The Ghost Kid Of Gotham

The concept of Dick and Jason both having their own Brucie Wayne versions to charm the public is SO funny to me. Not even the fact that the whole idea is amusing, but Bruce's reaction to it would heal me. Like, he is with Dick on some mission, and here goes Richie Grayson :> — your local bimbo and golden retriever, or you know, whatever you want him to be. That, at least, seems obvious.

But Jason turns into Jase Todd :3, the far too innocent for his own good guy with a big heart the minute paparazzi is around? Bruce is horrified.

Bruce: alright, I know social events are not your area of work, but try just to nod and smile

Jason: yeah, whatever, old man

(five minutes later)

Vickie Vale: well, mister Todd, such a smart and diligent man like you — how come you are still single?

Jase Todd :3 : oh, well... I-i actually think I am quite unlucky in this matter... Just recently, a person I dated told me that I was rather too shy 🥹 And the previous suitor was with me only because of dad's money... 🥺 Dad tells me to take it easy... I still wish to find my perfect romantic partner, of course, but-

Richie Grayson :>, mournfully: my little wing has such a warm, big heart (slaps his chest) and, of course, he deserves the best.

Vickie Vale: awww, you are so sweet!

Bruce, staring in terror, because who the hell are these sweet boys, and where did his two walking headaches go: ...

Why is there no man arching his back with his butt in the air emoji

been reading world's finest comics and fell in love with superbat co-parenting robin dynamic. that's litcherally their son

When Tim is seven, they have a parent career day at his school. The point of the project is to showcase to other classmates, staff and the parents and families that visit what their parent or parents do for a living.

A lot of the students have businesmen for dads and stay at home mums, as typical for the high class, but not all of them do. Some are CEO’s, some own a unique company or business, or got their wealth from sports or entertainment.

For Tim, his parents have two very unique jobs even if they are technically from generational wealth, that being Drake Industries that creates medical supplies as well as funds vehicles like ambulances and fire trucks. Stuff that looks great on paper and gets them support even if the two care little for it and more for their second form of income.

Janet was more into the archeology that showed history in culture and progression of society, story telling and proof of civilisations, while Jack was far more fond of the animals that existed or still do and how they have changed.

So naturally, Tim excitedly chose to talk about their extensive work in the latter.

Janet had single handedly proved several historical theories true and false, her unrelenting determination to proving she was right and using her connections and charming nature to do so.

Jack had discovered a whole new dinosaur that he named after his wife, as well as being one of the loudest in discussion of such beings and their feathers.

Tim found he enjoyed his mother’s work most, as cool as dinosaurs were, because his mother had taught him about how ropes and cogs were once all the ‘technology’ anyone had.

So, Tim Drake set about showcasing his mums hard work and after being denied brining a rare pot she had found, he decided to make a copy of it out of clay in the schools art room. The teacher helped him with dry hands and a kind smile, excited on his behalf as he so clearly enjoyed the process and seeing how else clay crafts were used.

Tim stood proudly at his table, several paragraphs written out and printed out for people to read about his parents achievements and a diagram of the skeletal structure his father had discovered not long after Tim was born. Many people praised him, saying how well he did for such a young age, only to be even more awed when he explained he made the pot himself and it wasn’t the real deal, but a replica.

It depicted Aphrodite as she stood over roses, at the time white but some clearly darkening as the thrown cut her foot, while she made her way over to a figure that was known to be Adonis as he laid dying from a boar beside him. It looked very simpler to real Greek art, though of course a little wonky and with less dirt and ancient clay, but the pottery was exceptional by a child’s hand. Hell, even a teenager.

Tim was so very happy, waiting patiently for his parents to come and see what he had done, how he had shown everyone in his school how cool and clever they were and even made some of the olde kris look at him with jealousy, but…

They never came.

Not because they were hurt or sick or worse, dead, but because they were too tired from their trip they had gotten back from a week ago.

But Tim was a Drake, he wouldn’t show his growing anxiety and fear, instead he stood tall and spoke animatedly too anyone who would listen and avoided questions on where Janet and Jack were just like they had taught him to when pushed for sensitive information.

Tim took the pot home and Janet smiled at him, telling him it was ‘nice’.

She didn’t point out the errors or anything, said nothing bad and had no disgusted expression, she just… called it nice. And moved on.

Seven year old Tim smashed the pot against his bed room wall and cried his eyes out until he fell asleep.

When he woke up he came to a conclusion: he simply hadn’t done a good enough job and if he was more accurate, had less bumps and used more polish, he’d get a better reaction.

So that’s what he did.

The second pot got a confused brow furrow and he was asked why he was showing it again, after all they were busy people and they had already seen it?

Tim made a different one and got a similar answer to the first, though Jack did give him a pat on the head!

Tim decided to make a few, perfect his craft more, until he showed them more so he could truely wow them.

Yet a funny thing happened while he made his replica pots and bowls.

He started to have fun.

