finally!

🖤What is it with Lazarus Pit and the Batfamily seriously at this point it should be called the Batpit

#can't wait for a gotham sirens season!#dc #harley quinn the animated series #poison ivy #harley quinn #steppenwolf #talia al ghul #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #lazarus pit #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #batgirl #orcale #jim gordon

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wrensgeekyvibes · 9 months

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Call Jane

Continuing on my journey through Cory Michael Smith's filmography. So far:

Utopia

Gotham

Incomplete

Transatlantic

Next up, is Call Jane with Sigourney Weaver and Elizabeth Banks. This movie is set in 1969-1970 hence the AMAZING hairstyle. But he's great (as usual) and is kind of a mix of Nygma (Gotham) and Thomas (Utopia). It's a pretty good movie and I recommend it.

(also, shirtless scene...we're all winners here...)

#cory michael smith #call jane #filmography #amazon prime utopia #gotham #incomplete #transatlantic netflix

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cantsayidont · 4 months

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February–March 1974. I said it before, but it bears repeating: Batman stories are sometimes dumb or ridiculous, but when he's cool, he's really cool. In this story from DETECTIVE COMICS #439, these three bank robbers have shot and killed two innocent bystanders in Gotham, orphaning a young boy — and making themselves targets for a very angry Batman.

This is an unusual story for '70s DC because it was done "Marvel-style": Artists Sal and Vin Amendola came up with the plot ("from an incident as described by Neal Adams") and did the pencils (which are extremely stylish throughout, with a lot of neat little layout tricks), with Dick Giordano inking and Steve Englehart scripting the captions and dialogue. Interestingly, Batman doesn't say a single word at any point, leaving his quarries to panic and emote. For my money, the story's real standout is the following scene four pages later:

I'm not sure what to make of the credits' statement that the story was "from an incident as described by Neal Adams," except perhaps that the above scene is very reminiscent of this 1969 Neal Adams cover for DETECTIVE COMICS #392:

(Adams didn't do the interior art for that issue, whose Batman story is drawn by Bob Brown and Joe Giella from a Frank Robbins script.)

#comics #detective comics #steve englehart #sal amendola #vin amendola #dick giordano #neal adams #bob brown #joe giella #frank robbins #batman #bruce wayne #what the coolest batman moments tend to have in common #is that they emphasize that he's not superhuman #he's a guy in a costume with a couple of gimmicks #except that he's not ever willing to be *just* that

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i-talk-too-much · 2 years

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Devil That I Know

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 1,575

Warnings: Reader is mourning the loss of a friend, implied past suicide attempt, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: I wrote this while listening to the song Devil That I Know by Jacob Banks on loop. I highly recommend listening to it while you read :) I think I like hurt/comfort fics a little too much.

Summary: Nightwing comforts you after you lose your friend to a villain attack in Gotham City.

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

The blaring traffic below you did little to soothe your mind. You had gone to the roof of your apartment building, hoping to clear your mind with the fresh open air. Well, with as fresh as the air in Gotham could get.

The sky was a dark gray. Stormy clouds took over the night sky above Gotham City as people trekked the streets below, hoping to get home without any devastating crises to survive again.

Your apartment building had a ledge on its roof, making it the perfect spot to dangle your legs over as you bent to observe the streets below. If your coworker saw you now, you knew she'd nervously pull you away–badgering you about how dangerous sitting on the edge could be.

You let out a humorless laugh. The irony of that thought pulled at your insides. Your throat burned as you looked up, your eyes closing to prevent the flow of tears once again threatening their way down your face.

It hadn't even been a full week since your friend was helplessly caught in the most recent attack. Another villain trying to take control over the city and hypnotize everyone under their control to accomplish whatever goal was engraved in their mind. You were there behind her, telling–begging–her to just follow you away from the scene. Trying desperately to make her prioritize her own well-being before helping the others get away. She had always been self-sacrificing, you ruefully thought.

An unwelcome tear escaped and slid down your cheek. It was the first of many–as one finally fell, the rest began to follow. You couldn't bring yourself to brush them away.

It didn't feel fair.

Maybe if you had said you wanted to have lunch in the break room, she'd be here, telling you all about what she made for dinner. Maybe if you had left 20 minutes earlier and had not made her wait for you, you would’ve still had plans to go to the restaurant she was raving about, all of last week. Maybe it should've been you instead of–

A soft 'thump' behind you broke you from your down-spiraling stupor. You wiped at your eyes, using your sleeve to furiously scrub the mucus escaping your nostrils. You didn't want the unexpected presence to see your face in disarray.

You didn't flinch when the presence took his place by your side, swinging his legs over the edge–much like how you had them. You refused to look at him. Refused to see his concerned eyes as they wordlessly peered over your face, trying to discern what it was you were thinking.

It was silent for a few minutes.

