Latest Posts by mae-mae-me - Page 8

I have seen batfam fics and ideas where time traveling Bruce gets the kids earlier and stops all the bad things from happening to them. But I can't help but want to combine this with the DCXDP demon twins AU.

Imagine time traveler Bruce showing up at the league of assassins years early demanding his son... Only for two children to come out. Now he is forced to learn he had another son no one told him about. He has no clue what happened to Danny in the original timeline, only that it must have been bad for Damian to have never mentioned it.

💀💀💀

Im not anon, but here.

Just click what I’ve circled, and after that there should be a read more sign. Like this:

Voilà!

please could you place your long fics under a read more? scrolling through them is a bit of a hassle... thank you!

How do I do that on Tumblr?

Writing Prompt #15 (NSFW, Smut Below)

"Noo," Sam whines, head thunking back against the baseboard.

"Yeth," Danny says, hands gripping her thighs harder.

"No, I mean yes!" Sam says, legs spasming in Danny's solid hold, one hand grabbing his hair to push him further into her. "No to that!" she says, head turning towards the bedside table, where the flip phone is vibrating so hard it's about to fall over the edge. An apt visual metaphor Sam will think about when Sam can think.

Danny's large hands slide under her ass to pull her even deeper onto his tongue and she bites back a shriek as her thighs land on his shoulders. The dip where his trapezius muscle meets the bulge of his delts cradles each leg perfectly as he splays himself flat against the bed with a gentle grind and a harsh groan.

"Danny," Sam moans, hand gripping hair tighter. This does nothing to dissuade the man who, by all accounts, has decided to live between her legs for the past hour and into the next. Rather, if history proves true, all it does is spur him on.

"Danny, the phone—!"

One hand drops a leg as the cell finally falls off the table, snatching it out of midair. Sam recognizes the windup of a throw as his hand angles back and this time she yanks away.

Danny comes up for air with enough resistance to make his protest clear but not enough to hurt her, a frustrated frown already forming.

"Sam," he growls.

Her legs spasm again, and Danny's eyes dip down a split second before his head does.

She yanks again.

"What?" Danny snarls.

"Do not destroy the Justice burner," Sam tries to scold, landing on breathless. Danny blinks at the phone in his hand, as surprised to see it as he is to see himself about to yeet it into the plaster.

"Oh," he says, opening his palm to let it drop unharmed to the floor. "Fine."

"No," Sam says, pulling at his hair and stifling a whimper when he goes with it, biting his lip. "You need to, to answer it. It's the, the,"

"Shhh," Danny says, bending down to nuzzle her stomach, nibbling under her belly button and making her shiver. "Only one thing I need to do—"

"It's the emergency, tone, ah! It's an emergency."

Danny presses an ice cold kiss to the top of her that sends shudders of heat through her body, before a warm tongue trails languidly, lingeringly...

"I'll get there when I get there," he says, muffled. Sam gives in for a minute (or two, or three) before biting back a sob as the phone begins to ring anew.

"They keep calling—fucking fuck!" She arcs up over the arm clamped across her lower belly, using both hands to grab his face and kiss him as she shakes through an orgasm. Her eyes refocus to the soft awe in his, at odds with the smug, lewd smile slowly unfurling on his face.

A smile that immediately drops at someone pounds at their front door.

"Ignore them—" Danny starts.

"They can pick locks."

"—frick and a half!"

Sam's hit with wind that sends her hair whipping across her face as Danny speeds through the wall. She scrambles up herself, almost tumbling off the bed in her haste.

"Danny!" Damian Wayne says, bursting into their living room. "We require your assist—what was that?" he asks as Sam slams the bedroom door closed.

"Two words: security. deposit." Danny says, blocking the entryway.

"The door's fine," Tim says, leaning against the frame. Danny would poke fun at the teen's posing if he wasn't two seconds from punting him out the window. "Just because we don't often use a gentle touch doesn't mean we don't know how."

"Um," Dick says, uncharacteristically subdued. His eyes bounce from Danny to the bedroom door behind him. "Sorry to barge in like this."

"What? Of course we're not! You were ignoring a Justice League communication! It is all hands on deck!"

"You know if you keep showing up like this my landlord is going to seriously raise my rent right? I'm up for renewal in two months." Danny crosses his arms, willing his teeth to remain un-fanglike. "When I told you my identity it wasn't so you could visit whenever."

"Our mistake," Tim snarks, "next time we can drop by in full costume. Landlord will definitely like that one."

"How about you don't drop by at all?" Danny says, smiling and by the way both boys flinch back, failing to unfang. It's a testament to the relationship he's cultivated with them that that's all they do, startled rather than fearful.

"Okay, okay, Phantom, Danny, seriously, we're sorry about this," Dick says, shouldering in front of the two boys. "Definitely didn't mean to intrude, or interrupt—"

"Interrupt? Interrupt what?" Damian asks.

"Nothing!" "Nothing." Dick and Danny say simultaneously, Dick in a loud cry while Danny says it firmly, glowering. Tim blinks, shoulders dropping.

"Oh," he says, eyes bouncing to the bedroom. "Oh." His face flushes red. "Um."

Danny turns ever so slowly to stare accusingly at Dick, who's buried his face in his hands.

"Interesting," Damian says, leaning forward. "I was unaware you could turn your legs into a tail while still in human form. Is this something you do often?"

"It better not be," Danny says.

"O-kay!" Dick all but shrieks. "Phantom, we'll see you when we see you!"

Danny grunts.