Soon it became known to the staff at his school that if you couldn’t find Timothy, he wasn’t flagging school, he was in the art room. Given he had such good grades and had plenty of friends, none of them had a problem with this as it wasn’t affecting him badly.

Tim made a mug for his art teacher that was shaped to look like a tree stump and asked for help to paint it from his friend Ives whose mother was an artist, who got tips from his mum and taught his friend how to shade and paint on canvas first.

As thanks, Tim made Ives a little clay mushroom charm that the other boy made into a bracelet.

Eventually Tim is having so much fun with his crafting he’s even having to buy creams and ointments so his hands don’t get so cracked and cry. He has a whole draw for his art clothes lest he get too many dirtied, as well as a shelf in the art room for his creations.

By the time he’s nine he hasn’t shown his parents many of his creations and while he enjoys the bits of praise he gets, the lacklustre response just bums his out, so he stops. They aren’t mad about it, nor are they really in favour of it, they just don’t seem to care all that much.

Tim knows better than to waste their time too much and just enjoys their company when he can.

When Tim becomes Robin he’s started commissions within his school and friend group, including a smoking tray for Kevin, a chess piece set for Wesley and a rose candle holder for Darla.

Ives gets the most bit that’s because he gives them to his mum as gifts.

He stops his craft while he trains, usually too tired to do so, but finds making simple vases and bowls is calming for his mind. Batman tells him he needs to have ways to detach from his night life so they don’t get too blurred, a mistake he himself made, and so Tim uses his clay craft to do that.

He makes Bruce a mug shaped like a bat for him to have in the cave and it’s the first thing that starts to break Bruce in regards to seeing Tim as more than just the new Robin.

Tim makes Alfred a kettle pot, a simple thing as it’s his first time doing so, and paints it with buttercups.

Barbara gets a big eye charm that has several little ones hanging off wires from its base. The window charm moves with her to the clock tower even years after.

He makes Dick an elephant with pink markings over it like the one he saw on the circus posters from The Flying Grayson’s. Dick still ain’t happy about there being someone in his brothers suit, not really, but he was never going to truely take that out on Tim and seeing the sweet gift left in his car makes him feel a little lighter.

It still hurts them all to see a young boy in their house that’s not Jason, but with Tim being so different they soon stop making the comparisons so much. There’s still damage down, words that will stick with Tim, but it’s not as bad.

Tim makes Cass whole collection of little things like a tiny duck and frog, as well as hats for them. He makes her a plate that’s just for her with a teddy bear curled around a heart, her initials on the back.

He makes Steph a stupidly intricately engraved brick all for the inside joke between them, but the way she cackled is well worth it.

His teammates get so many gifts he can’t count them all, though his favourite will be the mini versions of them he made and that they put as the centre piece of the towers dining table.

When Jason comes back he doesn’t make anything, not even when the misunderstandings have been cleared up. Jason openly refuses to change his violent ways even if he promises to be more friendly, but that’s not why. Tim is still so hurt at seeing his childhood hero so broken that he can’t bear to think of it, until he watches Bridgerton of all things and starts to think differently.

Tim comers how different Jason must feel and how lonely that must feel, so he makes him something special. It by all means looks like a book even it’s an all clay, though the bones and flowers over the binding give it away with their glistening. Jane Austin’s Sense and Sensibility was hard to paint, and that wasn’t never one of Tim’s strengths, so he doesn’t do the cover art and instead writes out the letters prettily and hopes it’s enough.

Jason never responds to the gift outwardly, but the way he ruffled Tim’s hair just to annoy the other tells him enough.

Duke gets three necklaces that piece together to make one big charm, blending together in a colourful spiral perfectly. One is for him, the other two for his catatonic parents. When he realises what Tim made them for her cries, hugging Tim so tightly he’s afraid he’ll pop.

Damian is the last to receive any gift, their rivalry far too strong, though it ironically Tim’s favourite.

The stump like cup has several little mushroom cups around its sides and set of dips fit for a paintbrush. Tim explains the centre is for water and the other parts made for water colour paints or even acrylic, though that will be harder to clean even with the setting spray.

Damian claims to not use it and only Alfred knows how he asks how to properly clean it without causing damage.

Tim never truely gets to show his parents his hobby, not even when his mum goes and he and his father get a little closer. It hurts him naturally, though when he spots an old high school friend at a coffee shop asking for a drink in her keep cup he made her, he decides that his city has given him what he needed. Gotham and its people, his friends and those who watched him grow up, they gave him the acknowledgment and encouragement he wanted from Jack and Janet.

It’s not perfect, his city isn’t, but neither was his first pot.

Dp x dc prompt

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So?" He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MasterList:

Alice in Gotham:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

I will let you know when the whole story eventually gets posted on Ao3. I'm still deciding on whether I should flush out the first 4 chapters in the full version or leave it as is. For now, I'm aiming to do around 10 ish chapters for the full story or so. When it's ready I'll add the link here.

