Image Description: It's A Drawing Of Batman. His Head Is Framed By A Yellow Moon. He's Pulling His Cape

sketch batman ninja.

MR BARTHOLOMEW HENRY ALLEN THE SECOND

John Constantine is seventeen, angry and entirely ready to lose himself in the occult.

The open book in front of him details a particularly nasty ritual, but not one he’s unwilling to pay the price for. He bought the book from the shop on Eaton street, ‘Occult Exposition’. It’s not a nice shop. The clientele tend to be even dodgier than John and the owner always goes out of his way to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

John supposes that that’s just the price of authenticity.

The book is authentic. He knows that. One of the first things John learned was that the fakes always do well when it comes to flair but never quite catch the essence of a true ritual.

Fully set up in the back garden, John begins his ritual.

He chants and moves and shifts his thoughts in all the right directions. He slits the throat of a rabbit and cuts out the eye of the hawk that caught it. He spins a web of spider silk around the remains and watches it turn into a spun glass cage that contains something entirely different.

John lifts the same knife he used to cut out the hawks eyes and slit the rabbits throat, ready to plunge it into the beating heart the glass now contains.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” a voice calls out from behind him.

John spins around with his knife at the ready to defend himself. Instead if someone attacking him all John sees is a beautiful girl leaning against the dirty wall of his garden shed.

“Are you sure you want to stick around until the police come arrest you for trespassing?” he snarls, caught off guard.

The girl has the gall to roll her eyes. “As if you would call the police.” Considering the garden stinks of weed John supposes that the girl may have a point. “And anyway, I’m just giving you some sound advice. Nothing malicious about me at all.”

John narrows his eyes. “There aren’t many people who offer advice for free.”

“Well maybe I’m just feeling generous today.” the girl says with a grin. The smile drops promptly. “The blood rune won’t work, so you’re just going to be compelled to rip your heart out and eat it. Do you want to rip your heart out and eat it?”

John scoffs even as he sends the blood rune an uncertain look. “The rune is fine.”

The girl shoots him a withering look. “It has to be virgin's blood.”

“It is vir-“ John pauses. Resets. “Oh shit.”

“What? Are you still feeling lucky?”

“Fuck off.” John says on reflex. Then, “Thanks for telling me though. That could’ve been nasty.”

The girl finally smiles properly. Broad and shining and even John is forced to admit to himself that it’s a beautiful smile. “You’re very welcome. My name's Zatanna.” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

“John.”

“I know,” she says with a wink as they clasp hands. “If you ever want a little more sound advice then just give me a call. Promise I’m a better option than you ever you got that book from.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but what’s put you in such a sharing mood?”

“I said I was feeling generous.” Her expression softens. “I think you’re going to be powerful. The kind of powerful that’s going to get people killed if you don’t know how to handle it. Call me when you’re in trouble.”

When she finishes speaking a wind summons itself up around her. Twisting and twirling until she’s stood in the centre of a spinning tornado. The speed of the wind reaches a climax and dissipates all of a sudden, leaving behind no sign of Zatanna.

John takes a step towards the space she used to occupy and spots something on the ground. It’s a business card. Pristine white with edges sharp enough to cut through flesh. On the card is a name, ‘Zatanna Zatara’, and a phone number.

There are two ‘x’s handwritten below the number and they make John feel oddly warm.

“Fuck.” he says to empty air. “Fuck.”

He turns back to his aborted ritual and starts cleaning up the blood.

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.

Bruce I swear to god call them your fucking sons

not to applaud "toxic representation" or whatever ppl have been saying but i love stories where gay ppl love & betray each other i love it when they kiss & kill each other i love physical altercations i love when they despise each other but can't be without the other i love mutually assured destruction

Damian: Father make them stop

Bruce, fucking with him: what’s got you throwing a hissy? You’re whistling dixie son. Put a kibosh on the gobbledygook it’s time to break

It would be very funny to me if the Batkids started using slang from the eras they were created in. Like this doesn’t change their ages it just makes them all seem weirder than usual

For example-

Dick Grayson: And the old geezer was an eager beaver who helped us find the glitterati who was throwing the party. We all cut a rug but I tells yous clams he may have but Bruce is a dead hopper if I ever saw one. Anything he tells you is floy floy

*Everyone staring at him like he’s lost it*

Jason: Gag me with a spoon. I’m hella done you’re wiggin me out Dickie. Aight imma motor out of here dweebs

Steph: yeah not so much. gonna bounce with Jay.

Tim: That made sense...not. Dick you’re bugging out

Damian clutching Duke’s arm in a death grip: Thomas what is happening should we leave?

Duke: Bet little D we should dip. This is a big yikes

@ everyone who’s New Years resolution is to go to a professional abt their mental health: ur very sexy and deserve a lil round of applause

New fic: There's a fine line between a custody battle and a bar fight

Part 4 in Stay series

Word Count: 3,261

Summary: There’s a new assassin in Gotham. She’s clever, well trained and utterly ruthless.

She’s also a child.

Batman is, of course, chomping at the bit to adopt her. Too bad for him that Selina’s gotten a taste for motherhood through Tim and Damian.

A little friendly competition never hurt anyone though. Right?

Power “relentlessly unfuckable” Hayakawa