Duke is unapologetic for everything that comes out of his mouth. In fact, give him a mic, he'll say it louder.
Some way too old for that guy, trying to flirt with Cass: You know, you seem so mature for your age…
Duke, popping out of nowhere: And you're really fucking dumb for yours, man, fix this puddle of desperation on your head first and only then think about trying to fit into society. If even your hair doesn't want to be with you, what are you counting on?
Cass, who really didn't want to ruin her cute dress with blood: 👍🏻
A really annoying paparazzi: Hey, boy, how does it feel to become rich after, well, whatever you were before? Have your, erm, extracurricular activities changed? What's your favourite thing to do now?
Duke, with the straightest face known to mankind: No, it's still your mom. My favourite extracurricular activity, planning to do her more actually, thanks for the question.
Bruce, trying to parent a whole ass teen: So…
Duke: I really shouldn't have told this terrible, rude, insufferable piece of person to go eat shit. I genuinely regret it. I should have told her to go eat shit and die choking, such a missed opportunity, damn, I'm still upset.
Bruce: ...
Bruce, to himself: Why am I even trying?
There are a bunch of compilations on YouTube and Tiktok “Duke Thomas-Wayne has no PR training whatsoever”. Duke personally likes every single one of them.
ROACHHHHHH MY BELOVED 🪳🧎♀️
One off page of Roach. He’s a girlypop hunter to Ghost’s edgy
Also a very chaotic arc hunter
Rules: share the first line of the last ten fics you wrote and tag some people :)
So I was tagged by my lovely (platonic) spouse @gremlin-bot for this challenge and I am more than happy to oblige! Who knows, maybe this'll light a fire under my butt to start writing some more on these.
For you cannot take my heart, might I lend you my ear? (DP x DC)[out!] Ft. vampire!Dick
"Where is he?"
2. Soulmate, shift, send (DP x DC) A continuation to my TargetPractice(RoyxDanny) Soulmate AU
Danny: Hey Roy , Its me Danny
3. Chapter 14 of Tim Drake's I.E.F (DP x DC)
It was a few hours before patrol when the two unconscious agents finally came to.
4. The way to get lost in you (DP x DC) A fic where Danny possesses Jayson accidentally
It was a cold night in Ancients know where and Danny was tired, hurt, and running low on ectoplasm.
5. With chaos brings justice (DP x DC) [out!] enemies to lovers with ChaoticSpirits (KlarionxDanny)
John Constantine was a man of few pleasures.
6. The good, the bad, & the dead (DP x DC x AF) A crack ship me and @bewitched-forest collabed on for the lore
Danny was trying to get a few more minutes of shut eye, mentally blocking out the noises of the people chatting and moving around him.
7. Chapter 2 of Circus of the dead (DP x DC)
The sound of his motorcycle engine echoed around the entrance tunnel as Dick drove in for some rest after patrol.
8. What a shocker! (Final name TBD)(DP x DC) A halfa Damian AU
The news of a new hero joining the Justice League didn't bother Damian at this point.
9. On the rise (DP x DC) [out!] A wings AU featuring Over 9000 (Kon-el x Danny)
“Heads up!”
10. I've waited this long (DP x DC) [out!] My TargetPractice (RoyxDanny) soulmate AU
Despite how much Danny’s parents invest in the scientific method, they were never one’s to believe in things like ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’.
I hope the WIPs you see will one day com out, but I tend to get plot bunnies a lot and they always tend to muck up my focus. I don't have anyone I want to tag besides @halfblackwolfdemon (if ya want to hun, no pressure) and anyone who wants to do this you can say I tagged you too! Its ok, I won't tell./j
==================================
HEAR ME OUT- GUYS SIT YOUR ASSES DOWN AND LISTEN TO MY ANGST PROMPT:
So we all know the Joker has been a pain in the ass for everyone, yadda yadda, backstory stuff, boo hoo crying and shit.
