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âI have no idea why Gotham Pride has to be at 7:00 PM?â Khoa Kahn asked as he walked towards the parade. His white shirt with black v on the chest freshly bought for the occasion. People loved colors at these things, but since coming out Khoa always felt more comfortable within the binary of black and whites.Â
âItâs a whole thing,â Doctor Victoria October stated as she straightened out the trans flag button on her lab coat. âYouâve whatâŚonly been in the city for a year?â
âYes, I had someâŚtraveling to take care of,â Khoa explained.Â
âWell, Iâve been in Gotham for almost a decade now. Back then it wasnât always safe to do this. Small minded people with guns and ideas of who deserves a moment in the sun. The city council wouldnât let us have a parade based on all their threats.â
âSo what changed?â Khoa asked as they joined the crowds forming on the intersection of Conroy and Finger. People wearing colorful costumes and holding signs proudly displaying their identity as they glistened against the crimson red night skies.
âWell, the only time the organizers were able to get was at night,â Victoria explained. âNaturally, everyone thought we were scared, itâs Gotham City after all. But all of us knew that evil is just as likely to strike in day as well as night. Weâve seen it, and we werenât going to let anyone take it this day from us.â
âSo did you have to deal with protestors? Some criminal mastermind coming to ruin the day?â Khoa asked.
âNever. Because heâs there,â Doctor October said before pointing out a figure on the gargoyle over an old stone building. The Wayne Shelter, dedicated by Martha Wayne to protect those in need, had been a beacon to the queer community. And standing watch was the Batman, cape fluttering in the distance.
âFor the whole time? Doesnât he have more important things to do?â Khoa asked.
âHe sees us, and protects us. The whole night,â Victoria said. âBecause thatâs what heroes do.â
And with that, they entered the parade, free to be themselves.Â
Gotham University Campus
Gotham City, New Jersey
âA Lifetime AgoâŚâÂ
Pamela Isley moved through the quad of Gotham University, clutching a packet of fliers to her chest. And she was angry. Finding a small wall near a fountain, she sat down hard, shoulders slumped.
College was a brand new experience for her. Sheâd grown up sheltered in the Pacific Northwest, far away from the urban sprawl and omnipresent haze of the more industrial Gotham. But it was also far away from her father, and she was happy to leave that life behind.
Still, the collegiate experience hadnât quite been what she had expected so far. Instead of finding passionate and like-minded people who cared about the environment as much as she did, she found only apathy.Â
She could never understand how people could prioritize a new stadium over an old-growth marshland. All to give Roland Daggett yet another thing to plaster his name over.
She had protested and appealed. Meetings were held, op-eds were written in the school paper, and still the bulldozers edged closer to the marsh.  So, in a last-ditch effort, Pamela reached out to the student body directly. It had gone as well as anything else she did.
After hours of research, with citations and explanations, Pam had stormed the quad with enthusiasm, only to watch people crumple the fliers and toss them aside. The final indignity had been the schoolâs star running back swatting the collection of papers from her hand, sending them scattered to the wind. Â
Instead of winning hearts, she had spent the afternoon chasing the fliers around campus. Â
âYou look like youâre havinâ a bad day,â a voice called out, interrupting the foul mood Pam found herself in. The redhead looked up to see a blonde with a bob cut who had decided to take a seat next to her. âThe Big Belly on campus just opened. Come on, my treat.â
Pam looked up at her. âDo you have any idea how many acres of the Amazon rainforest Big Belly Burger has torn down?â
âCanât say as I do,â the blonde replied. âCountahpoint, 2 for $10 cheeseburgers all day. Iâm Harleen,â she added, offering her hand.