The chill in the night’s air that had frosted your nose and ears, pleasantly cooled your heated cheeks. With the guest in close proximity, your tears and harsh breaths lulled, giving you reprieve and letting you once again focus on the sounds of the bustling city. The calm air was broken by the sound of his voice, his smooth rumble asking if there was anything he could do.

You shook your head, eyes still avoiding meeting his.

“I just need time.” And my friend back, you thought. People always said time heals all wounds, but would it heal this one? This wound that was etched into your being from the guilt and sorrow of being the reason your friend was no longer here? Your hands laid on either side of you, painfully grasping the edge of the ledge as your emotions welled up in your throat once more. He gently placed his hand over yours, the skin of his suit preventing his warmth from meeting yours.

“If you want to talk, I’m willing to listen.” His voice was kind, understanding – the words leaving a plume of fog into the cold air, escaping into the night. You shifted your head, looking at him through the corner of your eye. His eyes were trained on your face – the exact iris not visible through his mask, but you still saw the explicit concern from the furrow of his brows and the deep, set frown of his mouth.

“What’s there to say?” Your words were quiet, almost whispers that he still caught. You swallowed the sob at the back of your throat and continued. “That she’s dead because of me? I shouldn’t have–”

You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Your thoughts were already filling your head with unbearable accusations, it was unnecessary to speak them aloud – the truth of them weren’t any less.

The air became silent once more, the both of you listening to the blaring horn of the ambulance in the distance. Another person fell victim to life’s constant game.

Nightwing put his arm around you, pulling you in so that your head rested atop his shoulder. His hand rubbed up and down your arm, the friction creating some heat for your chilled body. You shut your eyes. Silent tears made their way down your cheeks once more, your acceptance to your grief making their entrance easier.

“I want you to know that it’s truly not your fault,” he said, slowly. ”No matter what your thoughts are leading you to think.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you brought a hand up to the one on your arm, gripping it as if it were the only thing keeping you above water. It kind of was, in a way. Reminding you to stay afloat, to keep going. More often than not, he was the reason you were still here. That’s how it’s been for the past two months since you met him – on the ledge of a higher building, one rainy night. He was the reason you began going to therapy. Began trying to turn your life around.

“I keep thinking of things I should’ve done instead. Things that would’ve changed it,” you mumbled. Your eyes were open now, staring blankly at the view in front of you. They burned from the resulting dryness. You used your other hand to wipe away the leftover tears on your skin. “But I know that’s pointless – nothing can be done now.”

Your voice was hollow, your expression losing any semblance of emotion. You felt the hand on your arm tighten its grip, the sensation keeping you from falling into the dark void of your mind. Nightwing spoke up, his baritone voice drifting pleasantly through your ears.

“Listen,” he began. “I know how it feels to watch your friend die – and then afterwards think that you could’ve stopped it. That you could’ve prevented it.” His volume quieted as he spoke, no doubt a result of recounting the tragedy. “But at the end of the day, all you can do is mourn. Carry their legacy with you and honor them by living the best you can.” He faced you, his lips ghosting over your head. “And you? You’re doing great already – she’d be proud,” he whispered.

You languidly turned your head to him, staring up at him through teary red eyes. His voice always soothed you, calmed your mind as you focused on each syllable he uttered. This time was no different.

The lines on his face softened while you observed each scratch, the curve of his nose, the velvety skin of his lips. What was visible to you was beautiful. His hand shifted off your arm to cup your cheek, caressing with his thumb. He lightly tapped his forehead against yours, the breath from his lips warming your skin.

"If you need me, I'm here," he murmured. "Just know that you're not alone. You never have to be." You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes at the resolution in his voice. "Okay?"

"Okay," you responded, opening your eyes. The dimples on his cheeks accompanied a kind smile as he leaned forward to press a firm kiss on your forehead.

"That's my girl." A slight quirk of your lips appeared at his words, the phrase warming your heart. He outstretched his arms and no convincing was needed for you to push forward.

You settled in the embrace he offered, planting yourself against his chest and accepting the soft nonsensical mumbling of his voice above your head. Gradually, heat from his body escaped from his suit and into yours, the feeling relaxing in the cold night. The added slow rocking of his body calmed you to the point of slumber, your breaths coming out in even puffs. The two of you stayed in that position for a long while before he carried you down the stairs of the building to your apartment door, you not waking up with the careful way he moved.

You awoke the next day to the light of the sun kissing your face, and a note on your pillow with a number to dial. Initials marked the corner – an N.W. to identify your messenger. You picked it up, smiling to yourself at the small doodle adorning the page.

You set it down, the words Nightwing spoke last night ran through your mind. You would get through this, he was right – it was no good thinking of what could've been, what will never be. All that you could do now was carry her memory with you and move forward towards a better life – one you knew she'd want you to have.

You'll still cry and occasionally lose your way, but with time, it'll get better. You weren't alone, after all. You could do it, right by his side.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader angst #hurt/comfort #nightwing x reader #nightwing x reader angst #nightwing imagine #putting the comfort in comfort character

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