"Um, it is important for what it's worth," Tim offers weakly, "Yeah, he's got it," Dick hisses at him, shoving him and Damian out the door as the one behind Danny creaks open.

"Grayson," Sam says. To her credit, only the way her hair is teased up indicates anything amiss. She tosses the Justice burner, still ringing, to Danny. "The world better be on fire."

Dick winces. "Take it up with Batman!" he yanks the front door shut behind him, and they listen to the sound of his footsteps fading before Danny takes one very purposeful step back towards Sam.

"Danny."

"Sam."

"The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back."

Danny deliberates.

"Deal." And he's gone.

Sam stretches til she hears her back pop, heads for the kitchen and pulls out a bag of popcorn. She opens the microwave door then reconsiders, shutting it. He won't be gone that long, after all.

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

ugh i’m craving cottage pie sooooo bad. yummmmm

I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship

GUESS WHO GOT A JOB…. YIPEEEEEEEE

Thank you lord for this opportunity!!!!!!!! Alhamdullilah, I was able to get one!!!!!!!!!! It’s a trial period which means that until my 3 months are up i am not telling ANYBODY about this.

but ughhhh it’s an online/freelanxe job and my parents are going to be like “ugh it’s sketucky” ITS NOT. anyway im so happy!!!

i always forget how much of a hell getting up in the morning during the cold months is until im trying to get dressed taking frost damage like ough augh ugha oagh uagh

Hey, I have DpxDc God Au prompt for you: Dani is the goddess of untraditional families, traveling, clones, and lost (emotionally and locationwise, not deathwise) children. She becomes a patron to many people (mostly kids and teenagers) struggling in the hero community and otherwise and comes to help them in times of emotional turmoil. Kon is one of her followers/friends, the speedsters pray to her for multiple reasons, and Billy and her sometimes hang out. Danny is the god of protection, space, revival, and neglected and lost children (emotionally and those who died before they reached adulthood). He also ends up becoming a patron for many heroes and abused kids. He helps Jason out when he dies young and gets revived. (Bruce prays to Danny for Jason when he dies to beg Danny to help Jason find peace in the afterlife if there is one). Danny also befriends Tim when he’s all alone in Drake Manor and keeps him company when he can and helps him survive. Dan on the other hand is the god of apocalyptic futures (and alternate and future evil selves), repentance and redemption, aggression, and devastation (emotional and deathwise). He doesn’t want most of his domains to be so dark, but it’s weird how much overlap there is between the same people praying to him along with Danny and Danielle. (SO many heroes have apocalyptic future/evil selves and have done terrible things. Example: Tim: Evil future gun batman and Jason: Aggression and Repentance/Redemption. They would definitely pray to Dan just in case). They’re all pretty respected gods who have been known for ages, worshiped, who actually help not just their followers but those who need their help that fall in their domains. The mythology got a bit weird throughout history, but the Dan(y/i)s were generally thought to be benevolent sibling/triplet gods. Jazz didn’t have enough power to ascend to goddesshood, but she was a patron spirit of psychology and mental health, and low-key a patron of people with eldest daughter syndrome (Looking at you, Dick). Then of course there’s Vlad. Mostly creeps want to pray to Vlad. He’s thought of as more of a predatory demon than a god, he has never been known as benevolent. He embodies most if not all of the seven deadly sins and his domains and immorality reflect that. He is the god of theft, power, greed, lust, cheating, obsession, ego, twisted family, immorality, corruption, envy, and vengeance. He has more domains than the Dan(i/y)s either because he was depicted so negatively from all of his schemes that people just gave him all the dark domains, or because he stole several artifacts and found some loopholes to get more power for himself. The Dan(ny/i)s stand together as one to protect the world from Vlad’s immorality, however there are some moments where Vlad helps starving children steal food or things they need to live, helps people to steal medicine they can’t afford to bring to a sick loved one. He gives self esteem and confidence to those who pray for it that struggle with self worth or mental illness. So yes, he is a more morally bankrupt god, but he has his good moments. Anyways, please write more of this prompt in whatever way you see fit. It could be stuff from the batfamily’s and/or halfas perspective as the years go by and they interact with the gods or something like that as vigilantes and as civilians, or you can write scenes out with the hero community or batfam discussing the little pantheon or whatever, or go into further detail with my examples, have conflict between the Dan(i/y)s and Vlad, change things up, or anything you want. Thank you!

Wonder Woman watches as Nightwing very claps his hands, bows his head, and mutters under his breath. The language is one she is not fluent with but has started to learn over the years in her time of man.

Esperanto.

She can pick out a few words. Enough to know that Nightwing is sending a prayer and hopes of a "Older Sibling" patron saint. He wants her to keep a eye over his younger siblings and to offer him "inner- peace".

Diana is aware that all of Bruce's children, minus Dick, are out on extremely dangerous missions. Dick had been benched due to an injury he sustained in the last confrontation. He was sent to the watch tower were a team of trusted surgeons had operated on his leg.

He would be fine in time but it would be a long wait before he would be ready to go out to the feild.

Understanding that he needed guidance from his gods, she waited paintently for him to finish, taking a few steps away from the doorway of his recovery room so as not to overhear any further prayers. A conversation between gods and man should remain private.

As she leaned on the wall outside, she wondered—not for the first time—who the Bats prayed to. Athena and Aphrodite would always have her loyalty, but she acknowledged that there were gods outside of her own.

She met some of them.

And while she had never seen the Bats or anyone else from Gotham's gods, she knew they were worshiped and believed as much as her sisters loved on Themyscira. It would be rude to ask about them, when she would never offer the gods of Gotham any offerings, so she refraimed but she wondered.

