Charlie Cox experience at Philly Fan Expo 2023
So LET”S TALK ABOUT ME MEETING CHARLIE. I’m actually going to make two posts - this one just about my experiences with Charlie, because they were incredibly meaningful and deserve their own post, and then another one about the rest of the con!
I’m going to talk about Charlie first, because of how amazing the experience was, one of the best I’ve had, especially at the autograph table. I’ve done photos, gotten autographs and such before from other celebs - from niche voice actors I loved to people like David Tennant - but this felt Really Really Big. Obviously, I was nervous as all hell because holy shit Charlie Cox, my favorite actor whose work altered the course of my life. I won’t lie - I’d been practicing what to say to him in case I freaked out, but I’m happy to say that everyone who reassured me it would go great, because he was so, so genuine and kind, were right.
The photo op happened first (and thank you to everyone on tumblr guiding me where to go, cause I was LOST about where that was happening), and that went fast. By that point in the con hall, I’d already ditched my Jessica Jones jacket and gloves cause holy shit it’s hot and I am a creature of snow and ice, and my hair was a mess, but honestly I didn’t care, cause there he is. You don’t get long, but he made the most of it and he was SO sweet. Ya’ll, he asked my name, said my name as he shook my hand, and called me ‘my dear’ in that beautiful voice.
I was literally on the moon, but it was time for the big question:
Will he hold the red thread from TRT?
So in a quiet, nervous, soft author voice, I asked, ‘would you be ok with holding this end of the thread?’
HE FUCKING DID.
HE HELD IT.
HE HELD. THE. RED. THREAD.
I’m fairly certain he doesn’t know about the fic at this point - he wasn’t sure where to hold it until I told him, but he loved that it lit up! AND THEN HE PUT HIS ARM AROUND ME AND I GOT TO PUT MY ARM AROUND HIM BACK.
I’m fairly certain I’m dead in the photo. My soul had left my body. I had ascended. I saw Jesus and he looked like Charlie. I had achieved fic author heights never imagined. My brain filled with enough serotonin and dopamine to sink a ship. I didn’t care that I was hot and sweaty or that my hair was messy or that my cosplay didn’t work out like I’d planned. I had been blessed.
also look at that forearm holy shit
I floated outta that gd room ya’ll. I’m pretty sure @wonderlandmind4 did the same. WE FROLICKED OUT OF THAT HALL LIKE
But things got even better at the autograph table, and I had one of the most touching experiences ever.
not me tearing up thinking about it.
That line was long, but I kept getting glimpses of him and I could already tell he was enjoying interacting with people, and he was making sure everyone got their bit of time with him instead of letting anyone rush people through. He was so happy looking, laughing and grinning, high fives and fist bumps for kids, chatting with fans. Which made me feel a little more confident.
I know some people wondered if I’d tell him about TRT, and I’d already decided I wasn’t going to. Instead, I really, really wanted just a second to tell him what his work as Daredevil had meant for me, as someone who became disabled around the same time Matt did as a kid, and who related to... a lot of what Matt went through in the show. I’d practiced it over and over again, and there was only a fifty percent chance I wouldn’t start crying while telling him, and I wasn’t even sure I’d have time to tell him depending on how much time we had.
He made time.
I got up to him with my art print holy shit he’s even more beautiful in person and his eyes are STUNNING. He said hi, and asked my name so he could personalize the autograph if I wanted (DUH, YES PLEASE), and he apologized about the line after we shook hands. I jokingly told him it was fine since I’d driven hours to get here. A little time in line wasn’t a bother. He even loved one of the buttons on my lanyard - the button of Matt wearing a heart crown specifically! And as he was writing, I knew this was my chance to tell him. He was still signing, so I just decided to go for it in case I ran out of time.
“I just wanted to tell you,” I said quietly, “as someone who became disabled as a kid around the same age as Matt did—”
And then he did something I didn’t expect, something I’d rarely seen anyone do, famous or not, and something I’d never had an actor or artist do for me.
