Red Light, Green Light 🌗

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” the Joker says, quiet. When Bruce doesn’t answer he starts to laugh. He laughs so hard and so long that it becomes the only sound that Bruce can hear. He laughs so hard that he has to spit out blood before he speaks next. “You’re actually going to kill me. Aren’t you Batsy?” he grins.

They both know the answer but Bruce says it anyway. For the finality of it.

“Yes.”

It’s an ending.

~

Jason’s death is where it starts.

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it starts in a circus where two dead bodies lie broken on the floor and their son breaks in a very different way above them. Maybe it starts when a man decides that to take justice into his own hands is the only means by which his city will survive. Maybe it starts with a different set of dead bodies in an alleyway a lifetime ago.

Maybe it started when the first brick of the city that would become Gotham was laid.

But Jason’s death was certainly a beginning. Not of anything good, of course, but a beginning none the less.

~

Dick doesn’t talk to him anymore.

It hurts Bruce. Touches him in a way that few things since his parents death have. It opens him up to a loneliness he had thought was in his past.

He might have done something about it if everytime he looked at Dick he didn’t see a waking corpse. If Bruce hadn’t watched from the sidelines as his son morphed into a reminder of all the ways the universe is yet to use to make him suffer.

Dick doesn’t talk to him anymore and Bruce lets him.

~

Tim keeps popping up. Trying to convince him that he’s going to cross a line. It seems like he can’t quite comprehend the fact that Bruce doesn’t care anymore.

“Go home.” He says. Tim’s energetic and untrained and very much neither of Bruce’s sons. Bruce is grateful for the way his eyes shine with enthusiasm since it helps him remember that the boy he’s talking to is alive.

Tim smiles as he says no.

“Go home.” Bruce insists and Tim continues to refuse.

The way he sees Tim all the time, the way the boy makes it his business to keep Batman company, feels like the middle of a story. Bruce knows it in his bones. That something was the beginning (Jason’s death or two bodies on the ground or the grate of bricks on bricks on bricks) and this is the middle. He also knows that there’s going to be an ending far too soon.

“People don’t finish growing up and stay near me.” He tells Tim, trying to get him to go away with different words this time. “Your endings are leave me alone or die.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Says who? You and your grand sample size of two?”

“Go home.” He repeats, returning to his default response.

“No”. Tim repeats. He sounds like he’s enjoying this.

Bruce despises the fact that it only makes him like the boy more.

~

There’s an Arkham escape. The Joker gets out. He’s currently killing people.

None of these facts are surprising.

Bruce fights him and takes him down after he’s only ruined a couple of lives. It’s still far too many but it’s also far fewer people than he would have destroyed without Bruce there to stop him.

On the other hand he wouldn’t even exist if Bruce hadn’t made him. So people are dead and it’s still the Batman’s fault.

Afterwards Bruce watches as the Joker is taken in from a rooftop. He doesn’t even notice Tim sidle up beside him. He takes a moment to be annoyed at how proud he is of the boy for being so good.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks, because he knows how seeing the Jokers smile cuts into Bruce like few other things can.

“I’m fine.” Bruce says. It’s sort of the truth. Pain like this has become routine for him since Jason died. It’s just a byproduct of his existence. It’s just the price of his failure.

He looks over the crime scene, taking in the blood and the bodies and the relatives crying just like he did over his boy. He takes in the Joker as he’s tied back into his straight jacket. As he’s looking, the Joker tilts his head up. Bruce knows that the man is searching him out.

Instead of leaving or moving or doing anything useful, he freezes.

The Joker’s gaze alights on him. Pausing in its scan of the roofline. Then his eyes move a little down and to the left and Bruce feels Tim take a step back as he meets the Joker’s eyes.

Bruce is no longer fine.

He unfreezes and takes Tim in his arms, swinging them as far away from the scene of the crime as he can. He hears the Joker’s laughter behind them, starting out quiet but growing loud enough that Bruce doubts he’ll ever be able to outrun it.

