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dcxdpdabbles · 19 days

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DCxDP Fic Idea: New Management

It starts off small, in controlled, barely noticeable areas of Gotham.

Over days, the litter and trash vanish, the sidewalks are washed and cleaned, and even building yards long since abandoned are trimmed. No one notices at first because Gotham is so used to ignoring how dirty everything is until Poison Ivy makes a public announcement thanking the person who cleaned up Gotham's parks.

You know, while she was tearing up that one street with her vine monster.

After the Bats had her locked away pending a trial, they stopped to look around and realized, yes, someone had been cleaning house. No one really knows who, but things have started to change. Streetlights are replaced, graffiti is painted over, and cracked windows are fixed. It's a nice thought, but all this had the gangs up in arms, especially when their tagging disappeared.

To control the goodie-two-shoes, a few gangs burn down a few local parks- mostly the ones near or around Crime Alley- and they also loot the smaller businesses. It's a warning that the mystery housekeeper should be reminded of their station, but- well, it's all for nothing because, like magic, the following night, the damage is repaired and somehow better than before.

What's crazy is the water change. Everyone notices that right away.

Gotham's water system was just as corrupted and descriptive as its class system. If you were one of the elites- your water was clean and crisp- if you were one of the poor- your water was practically tar with how contaminated it was. Anyone in between got a fifty-fifty chance of drinkable water, depending on what side of the city they lived on.

It became an identifier, really. Depending on how often you were seen at stores buying bottled water, people could tell how well off your family was.

That's why, on a random Wednesday, Gotham lost their collective mind that the entire water system was fixed. Regardless of class, every household had clear, scent-free water from the tabs.

The few who wandered outside trying to figure out what in the world was happening were left stunned at the sight of Gotham's surrounding bodies of water.

They were clean.

All the rivers, the harbors, the silly little fountains found around Old Gotham- everything. It was safe to swim in them now. That was just wrong.

"What's happening?" Jason growls, crouching at one of Wayne Manor's main windows. His eyes are barely visible over the edge, allowing him to peek out into the yard, but he must not be fully visible, lest he become a target.

"I don't know," Tim hisses, taking a similar position on the second floor. He grips the communicator with a white-knuckle grip, trying his best to ground himself. "I just don't know. There are no witnesses, no evidence, no clues whatsoever on who's doing this to the city!"

"I don't like this!"

"No one does, Jason," Bruce intervenes; the accompanying sound of keys typing is familiar background noise. He's still in the cave, attempting to run through all reports of horrified Gothamites on social media, trying to find a pattern. "Babs? Do you have any new updates?"

"No!" She hisses, her typing sounding far more aggressive. "I can't find anything on those responsible. Nothing on the internet, nothing on public camera feeds, and nothing on rumors through dark web chats. It's like I'm trying to track a ghost!"

"This isn't natural, B," Steph cuts in. She's hiding in her bedroom closet, voice low in case her mom hears. After they realize some new lunatic is running loose in Gotham, her mom calls her back home to barricade them. If they had a bomb shelter, they would have been in it long ago.

"It's worse than we think," Duke huffs. He's somewhere near the top floor, having chosen a higher vantage point, hoping his meta powers would spot someone coming towards the manor. "I think I see glimpses of blue in the sky. If this continues at this rate, we'll have a clear blue sky in about two hours."

Multiple gasps of horror are heard throughout the communication lines. Bruce starts to type faster, barking orders for everyone to remain where they are and not go gather information. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

Damian stands with a confused Cass, Dick, and Alfred. The only bats not originated from Gotham, so while they can claim to have years in the city, none of them truly know. "I do not understand. Is this not beneficial to Gotham?"

"It may be too much at once, Master Damian." The Bulter tells him carefully. He only speaks that slowly when Alfred thinks of every word before saying it. "Whoever is behind this must not be from Gotham. If they were, they know that people would lose their collective minds upon the improvements."

"But who could be responsible?" Cass asks, watching Jason duck and army crawl to a new window once some sunlight manages to break through the clouds where he was originally hiding.

"I wish I knew Miss Cass."

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton leans back in his computer chair in a dimension of hope and a skip away. He laces his fingers together, bending them until satisfying cracks are heard. It was a productive hour of work, but he thinks now that his virtual city had cleaner water, his NPCs should start healing and developing better.

He was suspicious of Madam Gotham—a new ghost that appeared within his territory of the Ghost Zone—but after a quick conversation, he decided to befriend her. Danny is glad he did, seeing as she was in danger of fading away. Her core had suffered severe damage due to denying her obsession for so long.

Danny could do nothing for her. Madam Gotham needed professional help that only certain Yetis could offer. Although the Yetis usually turned away anyone not of their kind, with Danny backing her up, they had been willing to take in Madam Gotham.

She had been stubborn, though, refusing to get help because she was too busy playing her silly little game. The computer she played it on was unique to her realm and could not withstand the cold temeture of the Far Frozen. Danny was literally watching her melt—a horrific reminder of Dani and her siblings' disabling—before he could take it anymore.

Only after agreeing to watch her video game did she decide to be moved to the Far Frozen to receive medical treatment. Now, Danny never really liked those farming simulator games, but this was different in the sense that the city was already there.

His job was to further develop the city into a utopia. It was interesting to learn what modern issues the city had and how he could make decisions based on point costs on what to fix.

He gained points from making his citizens happier, supporting the Bats—the city's defenders—or choosing to develop options that significantly raised the value of his city.

It was rather addicting, really. He could see how Madam Gotham got so sucked in, even though it didn't really have much action for him to make. Mostly, he would let his citizens react to his new choices and use his points to delete trash and gunk.

There were some side quests he liked to work on, too, like helping certain citizens with drug addiction, depression, anxiety, or anger issues. Danny has no idea why Madam Gotham allowed so many to develop so badly, so every day, he would give them all one good luck point to brighten their days.

He had three full tabs of characters, a brief explanation of their lives, and whatever issues Danny could make them go through. He would tackle the number of homeless youth next by fixing up the city's affordable housing and infrastructure.

It was a bit narcissistic of Madam Gotham to name her game town "Gotham City," but it's better than any name Danny could have come up with.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #New Managment #Part 1 #Danny is playing sims with Gotham #Everyone Gotham born is freaking out #It's not natrual #Gotham was actively making things worse for them #Danny is not aware that he's a managing a actual city

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daisyachain · 2 years

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S5 really does build up the riddlebird of it all like they are catering directly to me which makes it more confusing as to why they shove the ‘brothers’ line in at the end

#my bet was on censorship except for the odd Babs/Tabs kiss on the lips of a corpse #(a la turin/beleg which makes me realize they have the same initials)#however Babs/Tabs still was written with that bizarre wording of ‘best friends’#so it seems to be censorship but more an odd tango with the expectations? who knows #kelsey liveblogs gotham #it’s as transparent as it is homophobic. yet not as homophobic as supernatural. which was more canon #in any case I’ll take my ‘I accept you’/‘meant to be’/‘it’s all led to us here. together’

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theriverbeyond · 1 month

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this is such a random question, but on the subject of theories i was wondering what would have happened if john and the erebos had arrived at the aftermath of canaan house before boe and found the non-lyctor survivors. like would he have just let corona, judith, and camilla go home or get rid of them because they knew too much? is “knowing too much” even a concern for john? for some reason neither option feels totally right to me, but i would love to hear your thoughts!