Oh she wondered.

She had witnessed Bruce pray to one of them, usually after a complex case involving children. He never mentions the god by name, but much like Nightwing, he clasps his hands, bows his head, and mutters that rhythmic language. Once, he even saw him place a star carved from one of the stones of his historical home by the window of the watch tower.

He had engraved all his children's hero names into it and allowed the moon to power it with protection.

Jason prayed as well, but not as profoundly as his family. He was Catholic growing up, and his mother often refused to have him pray to another god despite everyone else in Gotham doing so. He only did so as Red Hood because, according to Jason, that was the only time he needed Dan or Vlad.

Diana wondered if those were gods or people in his gang. Jason did not say their names with the same reverence as she did her gods.

Tim, on the other hand, took his Gotham-based region very seriously and had an entire timesheet of proper prayers. He did not pray every day nor did he stop what he was doing in order to do so, but he made it very clear that he would not be availbe three times a week for religious purposes.

Short of an emergency, those three hours every week were dedicated to his rituals for all of Gotham's gods. Diana knows that Steph, Barbara, Cass and Bruce would join only one of those three hours for their own god prefernce.

Despite that however, they were not very religious and often she wondered if the Bats were more atheists. Maybe meeting the gods and fighting some of them had the people of Gotham numb to the faith.

Or Gotham had the practices for such a long time that it became a background, much like tax season. Diana had noticed that despite the prayers and the dedication, the Bats treated their gods much like suppursitations to do before a big game.

It was a odd system to her, but once again, the "Gotham's Stars and Shadows" were not her gods. She did not have enough information to make any sort of statement about them.

Maybe they preferred to be treated as superstitions? Or maybe they liked to be close to their followers to the point they saw them the same way they did decorating their bedrooms? - A form of self-expression but not true faith.

A cold breeze blew by her, shocking Diana into a combat formation. There shouldn't be any wind up here. They are in space.

A whispered laugh echos down the hall, and for a brief moment she senses a god. Falling to her knee just in case, she stares towards the laughter watching a quick outling of a woman with flaming hair and a young girl in a black pony tale laugh and skip.

In their hands are carved stares, glowing green.

They vanish just as quickly as they appeared, but she knows who they were without having to call out to them.

"Diana?" Dick says from the doorway, pushing his wheelchair. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. I am." She smoothly slide up to her feet smiling at him in what she hopes is comforting. "Have you finished speaking to yoyr gods."

"Yeah I hope they protect my siblings and help find Kon."

She thinks of the laughing ladies "I assume they will."

An hour later, Kon is recovered, and Tim miraculously escapes death due to strong wind and a conveniently thrown traveling map into his attacker's face. Diana witness the superman clone add a stone form Kent Farm to the one by Batman's in the watchtower.

It has the words Red Robin carved within a heart. She smiles.

YAHOO IT'S @ecto-implosion TIME!!

I got to work with the very awesome diskordcendrum for this one! I'll update this post when they have their partner fic up :) ehehe I love a good dramatic identity reveal

i'm genuinely having so much fun writing a jock protagonist. can't believe i never tried this before. all these years i've been limiting myself needlessly

It was fine. It was fine. It would have to be fine.

It was not fine.

Danny sat in the sewer he found, breathing hard as a crocodile man—a crocman? mancroc?—looked at him in bewilderment.

“—and now I don’t have to just worry about being on the run, I have to worry about Batman too! He’s got the title ‘World’s Greatest Detective!’ How am I supposed to get away from him? And—and that’s not even the worst bit! Oh, forget Batman, my godfather is going to find me, ohmygodohmygodohmygod—”

A distant part of him recognised that he was hyperventilating. That part got shoved away in favour of panicking right now.

The crocodile was just sitting there, letting him babble in panic. And once he finished his vent (it was NOT a rant), it asked if he was finished.

You know what? Yes, yes he was. There was no point in going back up into the streets—Batman or his gigantic hoard of a team would find him.

Goodbye homeless life on the streets. Hello, homeless life in the sewers.

Danny Kills the Joker AU

Danny is on the run in gotham, as you do in dpxdc fics. His parents are dead and he is trying to stay out of Vlad's custody. Gotham has plenty of ectoplasm to hide his ecto signature. It also has a high enough population of homeless people that no one would even notice Danny just showing up.

He's been living rough in gotham, mostly sticking to Crime Alley and The Narrows, sleeping in abandoned buildings or in relatively clean parts of the sewer system. He eats what he can find and does his best never to be seen.

Not good enough since he along with like 30 other street kids get picked up by joker goons and tied up. Joker is planning an explosive party for the city to watch and he needed guests. Joker literally set up bombs of joker gas around the city that will go off and send the entire city into pandemonium, killing millions. The only way to stop the bombs is to kill his guests (homeless kids from Crime Alley) which the city can vote on. Kill themselves or kill kids.

Danny is sitting at the edge of the group, listening as Joker televises his new plan to the entire city.

He really, really hates clowns.

He is also not gonna let this guy kill all of these kids. He may not be a hero anymore but those protection instincts didnt die with his parents.

And also fuck that clown.

He phases through his bonds, and then starts asking the various kids to borrow their hat, gloves, and scarf. Gotham street kids take one look at this out of town kid and mentally wish him luck while planning out his funeral. They keep on acting terrified because as stupid as this kid is being, they're not snitches either.