“It’s fine.” Tim says from where he’s held tight in Bruce’s arms. “Bruce, I’ll be fine. He doesn’t even know who I am. I’ll be fine.”

He sounds scared and hopeful and absolutely certain that nothing will be able to hurt him while he’s under the Batman’s protection.

Bruce doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he’s wrong.

~

The body of Tim Drake is buried two weeks later.

Bruce spends the whole funeral thinking about how this is going to keep happening. About how children are going to keep finding him and squirming their way into his heart until he can’t bear to push them away any longer.

He realises that he can’t take a third tragedy of this magnitude. And if he can’t take it then Gotham certainly can’t. Batman is the only thing propping the city up as it attempts to crush itself under the weight of its cruelty.

Bruce makes a decision. As he does so he realises that they’re almost at the finish line.

~

There’s an Arkham escape. The Joker gets out. He’s currently killing people.

The relief Bruce feels when he hears what’s happening is extraordinary.

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?” The Joker says once Bruce arrives and they look each other in the eye. He laughs hard enough to gently choke on his own blood. The wheezing sounds like victory. “You’re actually gonna kill me. Aren’t you Batsy?”

Bruce shoots his grapple gun through the Joker’s chest. It punches right through him, filling the room with an awful cracking squelching noise, and lodges in the wall. The sound the Joker makes as his throat fills with blood is more of a gurgle than a wheeze now.

“Yes.” Bruce replies.

It’s the ending.

new fic!!

Word count: 4,552

Summary: Damian has been doing well since moving to Gotham.

His training has become far less punishing, he's gained a frankly fantastic number of cats, every day he becomes more convinced that his mother made the correct choice in picking Selina as a partner over Damian’s birth father.

Damian has things now that he gave up on dreaming for years ago.

So why can’t he stop thinking about meeting his father?

Selina & Talia

1 2 3

The first time Talia meets Bruce’s new lover, they stab each other.

Talia tries to ignore the fact that she’s a little impressed. It had been her understanding that the woman had no formal training and Talia hadn’t really expected her to get a hit in, let alone a stab wound. “You should leave my beloved alone. This will not end well for you otherwise.” she informs the woman.

The woman looks surprised. It makes Talia pleased until she speaks. “We literally just broke up.” she says and it’s Talia’s turn to look shocked now.

“Oh.” Talia wants to shift her weight but there’s still a dagger in her side. She supposes she can’t exactly complain since there’s a sword in the woman’s. “I apologise. It seems my intel is out of date.”

The woman, Selina she supposes now, looks at Talia like she’s never seen another person before. “You think?”

A far away corner of Talia’s mind notes that the splatter of blood on Selina’s face and the arch of her eyebrow make her look the exact kind of pretty Talia likes best.

She wishes she could shake herself. This encounter isn’t going how Talia had planned it. “I suppose we should both seek medical attention now.” she says, half to change the subject and half because it’s a valid point.

“I know a place.” Selina gets up, impressively steady considering how she has to keep one hand fixed on the sword in her to stop it moving around too much. Ones she’s on her feet she looks at Talia like she’s assessing her. Talia glares right back at her, back straight and eyes narrowed. Selina must like what she sees because she cocks the corner of her mouth into something a little like a smirk. “And afterwards you could come back to mine.”  she says slyly, “Just to rest, of course.”

Talia hadn’t quite expected that. She can’t say that she’s unhappy about it though. “Of course.” she echoes, “Not to dissuade you, but it is my understanding that you just broke up with someone?”

“Psh,” Selina waves the hand that isn’t holding Talia’s sword steady inside of her, “I’m not one to dwell on the past.”

Talia allows herself a smile. “Well then, how could I object?”

Selina & Talia

1 2 3 wrote a bunch more for this and it’s on ao3 now lol

Talia is making dinner with Selina when the Sirens burst in.

Selina had said that something like this would happen one day but this is the first time Talia has met them during her and Selina’s relationship.

“Guess what we-” Harley Quinn crows before stopping abruptly at the sight of Talia in the kitchen and Damian at the table. “Who’re you?”