I honestly think he would let them go home! I think one of John's major flaws is he fundementally both misunderstands and underestimates the people he sees as "his", and I think this does extend into the houses.

I don't think he would see non-Lyctors as any kind of threat, even if he knew that said non-Lyctors had figured out the secret to Lyctorhood. At most I think he would sew their tongues but honestly I think he would take one look at Judith "on life support from catastrophic gut wound" Deuteros, Camilla "catatonic with grief" Hect, Coronabeth "inconsolable because Ianthe age Babs and not her" Tridentarius and be like wow! these kids are having a bad time I should send them home to their parents.

Remember -- if John had arrived at Canaan House before BOE, this is *before* BOE took out 18,000 soldiers with orbital radiation missiles. this is *before* Augustine's betrayal, and Mercymorn's, and *before* the Sixth House defected. The only betrayal John would have felt was Cytherea's, and she failed, and as we see in HtN he mostly pities her.

I do think this could lead to a very interesting AU wherein Camilla is sent home (with the bones in her pocket), Judith is fixed up with proper medical care from the start (and then packed back off to the cohort), and Coronabeth is probably (on request) taken to the Erebos with Ianthe.

I can see this leading to Camilla spending a lot of time trying to free Palamedes' soul while on the Sixth, potentially needing to join the cohort (Alexandrite Cam, anyone?) so she can reconnect with Judith, who despite having several sticks up her ass is the only person Cam feels she can really go to about this (due to them both being the only people left in the Dominicus system who actually know what happened at Canaan House). Maybe Camilla convinces Judith to poke around in the skull bones -- Judith isn't as good as Harrow, but maybe they do bring back some shadow of Palamedes into the bones.

THEN maybe eventually they run into Coronabeth, who perhaps was not allowed all the way to the Mithraeum, but WAS given some sort of very strategic and fancy seat in the cohort so Ianthe can keep tabs on her. A very nepotism hire situation, and despite Ianthe's desire to keep her safe Coronabeth HATES it all because she was once again left behind. When the opportunity to track down Ianthe arises, she takes it.

I see this unfolding over several years post GtN timeline. Perhaps the three of them end up collaborating with other characters along the way that they feel they can trust, some more likely than others -- Mia (Pro's wife) and her children, now grown enough to want more information about their father's death. Ram and Capris Asht, who don't believe that their brother would kill the eighth house heir he had sworn to protect. Kiana can get in here too. maybe the Third house Boy Who Loved Shuttles helps them with a getaway once. Abigail's younger brother, who she named as her heir -- maybe he helps with Palamedes' soul. Jeannemary and Issac's younger siblings. A neo-niner or two -- John renewed the house, and involving a character or three that was ressurected from our modern times would be super interesting and also fill out our merry band. Maybe the neo-niners Remember Things that make Cam connect some dots.

Harrow is still out there, obviously, and in this AU I am imagining Number 7 as NOT speeding up and really taking 5 years to get there, just to even out the time line and allow all that to happen before Number 7 comes and Augustine drowns the Mithraeum.

anyway. events occur, things happen, and intrigue abounds. Alecto awakens, Harrow Remembers, Ianthe doesn't get the girl. Cam is on a warpath. Judith is dragged alongside. Coronabeth isn't going to be left behind again.

what was your question again? this answer has gotten deeply out of hand

#ask #anon #tlt au #idk what happened to this answer anon. something posessed me #im rotating this all now....#also forgor to add gideon's body to this...#i imagine she was taken and stored along w naberius' body #both put on ice. her incorruptibility isn't noticed bc they put her in the cav freezer.#etc. things happen

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thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 2 years

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Cass’ room at the manor:

Tim: Quick! Hide me!

*screeching and minor hollering heard outside*

Babs:

Cass:

Steph:

Babs: Dare I ask why?

Tim: No!

*noises outside intensify*

Steph: Oh come on, you’ve got to give us something to go on.

Tim: I will owe you each a favor I DON’T CARE JUST HIDE ME.

Cass: Done.

Steph: I’m sold.

Babs: I’ll add it to your tab.

Meanwhile, outside:

Jason: Where’d Replacement go? I’m going to slather his safe houses in hot sauce. And then glitter.

Dick: Honestly thought you were going to go with “I’ll kill him,” but that works too.

Jason: Murder is too good for him.

Dick: Consider this my token protest of that statement. Where is he anyway?

Jason: Does it look like I know, smartass?

Dick: You don’t think he went into Cass’ room, do you?

Jason: Ordinarily I’d say yes, but seeing as how Babs AND Steph are over and it’s Steph’s case and Babs’ system that he just obliterated,

Dick: Not even the fact that he nearly blew both of our covers?

Jason: Hey, he knows we’re both after him already. But I’d say he has better self-preservation skills than that.

Dick:

Jason:

Dick: You realize this is Tim we’re talking about…

Jason: I heard it as I said it.

Jason: *heads towards back kitchen door*

Dick: Wait, Cass’ window is right there, where are you going?

Jason, shouting over his shoulder: I want popcorn to watch this shitshow with.

Back in Cass’ room:

Steph: So what’d you do to piss them both off anyway?

Cass: *is looking at Tim knowingly*

Tim: Well, heh, funny thing, but-

Dick, bursting in through the window: I can’t believe your lack of self-preservation skill, Tim!

Steph: What’d he do, skip a med check or something?

Tim: Hey, that was one time!

Dick, under his breath: Last week.

Tim: I have perfectly good self-preservation skills!

Babs, looking on incredulously: I have multiple files indicating otherwise.

Tim: I’m fine! I-

Jason, bursting in through the door with a large bowl of popcorn: So, did Timmy here tell you all about the latest in the Hartley case yet?

*multiple pairs of eyes turn toward Tim*

Tim: Okay look, I can explain…

Babs, pinching her nose: This had better be good.

Steph, making gimme hands towards the popcorn: I reserve the right to yell at you after this.

Tim: Ugh, fine. Okay, so I was sitting there, minding my own business-

*five snorts sound simultaneously*

#tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #batkids

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sadiewayne · 5 months

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so i sat and re-read grayson

i then sat and read it again but i "annotated" it

this is in preparation for me to go and obtain screenshots of the specific 'annotations'

the code is as followed:

blue - dick grayson being a badass (showing how manipulative or intelligent his really is)

purple - every time dick is sexualised

pink - every time he is sexualised specifically by the girls (and once by agent zero)

gray - mostly full page spreads i just really really like (like all the pages where dick sees bruce, jason and tim, babs, and damian again)

there is also a magenta tab which is the one instance dick was shown to enjoy the sexual comments

i mean i probably missed some stuff and there was a million other things i could have tabbed as well but i wanted to keep it thematic with colours and those were the things i cared about the most so

time to compile the screenshots

#dick grayson #nightwing #grayson #spyral #grayson dc #dc #dc comics #dc superheroes #dc batfam #super spy dick grayson #spyral dick grayson #dick grayson is a manipulative bitch #dick grayson is smarter than us #richard grayson #sadies dick grayson

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bellysoupset · 1 month

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I cannot find the ask who requested for sick Wendy + Bella caretaker, so maybe it never existed at all.... Anyway, have some pure sick bromance between my girls.