Sometimes, I dream strange things, but also sometimes, I dream as if it were something from my daily life, then there are those strange dreams that when I wake up are nothing more than a blurry thing of colors, but after a while, days, weeks, months, sometimes years, that blurry image comes back to me, it comes back in an image that is no longer blurry, and the image becomes what I have in front of me, I remember that once in a school activity, they made us do a craft, and in the end of the activity, they returned it, when I held my craft, I felt like it was that blurry image from my dream, it's strange, because over time I forget the morning I woke up with that image in my head, only to remember the forgotten image I had in my head of a morning that I no longer remember. , it doesn't happen as often as it used to, but sometimes it comes back, but I don't realize until I find what the blurry image was.

Phantom the new rogue in gotham.

Gotham's new rogue started out during Gotham's museum new night theme space area that started at 9pm. Unfortunately, close due to the repaired need to be done instead of opening today as Bruce and his fam were with them, along with other people, sadly disappointed. (The bats had to fight two rogues who ruined the space part of the museum the previous night for attempt stealing a priceless artifact from there)

The group were in the museum garden when out of nowhere, the doors were close shut with glowing green chains, locking the garden area of the museum became ice cold.

Was it Mr. Freeze? No he was at the other side of Gotham city.

The culprit was a very tall, long white-haired androgynous person in an ancient looking uniform with six glowing green eyes, pointy ears and sharpen teeths, four arms pulling out a comedically large machine from the sparkling starlight that was his gravity defying robe.

"I had enough of this city, no stars in the sky, not even a single gleam of fresh air in sight, and now the space area of museum is closed down for repairs! I destroy the accursed clouds the dare block my views!"

"Gotham city can thank me, Phantom later!" The being named Phantom said before any of the Bats could distract the obvious new rogue for some of them to escape. The being pressed the button, causing the machine to shift, literally draining the city electric power, turning a ray toward the darken clouds, glowing an ominous lararus Pit green color blasting straight toward the sky as people started panic and scream.

The entire smog clouds that were covering black out Gotham city were being filled and coated over by Lararus Pit green glow before suddenly it was shrinking, along with the clouds and the smog...

30 seconds in in, the dark sky clear of the clouds completely the night sky full of stars, the moon was full and beautiful. Bruce immediately looked down to where the rogue was only to find him gone, along with the machine.

People were staring in awe at the night sky.

The bats would have no clue what had happen as day break in the next day, gotham city having a clear sky day with not a tiny bit of smog out beside a powder white cloud here and there.

Cass is typing in chat with the other robins.

Black Bat: i can fix him 🦇

Part 2 -> here

Sometimes I like to think that maybe I'm not bad at expressing myself in words, that people simply don't understand what I said, as if I were speaking another language, which will possibly happen one day because I know 3 languages and almost all the people I talk to also know those same 3 languages.

Anyway, I'm not stupid, much less an unintelligent being, definitely distracted to my surroundings, but I find it difficult to express myself, words are like alphabet soup, if you find the right mixes you'll get one meaning, but for some reason I understand it as another, so I say a mix of words that mean something to me but not the same to others, it's complicated.

People say I'm confused, that I don't understand, I'm not confused, I understand (most of the time), but I don't know how to express it, I just can't express it correctly, thats why I like to read, it distracts me, it opens up a small world for me which writers open up for readers, detailing scenarios, characters, places, feelings. I don't have to express myself, because someone else is expressing themselves, they are sharing a piece of their mind, their soul, their way of writing is telling me about them, telling me a story that I end up becoming fond of.

I'm not a fan of life, but reading makes me feel alive, I will cry, I will laugh, I will feel sorry, I will change my perspective, a lot more, and all because I simply love it. I'm not very expressive, I don't know how to communicate properly, probably won't for a long time, but I can read, I can see how someone else expresses themselves, and that makes me happy.

Sketch Artist

Dpxdc Prompt #54

The GCPD has hired a new sketch artists, and as the Bats regularly hack their local police department's system, the Bats have noticed. He's a good artist, that's for certain, but there's something a little off about his sketches.

It's how they'll look almost exactly like the assailant when the witness could barely see them. In how the artist seems to know details that the victim wouldn't have remembered, or even seen, without trying. A mole, an eyebrow slit, pierced ears, undyed roots, things like that.

It's almost like Danny Fenton knows the criminals he's drawing, and that makes him suspicious.

——————————————————————————————————

Danny hadn't meant to get mixed up with the corrupt Gotham Police, but sometimes the starving artist stereo type is reality and helping identify criminals isn't the worst job in the world. Plus, its pretty obvious the local vigilantes get as much, if not more, use out of police resources than the GCPD themselves and Danny knows that vigilantes can use all the help they can get.

It didn't occur to him to use his powers to be more accurate until one of the first criminals he sketched got caught, and he didn't look too much like the drawing Danny had done. There were similarities, of course, but the details were lost in translation.

So the next time he was contacted to do a sketch he may have overshadowed the witness—only for a second—to take a glance at their memory of the assailant.

Suddenly his sketches became a lot more accurate.

He should have known that this would lead to the Bats investigating him, but he never could stop himself from helping.