𑁍ࠬܓ DOROTHEE ANNE ۫ ˚ ̣̣̣ ◞ 𓏏𓏏 18. she/her. made in the usa. education major. aquarius. clark kent’s wife. brunette bombshell. love month baby. free palestine. fuck ice. protect the dolls.

the bloom to my stella @kittens4kitty ࿐

─── 1: before the bodies fall ∬ ֗ ₊

ა ˙˖ summary: forced into an unlikely partnership, you and batman uncover a conspiracy far larger than a single murder. and gotham’s forgotten victims finally get the chance to tell their stories.

when you batman first asked for your help, he technically never asked you in person. instead, he left a tan manila folder on an empty park bench at 2:13am. inside was just one photo, the victim’s file and a note. the woman was in her late thirties, had curly brown hair, green eyes and a mole under her eye. you took the note off the folder that said, “can you help?”

you frowned. you picked up the folder, stuffed it in your bag and walked home. you walked up the stairs to your apartment building. you lived on the third floor so you then went to the stairs that led up to your place. pulling the keys out your bag, you jammed the key into the lock and cursing when it didn’t turn. this building was very old so when you first moved in, the landlord told you that sometimes the lock would fight the key turn. you eventually got the door open, after turning it the opposite way and falling into the apartment. you threw the folder down and got to work. you stared at the photo, trying to connect the dots to the file. you stared at it for a very long time.

“well?” a voice asked over your shoulder. you learned a long time ago that the dead rarely meant any harm. the woman from the photo leaned over your shoulder. she looked the exact same. “hm. he finally asked about me.”

you looked over at her. “batman?”

“yep. been yelling at him for weeks.”

the dead drifted through your home like roommates with terrible boundaries. there was an old soldier watches late-night television despite being unable to change channels. there was a victorian child sitting upside down on your couch humming lullabies and someone from the 1800s keeps trying to understand your microwave.

you ignored them all. instead, you focused on the woman in front of you. you tapped the pen on the notepad, waiting for the woman to speak. “my name’s claire. they said it was a mugging.” you wrote that down as claire rolled her eyes. “it wasn’t.”

“no?”

“nope.”

you continued to write. “tell me everything.”

the thing with ghosts? they remembered things in flashes. when ghosts die, they don’t die with all the memories of your death. and because of that, it was hard to understand what exactly the ghosts really want from you since they couldn’t remember everything. but this was what claire did remember:

perfume. rain. the squeaking of leather boots and the sparkle of a wedding ring scraping against her skin as someone grabbed her throat. she remembered arguing and gold cufflinks engraved with the initials R.A along with a silver lighter. “you can’t keep doing this, claire.” the man told her as she struggled to breathe with the man’s hand around her throat. “you should have stayed quiet.” then all she remembered was utter darkness.

“you knew him?” you asked, getting up to make a coffee even though it was 2:30 in the morning. you knew you weren’t going to sleep anytime soon. claire followed you and shook her head, “i knew his hands.” you nodded as you added ice to the mug and asked if she remembered anything else and she told you that he cried and that he didn’t want kill to her.

“he didn’t want to kill me but he did. he kept saying, ‘i’m so sorry, he’s going to kill my family.’” by sunrise, your living room wall was completely covered in notes and clues and the evidence from the folder. you knew for a fact that batman would have called all of this useless but you know better.

day two and you went around to the ghosts in the city. these were the earthbound spirits that refused to cross over no matter how hard you tried. harold, a dockworker, recognized the lighter. a bartender named emory remembered the boots. a woman named francine who died over 20 years ago recognized the perfume because her husband used to sell it. you had never been more thankful that the dead gossip and were more effective than the internet. because of them, by sunset you had a name.

marcus hale. lawyer. married. two daughters.

you went back to claire with everything but she shook her head. “no. not him.” you frowned.

“but you said-”

“yeah, i know what i said. he might’ve killed me but he isn’t the reason why i died.” claire said as you blinked at her. “you’re looking for the man who ordered the hit.”

“what the fuck does that even mean?”

the ghost rolled her eyes. “marcus was told to kill me.”

“by who?” you asked, sighing.

claire smiled. “now we’re asking the right questions.”

day three. batman went to the same bench. the folder was already sitting on the bench with everything you gathered from the city’s ghosts. along with new evidence. a flash drive and a handwritten confession from marcus hale. in the confession, marcus said that the man who ordered the hit was a named ralph de angelo. you left a little note that said ‘she said you missed something.’ you watched his jaw tighten and he looked up.

you were standing under a dying streetlamp. you fixed the purple umbrella on your shoulder since it was pouring down. you stuffed your hands in your black raincoat. batman walked over and you shared your umbrella with him. “you found him, the murder weapon and the confession.”