Danny puts on the borrowed clothes to hide his face and hair. He can't be identified, or Vlad is gonna be on his ass tomorrow. Once fully covered he gets up and into view of the camera. The Joker notices him, turns around to laugh and jeer at him. Probably shoot him for being impolite and interrupting him. Danny doesnt even pause just walks right up to the clown and coldcocks him.

Based on the sound of bones snapping Danny admits he might have punched a little too hard. Danny checks the Jokers pulse and immediately panics. Danny has Batman levels of fear around killing and he is panicking about becoming Dan.

"Holy Shit I killed him!" He says, to the entire city because the camera is still rolling.

Cue:

Danny running for his life, trying to hide away from his fear and guilt.

Red Hood becoming like his dad and drawing up mental adoption papers

Harley Quinn also drawing up adoption papers, paper ones, while Poison Ivy changes their home's 'no boys allowed' banner to 'son boy allowed'

Jokers goons trying to find Danny to kill him for killing their boss

City wide pandemonium as the jokers death is confirmed and people are partying in the streets, the mayor is planning on giving the street kid who did it the key to the fucking city

The batfam trying to find Danny to protect him from Jokers Goons (Bruce is third in line for custody not that he knows he is gonna have to fight both Harley and Jason for the honor)

The crime alley kids are still not snitching on the kid who saved them. Anyone who asks them about Danny only respond with 'what are you a cop? Fuck off pig'

Vlad Masters, as someone who has been punched by Danny, immediately recognizes the punch and flies to Gotham to find his wayward 'son'.

Vlad even meets with Brucie Wayne to ask for help in finding Danny. Bruce gets bad vibes from Vlad and is even more invested in finding Danny. The boy has dark hair, blue eyes, and a tragic orphan backstory. Its fate!

Danny meanwhile is hiding in some sewer somewhere breathing into a paper bag as he panics about becoming a world ending threat.

Ending 3. ☹️

Everyone: Happy birthday, Tim!!

Tim: what?? Holy shit i forgot it was my birthday!

Jason: yup and you’re 18 so you know what that means

Dick: jason no

Jason: i got you a pack of cigarettes for your birthday gift!

Tim: uhh, thanks but… i don’t really plan on taking up that habit

Jason: wow golly gee. That’s a real shame right there. Huh guess i have no choice but to enjoy these myself. Welp it’s the thought that counts right timbo

Tim: yeahh, thanks Jason…

Steph: anyyyway, i got a cake, your favorite!

Dick: no, gifts first!

Damian: indeed. Opening presents should be top priority.

Duke: I’m hungry and there are a lot of presents so I vote cake!

Cass: …cake would be… nice

Alfred: might we let master Tim decide? It is his special day after all

Bruce: Tim, cake or gifts first?

Tim: cake!!!

[Rolls out cake]

Tim: wow Alfred it looks great! But… and I’m not complaining it’s just… it says I’m 17

Alfred: ? Indeed you are master Tim

Tim: uhh, this is my 18th birthday. We already established that

Damian: -tt- what are you on about, Drake? Just blow out the candles

Tim: but… [sees the banner above that now reads happy “17th birthday” instead of “18th” birthday]

Tim: but… but…

Dick: r u feeling okay, Tim?

Tim: jason u know I’m 18 now right? You literally just tried to give me cigarettes for my birthday?

Dick: jason you did what??

Jason: i didn’t I swear! I got him a pair of socks, white and plain like him. Although thanks, Replacement, now i know what you want for next year i guess

Steph: tim… you’re 17…

Tim: no I’m not! Here I’ll get my drivers license… [looks at license]

Tim: but this says I was born in… no i was born a year earlier than this! Guys something is really wrong!

Duke: dude ur really starting to freak us out

Bruce: tim… i assure you that today is your 17th birthday

Tim: … today is my 17th birthday? Is… that can’t be… is today really my 17th?

Dick: yeah and congrats on turning 17, Tim! You’re finally a dancing queen!!

Duke: just think next year you’ll be an adult!

Tim: ha… yeah… next year… it’s just… i feel like I’ve heard that before

Tim: ha, must be tired. Oh well! [Blows out candles] happy 17th birthday for me, I guess

Ending 2

Everyone: Happy birthday, Tim!!

Tim: what?? Holy shit i forgot it was my birthday!

Jason: yup and you’re 18 so you know what that means

Dick: jason no

Jason: i got you a pack of cigarettes for your birthday gift!

Tim: uhh, thanks but… i don’t really plan on taking up that habit

Jason: wow golly gee. That’s a real shame right there. Huh guess i have no choice but to enjoy these myself. Welp it’s the thought that counts right timbo

Tim: yeahh, thanks Jason…

Steph: anyyyway, i got a cake, your favorite!

Dick: no, gifts first!

Damian: indeed. Opening presents should be top priority.

Duke: I’m hungry and there are a lot of presents so I vote cake!

Cass: …cake would be… nice

Alfred: might we let master Tim decide? It is his special day after all

Bruce: Tim, cake or gifts first?

Tim: cake!!!

[Rolls out cake]

Tim: wow Alfred it looks great! But… and I’m not complaining it’s just… it says I’m 17

Alfred: ? Indeed you are master Tim

Tim: uhh, this is my 18th birthday. We already established that

Damian: -tt- what are you on about, Drake? Just blow out the candles

Tim: but… [sees the banner above that now reads happy “17th birthday” instead of “18th” birthday]

Tim: but… but…

Dick: r u feeling okay, Tim?

Tim: jason u know I’m 18 now right? You literally just tried to give me cigarettes for my birthday?

Dick: jason you did what??