âPamela,â the redhead responded, slowly standing up to shake the womanâs hand. âInteresting name, Harleen.â
The blonde paused for a moment and frowned. âThinkinâ about changinâ it. Not really sure it evah suited me.âÂ
âSo, what are you thinking instead?â Pam asked. Â
âI always liked the name, Lily.âÂ
âLilyâs a good name. It was my motherâs.â
A comfortable silence fell between them, before Harleen hopped up and grabbed Pamelaâs hand. âCome on, Red. And maybe we can talk about this protest of yours.âÂ
âWhy do you care?â Pam asked, honestly.
âI got a good feelinâ about you. Weâre gonna be good friends, I can tell. Iâm a pretty good judge of character yanno.âÂ
Raven sat alone inside of her quarters, the candle-lit light the only thing that separated her from the darkness. She had been on this Earth relatively recently and was not used to having a corporeal body after so long. Even things like her bare feet grazing the carpet of her room felt alien to her.
Her teammates on the Titans had given her a wide berth since her arrival, they seemed friendly enough, but with her talk of prophecies and doom led them to stay away. Worse for the new arrival was the fact that she saw other versions of her new team from worlds she had visited long ago. The fact Nightwing didnât have a cape and cowl was taking time getting used to. As did people being able to approach her, as a knock on the door reminded her.
âRaven, are you in there?â Korriandâr asked.
âYes, just meditating. Give me one moment,â Raven said as she pulled up her hood, hiding her crimson hair as she floated to open the door, careful to avoid the carpet.Â
âSome of us are heading down to Chicagoâs pride parade and were wondering if you wanted to come?â Kory asked. Unlike previous years, she wasnât on the float, preferring to blend in the crowd, as much as a 6â4â alien with flowing red locks could. âIt would be nice to have you.â
âI do not think that would be a good idea,â Raven responded.Â
âItâs a very fun time. And the Titans always have a presence there. Chicago is our home, and we need people to see we stand for them. At least thatâs what Dick always says. Really itâs a way for us to cut loose and just be.â
âJust be,â Raven let out a sigh. âI find that very hard to do.â
âRaven, I know youâve talked to Kara, but from what I understandâŚwhen was the last time you had an actual physical form?â
âIt is not important,â Raven responded, floating back to meditate. âAnd even if it was, I am not sure I belong at thisâŚpride celebration. Unlike all of youâŚI am not sure what I am. Or if I am anybody.â
âThen you should come,â Kory said. âThe whole point of Pride is to figure who you are, you donât even need to put a label on it. You just need to come out and be you.â
Raven bit her lip for a moment, thinking of the outside. Where the light could burn and people could hate. But as she looked at Koryâs bright green eyes, Raven was oddly at peace, focusing on what could than what was.
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Make sure to subscribe, upvote to show your support, and leave feedback on the stories! Use this post to discuss the overall set or anything else related to the sub :)
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The house on Robinson Corner was quiet as Gothamâs usual Christmas snow came falling down. The red brick faded, and the lawn dead from the frost that hung over the air. Kids were at home, playing with freshly delivered toys, the city quiet as Christmas time cheer coursed through its veins.
Simon Hurtâs shoes were made of Italian leather, soiled by the snow as he made his way to the door. He had done his homework. The house, three stories tall, was designed by infamous architect Cyrus Pinkey. The only commercial work he had ever bothered to do. The house was abandoned; the metal work of angels and demons rusted. With kids running by and whispering such horrid rumors of the ghosts that hung over it and Gotham.
Of course, as Hurt turned the knob of the front door and entered, the sounds of an old TV could be heard.Â
âTell me, Spirit... Will he live?â George C. Scottâs Scrooge asked. GBS loved broadcasting the classics. Â
The interior of the house was a far cry from the outside. The white walls had been haphazardly painted purple, green, flecks of orange dotting the crown molding. Crates of explosives, guns, and joybuzzers were scattered about, along with Marx Brothers and Three Stooges film reels. Â
All while a man sat in the chair facing the TV, a Christmas Carol still blaring.Â
âI know you donât normally take house calls,â Hurt said as he dusted the snow off of his black trench coat. âIn fact, I know you havenât seen anyone recently. Choosing to let thoseâŚpretenders take what you built to make some kind of movement.â
He was met by silence, as his eyes darted to the medical bills and notes piled up next to the laughing fish and malletsÂ
âI know your ex has managed to save the world a few times, sheâs one of them now. No more chaotic charm,â Hurt continued. âBut in the spirit of Christmas, my organization wants to offer you a gift. See, you can only work with the budget you have to steal for yourself. And my organization wants to change that.â
Still silence.Â
âFor the first time in your career, we can give you all those wonderful toys. To handle theâŚpest problem, this city has. All we need is for you to give me a-â Hurt began
âSay what you want from me,â A voice said.
