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Summary
“Simon, we’ve talked about this… you’re erratic, you’re not thinking things through,” Doctor Russo said, the dark haired man shifted in his seat. The vague itch beneath the fine knit sleeves of his green sweater peeked and Simon had to stop himself from letting his fingers dive under to bite at the tracks.
“It’s not the same as last time.” The man assured, his soft blue pools darting away for a moment before they came back to rest on the others dark ones. He stared him down, as if daring the man to question.
“You said that last time,” He reprimanded, and Simon felt condemned. This was going to be what saved him, Simon could feel it – this boy, this ethereal creature; it was real this time.
“Kieren’s different.”
(Au in which Simon is human, Kieren is a PDS Prostitute, and Simon falls in love too easily.)
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Killing The Joke by LtSaladmander
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
12 Nov 2024
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Summary
“You what?” Nancy’s shriek was truly a work of art. One Paz definitely wouldn’t go to the exhibit for, but a work of art nonetheless.
“Joker. Dead. I killed him.”
How many times was Paz going to have to go over this? This was only technically the second person, and she was already exhausted. She hadn’t even called her mother back yet. Maybe if she made cards? She could just hand them out when people inevitably asked her. No, that sounded too much like business cards for a hit-man. Well, if college didn’t work out, that was an option. Paz was a proven dead shot now. Sure, she’d definitely die immediately, but someone would probably pay her pretty well to do it.
“That is the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Nancy informed her matter-of-factly.
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If you were to make a list of the entire population of Gotham, in order of most to least likely to finally kill the Joker, a random—objectively unqualified—college student wouldn’t even be on it.
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“Zhuo-daren believes in resurrection, then?” There was no mockery in his voice, only a gentle disbelief. “In reversing the order of heaven and earth –?”
“I believe in carving a path for yourself,” interrupted Zhuo Yichen, voice steady. “No matter what it takes.”
Not the first time that day, Zhao Yuanzhou’s expression morphed into surprise – before giving way to a smile, slow but radiant, like the rising dawn.
“That,” he said softly, wonderingly, “would be beautiful, were it true.”
“Truths are those carved by your own hand, Zhu Yan. Don’t wait around for someone else to do it for you.”
Zhuo Yichen hurtles back in time.