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"You think I should cut it?" Bella frowned at her reflection, glaring at her hair. She was standing inside of the changing room of the store, in just a swimsuit, so Wendy could help her pack for honeymoon.

"Your beautiful lion mane?" Wendy scoffed, curling up on the puff she was sitting on and absently minded going through the rack of reject bikinis standing next to her, "are you crazy?"

"Sometimes I feel like it stands out more than I do," Bella pouted, hands on her waist and then sighed, tugging on the swimsuit, "so what do you think?"

"I liked the blue one more," Wendy studied her from head to toe, "but I also think you're going to give Luke a stroke."

Bella opened a big, smug smile, looking over her shoulder to stare at her ass in the mirror, "good, then I'm taking it as well," she walked over to the private part of the changing rooms in order to get back in her clothes, "so how's the extra class you were gonna start taking coming along?"

"Which one of them?" Wendy asked, getting up and checking the price tag of a cute little pink bikini with a matching skirt.

"How many classes are you taking!?" Bella opened the curtain of her changing part, unbothered by the fact she was just in her bra and panties, "aren't you also doing the neurology residency!?"

"Well, you see, I have a lot of free time," Wendy shrugged, "and a lot of energy."

"You should join my boxing class then," Bella zipped up her black leather pants, "Jonah's there and I'm kicking his ass."

"No, you're not," Wendy giggled at the transparent lie, "no coach would ever match you up with Jonah, Bell, he's huge."

"Please," Bella rolled her eyes, putting on her band t-shirt and grabbing her purse as well as the picked swimsuits and bikinis, "I could kick his ass, I know I could," she walked over to Wendy and grabbed the smaller woman by her shoulders, "come up for a class."

"I'll think about it," Wendy wrinkled her nose in distaste. A gym wasn't exactly her idea of fun. Sure, she did hot yoga, but there was none of the loud upbeat music and shouting at each other to do more and better.

"So what else are you studying then, Tink?" Bella walked to the cashier part. Wendy handed her the piece she was planning to buy for herself when her friend flashed Luke's black card before her eyes with raised eyebrows, wordlessly putting it on his tab and Bell didn't comment besides snorting at it.

"Interior Design classes every Monday and Thursdays, yoga every Saturday morning, fashion drawing every Tuesday night... I wanted to try ballroom dancing, but my partner is in freaking Doveport and Jon said he already knows and it would be no fun."

Bella wrinkled her nose and shook her head when Wendy opened her mouth as if to ask her, "absolutely not."

"Boo," Wendy sighed, "I think we should take some class together, it'd be cool. Babs is in my hot yoga class and it's a lot of fun."

"Sure," Bella picked up the bags and they started to walk out of the door, "but not ballroom dancing, thank you. I'm actually participating in a coding challenge right now and-"

"A coding challenge," Wendy raised her eyebrows, "what's that?" They walked the short distance between the store and Wen's apartment building.

"Basically I have to try and design a mockup app with the monthly theme," Bella explained and Wendy frowned at that.

"I thought that was your job...?"

"No," Bell followed her inside the elevator, "I'm a backend developer, a frontend does the design and thinks the interface, I do the math that makes it work. But I like UI design, so that's why-"

"God, you're so nerdy," Wendy grumbled, resting against the metal and grimacing slightly as the movement made her stomach lurch, "I can't believe you didn't get shoved into lockers when you were younger, Bell."

The ginger rolled her eyes, "that's because I was always hot," she showed the other woman her tongue like a five year old, running a hand through her curls and then frowning, noticing Wendy's face had lost its usual pink tone.

Bella opted for not saying anything and they kept chatting, walking into Wendy's apartment. However, the longer they talked, the more Bell realized she was the one doing most of the talking, Wendy getting quieter and quieter.

"Wen," Bella pouted, after spending a good thirty minutes talking basically on her own, "do you want me to go? I don't need to spend the night if you're tired-"

"No!" Wendy exclaimed, shaking her head and moving on her spot on the couch, "sorry, no, I don't want you to leave. We planned you'd spend the night, I was looking forward to that, it's just-"

"It's just?" Bell leaned in, confused and Wendy grimaced, moving again as if she couldn't find a comfortable position, "what's wrong, Wen?"

"My stomach is bothering me," Wendy's cheeks turned a deep shade of red, "I don't know what's wrong, I know I didn't eat anything off, but it's all gurgly and kinda crampy."

"Oh," Bella raised her eyebrows, "do you think it could be hunger?"

Wendy shook her head, "no, definitely not hunger, I feel a little queasy..." she pouted, hugging her knees, "I'm sorry, its just my stomach- I- It's a bit of a sore topic."

"Your belly?" Bella frowned, more confused than before, "you feeling sick to your stomach is a sore topic?"

Wendy nodded, pouting and resting her cheek to her knee, "yeah..."

"Why?" Bella crawled on the couch, moving closer, "because you're chubby? That's silly, babe-"

"No," Wen scoffed, before pausing, "I mean, sorta? I used to have issues with my weight back when I was a teen, which led to becoming bulimic and, well, I don't have an eating disorder anymore, but every time I feel like I'm gonna barf, it makes me feel disgusting-"

"Okay," Bella raised a hand to interrupt her, "your order of priorities is a little skewered, Wen. You should've started by telling me you think you're going to puke..." she opened a small, amused smile, "let's go sit in the bathroom, c'mon."

"No," Wendy curled up more, "I'm fine, it's gonna pass- You're not gonna say anything about..?" she raised a judgmental eyebrow and Bell shrugged, standing up from the couch.

"I don't have anything to say," she said in a nonchalant manner, "I'm happy you don't do it anymore...?"

Wendy let out a snort, noticing how uncomfortable Bella seemed being in the emotional caretaker role. She rolled her eyes, "okay, Bells," but the humor quickly vanished, as her lunch flipped yet again. Wendy let out a sigh, curling up in a smaller ball, "I feel gross."

"You're not," Bella patted her head, "c'mon, let's go sit in the bathroom before you ruin your pretty rug."

Wendy didn't have the heart to tell Bell that sitting in the bathroom waiting to throw up really made her feel more awful, not less. She fidget uncomfortably as Bella rummaged through her cabinet drawers until she found a good claw clip to pull Wen's hair back.

Then she sat down as well on the cold ground and planted a hand on Wendy's back, "you feel a little warm, Wen."

"Isn't that just grand," Wendy groaned, leaning forward and staring at the still water of the toilet. She pushed away, fanning herself, "can you go sit in the living room? I don't want you to see me like this..."

"Nope," Bella popped the P at the end of the word, pulling Wendy to lie against her, "sucks for you, but I'm not going anywhere. Come here- Come here-" Bell pulled her closer, draped across her lap and planted a hand on Wendy's unsettled tummy, "I do this for Luke all the time and it helps."

"That's because your husband is an overgrown puppy, I'm not," Wendy groaned, but she couldn't help but melt at the soft touch. Even if her whole face was aflame, Bella was being really delicate, moving her fingers to the sorest spots as if she already knew them by memory.

The ginger slid down slightly, muffling a yawn and pressing the heel of her hand to Wendy's tummy. The pale skin was pushing out, bloated, and every time Bell pressed it she could feel a string of gurgles under her fingers, traveling up-

"Oh, you silly idiot," Bella scoffed, flicking at Wendy's ear, "the belly rub doesn't help if you don't burp. That's the entire point of it!"