Jason: i didn’t I swear! I got him a pair of socks, white and plain like him. Although thanks, Replacement, now i know what you want for next year i guess

Steph: tim… you’re 17…

Tim: no I’m not! Here I’ll get my drivers license… [looks at license]

Tim: but this says I was born in… no i was born a year earlier than this! Guys something is really wrong!

Duke: dude ur really starting to freak us out

Bruce: tim… i assure you that today is your 17th birthday

Tim: … today is my 17th birthday? Is… that can’t be… is today really my 17th?

Dick: yeah and congrats on turning 17, Tim! You’re finally a dancing queen!!

Duke: just think next year you’ll be an adult!

Tim: ha… yeah… next year… it’s just… i feel like I’ve heard that before

Tim: ha, must be tired. Oh well! [Blows out candles] happy 17th birthday for me, I guess

Ending 1. Holy shit.

Everyone: Happy birthday, Tim!!

Tim: what?? Holy shit i forgot it was my birthday!

Jason: yup and you’re 18 so you know what that means

Dick: jason no

Jason: i got you a pack of cigarettes for your birthday gift!

Tim: uhh, thanks but… i don’t really plan on taking up that habit

Jason: wow golly gee. That’s a real shame right there. Huh guess i have no choice but to enjoy these myself. Welp it’s the thought that counts right timbo

Tim: yeahh, thanks Jason…

Steph: anyyyway, i got a cake, your favorite!

Dick: no, gifts first!

Damian: indeed. Opening presents should be top priority.

Duke: I’m hungry and there are a lot of presents so I vote cake!

Cass: …cake would be… nice

Alfred: might we let master Tim decide? It is his special day after all

Bruce: Tim, cake or gifts first?

Tim: cake!!!

[Rolls out cake]

Tim: wow Alfred it looks great! But… and I’m not complaining it’s just… it says I’m 17

Alfred: ? Indeed you are master Tim

Tim: uhh, this is my 18th birthday. We already established that

Damian: -tt- what are you on about, Drake? Just blow out the candles

Tim: but… [sees the banner above that now reads happy “17th birthday” instead of “18th” birthday]

Tim: but… but…

Dick: r u feeling okay, Tim?

Tim: jason u know I’m 18 now right? You literally just tried to give me cigarettes for my birthday?

Dick: jason you did what??

Jason: i didn’t I swear! I got him a pair of socks, white and plain like him. Although thanks, Replacement, now i know what you want for next year i guess

Steph: tim… you’re 17…

Tim: no I’m not! Here I’ll get my drivers license… [looks at license]

Tim: but this says I was born in… no i was born a year earlier than this! Guys something is really wrong!

Duke: dude ur really starting to freak us out

Bruce: tim… i assure you that today is your 17th birthday

Tim: … today is my 17th birthday? Is… that can’t be… is today really my 17th?

Dick: yeah and congrats on turning 17, Tim! You’re finally a dancing queen!!

Duke: just think next year you’ll be an adult!

Tim: ha… yeah… next year… it’s just… i feel like I’ve heard that before

Tim: ha, must be tired. Oh well! [Blows out candles] happy 17th birthday for me, I guess

Adrien The Liar

wait. don’t go. I promise this isn’t salt. I have not been hacked. It’s me.

Hear me out.

Keep reading

just overheard my wife spelling something on the phone and i shit you not saying the words “E as in Eeyore” i am on my hands and knees wailing screaming crying pleading and begging people to learn the NATO phonetic alphabet

I’d like to introduce Phantomine! It’s my multimedia based lore series (with more!) about 17 year old Danny Fenton from Danny Phantom who has to solve the mystery of an elusive new newspaper distributing locker and who is behind it! It’s released on exclusively on my Instagram (@illustraice) with newspapers, radio and more such as real live websites with passcodes!

Feral McGee™

It starts with the Joker. 

His goons picked up Tim Drake. Not specifically because it was Tim Drake, he just so happened to be in the Joker’s neighborhood, and we'll, he can't pass up that opportunity now can he? 

Except Tim Drake is watching, along with the rest of Gotham, at the Batcomputer. He’s nursing a broken foot and has been put on monitor duty until he's cleared for field work again. 

The guy looks enough like him, though. Black hair, blue eyes, and bags under his eyes for days. He's also got the same lean sort of build like he does. 

It happens like this. 

The Joker is doing his monologue thing where he explains whatever twisted game he's come up with this time. He takes up the majority of the screen, so nobody can see Not-Tim behind him, not until the big reveal. Then he covers the screen again, getting up close and personal, before stepping back. In those quick few seconds, Not-Tim is no longer sitting there tied to the chair. 

Someone off camera lets the Joker know, and he whirls around, confused as the rest of Gotham. 

And then Not-Tim comes in with the steel chair. 

Or, well, a crowbar, but the reference holds up. 

He takes out one of Joker’s knees before punching him in the face. The Joker drops like a bag of stones, out cold. 

Then he looks towards the camera. 

“Hey there. I'm not really sure where I am, but also if he was after Tim Drake, he got the wrong guy. I'm not him, I'm just some dude. Anyway, I'll just-yep-” he carefully steps over the unconscious Joker, gives the camera a little wave, and then leaves. 

Batman and Nightwing enter shortly after, with the Joker and his goons out cold and tied up. The knots were complicated enough where, in the end, the police resorted to cutting the ties off of them so they could be properly cuffed and taken to Arkham. 

“A constrictor knot,” Batman tells Nightwing as they watch the villain be taken away. “Often used by sailors to temporarily tie things together to keep something in a bag, or to hold something to glue it back together.”