He immediately set down the pen, leaned in close over the table, and made direct eye contact, while giving me the most genuine, gentle, encouraging smile I’d ever seen.
In that moment, I knew everything in him was listening, that he cared about what I was about to say and recognized that this was important to me, and that he’d closed the distance to make this conversation just... us. It felt personal in a way I’ve never experienced at a con or signing.
Just like that, I wasn’t afraid to tell him what I’d wanted to.
“And as someone who related to... a lot of what Matt went through, his struggles in the show, and especially the dark parts of season 3,” I said, more confidently now, “I wanted you to know that all the work you put in, the way you played it, the way you played Matt and treated it seriously, seeing that helped me process and heal from a lot of my own trauma and pain over what I’ve gone through with my illnesses. What you did was important and it really helped me. So I wanted you to know that, how much that meant to me, and to say thank you.”
The whole time I spoke to him, he kept direct eye contact, and didn’t look away once. He didn’t get antsy, or look like he wanted me to hurry up (which I’d have understood, cause damn, these are long days for him). He listened, fully engaged and leaning in, his eyes warm and soft and kind but incredibly serious. I’m not sure how often he’s been told something like this—a lot, I expect; his portrayal was just that good, and I know it was important to a lot of fans—but what I was trying to tell him clearly meant something to him. I felt heard, seen, and understood.
Charlie really does care about his fans. It isn’t an act. I’m sure of it now.
“Thank you, truly,” he said, just as quietly but with that honest smile, eye crinkles and all, and seeing it in person, that close up, I swear the room felt ten times brighter. “Thank you for coming to tell me that. It means a lot, the idea that something I did meant so much and that it could help you. I’m so grateful that you were able to come visit and tell me.”
We shook hands after that. He wished me a good day and I told him thank you again, and that was that. The interaction only lasted maybe a minute, but it meant the absolute world to me, as did what he’s done as Daredevil. And now he knows that.
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Buckle up for another unhinged story time. Now, as I’ve said before, I used to work at a sex shop. At one point I had three roommates and we all worked the same dildo slinging retail job and lived together. It was extremely sitcom.
Now, as you’d imagine, living with three other people who also talked about sex toys all day created a microcosm of people who were all extremely comfortable around sex toys and related topics. No one left dirty toys laying around but seeing things left in showers or showing off a new purchase was just a Tuesday.
After some life upheavals I ended up living with one of those roommates again, just me and her. For the sake of this story let’s call her Betty. Betty and I shared a two bedroom, and the layout was all the common spaces were an open floor plan and then one hallway formed a T, with my room and bathroom to the left and Betty’s to the right.
Well, one day my cousin calls me up. He’s coming to town for a visit and I offer to put up him, his wife, and their more… sheltered friend. (Unbeknownst to me there was a full Briefing for this girl before she met me so that I didn’t overwhelm her with my blasé attitudes towards- well, most things).
They drove in from two states over and it was a long drive. I had to work and couldn’t greet them or spend the first day together. So I told them to come grab my key so they could all shower off and settle in before me.
I arrived home later that night and found the atmosphere a little awkward at first. Things quickly warmed up and I charmed their friend, impressing my cousin with my immaculate respect for personal comfort levels. We had a lovely evening. By the time we all said goodnight I’d dismissed the initial tension as being tired after a long drive.
The next day we all decided to go to the zoo. I’m a morning shower person, but I let them go first while I made breakfast. After breakfast it was my turn and I hopped in the shower.
Midway through my eyes fixed on it. A little pink sex toy, sitting brazenly on the rim of the tub. Oh no, I thought. This was why things had been awkward yesterday! I left out a personal object because I’d literally forgotten to ever put them away by that point.
What I felt wasn’t embarrassment per se, because that emotion had been utterly eradicated by that point. Rather it was a deep shame that I’d leave out something that might make a guest feel uncomfortable. They told me their friend was sheltered and I had left out a sex toy, it was the epitome of rudeness!