Pamela Isley rolls her eyes before stepping forwards and holding out a hand. “Selina’s been telling us all about her new paramour, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” she says. Talia raises an eyebrow but shakes the hand. She supposes that if Selina likes these people so much she can stomach being polite.

Harley, who had been looking Talia up and down from behind Pamela, steps forward and thrusts her hand out for Talia to shake as well. “Harley Quinn, pleasure to meet ya. And I’ve got to say you are a real improvement on the last guy Cat dated. Like really. Wowza.” Pamela elbows Harley in the ribs but she just responds by kissing her on the cheek. Talia raises an eyebrow at Selina who nods that yes, they’re always like this. Harley turns towards the kitchen table where Damian has turned away from his laptop and is looking at the group of them with undisguised judgement. “And is this your little one?”

“Yes.” Talia answers. She shoots a look at Damian since she can sense that he’s about three seconds from starting a fight. “He is.”

Harley leans down so that her face is level with Damian’s. “Isn’t he a cutie?”

“Continue to disrespect me and I shall remove your head from your shoulders, Quinn”

“And he’s got spunk!” she praises, her lack of fear just making Damian scowl harder. “Who’s the Daddy?” she asks, turning back to Talia.

“My ex.” Talia and Selina answer in unison.

Pamela looks up at the two of them sharply from where she had been inspecting the food and there’s a hint of confusion on Harley’s face for the first time in the whole conversation.

Talia knows it’s undignified, but she can’t help herself from a moment of sharp laughter. She might have been embarrassed over it if not for the way Selina giggles into her shoulder afterwards.

his swagless looks and cringe fail personality have captivated me

Dan Powell is seven years old and if he’s certain of one thing it’s that he loves stories.

Not quite the same way as Mark. Mark prefers his words drenched in the mud and grit of the reality he thinks is true.

“Doesn’t it make the stories taste bad?” Dan asks, “Doesn’t it make them grind against your teeth and cut against your tongue?”

Mark just laughs. “I can stomach it. It’s way cooler than all that unreality fluff you like.”

Dan laughs but inside he’s frowning. The stories he likes are real. It’s just that what he counts as reality and what Mark does must be very different things.

Dan likes stories about odd things. He likes stories about monsters and cults and old, old gods. He likes weird. The stories don’t have to have a hero either, Dan is perfectly happy without a happy ending, just so long as there is an ending. When Dan starts a story leaving it unfinished has never been an option. When his parents read him bedtime stories, always a chapter at a time, he picks the book up once they leave and gets through as much as possible before passing out with the book falling wide open over his face.

Dan like stories and he likes endings and he likes weird. So when he overhears some people on the subway talking about the Visser Building and the odd happenings within, he can hardly not go searching for the endings of that tale.

The next day he walks down seedier streets than any seven year old should really be walking down to get to the Visser Building. He wonders if it’s odd that he didn’t need to look at any maps before coming here. It’s probably normal, he decides, I’m just good at finding odd things.

Dan is good at finding all the stories at the school library that probably shouldn’t be available to children as young as him and no one finds that strange. This is just more of the same.

As he walks into the Visser Building an overwhelming feeling of rightness comes over Dan. This is where you’re meant to be, it whispers, stay here forever and all will be right, right, right, it sings. Dan thinks the whispers make a very good point but he has to be home for dinner otherwise his parents will worry. So he won’t stay. This time.

He walks through the corridors. Some of them feel like mazes. Some of them tilt downwards so harshly that they feel like slides. All of them are new and interesting and definitely full of stories. Dan turns on the tape recorder he stole from his Dad. Mark is always going on about how a journalist needs a good record of everything that happens and this feels like the sort of story Dan is going to need to replay to fully understand.

“This is Dan Powell recording.” he says into it, trying to sound as serious and adult as he can. There isn’t really anything else for him to say after that since all the things he’s feeling are too new and unexplainable to put words to so he just lets the tape recorder go. The whirring of it is nice background noise and Dan likes the way the machine feels in his hand. Almost as if it’s a part of his hand.