“Huh,” Nightwing says, scratching the back of his head. “Go figure.”

—

The next time it happens, it’s the Riddler. 

He’s laughing, giving his riddles to the Bats and recording himself to all of Gotham while his victim, one of the Wayne brats, hangs over a vat of something. From a distance, he looks like Tim Drake, or maybe a lankier Dick Grayson. And he’s not the only victim, they’re all scattered across the city, but he thought an important figure such as a Wayne should be under the Riddler’s direct supervision while he enacts his schemes. 

While the Riddler cackles and plots and waves his cane around, in the background all of Gotham can see the figure escape. Several Gothamites recognize him as the kid from before, who clocked the Joker. They all watch with bated breath as he sort of wiggles his way out of the ropes holding him up. Once he’s free, he climbs the rope and gets himself down safely. 

Gotham holds their breath as the kid casually walks up to the Riddler, who’s mid-rant. He politely taps him on the shoulder, and as the Riddler is turning around, the kid clocks him just as brutally as he had the Joker. He’s down with one punch. 

They think he’s going to say another sort of awkward goodbye, but instead he pats the Riddler down until he finds a piece of paper tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. 

“Right,” the kid says, looking at the list. There’s a lot more static overlay now, and several wonder if it’s damage to the cameras. “Uh, the Clocktower, the Docks, and-” he squints at the page for a moment-”Mama Nacaroni’s? What the fuck is that? Anyway, uh. See you later, I guess. Oh! And we’re at the Gotham Arena. Have fun with him, I guess.”

The kid tosses the paper off to the side before the camera cuts to black. 

Just like last time, everyone is out cold and tied up. The Riddler himself is sporting a pretty bad shiner, but well deserved nonetheless. 

“Stop it,” Red Hood tells him. Batman just looks at him, and though Hood can’t see the top half of his face, he can tell that his eyebrow is raised. “You know exactly what I mean, B. Put the adoption papers away.”

“Hn.”

—

After that, it sorta becomes a game. The rogues of Gotham are no longer after a Wayne, or after anybody who holds any kind of social status like usual. They’re all going after this one kid, all determined to be the one to hold him. And each one is televised. 

Mr. Freeze freezes him in a block of ice, but due to the cameras glitching out, nobody can really see how he got free. They do, however, see the kid suplex Mr. Freeze. It should seem impossible, given his lanky figure, but he evidently has more muscle than he’s originally let on. 

Two-Face gets a hold of him, using chains and some power-dampening cuffs just on the off-chance that he’s a meta. They all watch as the kid leans down, pulls a bobby pin out of his hair, and picks the locks on his cuffs. One punch, and Two-Face is down. 

Gothamites are going wild for the kid. They’ve dubbed him Feral McGee™ (an online poll, of course), because every time he goes in for the punch he gets this feral look in his eyes. Also, just the fact that he casually goes up to these rogues and takes them out with all the casualness of doing something incredibly mundane? Incredible. The Gothamites are eating it up. However, despite the video evidence, nobody has been able to properly identify the kid. They know he has black hair and bright eyes, but any time he gets near a camera, it’s like there’s this weird, sort of warped quality the camera takes on. It doesn’t usually calm down until the fight is done-as one sided as they usually are-before he awkwardly skedaddles away.  

He gets kidnapped by the Penguin, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy (though that was more just a friendly chat than anything), Mad Hatter, and the Riddler again. 

And then the Joker escapes. 

It’s no surprise as to who he’s going to go after. 

Due to one too many careless goons, they manage to find their way to the Joker’s hideout pretty quickly. This time, it’s all Bats on deck, and they all hide away in the rafters as Feral McGee™ is hung over a vat of acid. His whole body is tied up, hardly a single inch of exposed skin to be seen except for the neck up. 

They watch the goons, they watch the Joker, and they watch Feral McGee™. 

The Joker is monologuing, practically begging the bats to come find him before the timer runs out. When it does, the kid gets dumped into the vat of acid. 

Despite these stakes, the kid seems to be only mildly annoyed. 

“Fuck this, I have homework I still need to finish,” they hear him say. 

They all watch, amazed and confused, as the kid starts gnawing through the ropes. Human teeth shouldn’t be able to do that so easily, but one bit after the other, and soon enough the kid’s got himself freed enough to just climb up the rest of the rope. When he’s at the top of the crane holding him up, Batman lets down a rope and pulls the kid up and out of danger. 

“Oh, cool, you’re all here,” the kid says casually, as if meeting the entire Bat Clan is just a normal Tuesday. And then he pulls out a notepad and pen and hands it to Red Hood. 

“Can I get an autograph? You’re dope as fuck, dude.”

Red Hood has to look away and hide his face in his arms for a few moments to not give away their location with his laughter before signing. And then, one by one, the others do as well. They pass along the kid’s notebook with shit-eating grins and barely contained snickers despite the fact that the Joker is still right below them. Even Batman signs it, after his children don’t stop hounding him about it. 

In their distraction, they didn’t see the kid sneak away. He’s far away from them now, nearly right over the Joker. Danny waits, though, until the Joker has turned around as the timer almost runs out. They watch as he snickers at Joker’s flabbergasted look. The Joker comically looks back and forth and under objects the kid obviously isn’t under. However, before he can do or say anything else, the kid drops from the rafters and right on top of the Joker. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. The kid, however, just brushes the dust off of himself. Despite the fall he took, there isn’t a scratch on him. 

