Au Where Billy Doesn’t Get His Demigod Form But Just A Shit Ton Of Magic Instead.

Never witnessed a more aro ace man than Bruce Wayne in the Batman movie in my life

“Y’know, sometimes I get jealous of you.”

Bruce hopes that the look on his face communicates what a ridiculous notion that is. From the way Clark snorts a little he’s sure he manages it.

“I know, I know, it’s silly. It’s just.” He licks his lips. “Your secret identity is just so not you. I feel like Superman and Clark Kent get further away from each other every day, but they’re both still me. Is that dumb?”

“No.”

“Okay. That’s good. It’s just that it’s getting harder, y’know? But it’s also getting easier. Well I guess you don’t know. You’ve probably never had an issue with separating Batman and Brucie Wayne.”

Bruce looks at Clark, “I have trouble separating my identities. Just not those two.”

He frowns before catching himself. “Oh right. Sorry, sometimes I forget you have three. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.” He pauses, looking at Bruce as if asking permission to continue. Bruce doesn’t give it but Clark goes on anyway. “You have problems splitting up Batman and Bruce then? They’re both you?”

“Of course.” He says, answering the second question. That’s a fact he’s always been sure of. Then, in reference to the first, “I know what you mean about being able to feel the two people you are drift further and further apart.”

“Really?”

Bruce smiles and it’s full of self loathing. “Bruce is a father, Batman’s a partner, a mentor. There was a time when those things all meant the same to me.” He pauses, thinking. “It’s strange, I can barely see the overlaps any more.”

MR BARTHOLOMEW HENRY ALLEN THE SECOND

Carpenter walks up to a near complete mark of the wither tide, Faulkner muttering incoherently at its centre, and scuffs it with her boot.

Faulkner looks up with crazed eyes the moment she alters his masterpiece. Carpenter grips her shard of glass tighter and feels it cut into her hand. Blood drips to the ground and Carpenter suppresses a bitter laugh.

One last offering to the Trawlerman.

“You should run, Carpenter,” Faulkner warns, his voice quavers but not with anything so mundane as nerves. His body can barely contain his excitement, the fervency of his devotion. His gaze sharpens and Carpenter balks as she feels the water surrounding the pier pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. “I’ve told you before that it would be unwise for you to test which of us our god loves more.”

Carpenter's pace as she walks through the wither mark, bad leg dragging against the floor and destroying all Faulkner’s hard work, does not change. She remains steady and is rewarded with a voice that does not quaver as Faulkner’s does. “You know as well as anyone that I have never proclaimed myself to be wise.”

Faulkner huffs out a laugh and Carpenter smiles a familiar smile. It drops as she remembers what she’s about to do. Faulkner must see it and mirrors her expression before his eyes go distant.

“I suppose we’re soon to part ways then?”

Carpenter pauses for a moment. “That would not be an unreasonable assumption,” she allows.

Faulkner nods as if this is the only answer he had been expecting. “Well then, I suppose if we are to end this as enemies, we’d best do it as the sort who love each other.” As he speaks Faulkner daubs himself in the marking of the Trawlerman once again. The mud from the last time he did so still stains his skin but the marks he paints now lose no clarity because of that. Once he appears to be finished he turns away from the prayer marks that have been gradually consuming his body to meet Carpenter's eyes. “May your peace find you on a lonely road."

Carpenter swallows dryly, suddenly very glad of the reminder Paige’s parting words had given her. “May your peace walk on with you for a while.”

She and Faulkner exchange sad smiles. Then Carpenter is raising her glass and running towards Faulkner as fast as her broken and bleeding legs will carry her. Then Faulkner is readying his stance and screaming his prayers to the river with more conviction than Carpenter knew a human voice could contain. Then Faulkner is raising his hands skywards and then-

~

The river rises

The river rises and it is not a flood as was written. As Nana Glass told stories of. As Carpenter dreamed would seep upwards to drench and drown her doubts in silt.

The river rises and it is a tsunami.

~

Carpenter, limping and shattered and shaking, is faster than her river.

She reaches the centre of the wither mark, reaches Faulkner. His eyes widen a bit as she does so, as if he can’t quite believe that his river would fail him in his moment of triumph.

Carpenter has known her god far to long to think it reliable.

She plunges the shard of glass into Faulkner’s left eye. He screams in pain and Carpenter mutters a quick prayer that his death will be quick, there is little else she can do for him at this point.

Then Faulkner manages to stop screaming, keeps his cries of pain trapped in his throat and lets something different flood out.

“You should have aimed for the prayer marks,” he hisses, teeth bared as blood drips down his cheeks in a crimson tide.

Shit.

There isn't much she can do after that.

~

-crashing waves full of weeds and bracken and crawling angels of the river. Water filling her lungs and mud wriggling into her eyes.

Something twists her leg. A thing with claws that are too huge to be any crab or lobster that Carpenter can't see through the filth of her god.

The pain is huge and impossible but even as tears fill her eyes Carpenter finds it in herself to be grateful. Of all the ways her river knows how to do harm this is perhaps one of its least awful.

She wonders if it’s a boon. A final thank you after her years of faithful service. Considering what she’s done for her river Carpenter finds this to be a rather weak acknowledgement of her efforts and stops feeling grateful.

Then she’s crashing tumbling through dodgem cars and her river is a whirlpool with her at its centre and if she could just breathe then-

~

When Carpenter wakes up, it’s to her shock that she’s still alive.