This usually leads to great angsty fics revolving around Jason and/or Tim. Usually having the best angst covering Joker Junior and stuff. I’ve seen the headcannons, cried at the fics, great stuff.
BUT, but- no guys, hear me out, consider this. During one of Tim’s episodes -I was thinking this is years after, already going through his Red Robin character growth- it triggers after a long, long, time. How it started is up to your interpretation. But, instead of Jason being the first one to find him during his episode, no, it’s Duke Thomas.
THINK ABOUT IT!! Guys, the man already witnessed his parents go mad from Joker Venom, can you imagine how he’d react seeing someone else he considers his family show signs of being Jokerized!? THE POTENTIAL!!
And like, of course he’s not going to know about the JJ stuff and already assume the worst. Other members can get involved too, but image the scare Duke -alone- would have upon first witnessing Tim’s episode!
—
This may also be me trying to include Duke into more batfam fics, but hey, that man deserves more love and attention, even if it means dragging him through some more angst- get off my back!!
Ghost is starting to realise something.
It started off slow at first- pinpointing where soap was first in a room before the others, coincidentally spacing off in the same direction as soap, starting to follow soap wherever he went.
It’s nothing, really.
It’s nothing.
Nothing at all.
But it was really starting to bother him, the way Johnny started to get under his skin.
It pissed him off. Ghost always needs to be in his top condition during missions because one mistake could cost everything. How could he do that when before taking off soap would pat his shoulder and it felt like his ribs were caving in on him? How could anyone blame him when their thighs are pressed together, touching from ankle to shoulder and his heart would claw at his skin, begging to get out?
Or when soap would squeeze the nape of his neck as a friendly gesture and suddenly he was flushed and hot under the collar? Why was this happening to him? What is happening? Because all of a sudden Johnny’s summer, and he sinks into ghost’s bones and his skin, renders his muscles useless and his brain fuzzy and-
There’s something horribly wrong with him.
Johnny’s laughter makes his breathing pick up, it makes his fingers tremble and he wants to take that laughter and keep it in a locket to hang around his neck. Johnny makes ghost want to throw him against a wall and also cradle his face like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Johnny’s summer because he makes Ghost’s cold heart feel warmth again, makes him think of flip flops, missing teeth, shiny skin and a non stop itchiness. That’s what it is. It burrows under his skin, it makes his fingertips tingle and his heart ache and his ribs melt and his throat close up. This is soap’s fault. Ghost needs to kill soap.
That’s not quite right.
Because something in Ghost, in Simon wants to keep him away too, that terrorises his mind whenever he sees Johnny hurt. That he should steal him away and live in domestic paradise on the other side of the galaxy, because Simon knows better than to think that he can chase his past away that easily.
But then Ghost gets hurt, and it’s not that bad, really, he’s had worse. But now Soap’s tearing apart the place, face flushed and panicked. Panicked over Ghost. It might just be the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. So when he grabs Soap by the shoulders and orders him to calm the fuck down, his brain suddenly surges forward for things to say.
I love it when you get concerned for me.
I love it when you touch me.
I love it when you remember things about me
I love it that you let me double check your gear because I can’t lose you.
I love the stretch marks on your hips that I accidentally saw when you came out of the shower.
I love your fucked up accent.
I love the way you say “canny” it’s so dumb
I love your face
I love you,
I love you,
I love you.
And it comes to a point where Ghost has to actively hold himself back because he accidentally held soap’s face in his hands and he cherished all 0.7 seconds of it before he violently ripped his hands away and walked off without a word.
It felt like all his ribs had broken in half and punctured his lungs and heart, and he was slowly bleeding out and suffocating. Johnny makes him feel like summer. Ghost starts to look forward to tomorrow, he starts to get excited at the new promise of physical touch, at the chance to casual love. He’s warm and gooey and Johnny’s melted his skeleton down and what’s left is Simon.
It was like nothing to Soap, and it drives Ghost crazy how it happened so fast. Johnny’s cradled Simon’s corpse in his warm hands and decided that he would love again, simple as that. And if he could do it like it was as simple as breathing, then maybe Ghost could love him the same way.