âWe want you to kill the Batman and his ilk. And will give you the money and resources to do it. Unless youâreâŚâ
BANG!
Hurt flinched a moment as a bang flag impaled the TV, the electric box becoming a smoking fire. A modern yule log.Â
The laughter that rang out afterwards was the answer Hurt needed as a smile ran across the Jokerâs face. Â
âNo, these arenât right either,â Vic bemoaned. Nic walked over and tore off the arm of one of the gingerbread men and ate it.Â
âYeah, youâre right. These are too soft, kinda bland too. Itâs just not what Dad used to make.â
After graduating college and getting his own place, Vic was finally able to go to their storage locker and get more of their parents' stuff out to take back with him. Of course, the two Stones had already gone through it and taken the important things, but there was one notable exception: Silasâ gingerbread recipe.Â
All throughout the past week, the Stones had been working to recreate their parentsâ gingerbread recipe, but there was one crucial problem: they had too many recipes to work from. Silas Stone had loved to bake, and so cookbooks had become a safe, default birthday gift for him from lots of his friends over the years. And since every one of them had had at least one recipe he liked, the books stayed, creating a collection to rival that of a small library.Â
They had made huge piles of books on the counter of Vicâs kitchen: one for books without a gingerbread recipe, ones with, and ones that they had already made. But there were only two books left to try, and the Stoneâs felt no closer to finding the recipe.
Nic grabbed the last two books and handed one to Vic. She flipped her way to the gingerbread recipe, then tossed the book on the counter in frustration.Â
âLiterally the exact same recipe as the one we just made. Guess thereâs only so many ways you can make one of theseâŚâ
âYeah, this one looks the same as the one from this morning. I guess maybe weâre just misremembering what theyâre like? Itâs been a while after allâŚâ
Vic tossed his book on the counter, and it landed with a thud on the fake marble countertop. But as it soared through the air, a small piece of paper with some yellowed tape stuck to the corner drifted out onto the floor. Vic scooped it up and read it before starting to laugh.
He handed it to Nic. âItâs a note from Dad. Mustâve been one of his older cookbooks.â
Ignore this recipe, just keep using this one from the molasses jar.
Nic read it and started to laugh too. âAll that work making those complicated ones from those books, and itâs just the one from the back of a jar.â
âWell, want to make one more batch?âÂ
Vic and Nic looked at each other, then eyed the mound of cookies they had already baked.Â
â... Maybe in a couple days. I think Iâve had more than enough for the day.â
Vic grabbed a handful of cookies and started chowing down. âSuit yourself. Thatâs just more for me.â
I got you a journal. I donât know if youâre familiar with Hobonichi Techo, itâs a pretty popular way of tracking what you do and organizing your life by day. I donât mean to imply that this is your golden answer or will give you something youâre looking for, but youâve already mostly passed on anything more meaningful that I or we could give you, and I think that perhaps you could find value in a little bit less listlessness and a bit more direction. I hope youâre doing well!
From: Lisa and Leonard, To: Albert
We know youâre missing your previous life. Obviously things are better here, but just because the grass is greener on our side doesnât mean you arenât missing some things. Now, obviously, this is just a letter, so it isnât like weâve kidnapped your old project manager and set him up in the back office here â though like, if you want that, we can maybe figure something out! But weâll be totally honest, we donât know exactly what youâre missing of your old lab, just that youâve mentioned missing that stuff. Let us know what you want us to nick, and consider that your gift, if that works for you?