I rejoined everyone and said, “I am so sorry! I didn’t realize I’d left that in the shower, that was so rude of me!”
My guests all exchanged a Look. I looked from my cousin to his wife, she glanced toward their friend, and their friend looked at my cousin. No one would look at me.
“Well…” my cousin finally said, “you didn’t tell us which room was yours yesterday.”
I blinked in confusion, Betty’s room and bathroom were basically just like mine.
“When we got here,” his wife continued, “we went to the other side first. In Betty’s bathroom.”
Reader, Betty’s bathroom.
Had been absolutely covered in dildos. Sex toys of all shapes and sizes covered every flat surface, the tub rim, the sink, the shelves. Wall to wall sex toys. Apparently Betty was doing a spring cleaning and had left her entire extensive collection out to air dry.
These three weary travelers had opened a door to the dildo dimension and had no idea how to react. To this day I have no idea what context clues they used to figure out Betty’s room from mine.
But when I’d come home they were lost in the sex toy shell shock, presumably wondering how they could ever talk about it with someone who felt it was okay to leave out every sex toy they own when expecting company in some kind of bizarre power play.
By the time they finished telling me about this we were all laughing so hard we were in tears.
“When we saw your bathroom with one little pink toy it was so discreet we didn’t even care!” They told me.
After my cousin and his crew had gone on their way I finally told Betty the whole story. She listened with eyes growing wider and wider and finally burst out, “That’s why they were so weird when I got home!!”
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Yandere! House Monster x Reader
Listen, I woke up in cold sweat at 4am with a vision: you and your stereotypically unavailable gamer boyfriend have moved into a new house. You find out very soon it's not as empty as you had assumed, but your worries fall on deaf ears. The tentacle monster lurking in dark corners just wants to make sure you're not lonely.
[Second Part]
Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance (mildly NSFW)
You didn't notice anything strange at first. Maybe it was considering its prey. You'd found a cheap, old house available for rent, and your boyfriend couldn't refuse the extra space for his mancave.
Oh, you poor thing. It watched your lonely evenings, your empty bed at night, your futile attempts to spend more time with your beloved partner. It had originally planned to devour your souls and await the next foolish mortals to enter its realm, but seeing your pitiful state prompted a change of heart. Metaphorical heart, of course.
It started gradually: testing the waters, or what you'd call a courting attempt. Doors opening by themselves, disembodied eyes lovingly gazing at you from the nearby walls. Dark tendrils making their way out of the shadows, just to announce its presence.
"I think this place might be cursed", you told your boyfriend one evening. "I've been stalked by amorphous silhouettes of blight and terror, and they whisper ancient blasphemies to me at night." He let out a worried shout and slapped the desk. "That's cool, babe. I'm kind of losing right now, though, so perhaps give me a minute?"
One night you were awakened from your slumber by a warm touch sliding across your body. You smiled into your pillow as the cheeky hands made their way down, fondling your curves and hungrily searching for your sensitive areas. You let out a soft moan, enjoying the moment, until you heard your boyfriend yell from the other room. Your eyes shot open.
The hands lewdly groping your privates were, in fact, tentacles. Your first reaction was to gasp, but you were quickly silenced by another slippery appendage pressing against your lips. Shh, shh. Allow the creature to do its thing, dear. Surely enough, within minutes you were a drooling mess, holding onto the sheets for dear life.
"You've been in a good mood lately", you boyfriend remarks, idly scrolling on his phone and crunching on his breakfast cereal. You ponder if you should tell him you've been fucked relentlessly by a monstrous creature inhabiting your new home. You glance at the counter and smirk, remembering how you just had to wipe your wet mess from it a few hours ago. "Keep it that way, hun, I could get used to not being pestered every hour", the man jokes with a laugh.
Does it count as cheating if your affair partner isn't really human? Although, you have to wonder if you're still dating to begin with. From the corner of your eye, you can discern faint movement above the young man, a shadow looming menacingly. The eldritch monster would not hesitate to tear your poor boyfriend apart if he tried to mess with its belonging.