"You're killing me," Wendy groaned, pressing her face to Bell's leg and hiding the angry blushing overtaking her cheeks. Bella snorted at that, continuing the rub.

"I'm trying to help," she whispered, "tell me know if I'm making it worse."

"Not worse," Wendy squirmed, then a burp rushed up before she could muffle it and she let out a whine at the loud noise, covering her face, "oh God- I'm sorry-"

"You're so silly," Bella chuckled, "that's nothing, Wen.”

Wendy cringed, pressing her face further to Bella’s thigh and continuing to burp, trying to muffle them. The burps, that at first were making her feel better, got progressively wetter, until one brought her lunch with it and Wendy scrambled up, slapping a hand over her lips and rushing for the toilet.

She didn’t vomit, it went back down, but left her feeling shaky, nausea causing cold sweat to break on her forehead and over her upper lip, flooding her mouth with a horrible taste.

“Wen,” Bell planted a hand in the middle of her back, “what do you need? What’s wrong?”

Wendy groaned, lifting herself slightly so she could press her sick stomach against the porcelain and resting her forehead on her hand, elbow on the seat, “can’t puke… Wanna puke, I feel-” she spat again, the act of speaking causing more saliva to come up, “feel sick…”

“Okay,” Bells continued to rub her back, short nails making a scratching motion, “do you think drinking something might help it come up?”

She felt so horrid, talking about vomiting like that. Wendy nodded, before letting out a groan, almost a sob. Not quite crying, but close. At least this time it wasn’t her fault she was sick, silver linings.

“Babe,” Bella sighed, returning from the bathroom sink with a glass of water, “hey, you’re okay, it’s just a stomach bug. Happens to everyone…”

Wendy took the glass with shaky, sweaty fingers and forced herself to gulp it down. The first sip was actually good, pushing back the horrible taste and the stickiness in her mouth, only for the throat to seemingly close up, tongue curling with disgust, making it incredibly hard for the to swallow more-

“Fuck,” Wendy haphazardly shoved the glass in Bella’s general direction, not even sure if she took it or not before letting go and her whole back arching with a violent heave. Nothing came up, but it set off a chain reaction, her belly squeezing before she could catch her breath and another two gags, until a wet burp brought up a huge gush of half digested french fries and a milkshake.

The sheer volume made her feel like she was drowning and Wendy coughed, hacking again and letting out a string of moans as even more puke rushed up, splashing on her fingers, and making her head swim with the lack of oxygen.

“I got you, I got you,” Bella said softly, cupping her forehead and flushing the toilet, helping Wendy lean over it, “get it up, Tink, you’ll feel better soon.”

“Urgh,” Wendy spat in the now clear swirling water, struggling to breathe. Her nose was stinging and it felt blocked, she felt cold all over… “Can I have more- More wa-” she never did finish that sentence, her stomach contracting violently and more puke rushed up, this time actually choking her.

Wendy folded almost completely with a coughing fit, feeling Bell thump her back and force her to straighten up in order to clear her airways, “big breaths, babe,” Bella tipped her chin back, forcing Wendy to look up, and some clear air to make it through.

The smaller girl groaned as oxygen came back, her spine giving up on her and she fell back, only for Bella to grab her by the wrists and stop her from swan diving and hitting her head against the porcelain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck — Hey, Wen? You with me?”

“Uhm,” Wendy closed her eyes, dizzy and nauseous, still gulping for air. She leaned to the left, her cheek meeting something soft, so Wen let her weight drop against it, “feel…” a little burp interrupted her, “really shitty.”

She heard Bella let out a relieved sigh at her being responsive, then the ginger’s hands on her face, something wet wiping her lips and chin. Wendy frowned, a new wave of humiliation washing over her, “don’t do that…”

“Shush it,” Bell scoffed, pulling her to lie against her, “you’re done? Surely you must be empty…”

“Don’t know…” Wen mumbled, planting a hand to her tummy. Bella had pushed up her top and it was still up, which made Wendy feel even worse. She must be a sight. Under her hand, there was a string of bubbles and gurgles, rushing up and causing her to let out a little sickly burp, “don’t feel done.”

“There ain’t no way,” Bella scoffed, but there was an amused tone to her words, “well, okay, do you want to just wait it out here or-”

Wendy forced her eyes open, feeling more than a little dizzy. It took her a second to realize she was pressed against Bella’s side, her cheek against her friend’s boob, causing her whole face to turn pink with embarrassment. She pulled back, then leaned forward over the toilet once more and shoved a finger inside her mouth, only for Bella to yank at her hand.

“No, absolutely not,” Bella’s voice was harsh now, none of the previous lighthearted air, “you’re not doing that.”

“I don’t feel good…” Wendy whined, spitting in the water, “I want it out…”

“I don’t care, you’re not doing that,” Bella scoffed, then in a calmer tone she said, “let me rub your tummy, okay? Maybe it’ll help.”

“No, Bell, I-” Wendy heaved, a mouthful of watery vomit falling in the water and leaving her panting, “I need to puke, my stomach feels sour and like it’s burning…”

“Alright,” Bella had a practical tone that caused Wendy to groan, like she was a little engineering problem for her friend to solve. The ginger got behind her, pushing the glass of water back to Wendy, “big gulps.”

“Not- Not gonna-”

“Big gulps,” Bella repeated, voice firm, “c’mon, Wendy.”

Wendy sighed, blowing out another airy burp and then forcing herself to drink the rest of the water. It landed in her stomach like acid, causing more of the burning sensation that tickled her throat and Wendy groaned, leaning more-

Bella touched her belly, her fingers no longer that soft, pressing the heel of her hand to Wendy’s bloated upper stomach, right where it rounded out of her rib cage. The pressure caused a gurgly burp to come up and Wen moaned, squeezing the toilet seat with both hands, as Bell continued to literally squeeze her tummy.

She couldn’t breathe properly, making a slightly wheezy sound, and then her stomach contracted once more, sharply, and Wendy moaned her way as another gush exploded out of her mouth. This time it was mostly sour, salty water, but the first gush opened the gates for the rest and she continued to gag, puking little mouthfuls of chunkier stuff, until she finally let out a deafening heave, whole back curling as her stomach forced up the last of it.

Wendy groaned, her knees giving in and she felt Bella wrap her up with an arm, flushing the toilet, “there you go,” the ginger pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Wendy would have started crying, if she wasn’t half convinced she already was.

She whimpered, pushing her face against Bella’s stomach and falling into an awkward position across the woman’s lap. Bell seemed unbothered, combing her fingers through Wendy’s hair, then moving her hand to her tummy.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pathetic, disgusting, horrible-”

Bella glared at her, “that’s all bull,” she said sharply, “I wanna know how’s your belly.”

“Ah… Better. Not settled,” Wendy sighed, curling up her knees, “I think it’s the flu.”

“I think it’s the flu too,” Bell agreed, “you’re really warm. Think you can stand up? You need to get out of these clothes and into bed.”

“Not now,” Wendy mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut when shaking her head no caused the bathroom to blur, “I’m sorry you had to-”

“Madre de Dio, Wendy!” Bella cried out, “babe, you didn’t gross me out or whatever, just stop fucking apologize. It’s fine, you got sick, that happens.”