Something about that thought may be significant, but before Dan can examine it too thoroughly he’s rounding a corner and face to face with a woman about to knock on a door and holding a tape recorder just like his own.

She looks surprised to see Dan. As if Dan isn’t meant to be there. Dan thinks this is a bit unfair as the woman’s presence doesn’t sing to him like the rest of the building does so she definitely isn’t meant to be there. She looks like she’s nice though and she hasn’t shouted at Dan for trespassing yet so Dan doesn’t say that. He just stands there, listening attentively to the twin whirring of two tape recorders.

“Hello,” the woman says after a moment, cautious. “I’m Melody Pendras, do you live here?”

“No. I’m Dan Powell.” Dan holds his hand out for Melody to shake since he’s sure that’s what he’s meant to do. Melody smiles as if this is a little funny but bends down and shakes Dan’s hand seriously enough that he forgives her.

“Then why are you here?”

Dan frowns. “The same reason as you.” He gestures towards her tape recorder. “I want to know the story.”

Melody starts frowning as well. “That’s a very dangerous thing to want.” she says.

“I know. It’s okay though. Getting to the end is worth it.”

Dan feels Melody re-evaluate her opinion of him. He feels the way her eyes land on him shift until it’s a lot more like how she looks at the rest of this strange, strange building. “I think you would fit in here very well.”

Dan nods in agreement. “Thanks. You wouldn’t.”

Melody laughs lightly. “I hope you’ll forgive me for finding that to be a good thing.” Dan shrugs. It’s not a good thing. It’s not a bad thing. It just is. “I need to get back to work but it was nice to meet you, Dan.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Melody. I hope your story doesn’t end badly.”

Melody looks at Dan very oddly but before she can say anything the door she had been stood in front of swings open and she becomes too caught up in greeting the occupant to notice Dan fading back into the shadows of the Visser Building.

~

Dan ends up having to leave to get home for dinner before finding anything else important. Then he has a playdate with Mark the next day. Then he goes to his school’s very small creative writing club the day after that. Then there’s a disciplinary meeting between his parents and his teacher about the somewhat disturbing story he wrote and Dan gets grounded for the rest of the week.

When Dan finally gets a chance to return to the Visser Building all that’s left is rubble and the odd blood splatter and something else.

The something else is calling to him. The whirring, crackling, spinning of a tape recorder with nothing left to record is loud in his ears despite the fact he know no one else can hear it. His hands are too small and his body too weak to lift the rubble but he aches to do so.

“You lost, kid?” a voice asks from behind Dan. He turns to see a woman who definitely doesn’t care if Dan is lost or not.

“No.” Dan pauses so that he doesn’t sound too demanding or rude. Then, “Can I have the tapes?”

The woman’s eyes narrow and Dan is struck by how unlike Melody she looks. Melody had a kind face, all arranged in the most welcoming shape. The whole time this woman has been looking at Dan she’s kept her face twisted into something mildly disgusted.

“What tapes are these?”

Dan points to the rubble. “The ones in there. They have a story on them, I need to know how it ends.”

“Huh.” the woman says, looking at Dan like an artefact in a museum. “If you were a little older I would know a lot of people who would be interested in employing you.” She tilts her head to the side as if considering Dan. “Do you like cities?”

Dan hasn’t thought on it much before but the concept of living anywhere less full of stories than New York kind of makes him want to tear his skin off. “Yes.”

The woman’s eyes gleam with interest. “Do you have friends?”

Dan thinks to how Mark can make him laugh hard enough to snort milk out his nose and yesterday he fixed the plaster on Mark’s knee just right when the school nurse did it wrong. “Yes.”

The interest in the woman’s eyes dulls a little. “A pity. Still, far more useful than most people will ever be.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a card with the letters LMG on it and a phone number. “My name is Iris Vos. Once you’re old enough to be useful, maybe get a degree or something, call this number and tell them that I sent you.” She turns away from Dan a little. “That should give me some credit with the bastards.” she mutters to herself.