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your writing is literally incredible 💗 may I please request könig who puts his big warm hands on your stomach when you have ovulation cramps?? bonus points if he fucks you from behind at the same time because you’re so needy :((
cw breeding kink | i couldn’t write this without it... sorry
who needs heating pads when you have a mountain of a boyfriend with hands so big they engulf the entire expanse of your lower belly? that’s what könig thinks, at least, when you mention being too achey and sore to get up and heat one up in the microwave. instead of doing it for you like you requested, he’s reaching under you from behind where you’re laying on your tummy, leg perched to the side, as he wraps his hands around your womb, emanating heat from his body and soothing the pain.
“you know why this hurts, ja?”
“my ovaries hate me?” you complain sarcastically.
from behind you, you feel könig shake his head. “your eggs are being released. just right here.” he applies more pressure to the spot, the action making your cunt pulse between your legs. “your body’s getting you nice and primed to take a seed.”
you whimper involuntarily at his words, pushing your ass back against his broad body and feeling his hard dick twitch in response through his sweats. he reaches down with just one of his hands to feel inside your panties, cursing under his breath at how wet you are. it’s fascinating to him how you’re never not wet during this week.
“see, schatz? soaking. this pussy’s crying to get filled.” he hums nonchalantly, his thick finger gathering slick from your tight hole and using it as lube to rub at your puffy clit. “poor thing, and so empty. no wonder you hurt.”
you shamelessly beg for him, knowing his fingers won’t be enough to satiate the emptiness you feel in your pulsing hole. you need something bigger, something you know can stretch you out and fill you to the brim.
“don’t know if i should. could fuck a baby into you if i’m not careful…” he sounds contemplative, though his hips are grinding down against your ass, knees planted on either side of you. “it’s the perfect time for it, and my sperm tends to like it in here. won’t want to leave… might catch.”
“please, köni, don’t care. it’ll help the— with my cramps.” you babble for any excuse, grinding down against the fingers shoved into your soaked panties. you’re overheating at this point, and if you don’t get him inside you, you might scream.
a wave of relief temporarily drowns out your desperation as you feel his hands leave your body to pull his pants down, returning to pull your wet panties to the side shortly after.
“shh, that’s enough talking, hase.” he coos sweetly once he bottoms out, slipping inside so easily. he holds you up by your lower tummy until you’re hovering just above the bed to fuck deeper into you, his pelvis slamming against your ass on every thrust. “gonna give you what you need, ja? ein kind. make the pain go away.”
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Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.
Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.
For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.
The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.
He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.
“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”
That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”
You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.
“What got you thinking so hard?”
Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”
It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.
Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.
He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.
When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.
As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.
You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.
“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”
With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”
Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.
“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.
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Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.
Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.
Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?
He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??
Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.
The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.
Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??
He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.
Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.
——
“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.
Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.
“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”
Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.
“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”
Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.
Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.
He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.
(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)
“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”
“I kept them in line!”
Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.
“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?”
“I-”
“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”
“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.
“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”
“Fine! Fine!”
——
And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.
Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.
In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.
Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.
The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…
——
“So, you’re The Phantom.”
“And you’re Sionis.”
Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.
Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.
“How did you get in here?”
Danny shrugged. “Walked.”
Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.
“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”
“So, you’re a Meta.”
Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”
Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.
“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.
“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”
Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.
“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.
“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”
“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”
Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”
“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”
Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.
“I’ve got her, Phantom.”
Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.
“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”
And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.
But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.
——
Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”
From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?
But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!
Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.
On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.
Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.
Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.
He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.
He sipped his drink as he waited.
“Batman.”
“Phantom.”
“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”
Batman stayed silent.
“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.
“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.
“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”
Batman snarled.
“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.
Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.
“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”
“You-”
“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”
Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.
“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”
“I don’t work for you.”
“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”
Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.
“… Apologies.”
“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”
Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”
Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.
Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.
“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.
Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.
“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”
“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.
Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”
Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.
“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.
Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.
“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”
Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.
“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.
“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.
——
“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”
“Hn.”
“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”
Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.
——
The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.
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