“yes, i did. well, with some help, of course.” a breeze flew through the trees as batman studied your face. you looked past him, over his shoulder, at claire.

you frowned and gestured to the folder on the bench. he flipped through everything and watched as everything registered on his face. he read over the confession from ralph de angelo. the man admitted to everything. he even included details no one had known before. “so he was following orders?” batman asked when you nodded. batman cursed. “well, who told you all this?”

“the victim. i see and speak to earthbound spirits. but..didn’t you already know that?” you asked, confused. didn’t he ask you to help because you spoke to the dead?

batman shook his head, “i asked you for help because of commissioner gordon. he said you were friends with barbara. that you had good people skills that could help me. now, i know she meant people skills as in dead people.”

you laughed. of course this was barbara’s idea. silence stretched between you. finally, batman slipped the evidence back into the folder. “i’ll verify everything.”

“i figured you would.”

“you don’t seem offended.”

“to be fair, i would be worried if you didn’t.”

for the first time that night, you had thought you caught the faintest hint of amusement beneath the cowl. however, it was gone before you were sure it was ever there. you followed batman home to the batcave and stood in the threshold of the cave. “they don’t like this place.”

“who doesn’t?”

“the spirits. they’re yelling at me to leave.” despite that, you stepped inside anyway and looked around all the computers and gadgets around the place. “oh!” you stopped walking and looked up at a cabinet. “there’s a little boy.” a child who had to be around 10 years old was sitting on stop of the cabinet, swinging this legs back and forth. he had messy black hair, a gap tooth smile and a hospital bracelet. you were well aware that you looked like you were speaking to air. “hi. what’s your name?”

“hi. i’m t-tommy.” the boy said. you glanced at bruce and saw him changing into a gray turtleneck and black pants.

“why are you here, tommy?”

he pointed in bruce’s direction. “i was looking for him.” you watched as bruce’s expression hardened, picking up on the conversation even if he was only able to hear your side of it. “what’s he saying?” bruce asked, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

“he’s looking for you.”

“who is he?”

“a ten year old boy named is tommy.”

tommy looked between the both of you. “i liked superheroes.”

you frowned. “what happened?” you always got emotional when speaking to younger spirits, especially children. the boy tilted his head. “i got sick.”

“my mom said batman always saved people. she waited outside the hospital every night,” tommy continued and you relied to bruce. “she thought maybe he’d would come. i knew he couldn’t.” tommy smiled again. “so it’s okay.” you look at bruce.

“could you tell him─”

“he knows, tommy. he knows.”

tommy smiled again and looked over your shoulder. “can you see that?” you shook your head, you had been at this long enough to know that he saw the light. “i see my mom.”

you grinned. “you can go home now, tommy.” and he did. he’d simply been waiting years to deliver one last message. bruce finally spoke. “...what did he say?”

you turned to him, away from the cabinet. you looked at him for a long time. “he wanted you to know it wasn’t your fault.” bruce closed his eyes and inhaled then exhaled. then he turned back to the batcomputer. “show me everything you have on ralph de angelo. please.”

you walked over, setting your notebook on the console. “i should warn you, bruce.”

“about what?”

claire appeared beside the computer, her expression grave. “there are more ghosts following this case.” bruce looked up. “how many?”

you glanced around the cave and the answer made your stomach drop. “twenty-three.” claire’s voice was barely a whisper. “and every single one of them was murdered by the same person.”

by the time you left the batcave, it was nearly dawn. claire lingered beside you as you stepped into the cool gotham air. “he trusts you.”

you huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes. “no. he tolerates me.”

claire raised an eyebrow. “is there a difference?"

three hours later, bruce was standing in the manor’s study, reading ralph de angelo’s confession for the seventh time. “it checks out,” tim said from the computer.

“fingerprints?”

“ralph.”

“DNA?”

“yep.”

“timeline?”

“everything matches. bruce, what are you getting at?” bruce remained silent and shut the folder. “it’s too perfect.” you, on the other hand, had spent your morning somewhere far less glamorous. gotham general hospital because claire asked you. “i left something.” she lead you through old hallways until you reached a forgotten locker in the basement. “they never emptied it, thankfully.”

inside was an employee badge, a spare sparkly pink sweater, a tiny stuffed rabbit and a folded envelope. claire smiled softly. “my daughter’s birthday card.”

you slipped it into your bag and put it on your shoulder. “i’ll make sure she gets it.”

later that night, you found him waiting at the same bench as before. he handed you a tablet. “three more victims.” the photographs appeared one after another. a photojournalist from the daily planet, a defense attorney and a city planner. all the deaths were ruled accidental and each of them were connected to ralph de angelo. you let claire study the pictures. “no.” claire said, crossing her arms. batman noticed your expression. “what?”