Wendy let out a whine, forcing her eyes open, all feverish and emotional and wanting to die, “you don’t think I’m gross? I mean, I-”

“Wendy,” Bella grabbed her cheeks, forcing their eyes to meet, “what world do you live in where we’re running beauty contests on the bathroom floor?”

The phrase caused Wendy to let out a chuckle, pulling back and forcing herself to sit up. She wiped at her forehead, desperately wanting out of her the clothes that were sticking to her, “I guess.”

“You guess,” Bella repeated, dryly and rolling her eyes, “that’s a ten for Wendy Marshall for puking her guts up with class and elegance, minor sobbing and almost no mess.”

Wendy’s cheeks caught on fire and she glared at her friend, “shut up, Bella.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bell scoffed, getting up and extending her hand to help her up, “c’mon, let's get you in a shower and then in bed.”

#sickfic #stomach flu #emeto #emetophilia #belly rubs #wendy marshall #mywriting

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i-smoke-chapstick · 24 days

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'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART FOUR]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You're in oddly high spirits tonight.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) The slow burn is slow burning, no really, it's on fire. She fell first, he fell harder. Readers more like Alice than Alice is, tbh. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Reader and Butch have a shared trauma bond from Barbara and Tabs. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. Jim Gordon is still...Jim Gordoning. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx @all-things-fandomstuck @killingboredom

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - 'PART THREE, - 'PART FOUR, - ‘PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN,

♫ “Don't blame me, love made me crazy, if it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Time slows sometimes in Gotham. Todays one of those days. You frequently think it's always one of those days. You wish you could up and leave the city. You made that promise to yourself- a long time ago, when your mom and dad got turned all upside down. You wouldn't let this city kill you.

Obviously, though, you often wonder if they'd ever even let you leave. Dad- maybe. You like to think he'd understand. But you think he might kill himself without you, too.

It's your mom that's the issue, you find. She intends to cling onto you for the rest of your lives. You remember a conversation you had with Selina not too long ago.

"When Bab's buries her claws in something, she never lets go. How do you think she got the club from Penguin?" You often wonder if she has her claws buried in you. You often wonder how deep they really go.

You can hear the faint clapping in the back of the crowd. You stare at the stage, intently, seeing Jervis and your mom parade around. They look like they are having the time of their lives, Jervis hypnotizing her to dance with him. You watch Tabitha look on, in an odd mix of disdain and fascination.

Letting them finish their act, you walk along the bar floor. You pretend to ignore the gaze held on you, both by Mr. Tetch and your mom.

You find Butch, sitting alone, nursing one-too-many shot glasses.

"Hey kid." He says, huffing a sigh, when he notices you sit down next to him. You both share an exasperated look, looking between Barbara and Jervis and Tabitha.

"What's up with you?" You ask, and he grumbles.

"Headache."

"And you think drinking more is gonna help?"

He rolls his eyes, effectively fed up. You lightly pat his shoulder in sympathy.

You didn't mind Butch. The first time you'd met him was when he tried to kill you, and hold you and your mom captive for Falcone. Oh, how the times have changed.

"You and Tabitha doing okay?" You ask. You know he's dying to shout about it to someone, if not on the surface, then deep down. But his resolve is as strong as ever. He shakes his head, and swallows air.

"We're fine." You know it's a lie. You know he thinks your mom is a bitch. It used to bother you, but now it just makes you shrug. "You...uh...wanna put in a good word for me? With Tabs?" He asks, hopeful.

You look at him, eyes softening. "Yeah. I can." You nod, and he nods back. Ah, mutual discontentment. You remember why you like him.

The sound of clapping grows louder, and takes the two of you out of your somewhat comfortable silence. Butch raises a glass to you, abet sarcastically, and downs it.

You watch as Jervis and Barbara flood down the stage, bowing. Your mother looks absolutely enamored with the praise. Jervis does as well. They murmur thank you's as they push past the crowd. You offer Butch a parting glance, before moving toward the pair.

"Not half bad." Tabitha remarks, coming up from behind you. It almost startles you, and you catch the way Jervis's eyes glimmer at your jump.

"Please. That was the best dancing you've ever seen in your life." Your mother rolls her eyes. The comment surprisingly brings a smile to your face. It's something the old her would've said too.

"Thank you for the dance, Ms. Kean." Jervis offers a gentlemanly grin, and Barbara nods. You watch her and Tabitha fall into a conversation, talking and laughing through playful insults. When the band starts, Tabitha brings Barbara to the floor to dance with her instead. It's...surprisingly sweet.

Jervis must take note of your longing gaze. He speaks, gently.

"Why don't you dance with them?" He urges- and he reminds you of a teacher, trying to get you to play with the other kids. It almost makes you giggle.

"I'm not a good dancer." You click your tongue. He makes a noise of understanding.

"How unfortunate," He remarks. "You must allow me a dance, one day. I would be delighted to teach you."

Between your mother being a bit like her old self, and your conversation with Butch, you somehow feel elated at his words.

"I'd like that." You whisper, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch his smile falter, as if he wasn't expecting your immediate agreeance. The thought strangely makes you even happier. You're in high spirits tonight.

Said spirits seem to fall quite quickly though, when you notice your father marching into the club. The smile on your face, as well as Jervis's, seem to slowly evaporate at the sight. Jervis hurries towards him, and you weave your way behind, following him like a child.

"Did you find her?" Jervis asks, excitable. But you know the look on your fathers face. Somethings wrong.

"I found her. Lost her. She shot a man and set fire to his body. Said she had an infection," Jim growls out. You attempt to digest the information, whilst Jervis looks far less bothered than he should look. "Also, said she doesn't want anything to do with you."

Oh, I look at Jervis. He looks bothered at that.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Your dad looks pissed. You want to bang your head against a wall. Nothing in Gotham is ever easy, is it?

"It's complicated-" Jervis begins, before your dad steps in to grab him by his suit jacket. Your eyes widen at the move. When he goes to make a threat, you push him off. Both Jervis and your dad look at you bewildered.

"Hands off, dad. This is mom's club. Don't make a scene. Not with him." You nod to Jervis, and you find his mouth is slightly agape, eyes focused solely on you.

Your dad backs away a bit, looking at the ground, and clenching his jaw.

"Let's talk somewhere private, shall we? Allow me to explain the situation?" Jervis manages to speak with civility. They stare at each other for a moment, tense, before heading out without a word. Before your dad follows him out, he shoots you a look of chagrin.

You stand alone in the club, unaware where your mother and Tabitha have disappeared off too. You look back to find Butch missing from his seat at the bar.

Time slows sometimes in Gotham. Todays one of those days.

#gotham #x reader #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #batman rouges gallery #batman x reader #gotham villains x reader #dc comics #jervis tetch x reader #jervis tetch #the mad hatter #dc mad hatter #jervis tetch gotham #jervis tetch imagine #fic series #the mad hatter dc #the mad hatter x reader #gotham jervis

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violent138 · 5 months

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I have a headcanon that Steph is very much on Babs side when Oracle's a little upset about Dickory.

"Barbie, you got those reports on the stolen tank?" Steph raises her eyebrows at the lack of response from the Bats' eyes and ears, drifting over to peer at the computer.