When the bats join him, they give his notepad back to him, barely able to contain their laughter at the absurdity of it all. The kid, too, joins in the camaraderie, laughing and joking along with them as Batman secures the Joker. 

“Okay, okay, but I gotta ask, dude,” Red Hood says at one point, looking at the kid. “How do you keep getting kidnapped?”

The kid just shrugs. “I get distracted easily. And I’m sleep deprived, so you know. Social awareness is kind of at an all time low right now.”

“Why are you sleep deprived?” Nightwing asks, barely hidden concern in his voice. 

 “Finals are kinda kicking my ass right now. Especially this dumb English homework I have. You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, lucky for you,” Red Hood says, wrapping an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he walks them out of the warehouse, “I happen to know a lot about English. So, it is Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

As they walk off, Batman calmly watches, though the rest of the bats can see his jaw twitching. Nightwing comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If you don’t adopt him, I will.”

“Hn.”

IS IT THOR?!?!???!??!??!?!??!

HEHEEHEE

finally done with the series that's been plaguing my dreams for a month

MASTERPOST

Editing as I post more :))

This is not in any order, just randomly listed

DC X DP PROMPTS

Dani is Dicks older sister

Tim x Danny Coffee Shop AU

Danny, Dani, and Dan joined different hero groups (check reblogs lol)

Dan get reincarnated as Bruce Wayne

Trans!Danny is Steph’s daughter

Dani x Damian Collage Professor AU

Dani as the eldest Wayne/Bat

Older brother Danyal AU

Dani joins the JL + more kids for Bruce

Tucker and Duke are cousins

Demon Twins AU with a twist

Team Phantom tries to kill the Joker

Dani x Damian + deaged Danny in Gotham

Sam Manson? More like Sam Wayne

Liminal Damian Wayne

“Immortal’ Dani joins the JL

Dani joins the LOA willingly

Haunted Forest grows around Amity Part 1

Haunted Forest AU Part 2

Halfas can’t use their powers while human AU idea

Team Phantom gets deaged and adopted by separate batboys

Deaged Dani in Arkham asylum

Dani x Dami: soulmark AU

Government Coverup

Sam Manson Demon Twins AU

Dani is Bruce’s never before mentioned eldest child

Secret Ghost Royalty Dani Wayne

Damian and Dani stranded in Quarantined Amity Park

- Part 1

- Part 2

Combat-Trained Casper High in Gotham

Dani x Dami: Bitter Soulmates AU

Dani x Dami: Plane Crash AU

Dani x Dami: Anon Singer AU

Dani adopts: Billy Batson

Dani joins the Teen Titans

Danny x Duke: Missing Person AU(??)

Dani is working in Ethiopia and saves Jason

Dani is Damian’s ‘sister’ and ‘magic’ trainer (check reblogs)

Demon Twins with ‘civilian Danny’

Batman Beyond w/ immortal Dani

They used to be…

Dani x Dami: henchman x boss AU, academic rivals AU, vigilante x antihero AU + Love Hexagon

Dead Serious w/ deaged Dani

Damian and Paulina are twins w/ Dead Serious

Dani x Dami:Secretary x Boss AU

Dan becomes a cop in Blud (Dick x Dan)

Danny is Ra’s son

Dani x Bruce + Deaged Dan

Sucked in a Video Game

Bruce and Dani are twins

Bruce, Danny, and Dani: The OG vigilantes

Ghost King Marvel

Teacher Danny x Bruce

Billy x Danny: Ghost Marriage AU

Dani bursts into flames

Missing Amity

Dani x Dami: Boy Next Door

DANNY PHANTOM (DP)

Dani Fenton: Clone of Fenton and Phantom

MCU X DP PROMPTS

Dani joins the x-men

Ghost King Danny vs Thanos

RIORDANVERSE X DC

Damian in Camp Jupiter

guys i LOVEEEE PJO, but. if I see ONE MORE FIC of Annabeth & Percy calling each other “Wise Girl” & “Seaweed Brain” throughout the entire fic i’m going to commit myself to a mental hospital. PLEASE. THEY HAVE NAMES. USE THEM.

THIS IS A LIFE-OR-DEATH SITUATION! THEY DONT NEED CUTESY NICKNAMES ON THE FIELD.

🎉 Writing commissions are now open! 🎉

Hi! I’m Mae, and you might have seen me lurking around on here. I’ve decided to open commissions for writing, and that includes short stories, original works and fanfiction!

✨What I offer:

- Fanfiction: I am most comfortable with the following fandoms: DCU (Detective Comics Universe), MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Harry Potter. I am less comfortable but willing to work with Miraculous Ladybug, Boku no Hero Academia, and Danny Phantom.

If your fanfiction request is from outside of these fandoms, I will need a thorough grounding of the character, how they interact, and the universe itself in order to deliver a high-quality story. Please provide any details and traits that you would like to be in the fic and would be focused on.

- Original works: If you have a story idea, world building you need help with, dialogue, or anything else, then I will be able to help. If you’d like to just provide an idea, and have me build on that, then that’s fine. If you need help with your own writing, then take a look at beta reading.

- Beta-Reading: If you need a second opinion, someone to edit, and someone to help you with revisions then I can help with this. I’ll provide feedback on your plot, pacing, and overall story.

I offer stories ranging from 0 words to 20,000 words. If it is any longer than this, then please be prepared to either be rejected, have to pay more, or have to wait longer.

💰 My pricing is as follows:

- Short stories/Original Work/Fanfiction: £5 - £20 ($6 - $25) depending on complexity, word count and time it takes to finish.