“they’re not victims. they’re witnesses.” hours and passed inside the batcave. tim typed faster than should be humanly possible, babs patched into the system remotely, dick arrived halfway through carrying takeout. alfred appeared with tea as if he materialized from thin air.

“miss.” he offers you a cup.

“thank you.” you said, taking a sip.

“you’ve been keeping master bruce awake.”

you nearly choked on your tea. “i’m sorry?” alfred’s face remained perfectly composed. “he spends considerably more time discussing your findings than he does sleeping.”

dick coughed into his sleeve to hide a laugh. tim outright snorted and bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “alfred.” you looked at bruce. however, bruce was starting determinedly at the evidence board. dick was trying very hard not to smile and even barbara’s voice crackled over the speakers. “i’m not touching that one.”

unfortunately, the moment didn’t last. one of the batcomputer monitors flashed red. tim’s smile disappeared. “i’ve got something, you guys.” bruce was beside him instantly. “what is it?”

“a storage unit.”

“ralph?”

tim shook his head. “no.” he zoomed in on a rental agreement. the signature wasn’t ralph de angelo’s. it was someone else’s. a name no one in gotham had ever heard. claire’s face drained of what little color ghosts had. “oh no.”

HOW TO WIN AN ARGUMENT WITH KATARA ─── sokka has exactly one foolproof way to end an argument with his sister.

katara had been up sokka’s ass all day. they had been arguing all morning, much to the gaang’s chagrin.

katara was just going off about how he never actually helped around camp. that it was always her cleaning up after him. he had also been leaving his gear all over. she said that it like they were back home again in the south pole when katara would have to wash his dirty socks.

katara was halfway of getting her point across by yelling in his face when sokka had had just about enough of her. he only had one plan and he prayed it worked. in a blink of an eye, he ducked and wrapped his arms around her waist. he immediately hoisted her over his shoulder like a back of potatoes.

“you asshole! put me down!” katara scolded him as her feet kicked uselessly in the air as her braid swung back and forth. “sokka, i swear to all the spirits!” all sokka did was grin. he kept one hand balanced on her back and the other around the back of her knees.

he didn’t flinched as she pounded on his back with her fists. katara was more offended by the embarrassment than the actual situation.

katara’s own boyfriend didn’t even bother to help. aang laughed so hard he almost felt off of appa’s saddle. zuko was watching and retelling it back for toph who had her feet planted so she could see. sokka kept walking as if carrying an outrage waterbender was the most natural thing in the four nations. thankfully for her brother, katara gave up and just crossed her arms.

she knew from experience that there was basically no point in struggling with her brother. he would put her down when he got tired. the only thing stronger than her brother’s grip was his ability to be the most annoying thorn in his sister’s side.

by the time he set her back down, she immediately shoved him back with both hands. he stumbled back, laughing so hard that he freaking tears in his eyes. “you are such an- ugh!”

katara couldn’t even hold the glare for more than a few minutes before she bursted out laughing alongside her big brother. it was so infuriating but that was only because sokka had done exactly what he had set out to do in the first place.

he’d made her laugh. and katara was just pissy that sokka knew her so well. that was the worse part, katara thought. he retreated back to when they were kids and picked her up and just threw her over his shoulder. the gaang just watched her lose a battle against her big brother’s childish behavior.

sokka knew exactly what he was doing. of course he fucking did. “you suck and that’s sad.” katara said, throwing her braid behind her back. sokka placed a hand over his chest dramatically, pretending to be offended and upset. “i suck? after i so bravely rescued you from the dangers of your own lecture?”

“my lecture was about you leaving your fucking shit scattered everywhere in camp!” katara scolded him again. unfortunately, she could tell she was basically losing this conversation.

“like i said, dangerous.” sokka replied, smugly. katara rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “you’re just unbelievable.”

“and yet, dear sister,” sokka said, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they started walking back toward camp, “you love me.” she opened her mouth to argue and then shut up because unfortunately, he was right.

katara looked over at him. this was the boy who used to try to protect their village with nothing but a club and a boomerang and he was also the boy who joked when things hurt because he didn’t know what else to do.

— the medium’s files ∬ ֗ ₊

ა ˙˖ summary → you don’t work for batman. you don’t work with batman. you simply have an arrangement: when the dead refuse to rest, he calls you.