A familiar, gorgeous redhead that Steph also stalks is open over the case file tabs.

Oh not this again.

"She's got nothing on you," Steph says, making Barbara jump.

Barbara doesn't even look ashamed at being caught, continuing to pout at the screen. "She's a princess."

"So?" Steph shrugs dismissively. "You're a genius, and you've saved Gotham over and over."

"She can fly." Barbara points out, face resting heavily against a bruised fist.

Steph scoffs. "What's the batplane for, decoration?"

They both stare at the screen, and damn if Steph can't see the appeal.

Barbara sighs, slumping onto the table.

"If you kill him, I'll help bury the body," Steph whispers, patting her on the back.

A half-groan, half-chuckle is her only response, the other Batgirl squeezing her hand blindly.

#barbara gordon #just a funny moment I envisioned #very ripped off from a real life interaction #oracle #past dickbabs #dickory #stephanie brown #batgirl #batfamily #drabble #dc comics #dc headcanon

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soylent-crocodile · 3 months

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Nawf (Monster)

(Art by @strawberry-crocodile)

(Behold, the thoroughly modern mimic! This is an idea I'm really proud of and very happy of the execution, so I think I'll let it speak for itself)

CR3 NE Tiny Fae

Nawf are fey creatures driven by a desire to steal loot and kill small creatures, and to this end, they are excellent deceivers of adventurers. It is a fact, known little outside of adventuring guilds, that adventurers often have a fondness for strange, small, ugly creatures- generally considered a symptom of adventurers often being outsiders to society themselves. Nawf excel at fulfilling this role; they are grouchy, ugly, and have strange voices (often with a unique verbal tic and a poor understanding of pronouns), but when encountered, are often helpful, inquisitive creatures. This is ultimately an act; a nawf’s goal is to be welcomed into an adventuring party, whereupon it will take the next opportunity to steal as much loot and kill as many of the party’s other small, weak companions- such as familiars and pets- as it can.

Nawf have learned many tricks to endear themselves to adventurers. One trick- considered by some ecologists to be how they started parasitizing adventurers- is to join a goblin or kobold raiding party, and to focus their attention solely on looting, rather than killing; this presents them as the most amiable of raiders, and if the plan to lure in adventurers falls short, they still make off with whatever treasure they’ve taken. Another trick favored by dungeon nawf is to trade or barter for information on the location of trapped treasure. The nawf is happy to warn adventurers of this trap; this serves the dual purpose of endearing the adventurers to them, and raising the odds that the adventurers will disarm the trap, something nawf are ill capable of doing on their own.

Despite this hatred to adventurers, nawf are surprisingly amiable to other monsters. Some serve as spies for wicked masters, helping them keep tabs on any local upstart, while others simply engage in monsterside trading, such as with a spookismus. Finally, nawf and mimics have a strange affinity for each other, and when not running a con, nawf can typically be found colluding with and even caring for these beings.

This small goblinlike creature has a porcine nose and two sets of ears- one long and hanging, the other pointed and erect.

Misc- CR3 NE Tiny Fae HD5 Init:+3 Senses: Perception: +11

Stats- Str:16(+3) Dex:16(+3) Con:15(+2) Int:7(-2) Wis:17(+3) Cha:20(+5) BAB:+2 Space:2.5ft Reach:0ft

Defense- HP:33(6d6+12) AC:15(+3 Dex, +2 Size) Fort:+3 Ref:+4 Will:+7 CMD:16

Offense- Bite +6(1d6+5 plus Grab) CMB:+3 (+4 Racial bonus to grapple) Speed:30ft Special Attacks: Rake (1d6+5)

Feats- Combat Reflexes, Stand Still, Power Attack (-1/+2)

Skills- Appraise +3, Bluff +13, Perception +11, Stealth +19

Spell-like Abilities- (CL5, Concentration +10)

Nondetection/constant

Special Qualities- Change Shape (A single small humanoid form, Alter Self), Dimensional Gullet, Speed Surge

Ecology- Environment- Urban, Caves Languages- Common, Goblin, Aklo Organization- Solitary Treasure- Double

Special Abilities- Dimensional Gullet (Su)- A nawf’s mouth is a portal to a pocket dimension, where it stores gold, other loot, and bloody trophies. It can swallow any object or fetch it from this dimension as a move action, although it cannot do so when using its bite to grapple. Additionally, this hole has similar properties to a portable hole- if one attempts to put a nawf into an extradimensional space, like a bag of holding or the aforementioned portable hole- both the object and the nawf will be destroyed in a blast that deals 5d8 force damage to all creatures within 15ft, and the contents of the nawf will be shunted to a random place in the astral plane. When otherwise slain, a nawf ejects the contents of its gullet, and the pocket dimension closes. Speed Surge (Su)- Three times a day, a nawf may call on the timeless magic of the First World to grant it a boost in speed, taking an additional move action that turn.

#soylent original #monsters and races #homebrew #pathfinder #scrimblo #goblincore #kobold #dnd #blorbo #blorbo from my games

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maccreadysbaby · 5 months

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: mentions of death/su**ide

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

this took forever but i’m getting back in the groove! I got a little ahead of myself so I had to restart my whole timeline so it made sense. also yes asten is really determined to do this, you’ll learn why later

part sixteen

❝ WITHOUT A TRACE ❞

SATURDAY — AUGUST 8 — 10:04PM

SURPRISINGLY TO NO ONE, SLEEP WAS AVOIDED LIKE THE BLACK PLAGUE THAT NIGHT. Bentley, Nico, and Asten took to conversing quietly instead, all spread out on various parts of Bentley’s king sized bed. Nico was laying on his back across the foot of the mattress, bickering with Asten a little, but staring at the ceiling, mostly. He’d been jumping at shadows and flinching at the faintest of sounds for hours now. Bentley wasn’t even sure he’d seen him smile since they got to the Manor. Asten was posted up near the left edge of the bed, scouring the internet on Tim’s old laptop with a big bag of chips Jason had insisted they take up with them. He, as opposed to Nico, was taking their terrible circumstances in his stride, acting completely normal. Bentley was against the headboard, fiddling with his phone, trying his best not to be awkward.

Before they’d come up to Bentley’s bedroom, they’d been cooped up in the den, watching random movies on a quiet volume with Dick and Jason for company. It was the first time Bentley had seen Dick out of the hospital bed. Outwardly, he was just Dick Grayson. Charming, outgoing, fun-loving and even able to put Bentley’s jittery friends at ease; but Bentley could see the glimmer in his eyes that was dimmer than usual, the brief moments that he took to breathe and gather himself before he put the never-ending smile back on.

Jason had to have been seeing it, too. He was off to the side reading a book, but Bentley saw him react to things ever so slightly, like his finger twitching the slightest bit when Dick would shift uncomfortably, or the way his eyes flicked up for a split second when Asten’s Crime Alley drawl made a unmistakable appearance.

After they successfully spent nine solid hours in the den, and skipped lunch, Dick practically begged them to eat something. (Bentley realized just then that he and Asten hadn’t eaten at all that day.) Dinner was quiet.