- Beta-Reading: £5 - £10 ($6 - $12) depending on how long it is, and time it takes me to finish.

- Payments must be paid upfront, with the full amount available.

📧 OPEN COMMUNICATION: Throughout the process, I will be in constant communication with you via email. Once the project is over, I will be able to do a maximum of 2 MAJOR revisions (i.e rewriting the entire story, cutting off or adding plot points etc) before I will charge you an extra £2 ($3) for each major revision after this.

💬 How to commission me: If you’re interested, please send an ask with the following information:

- The type of commission you’d like (Fanfiction, Original Work, Beta-Reading)

- A brief description of your idea or specific details for your project

- For fanfiction: Let me know which fandom you're requesting.

- Word count preferences or specific length requirements

- Any deadlines or timelines you have in mind.

Google forms are now open! https://forms.gle/8Z8zD8vFKDx8q9P36 🎉✨

🎉 Writing commissions are now open! 🎉

Hi! I’m Mae, and you might have seen me lurking around on here. I’ve decided to open commissions for writing, and that includes short stories, original works and fanfiction!

✨What I offer:

- Original works: If you have a story idea, world building you need help with, dialogue, or anything else, then I will be able to help. If you’d like to just provide an idea, and have me build on that, then that’s fine. If you need help with your own writing, then take a look at beta reading.

- Beta-Reading: If you need a second opinion, someone to edit, and someone to help you with revisions then I can help with this. I’ll provide feedback on your plot, pacing, and overall story.

- NSFW work: DM me or send an ask about this service.

I offer stories ranging from 0 words to 20,000 words. If it is any longer than this, then please be prepared to either be rejected, have to pay more, or have to wait longer.

💰 My pricing is as follows:

£1.00/$1.30 per 100 words, 0.01/0.013 per word, £10/$13 per 1,000 words. Subject to change. I will only ever accept payment through PayPal.

📧 OPEN COMMUNICATION: Throughout the process, I will be in constant communication with you via email/a platform that enables communication. Once the project is over, I will be able to do a maximum of 2 MAJOR revisions (i.e rewriting the entire story, cutting off or adding plot points etc) before I will charge you an extra £2 ($3) for each major revision after this.

💬 How to commission me: If you’re interested, please send an ask with the following information:

- The type of commission you’d like

- A brief description of your idea or specific details for your project

- Word count preferences or specific length requirements

- Any deadlines or timelines you have in mind.

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

tim and bruce have an odd relationship to the rest of the family. they don’t act like father and son but it seems like they have a “deeper” bond than the others

bruce seems to take tim’s advice more seriously, bruce actually takes a break if tim tells him, tim still gets benched but not nearly as much as he should, and most confusingly, tim benched bruce once. not alfred benching bruce, TIM.

normally bruce has to be forced to take a break, and normally by alfred, but if tim says “you’re benched for a week” bruce? listens?

they have no idea why. some of them ask dick if he knows since he was there but he’s just as confused

and then despite all that there’s also such a strain between them? it’s really on the line of a professional relationship and almost a care taker. it’s very confusing. and then the times bruce gives tim a present or anything like that and tim stops and stares at him for a second, like he’s dissecting bruce. no one is able to fully figure it. until bruce is de-aged to tim’s robin era.

tim is very adamant about most of them, but especially jason and damian, do not reveal their names to him. for the time being they have a strictly professional relationship with their father who doesn’t know them.

they finally get some of the picture when they see tim start acting as bruce’s caretaker. tim switches between being gentle “hey, you need to sleep” to screaming at bruce. it always works. tim knows exactly which version bruce needs and it scares the team cause that has to require some practice

they’re then also thrown for a loop when they hear bruce call out jason’s name in a shocked voice, which makes sense cause he doesn’t know jason is alive but jason still has his helmet on so what? and then they hear a voice none of them have heard. except dick goes pale and jason’s breath hitches. and suddenly tim is responding to jason’s name and acting weird, almost like what some of dicks stories described jason as. and it’s so fucked up when they’re watching time act like someone else and bruce going along with it

the dynamic they’re getting is also fucked up once again when, during one of bruce’s really bad days, tim straight up acts like bruce’s parent. and bruce reacts well.

they’re all horrified by this. the realization that tim and bruce’s relationship has so many layers and that they do act like father and son sometimes. except bruce isn’t the father and tim isn’t the son

A gothic horror story where a gentleman from a good family gets haunted by something monstrous, which follows him around and keeps killing people around him at utter random, in cruel and horrifying ways. Specifically within circumstances where the protagonist has no alibi, and everything indicates that he committed the murders.

But the real horror is not that he would find himself accused of the murders, but that the people around him naturally assume that he did do it, but genuinely do not care, because the victims are never people that the society around him considers "important". The scullery maid of his household is found brutalised beyond recognition in a room where even the ceiling has been splattered with blood, and a constable of the local police brushes it off as a case of household discipline gone wrong, being horrifyingly casual with the assumption that the protagonist severely beat a girl in his service to death, and will dismiss it as an accident. The street urchin that the protagonist was seen talking with - wanting to help this poor little orphan - is found decapitated, severed head in the protagonist's fireplace. This, too, is calmly swept under the rug.

After every horrifying murder, the protagonist tries to seek help, to present the crime to authorities in hopes of getting some semblance of help, or at least clearing his own name of this, but every time it's brushed off. "These things do happen", he is reassured, like it's perfectly normal that a mansion of that size has a secret garden of unmarked graves in one shady corner.

The real horror is the ever-encompassing implication that this is perfectly normal.