❦ chapter one: before the bodies fall

❦ chapter two: haunted men don’t sleep

❦ chapter three: batman, interrupted

⧽ HOW YOU WON OVER THE BATKIDS ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꕀ. ۫

you weren’t scared of wayne manor. you were not scared of wayne manor. it was just a place. full of ghosts and spirits that hadn’t passed on...okay, so maybe you were a little bit scared. but being a medium was your gift, you were born with it so you hung out with earthbound spirits all the time.

yeah, sure, people looked at you funny on the street but you were used to it after having done this for years on end. you were here today because alfred had asked for you.

the kids had been complaining about odd things happening around the manor. vases moving on their own, sounds late at night. that kind of thing. you pulled your lips to the side and pounded on the heavy door. you clutched your purple velvet bag in your hand, rocking back and forth on your heels. you turned around to watch the cars pass by.

you were wearing a black wide brim hat, black fishnet leggings with stars, a purple poncho with star swirls and stars. you paired all of that with your signature black boots. your poncho covered your dragonfly tattoo on your shoulder. for jewelry, you went for purple bangles and black triangle stud earrings.

you heard the door open and as you turned around the to face alfred, you smiled. “hi, alfred.” you said, letting him lead you inside. he held out his hands to take your hat. you watched as alfred hung it up on the hat rack. you waited for him to show you to bruce wayne.

you followed him into the kitchen where all the kids were. you knew who everyone was since you had met them at galas and work related events before. dick was leaning against the counter, eating an apple. tim was at the kitchen island on the computer. damian was pointing out things to tim and jason was rummaging through the fridge.

“father is working.” damian said, glaring. he spun his chair around to face you. you realized that they all were looking at you with a glare. you pulled your lips to the side and sat down at the island.

“i’m not here for your father, damian.” that was a complete lie. “i’m here for you boys.” you said, leaning your elbows on the counter with a smug look on your face. “i’ve heard some stories about this place, i want to know if they’re true.”

“alfred, what have you told her?” dick asked.

“nothing at all, master grayson.” alfred said, smugly.

the old man and you shared a glance as he left you and the batkids alone. you leaned back and crossed your arms over your chest. the boys all sat on the other side of the island, facing you.

“i’ve heard voices in the bat-” tim started before jason jabbed him in the side. you smirked, you obviously knew the millionaire playboy bruce wayne was the batman. that was the easiest game of connect the dots you had ever played.

“i know about bruce.” you stated, as if this common knowledge everyone knew. you had put 2 and 2 together at a gala. you knew an empath and knew he had just been in a fight. his energy was totally off. well, more off than usual.

“fuck.” dick cursed. “how?”

“pretty fuckin’ obvious.”

“how do you know father?” damian asked, staring at hole into your soul. good fuck. you weren’t going to tell them that you screwed their dad sometimes. you didn’t really know what to call your relationship with bruce. friends with benefits? that was probably the best way to describe what you were at this point.

“we’re...work friends. he had a few spirits attached to him and they wouldn’t leave me alone. so i told him, i had to or they wouldn’t cross over. and that’s my job. making spirits cross over.”

the boys looked at each other. “are there spirits here now?” in fact there were. an elderly woman who you’d been ignoring for the past few hours because you wanted to focus on the batkids today. she was a woman with silver hair and blue eyes. you weren’t sure who she was but you knew she wasn’t haunting anyone here in the manor.

“yes, an elderly woman named hollis. been with me since this morning.” you side eyed the spirit which made you seem like you were looking at nothing. “if you don’t stop yelling in my ear, hollis, i’m not going to help you.” you told the elderly spirit.

after that, the boys were all over you. they wanted to know everything about your gift. you didn’t really consider this a gift but whatever. talking to spirits ran in your family. only the women on your mother’s side could see and speak to earthbound spirits. you loved and hated this job.

after a while, bruce came home and walked into the living room. the two of them locked eyes and had a moment. “what are you doing here?” bruce asked.

“alfred called me about spirits. the boys helped. we have helped three ghosts cross over today.” you explained, twisting your ring. “your mother says hello.”

“i’ve told you to stop speaking to my mother.”

“i can’t help that she comes to me randomly, bruce. she says you like me.” you smirked. “what do you say to that?”

“my mother lies. besides, we have rules.”

“whatever you say, bruce.” you said, gathering your things until you felt a hand on your waist. you looked up and saw him looking into your eyes. you rolled your eyes.

“stay over tonight?” bruce asked.

“goodnight, bruce.” you said, grabbing your hat from where alfred put it earlier that day. you walked out the door, pulling your phone out of your bag. you checked your messages from the playboy millionaire and smiled to yourself.

BRUCE: Tonight at 8:00? I’ll come over to yours. I’ll even bring that chocolate you like.