Bruce had let them know Damian had gone to a friend’s house — a family called the Kents — and Bentley was ninety-nine percent sure it was because of him, Asten, and Nico. Why else would Damian spontaneously up and leave? Duke was working on a school project at a classmate’s, Steph was swamped with college, Babs was staying late at the library, Tim was working over (which really meant he was in the cave.), and Cass was… well… doing whatever Cass did. (No one could really keep tabs on her, could they?) Bentley assumed it had to do with her upcoming dance recital next week.

Bentley didn’t mind. The meal was quick and quiet, and Alfred made some really good pasta stuff, that was so good Asten got a second helping. (Which Bentley considered really good, because he was Brazilian and Brazilians were very good cooks.)

And that pretty much led to now, ten at night, sitting in Bentley’s bedroom that was pitch silent apart from Asten’s occasional crunching.

Bentley had exhausted all the games on his phone throughout the day, so now he was just kind of playing with his phone case. Nico’s phone kept going off repeatedly. (Bruce had called his parents to let them know what was going on, and they were coming back early, but their plane didn’t leave until morning so Nico had to stay with the Waynes until they got home.) Asten had said he called his uncle, but Bentley didn’t actually think so — he’d been near the bathroom door the whole time and never heard him say anything. But maybe he texted him. Either way, Asten was staying the night again, too. (As if Bruce would even consider letting him go home alone — He’d been checking on them nonstop, once every fifteen minutes at least. No one would know he was the calm and collected Batman based on the way he acted with his kids. Which was probably a good thing.)

“Bentley?”

It was the first time he’d heard Nico’s voice in quite a while, so both he and Asten perked up, glancing over at the blonde. His ocean blue eyes were locked on the ceiling. He was tugging on the strings of his light gray hoodie in a repetitive, rhythmic pattern, staring at nothing but deep in thought.

“Yeah?” Bentley questioned, picking at the edge of his clear phone case.

“What was your dream like? About her?”

Bentley blinked. They hadn’t talked about the Secret Keeper since they got home, and he really hadn’t expected Nico to be the one to bring it up. He tapped on his phone lightly, exhaling.

“Uh… well… it was really realistic,” Was how he started, gaze focusing on the dark comforter he had over his legs. “I thought I was awake, and I started hearing her. Talking to me.”

He tried to hide the little shiver that shook him when he imagined the warped, strange mixture of her voice and Damian’s, but he wasn’t sure he hid it very well. “I tried to run but she was everywhere, taking peoples faces, their voices, just for me to look up and realize it was her and not them. I...” He looked down a bit farther. “I threw up when I finally woke up.”

Nico glanced over at him, blue eyes bouncing across his face for a few seconds. “Mine was really realistic, too. I woke up when my baby sister was crying, and I went to get her, but when I opened her bedroom door it was…” He trailed off, focusing back on the ceiling. “She, uh… started chasing me around my house. And none of the doors went to the right rooms, everywhere was a dead end, and I couldn’t find my parents or my sister, and I…”

Bentley glanced over at him, watching him blink the tiniest hint of glassy-ness out of his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Nico finally continued. “I threw up, too. Like four times. It always happens when I get really scared.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Was yours weird like that, Asten?” He questioned, glancing over at him.

Asten shrugged, not looking up from the screen that was lighting up his face and hair. “It… uh…”

Bentley watched his green irises move from the screen, to the keyboard, down to his lap, bouncing around there for a few moments. “I don’t… really want to talk about it.”

Nico blinked, looking back at the ceiling. “…Sorry.”

“S’fine,”

The room fell quiet, and Bentley kept fiddling with his phone. Maybe Asten’s dream had something to do with his parents or Brazil — that would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about it. Or maybe he was just terrified and didn’t want to think about it. Justifiably.

Bentley breathed in and out. “How’s your research going?” He said after a few moments, glancing over at Asten.

The blue-haired-boy shrugged. “I’ve pretty much dead-ended on my missing persons list. It totals up to forty-nine in the past four months, in and around Gotham. A lot of them are already… dead.”

Asten picked up the laptop and moved next to Bentley, adjusting the screen so he could see it. He had a spreadsheet open with a list of names and links to the articles where he’d found them. The whole thing looked freakishly similar to Tim’s — Asten wasn’t kidding around with his research, apparently.

“Research for what?” Nico questioned, sitting up on his elbows to gaze at them.

“I’m making a list of all the potential Secret Keeper targets. Trying to find something to go off of. To find her boss,” Asten explained, nonchalantly.

Nico wasted no time sitting up with a high-pitched: “To find her what?!”

Asten shrugged. “I dunno! Her boss, her leader, her dad, whoever branded her head.”

“Branded her head?”

“Yes, branded her head,” Asten clarified with a sigh. Nico pushed himself upright and shimmied up to the headboard, on the other side of Asten to look at the computer.

“Why in the world are you trying to find her boss?” He murmured, scanning the spreadsheet quickly.

“Because I want to destroy her,” Asten said, with a completely blank, serious expression on his face. Nico stared at him for a solid ten seconds before he frowned.

“What’re you gonna do? She’s killed people!”

Asten scoffed. “I’m going to make her life a living hell, thank you very much. Bentley said he’s in.”

Nico’s panicky blue eyes flicked over to Bentley. “For real?”

He shrugged lightly. Chasing down murdery metahuman supervillains wasn’t exactly his idea of fun, but if it would convince Damian he deserved to live with them, he’d do that five times over. After all, it’s what his whole family did, every single night.

“Yeah,” He muttered quietly.

“If they harass you, harass them back,” Asten chimed, like it was some sort of nursery rhyme he learned when he was little. Nico gaped at him. “Fight fire with fire, they hit you, you hit them harder, all that jazz.”

“That’s illegal and immoral,” Nico murmured. “And I’m pretty sure fire plus fire just equals more fire.”

Bentley glanced up at Asten, who snickered: “Nothings illegal if you don’t get caught!”

Nico blinked a few times, in silence. “No,” He deadpanned. “How are her supposed victims going to help you find her boss, anyway?”

Asten shrugged. “I’m not actually sure yet. Just working with what I’ve got. Which isn’t much.”

None of them said anything for a solid ten seconds, all just glancing between each other and the computer.

“You guys can help me, actually. I’m trying to find anything besides being missing or dead that might link all these people together. If you want to see what you can find on some of them, that would be very helpful,” Asten explained.

“Helpful in finding a boss that might not even exist, of a lady who can kill you from four states away, that’s been personally attacking us. Sounds safe to me,” Nico muttered, and Asten elbowed him with a pointed glare.

“Shut up,”

“Why are you so obsessed with destroying her? Gotham has police and superheroes for that,” Nico continued.

Asten stared at the screen in silence for a moment, something grim swirling in the back of his eyes before he pushed it away with a sharp inhale. “Because she’s been stalking us like a freaking psycho. If she’s gonna mess with us, she’s gonna know who she’s messing with.”

Bentley blinked. “If she can read our minds, I guess she already does.”

Asten glanced over at him for a moment, their eyes locking for a solid five seconds before he looked away again.

“True,”

“You think she can just always read our minds? Whenever she wants?” Nico interjected, glancing between them worriedly. “Because I don’t think a supervillain that knows we’re trying to catch them is going to be very easy to catch. Not to mention she’ll probably kill us.”

Asten shrugged. “I mean, if she can, she already knows. There’s no point in stopping now.”

“Uh, yeah, there is. It’s called not dying,” Nico sassed.