I played through all the Devil May Cry games- and one LOVE the series >:UUUUUU So perfect. And two- I immediately like amg Danny would fit with these cast of characters XDDDD so uh. I have an idea ;3 of Danny being brought into this world because Pariah Dark is deciding to draw power from his "home" to take over both realms. And Danny has to find a guy name Dante and beat Pariah. ;3 Danny's powers shifting to work more in devil may cry universe- maybe even hinting that perhaps he didn't die in that portal because his blood was not fully human ;3 OH And the sword- is actually Fright Knight's sword- Soul Shredder that he gains after defeating a fright knight that was forced back into servitude. Also think it be cool if he had a weapon from the reapers >:O- so a giant pair of scissor blades >w< (I've been simmering over this for a month- I even made a comic ;3) The Devil Trigger concepts are based from demon forms- from the reaper/ghost like demons- and then from nero's form too. So simmering uou. But I like to relate Danny to death because of his "ghostliness". Link to Comic:
Y'all ever heard Shivers by Ed Sheeran? Yeah, it came on my spotify shuffle and something clicked in my brain.
─•────
Being around Damian was exhilarating.
Even as a kid, Jon felt this and acknowledged it despite Damian's bossiness, arrogance, and know-it-all attitude. All of those traits that Jon found annoying also grew into a feeling of excitement.
There is something about Damian's assertiveness, his proud and somewhat arrogant attitude. Blunt and direct, but fiercely loyal. Both independent and rebellious, and so deeply compassionate that it sent shivers through Jon whenever he thought about it.
That's not to say that Damian's recklessness didn't worry him at the same time. Because while Damian could be calculated and thorough, he wasn't a stranger to letting his emotions take over. As exciting as it was to be around Damian, Jon was often worried.
One bad slip, the snap of a grappling hook, a hit to the head that's a little too hard—all of that was enough to take him away from Jon permanently. So Jon always kept an ear out and was there the second he felt Damian's life could be in danger. Even so, the adrenaline that came with being in Damian's life was addicting.
Jon was far different from his father. While his dad represented peace and tranquility, Jon himself could be chaotic and unpredictable, and when paired with Damian, it was never seen as a bad thing. If anything, Damian himself could be chaotic and unpredictable, and that fascinated Jon over the years; seeing Damian embrace those traits that were often viewed as negative. He'd never met anyone like Damian before—someone so opposite from his wholesome and peaceful upbringing on a Kansas farm.
Damian was new and exciting.
The adrenaline rush that came with fighting next to him was truly intoxicating. The grin of victory that would spread across his face as if he knew they were going to win anyway.
The smirk he started to wear whenever Jon came to his rescue, as if he were a trained lap dog.
"You seriously need to stop pulling dangerous stuff like that! You do realize you're still human and could die, right!?"
"But you wouldn't let that happen, now would you?"
That all-knowing smirk on Damian's face was enough to prove his point. Because Jon be damned if he wasn't going to drop everything to save the one he loved.
Oh, and how he really did love him.
He never thought he could love this hard and this passionately. Someone who made his soul feel like it was on fire. He wanted nothing more than to be the guy who got to kiss Damian, make him smile, and see sides of him no one else got to.
So when leftover adrenaline led to heated make-outs in alleyways, being wrapped up between Damian's legs and arms never felt like enough.
Sneaking out in the middle of the night was nothing new to them; they'd been doing it since they were kids. But to simply sneak out because Damian thought it'd be fun to visit the San Diego Zoo at night, to have Jon fly them halfway across the world to patrol because, quote unquote, they needed a change of scenery, getting hot and heavy in the Batmobile because:
"You've kissed me just about everywhere. My dad's car should be no different,"
And it was just the way that Damian said some things that could drive Jon absolutely insane. He knew he should say no; they could get caught, reprimanded like they were kids again despite almost being in their 20s. But how could Jon say no when Damian said things with such an alluring tone?