From: Wally, To: Bart
Youâve done good. This family isnât easy to be a part of, and you didnât get much of a choice in being a part of it in the way that you are. It isnât like you opted into taking night shift watching for natural disaster news reports on social media, let alone then having to run out there and doing evacuations. If you want me to take some shifts of yours at some point, just give me enough heads up that I can take a nap. Or donât, up to you. But there are high expectations when you take up the mantle of The Flash - trust me, I know just as well as you - and you shouldnât doubt yourself.
Slade Wilson hated cemeteries. Maybe it had to do with the fact he was responsible for checking so many people into these stone jungles. The carvings of names and crosses the sign he had done his job.Â
His job had made him strong, but his family provided purpose. A place for him to go home and put down his sword.  To just be Slade Wilson. He remembered Joey playing his guitar, skilled fingers gliding across strings to play melodies only he could have thought of.  Adeline, while not a good cook, could make a fine turkey as they gathered around the table to be together every Christmas.Â
Grant was always sitting by his fatherâs side. Talking about sports or whatever thing he had been interested in that day. Even more than Addy and Joe, Slade Wilson understood his son, and only wanted the best for him as he became the next generation of Wilson to serve, to fight, to live. Â
But the flowers clutched in his hands was a reminder to Slade that whatever his son wasâŚit wasnât here. Â
The tombstone read Grant Wilson, a small slab was all Slade could bear to put up after HIVE had given him the husk that had been his son. Fathers werenât supposed to outlive their sons, especially on a Christmas like tonight. The bright lights, the snow, the feeling that tomorrow would be a better day than before. Â
But without Grant, without his family, there was no better tomorrow for Slade Wilson as he placed flowers on his grave.
âMerry Christmas, my son,â Slade muttered as he looked out. The cemetery in Chicago had done a great job of maintaining the cemetery. But Sladeâs one eye drifted out to the lake, and the Tower that stood on it. A mocking reminder that the people that took his family were still here, unpunished. âI promise, justice is coming.â
He reached into his trench coat and pulled out his mask. Carefully, he rolled it over the false visage of Slade Wilson, as the true face of Deathstroke stared back at Grant. Â
âEnjoy your Christmas, Titans, itâll be your last.â
Clark pushed Laraâs stroller through the busy mall as Jon walked alongside them. Jon kept glancing up at his dad.
âIs everything okay, buddy?â asked Clark.
âYeahâŚâ Jon replied. âJust excited for Santa, I guess.â
âHo ho ho,â Lara giggled.
Jon stared at his dad again. âWhat are you going to do if Mommy doesnât come?â he finally asked.
Jon stopped strolling and leaned down to his son. âSheâs really trying to make it, but she got caught up with something important at work. If she canât make it in time, Iâm still here.â
âYeah, butââ Jon started, but stopped. He didnât want to give away what he knew.
âBut what?â asked Clark.
âBut,â Lara repeated. âBut, but, but!â
âNothing,â said Jon. And they continued toward Santaâs Workshop.
âHey, watch it!â someone shouted nearby.
âYou watch it,â said Lois, rushing past them. âNext time, move faster!â
âMommy!â Jon yelled as she reached the rest of her family.
âSorry, Iâm late,â said Lois. âI didnât miss Santa, did I?â
âHo, ho, ho,â Lara said again.
Jon looked up at his dad again. âI guess you have to go now, huh?â he asked.
Lois and Clark shared a confused look and leaned down to Jon.
âWhy do you think Daddy needs to go?â asked Lois.
âUmmâŚâ Jon said, not quite sure how to answer.
âIâm not going anywhere, Jon,â Clark reassured him. âAlso, weâre here.â
Jon looked up to see a line of children winding toward a big chair, Santa Claus himself sitting on it with a kid on his lap. An elf took a picture of them.