“Would you just help me?” Asten finally muttered, gesturing to the computer. “Just pick anyone on the list and see what you can find. It’d take me forever to do all these.”

Bentley obeyed, turning his phone the right way and choosing a name from the very top of the list: Titus Lancaster.

He navigated to the internet and typed the name in, and immediately, several different results popped up.

The first one was on a website called Gotham’s Coldest Cases, and when he clicked on it, a picture of a boy with shiny, grayish-brown eyes was the first thing he saw. He was holding a guitar and sitting on the floor in front of a distant Christmas tree, wearing a red hoodie and gray sweatpants, smiling brightly up at the camera with dimples the size of craters. There was a red and black beanie pulled over his head, his deep brown hair only peeking out slightly from the front and back.

The headline beneath it was: New Jersey Couple Awakes to their Twelve Year Old Son Gone Without a Trace.

Bentley continued to scroll, watching the body of the article appear as he did.

Isabelle and Jonathan Lancaster awoke the morning of May 6 like it was any other day… little did they know, it wasn’t. When Isabelle Lancaster went to wake up her pre-teen son for school, he wasn’t there.

‘There was nothing in his room or in the rest of the house that would suggest he ran away. Even his cellphone was still charging on his nightstand.’ Says Eugenia Carlomile, head detective on the case. ‘No signs of forced entry or forced exit, no sightings of him or any suspicious persons anywhere outside of their house. We’re waiting for further evidence to continue our search.’

Titus Lancaster was last seen on May 5, when he and his parents parted ways for bed around 10:45pm. He was reportedly wearing a black hoodie with his last name and the number 16 on the back, and the Gotham City Middle School basketball logo on the front, with light gray sweatpants and a black and red beanie on his head.

As of today, July 17, there are still no sightings of Titus. His family is holding an empty, closed casket funeral that is open to the public for anyone who wishes to grieve with them on July 27.

If you have seen or believe you have seen Titus Lancaster, or have heard any additional information regarding his disappearance, please contact the Gotham City Police Department at (856)-916-GCPD.

Bentley scrolled back to the top and saved the website to his favorites folder, before tapping his way back to the initial search results.

The second website that came up was Gotham News Network (GNN). When he opened it, there was a button at the top that said About the Disappearance of Titus Lancaster, but below that stood the large headline: Isabelle and Jonathan Lancaster Found Dead.

He took a deep breath, in and out, then scrolled down.

Isabelle and Jonathan Lancaster were found dead in their garage due to asphyxiation on July 28, caused by the trapped fumes of two running vehicles. Detective Eugenia Carlomile suggests this was a direct response to their missing twelve-year-old son, Titus Lancaster’s closed casket funeral the day before.

Bentley opted out of reading the rest of the article, saving it to his file with the other instead.

He couldn’t even imagine going missing, only to come back and learn your parents were dead.

The rest of the articles were repeats of those two, the only other relevant website being one called Gotham Areopagus. Bentley clicked on it, but it just ended up being a congratulations on their website for a group graduating from a children’s physics course there early in the year. Titus was among the list of names.

“I didn’t find anything about Titus, other than what happened to him and his parents,” Bentley said quietly, glancing over at Asten. “And that he took some class at a place called the… Areopagus?”

Asten nodded lightly, typing something next to Titus’s name. “It’s some rich kid's extracurricular class thing. I think people go there to just… take more classes? Nico’s been there.”

Bentley glanced over at the blonde, who shrugged. “It’s like, hands on STEM class stuff. I only went to a birthday party there, but there are year-long courses and stuff you can take.”

Bentley nodded lightly. He wasn’t going to ask what STEM meant.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know about it, nosebleed,” Asten taunted, nudging Bentley with his elbow. “Y’know, being the kid of the richest man, like, ever, and everything.”

Bentley shrugged. “I’m not from here, remember? I’m from Drew.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Asten continued. “You can look up someone else, then. It’s fine if you can’t find much.”

Bentley moved onto another random name, in the middle of the list: Davis Henderson.

Why did he recognize that name?

He typed it into his browser, scanning the results that popped up. The first one was on a news site called Right Now New Jersey, and when he clicked on it, the headline read: New Jersey College Student Assaulted at Work.

When he opened it, a photograph of an eerily familiar, blonde-haired-green-eyed guy came up. He was wearing a blue button up and a little waist apron, with a notepad and pen in his hands, smiling down at the camera. Behind him was a bar.

The bar Bentley went into when he was running from his father last year. It was that Davis, the waiter that tried to keep Bentley away from his father’s men, to protect him, only to get the butt of a pistol to his head.

21-year-old Davis Henderson was assaulted by an unknown assailant in the back room of the bar he works at. He was found unconscious with a blow to the head by coworker, Madison Langford, who called the police. ‘All I saw was blood, a lot of it, and I immediately called the cops,’ Said Langford, Henderson’s coworker in training. ‘I was so afraid he might’ve been dead.’

Henderson woke up confused and unable to give the police any description of his assailant or the incident in question. The camera system in the bar seemed to have been tampered with, as the exact time of the assault was cut out of the footage. More on this story as it develops.

Bentley quickly clicked off of that article. He could still remember the way the gun cracked as it collided with the waiter’s head. The way he dropped like a rag doll. The fact that it was all his fault.

He silently scrolled down to the next article instead, on the same website as Titus’s: Gotham’s Coldest Cases. The headline was: Star Princeton University Student Missing?

He opened it up and scrolled past the exact picture of Davis that was on the other website.

21-year-old Princeton University student Davis Henderson was declared missing on August 2nd, after not showing up to work or classes for 24 hours.

He was last seen on surveillance walking between his home and work on August 1st at approximately 3:27am on 9th street, near Whitehouse Library and The Gotham Areopagus. He was wearing a blue button-up, black slacks, and black tennis-shoes. He didn’t make contact with anyone on or around the time of his disappearance, and there is no surveillance footage of him returning to his apartment complex that night or the following 48 hours.

‘I assumed he was sick when he didn’t come to class,’ Said Ethan Hunt, Davis’s classmate at Princeton University. ‘But he didn’t respond all day. I drove all the way to his apartment complex in Gotham, to make sure he hadn’t fallen seriously ill, but it was still locked and he wasn’t home.’

If you have seen or believe you have seen Davis Henderson, or have heard any additional information regarding his disappearance, please contact the Gotham City Police Department at (856)-916-GCPD.

Bentley sighed lightly and closed the website. Davis was so nice to him, and now he was… gone. Disappeared off the street.

And wasn’t Whitehouse Library the same place where The Secret Keeper chased Asten?

When he went through more of the search results, they were just repeats of those two stories, plus a few social media posts where Davis was tagged. Bentley scoured four different accounts of his, even going back as far as when he was a young teenager, but there was nothing that aided his search or seemed suspicious in the slightest.

Bentley sighed heavily, glancing at the list Asten had made. “This guy was last seen in the same area where the Secret Keeper chased you.”

Asten glanced over at him, then at his phone. “Who?”

“Davis Henderson,” Bentley stated, and Asten nodded, finding Davis’s column and typing a few things next to his name.

“I’m not finding anything on this Olivia girl but her dream and the reports of her going missing,” Nico stated. “She saw the Secret Keeper in her yard.”

“That’s fine,” Asten muttered.

Well, three down. Forty-six to go.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

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