"If we get caught," Jon walked towards Damian only to trap him between himself and the car, inching closer just so his lips could brush against the others, arms wrapped around his neck to pull him even closer, "just know my death is gonna be on your hands..." And Damian chuckled against a kiss that was only going to deepen because it was true; if his dad were to catch them, Jon's death would be on his hands.
And being able to stay up all day and all night with just Damian alone?
God, Jon loved nothing more.
Damian could tear him apart, put him back together, and take his heart as if he owned it.
And he did.
Damian owned everything that was Jon. And in return,
Jon owned him.
Part 2 >>
Based on "I wasn't in that tunnel."
Call of Duty, implied soapghost, hopeful ending cw: torture, angst, MWIII spoilers
---
Soap turns hazy, unfocused eyes toward the screen and watches the man with his face run down the tunnels under the English Channel. The man shoots at Konni soldiers, ferocity and desperation painted over every twitch of his brows and silent shout from his lips.
It all seems so real.
But it can't be. It's not.
He watches Price and the man with his face cut through the enemy. Watches them attempt to disarm the bomb.
Watches Marakov approach.
Their bodies jerk in succession as Makarov's bullets rip through them both. They hit the ground, and sympathetic pain throbs through Soap's shoulder.
He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. Not his wound. Not him. Just a man with his face bleeding onto dirty concrete on the other side of a black and white screen.
Makarov goes after Price. The man with Soap's face rises up to stab Makarov and–
Makarov blows a hole through the man's head.
It's surreal to watch his own face go blank. To watch the life drain from wide eyes within seconds. To see the others barely pause. Only standing beside the body for a few moments before continuing on because they have a fucking job to do. No time to pause and mourn the perpetual FNG.
Except for Ghost.
Soap's vision darkens on his right side, and he blinks away the sweat or blood – could be either or both but he's too numb to care – as Ghost falls to his knees beside the body of the man with Soap's face. The CCTV cameras are too shitty to see his eyes as he gazes down at the body leaking blood across the floor, but Soap hopes.
Hopes there's real emotion there. Hopes even more that Ghost finally sees it – finally sees that the dead man whose chest he's so tenderly pressing with his hand isn't his *Johnny.*
This time the watery blur appears in both eyes, and he doesn't bother to blink it away. Because he's seen all this before, and it never changes.
The door behind him opens, but he keeps his focus on the screen. He watches his former teammates leave the body behind in their desperation to follow Makarov.
But they won't find him. Soap knows because he recognizes the footsteps behind him as easily as he once recognized Ghost's.
Ghost, who made his gait purposefully distinct to alert Soap to his presence before slipping into Soap's bed late at night and who murmured soft words in his ear, words no one would ever believe the hardened man would say out loud. But he did. He said them to Soap as he took him apart piece by piece like he would a favorite gun, slow and deliberate, before putting him back together with love and care.
A hand slides into his long, filthy hair. Soap braces for the pain, and Makarov doesn't disappoint as he yanks Soap's head back.
"Enjoying the show?"
Soap doesn't respond. He never does, though it enrages Makarov.
On the screen, soldiers fill the tunnel, taking up the space won back by the 141. They set up a perimeter around the bomb.
The dead man remains sprawled on the ground, lifeless and forgotten.
"Look how they just left you behind. Left you to be picked up and brought here to wallow in misery."
A surge of anger burns through him—
But.
No. That's not right. Soap was never in that tunnel.
He's been in this cold, dark room since the mission in Siberia, taken down by a bullet and dragged away before he could radio for help. He has no idea how long he's been here, but he's endured every kind of torture: electrocution, waterboarding, frostbite, knives, pliers, hot pokers, and more. His body is a canvas of scars and burns
Through it all, he held on to his faith with ragged, broken fingers, with bloody teeth sunk into the promise of hope, that his team would find him. That *Ghost* would find him, rescue him from this hell, and wreak havoc on their enemies.
Until Makarov showed him why no one had come for him. Why no one will ever come for him.