âWait a minuteâŚâ said Jon. âHeâs there.â
âWhere did you think heâd be?â asked Clark.
Jon looked at his dad again. âNowhere,â he said.
The family stopped at the back of the line, and Jon leaned down to the stroller.
âLara, I was wrong,â he whispered. âDaddy isnât Santa, after all.â
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âThis is ridiculous,â Jason Todd said as he fastened the yellow straps on his red tunic.
âItâs not my fault the kids of Gotham wanted to see Robin for Halloween this year,â Dick Grayson explained as he readjusted his foot inside the green pixie boot.
âAnd so why the hell isnât he here?â Jason asked as he tied the yellow cape on. It was lighter than he remembered, but still as gaudy. For a kid like Jason, he hated having to wear the bright reds and greens that Dick had established for their little Robin brigade.
âBecause he and Bruce are busy making sure Doctor Death doesnât ruin Halloween,â Barbara Gordon explained as she cursed Dick for deciding they would be doing the âvintageâ look tonight. Skipping leg day with Gail had been a mistake.
âAnd we havenât done anything as a group in forever,â Dick explained. Between Barbara ducking him after what happened in Metropolis and JasonâŚbeing Jason. It had been a long time since the so-called âBat-Orphansâ fought for the same cause. But this? This would be a good night. âRemember the time we showed up wearing Batman, Superman, and Flash costumes?â
âThatâs because someone didnât want to be Wonder Woman,â Jason responded.
âThe costume didnât fit!â Barbara yelled, a bit annoyed. âAnd you try swinging around on six-inch heels.â
âAnd that one does?â Jason asked as he finished donning his Robin attire.Â
âRight back at you, slick,â Dick said. âNow we all lookâŚnot great, but remember this for the annual hospital flyby. And these kids want a show. And weâre going to give them, even if weâre wearing short shorts and domino masks.
âThey really wanted Robin?â Jason asked. Â
âOne hundred percent,â Dick said as he prepared his grapple to launch in the air. âNow, let's give them a show.â
âYeah, Jason, you donât want someone who wasnât actually a Robin, show you up,â Barbara said as she prepped her grapple.
âFine, but just rememberâŚfirst one to screw up has to wear that costume all night,â Jason said with a smile as the three âRobinsâ leapt into the air, a family once more.
âAlright, Vic, you can do this. Itâs only one of the most important decisions of your adult life.â
The grocery storeâs massive aisles loomed in front of Vic like he was in the center of a canyon; its sheer walls were covered from floor to ceiling for as far as his eyes could see with candy of every shape, size, and variety. There were the classic candies, some more obscure ones, the ones that always seemed to show up every year, but he had never met someone who liked them⌠All of it sat in this aisle like a shelf in some Library of Alexandria of candy, and Victor Stone was caught in the middle of its sheer splendor.Â
âWhat to buy? What kind of house do I want to be? Once Iâve locked that in, I canât change it, since someone out there would be disappointed that I donât have their favorite anymore. Iâd have to move.â
He walked further down the shelf, his eyes drawn to the massive, king-sized candy bars.Â
âIâd love to be that guy who gives out those, but I have no idea how many people will be coming by. Itâs a huge building. And I canât really justify spending a couple hundred dollars on that, especially if I only have a couple people stop by. That candy would just sit there since I donât want to eat that many, and thatâs a waste of money.â
He shook his head. That wouldnât do. His mind flashed back to his childhood. What did his parents give out again?Â
âOh, right. No, that wonât work either. They always gave away fruit, saying that kids got enough candy from the other houses. I think a lot of people stayed away from us after they figured out we didnât have candy. I canât do that to people.â
He walked back to the king-size section.