This is better thanks of my service, she thinks in the direction of her river. She sits up with a grunt of pain and begins to inspect the damage.

Her leg is fucked. It’s no longer bleeding but in a cruel twist of fate it’s been sanctified. The flesh is hard and rough. Calcified. Carpenter can feel layers upon layers and limpets, with other squamous things sandwiched in between, clinging directly to her bone.

Where her new flesh meets her old she itches.

There’s also the fact that she has no idea where she is.

Or, maybe she does. That patch of bulrushes looks sort of familiar and she’s sure she heard this same bird song she's hearing now at some point during her and Faulkner’s pilgrimage.

She drags herself upright and finds that she can put weight in her new leg even if it makes her somewhat unsteady. She hobbles about the bank, moving inland.

Then she sees the body.

It’s not much of a body. More like a skeleton, picked clean by birds and angels of the river alike. Despite the fact that it’s lacking most of its distinguishing features, Carpenter knows in her soul that this is the body she and Faulkner saw near the beginning of their pilgrimage. Right before everything started to go to shit.

Carpenter let’s out a harsh laugh as she realises this, the sound of her torment echoing across her still and silent river.

“You’re telling me that was all the god damn exposition?” she screams at her god, angry tears blurring her vision.

Her river doesn’t answer her.

Carpenter sighs, it’s not as if she expected anything different. She picks herself up and starts trying to figure out what to do now.

She laughs again, gentler this time. She bets that Faulkner is doing the exact same thing.

Badger Cereal Fic Recs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It all starts in English, as a surprising amount of things in Wirt’s life do. They’re reading poems and eventually come to one called ‘The Beast’ by a woman named Adelaide which is too familiar for Wirt to ignore.

The moment he gets home he starts to research the author. He reads about how she and her sister almost died when they were young, around the same ages as Wirt and Greg are now. He reads accounts about how both of them changed after the accident, how they became estranged but always shared an intense interest in the occult. He reads about the children found in Adelaide’s basement after she died.

That last part makes him cry for a long time.

Even though he hates Adelaide, and he now knows that it’s the same Adelaide as he met in the Unknown, he can’t help but keep reading about her life. Finding out that someone other than himself and Greg made it out makes him believe that a life after the Unknown might be possible, that this isn’t just a dream and he’s going to wake up any moment to fire and heat and smothered in the Beast’s soul.

And then there’s the witchcraft. As far as Wirt knows, Adelaide and Auntie Whispers are the only people in the Unknown who could do magic. Finding out that they went there when they were younger makes him wonder if maybe having escaped the Unknown in the past is what gave them their abilities. He wonders if the same rules apply to him and Greg.

So Wirt looks into the occult. He tries not to get too interested in it, he doesn’t want people to think he’s some kind of weirdo, but he likes it. He likes the patterns and the sounds and the way that when he reads the words out loud they make him feel powerful in a way he never has before.

Wirt asks Greg if he wants to read the words as well, once. When he repeats the same words that Wirt has said to himself a thousand times his eyes go watery and he has to spend the next hour hugging Jason Funderburker close to his chest.

Because of this, along with a thousand other things, Wirt worries. He worries because his brother is the best person he knows and he wonders what it says about him that something that makes the best person in the world cry makes him want to shout out in exultation.

Wirt worries so much that he thinks his head might explode and leave everything dripping with the black sludge of fear and unease and worry that lives in his head.

But he doesn’t stop.

~

Wirt is in his room, alone in a sea of hand-written notes and books on the dark things in the woods that he used to be more afraid of. He sits in front of a mirror covered in sigils drawn on in whiteboard marker and encircled in candles.

He waits for the clock to strike midnight and recites the same words he’s said a thousand times before.

The air in the room gets warmer as he speaks. The air twisting and writhing with the forces upon it. It’s all confusing and chaotic and not at all how things in the real world tend to be.

It’s how things in the Unknown tend to be.

Wirt tries to keep his focus, he tries so hard to make the words do what he wants them to that for a moment he forgets to be scared or nervous or worried at all.

The candles burn brighter. The mirror cracks.

Wirt smiles, and manages to picture a life for himself after the Unknown for the first time since he got back.

new fic cause apparently i’m on an absolute roll

Word count: 1,524

Summary:“It’s a conspiracy!” Danny cries, jamming an accusatory finger close enough to Jazz’s face that she has to go cross-eyed to look at it. “You’re conspiring against me with my arch-nemesis!”

Jazz brings her hand up and pushes the finger still pointed between her eyes back down. “Oh no.” she deadpans. “You’ve foiled my evil plot. Whatever shall I do?”

She goes back to reading at her psychology textbook.

Danny lets out a strangled yelp of frustration and stomps out of the room.

wait if i dont post this now im just gonna forget to do it later. its not finished but LOOK its talia <3

cheers to the “bruce wayne is not batman” tag on ao3

or alternatively, au where dr wayne moonlights at doc thompkins clinic where he keeps meeting these teen vigilantes….. WHOSE kids are these? who let these INFANTS out to fight crime? anyway he uses his sleeper detective skills to track down the vigilantes and…??? be their dad??

omg wait. the drake estate also has a cave system underneath that tim finds and opens it up as a base of operations and thats where the bat theme came from. i TAKE your batcave and i SHIFT it one plot of land to the left.

Selina & Talia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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