THIS PART IS NOW CLOSED. YOU CAN CONTINUE POSTING FILLS, BUT PLEASE PROMPT ALL NEW THINGS
HERE.
Part one here! Part two here! Part three here! Part four here! Feel free to reprompt posts from parts one, two, three or four in part five once. If you do so, I'd recommend leaving a link to your fill on the original prompt, in case somebody is tracking
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Bonus points if at the end Robin confesses it all to Batman or Superman.
Super Bonus points if Robin's then able to track Joe Chill down and sends an anonymous tip to the GCPD.
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SOMEONE TAKE THIS NOW!
Capacha is kidz insain
The capacha knows of my voices ._.
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Why hasn't this been done yet? It sounds epic!
nthd!
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I'm miserable right now, and this would make me SOOOO happy.
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Secondly, I'm so sorry for how far afield I went, and how many other prompts I pulled in here. This is basically an attempt to reconcile YJ-canon with both comic canon and all the All-Star universes, including Batman and Robin, so yes, this fills Batman punching Crazy Steve in the face. I'm a canon/continuity nerd, so feel free to ask me if there's something I refer to that confuses you or that you wanna know more about.
I'm not sure if this still even really fills your prompt, and I do hope you get another, more appropriate fill, but, in the meantime, here we go.
A Tale Of Many Dimensions in Five Parts, Based Entirely On T. S. Eliot's The Hollow Men.
and in conclusion, I'm still so, so sorry.
Except for how I'm totally not.
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Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
...
Part 1: Shape without formSometimes, when it's dark and still, the voices come out to play ( ... )
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<3333
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Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-
...
Part 2: shade without colour
Time passes, and little things go wrong.
Time passes, and little things go right.
~@~
Once upon a time, there was a boy. He's like a lot of other boys, only for some reason, he has many stories. This is one of them. His story starts back and back, but ours starts here, tonight, at an old, stately manor, under the moon and touched by the wind. And, on this particular night, if you listen very closely, you can hear the sound of him not-crying into his pillow, and the crackle of him reassembling his little broken heart, and the way he whispers Mom, Dad, I'll fix your city, I'll get you justice ( ... )
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Nobody comes to Wayne Manor anymore, and that’s just the way he likes it. He still makes the expected appearances at charity balls and the annual society bashes, but he drinks a lot and leaves as soon as he reasonably can. The smiling mask sits too uncomfortably over his face.
And then, one night, he goes to the circus.
And then, one night, he goes to the circus.
~@~
Superman saves a schoolbus full of children from crashing into the bank and pounds the jillionth robot into the pavement. Hmm, he thinks, must be a Tuesday.
Superman knows he’s dying, and he feels weak and powerless. But he’s not dead ( ... )
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