Dan looks down at the card. It’s in pristine condition, just like he supposes everything of Miss Vos’s must be. The numbers have an odd shine to them though and Dan finds himself wondering if there might be something interesting there. “Thank you for the opportunity.” he says, because he’s certain that someone said that after receiving a job offer in one of the TV shows his dad watches. Miss Vos nods so Dan guesses he probably said the right words and she walks off towards people in suits holding official looking clipboards.

Dan wants to know how this story ends. He needs to know how this story ends. The curiosity burns in his stomach like acid and fire and hatred and wonder and Dan isn’t sure how many years he can last before it finds a way to destroy him. He’s always loved endings after all, perhaps a little too much.

So Dan tucks the card very carefully into his pocket and spends a moment hoping fervently that one day he’ll be old enough to be useful.

Badger Cereal Fic Recs

I am heinously picky when it comes to fanfic, so for those of ya’ll hungry for badger cereal and in need of good fics: COME GET YA’LL’S FOOD. 

1. (we are) the fault line by @iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid . This is my number one favorite dp fic of all time, tho… it’s not technically badger cereal? Danny’s only in the fic for like, 2 seconds, but it’s still got parental/protective Vlad and found family, and it’s flawless so I’m including it anyway. A basic summary is: Sam, Tucker, Dani, and Valerie team up with Vlad to rescue Danny from the government. Road trip fic featuring angst, hurt/comfort, buckets of found family, and incredible humor. Word count: 46k

2. How to Mentor a Troubled Ghost Child by @ectopal (and its sequel oneshot). This is my second favorite dp fic of all time, and it’s an actual proper badger cereal fic lol. Quick summary: Vlad has a mini-crisis and starts to work on getting his life together, starting with how he treats Danny. Enemies to friends to mentor/mentee, hurt/comfort, EXTREMELY FLUFFY AND WHOLESOME. Word count: 23k

3. Humans and Ghosts by RedGhost1010. I think this was one of the first dp fics I ever read. Not centrally focused on badger cereal, but it comes into play in the last one or two chapters, and I at least was surprised and delighted by it. Quick summary: Danny’s life is basically just falling apart, largely because Jack and Maddie aren’t the best parents. Angst warning, Danny whump, lots of Good Sister Jazz, protective Vlad at the end. Word count: 26k

4. Overshadowed by @whereonceiwasfire . This fic’s a commitment but it was a super cool read; the fight scenes were awesome and I was vibing so hard with the badger cereal. Basic summary: College-age Danny is having a rough time and it just gets worse when a certain enemy- heck, you could even say his ultimate enemy- comes back for a rematch. Fic is 95% heavy angst, some crumbs of h/c, heavy focus on badger cereal, character death and it might not be who you expect, epic anime-style fights, not sure if you’d call it a satisfying ending but it’s an ending. Word count: 142k

5. Untethered by  @life-jim-but-not-as-we-know-it (”draculard” on AO3). This is a brand new badger cereal fic that was posted only a week or two ago, so only the first chapter is out, but that so far is excellent. the Official Summary for the fic: There was a dead boy on Vlad Masters’ doorstep. So far featuring angst, hurt/comfort, big Danny!whump and protective!Vlad. Current word count: 486 words

6. Conspiracy by @elowenp . Super cute oneshot! Vlad’s not actually in it, but it’s still about badger cereal. Quick summary: Jazz (and friends) are trying to convince Danny to stay with Vlad since his parents are constantly trying to kill his alter ego. Humor and fluff. Word count: 1.5K

7. Still Better Than Google Translate by Hollyflash. I legitimately laughed out loud reading this one. Basic summary: Danny reluctantly asks Vlad to teach him Russian. This isn’t an overly spectacular idea, and it almost immediately dives off the rails. Humor/comedy, Vlad’s suffering is hilarious. Word count: 2k

I probably have more in my ao3 bookmarks that I’ve forgotten, and I’ve got a bunch of potentially good fics I’ve saved for later that I haven’t read yet, so if I find any more good ones I can reblog this or make a second post with them! :)

KNIVES OUT (2019) dir. Rian Johnson

dc comics || jodi picoult