A knife flashes in front of his eyes, fluorescent light reflecting off silver. Soap's voice grates through the air like steel against steel.
"Who was he?"
Makarov lets go of his hair, leaving behind a dull throb of residual pain, and rounds the chair Soap is tied to, hands on his hips and a sadistic glint in his eye.
"Him? Oh, just someone who got confused about his role in this lovely little play. Perhaps the serum was a bit too effective at turning him into you, disgusting loyalty and all, hmmm?"
Serum.
Memories resurface slowly. He's had this conversation with Makarov before. A sliver of panic bleeds into his numbness.
Christ have mercy. He's fucking losing it. How long before he stops remembering? How long before he becomes a shell of himself?
Maybe it doesn't matter. After all, no one is coming for him.
When Soap doesn't say anything more, Makarov's glee sours into a frown. The blade flashes in front of his blurred vision once more before pressing against his neck.
"I admit I thought you would be easier to break. You seemed so obedient in Verdansk. You could've ended me, but instead you followed orders like a good little soldier. And here you are."
The knife digs in, but pain is a familiar friend he's learned to ignore. When Soap doesn't react, Makarov sighs.
"I suppose if you won't break on your own, it's time to get experimental."
He brings out a syringe and holds it up as if considering his next action. The liquid inside glows a sickly yellow green, and Soap's stomach churns at the thought of what new pain this torture it might bring. Because he knows Makarov's pause is just for show. There is no escape.
The gleeful grin returns as he jabs the needle into Soap's neck in the same spot he'd just cut him open. The liquid is brutally cold as it enters his blood stream, his muscles seizing from the rapid temperature change.
WIthin seconds, Soap's world tilts sideways. His eyes blur yet again. He blinks and blinks, but the room goes softer with every passing second. His muscles relax, and he slumps forward in his chair, the bonds securing his wrists behind him cutting into his skin, though he can't feel it anymore.
Makarov sounds like he's underwater when he speaks. "Good. Let us begin."
Blackness takes him.
---
When Soap wakes, he's no longer in a dark, cold room. Through the broken out window of his full helmet, he sees strange buildings rising up into a swath of blue sky. Giddiness that borders on panic wells up in his chest.
He's outside. He made it outside. Did he escape? He doesn't remember.
His gaze falls, and the world stops.
He's surrounded by rivers of blood, knife in hand. His heart pounds like he's dying.
And on the ground lies a Ghost, splayed out like a sacrifice, bloodied and beaten and looking up at Soap like he's seen God.
"Johnny?"
Part 2 >>
They can never make me hate you Roach 🪳🧎♀️
was given a piece of paper to write down ideas for a project. i drew some Roach instead + a little '09 Ghost
Do you have any good irondad fics that aren't just fieldtrip to stark tower (I do love them but there is a 99.9 percent chance I will have already read it)
Oh boy do I have any good irondad fics without the field trip trope?? OF COURSE I DO !!!! the field trip trope lowkey isnt that large amount of the irondad fics, and its even less of a big amount of the WELL WRITTEN irondad fics. only a few field trip fics are good. but anwyay. here are my 6 recs (keep in mind some of these might be hella angsty, bc im a BIG ANGST READER): Expirement!Peter Parker & coparenting with May
Concept art by Ryan Church, of the Mandalorian, Din Djarin, in the cockpit of the Razor Crest as it is half filled with water from the ocean world of Trask. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 3, The Heiress. Calendar by DateWorks.
What if....
Grogu thought about all the things that he could do using the Force and then he thought about all the things he couldn’t do. He really wished that he could change some of those things. Like right now. This very moment. That should be a thing, right? After all, if you were climbing to higher ground to avoid being given a sea water bath, wouldn’t you wish that there was something you could do about it?
Of course, that’s not how any of it worked. You actually had to practice using the Force. You generally needed a Jedi Master or an experienced Jedi Knight, or even a really knowledgeable padawan to help you even figure out what you should do. You couldn’t just make things up as you went along. Which was a pity.
Grogu didn’t the blame the Mandalorian. He didn’t blame the Frog Lady either. She needed to get her eggs to Trask, or her line would end. He didn’t want that to happen. It didn’t sound good. It didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound fair.
Nope. He blamed Emperor Palpatine. If that guy had never been in power, well, the Jedi Temple on Coruscant would still be a Jedi Temple. Grogu would probably be someone’s padawan and Din Djarin would be doing whatever Mandalorians were meant to be doing. Probably bringing guys like Moff Gideon in cold. And he wouldn’t even be called Moff Gideon. Nope. He’d just be Gideon.
Imagine that. Gideon just being this guy who worked with data systems and sees his chance to steal a lot of credits from someone. Probably an orphanage given his general cruelty. The Old Republic figures it out immediately. Gideon is arrested and while he’s out on bail (whatever that is) he skips town. Then Din Djarin picks up a bounty fob for him and the guy is brought in cold.
This time, no one gives Gideon a chance to run away and he’s locked up, under surveillance, wearing a uniform, the whole bantha. Gideon goes to trial, he’s found guilty because of course he is, he did it, and he’s taken to a place where he can just sit around and contemplate what he did and why it was wrong.
Huh… so why would anyone steal from an orphanage? It’s not like they had a lot of credits laying around. Was it just because they didn’t know they needed to protect themselves from bad actors or because they didn’t have the funds to do it? Was it just a theft of convenience or was that the orphanage that Gideon had grown up in and this was his way of getting revenge on the people who didn’t love him?
Uff! Grogu really needed to get a grip. Just because Gideon didn’t have a great childhood, that didn’t mean it was okay for him to be mean to other people. Grogu hadn’t had a perfect childhood by any stretch of the imagination. He was still a happy person. He still helped people when he could. He didn’t have to be mean to anyone. Except stormtroopers.
Uff. Stormtroopers. Now there was another whole big group of people who wouldn’t have existed if Chancellor Palpatine hadn’t decided that he wanted to be something like Supreme Ruler of Everything He Could See and Everything He’d Been Told About. Those people, mostly humans, would have stayed on their home planets. They would have done the work they had always done. Grogu was pretty certain that none of that work included hitting small green Jedi younglings or trying to hurt their adopted dad, or chasing them all over the known galaxy.
Nope. Those people would have built roads, protected folks from the local syndicates, and carried on the way the good people did on Chandrila or Alderaan. It’s not that Grogu thought that all of those people were good and law abiding. A bunch of them were probably like Moff Gideon. Creeps with a grudge against civil society. But the Jedi and the Mandalorians would help sort that out. As long as they stopped fighting with each other.
Uff. That was another thing that Grogu wished he could change, but he couldn’t entirely lay that on the former senator of Naboo. Mandalorians and Jedi had been fighting for millennia according to the history lessons he’d tried to stay awake through. It was usually over something like, the Mand’alor wanted to add a new planet to the ever expanding Mandalorian protectorate and the Jedi, often at the request of the planet’s leaders, worked to stop them.
It drained both groups of precious time and resources and maybe that’s what the Sith affiliated had wanted the whole time. To weaken the two groups that could actually stop them. The groups that had actually stopped them, time after time. Huh. So maybe it was all the Sith’s fault? No Sith, no Emperor Palpatine, no Moff Gideon, no Din Djarin rescuing Grogu from the Nikto gang, because he was still on Coruscant.
Of course, Din Djarin wouldn’t have been there anyway, because he would still be on Aq Vetina because there wouldn't have been a Separatist attack and the Mandalorians would never had to rescue him. Hmm. Which meant that he wouldn’t have been the bounty hunter to collect Gideon. Someone else would have done that. But who? Not Boba Fett. He might not even exist. No Sith, no Clone Army because no Separatists.
What about Fennec? Or Peli? Would Kuiil have ever been on Arvala-7?!
Dank Farrik!
Grogu knew you had to be careful about what you wished for. Sometimes you lost things you didn’t even know you needed.