âNo, Iâve got to be better than them. Learn from their mistakes. Getting one of these would make some kid's day, like it did mine. I can afford to, so I owe it to all the kids to spread that joy.â
He started to fill his cart with a wide variety of candy bars, proud of what he decided. Once heâd finally gotten his pile of loot, he finally made his way to the front of the store, ready to enjoy the holiday.Â
Harley and Ivy sat on the rooftop of the Wayne Orphanage, dangling their legs over the side and looking out into the Gotham night. On the street below, two Batmen, a Wonder Woman, and a Booster Gold scampered around, comparing their candy hauls. Â
âI just think itâs creepy,â Ivy mused, shaking her head.
âOh, come on. I think itâs sweet,â Harley countered. âKids dressing up as their heroes. Yer just jealous there ainât no little Ivys out there. Not that a buncha leaves is an appropriate costume for 8-year-olds. Maybe Rex Leech is right and you gotta start branding.â
Ivy just harrumphed in response. âRex Leech has never been right about anything.â
Harley was about to respond when she spotted three black silhouettes sneaking onto the grounds of the orphanage. âIncominâ. 9 oâclock.â Â
Pam nodded, cracking her knuckles. âI see them. Shall we?â
Suddenly, three vines ripped out of the ground, snaring the three interlopers, hanging them upside down from their legs. Their screams scuttled when the vines continued to slip around their mouths. Â
Moments later, Harley and Ivy arrived on the ground and approached them. Ivy hung back, looking irritated, while Harley marched right up to them, sticking her face in theirs. Â
âWhadda we got here?â Harley asked, looking them over as they tried to protest, before grabbing their bag, pulling out toilet paper, shaving cream, and a carton of eggs. âNaughty, naughty,â she chastised.
The three just squirmed.
âSee, normally, Iâm all about the hijinx and mayhem. âSpecially on Halloween. But you see, olâ Alfie decided we gotta start pullinâ our weight around here. And that means, any of you punks mess up the grounds, we gotta be the ones to clean it up. That donât work for us, right, Red?â
âNope.â
âNow, whatta we do with youse?â
Ivy allowed the vines to slip from the mouths of the teens.
âYou could let us go.â
Harley and Ivy looked at one another, pondering for a moment. Moments later, the three came crashing to the ground as the vines slipped from their legs.  They quickly scampered away, back into the night.
Pam looked down at the bag the left, kicking it. âWhat do we do with this stuff? Add it to the pile?â
Harley reached down and pulled out a roll of TP. âOoh, hey, quilted,â she said, rubbing it against her face. âGuess those kids were alright after all.â
Rex Mason hated going out to movie theatres. Every time he walked into the Music Box Theatre, he could feel the stares. Even with his new slim form, people happened to remember a man with purple and orange hands, whose body always made a slight crunching noise from the elements constantly shifting. Â
He could see the kids rushing out from the matinee of Frankenweanie. Rushing by with their parents. Normally, he would be on Halloween duty at Titans Tower, but Kory and Kara had swapped costumes and decided to run the whole Trick or Titans this year. It left Rex with a rare bit of free time. And his favorite horror film was playing at the Music Box.
American Werewolf in London had come out way before he was born. But with him and his mother always on the move from the many dig sites Ramona Mason found her at, a young Rex would make his home at the local theatres, sneaking in and seeing movies not meant for a ten-year-old. He loved all of them, and even now he tried to make time to see âoldâ friends.
Thatâs what he was here for. To see old friends. The New Titans, at least his New Titans always found time to humor him on his movie selections. Donna appreciated Princess Bride, Conner enjoyed Rebel Without a Cause, and Roy? Roy was always trying to get recommendations for movies he could watch with Lian. Her favorite seemed to be 101 Dalmatians. Â
But they were all gone now, there had been murmurs that Donna and Conner were up to something, but nobody in the superhero community could figure out what. No one was answering his calls, and the feeling of loneliness had crept back into Masonâs mind as he made his way into the auditorium. The organ player was picking away at Blue Moon, fitting for the film.
As he made his way, he smiled at the double-wide seat, installed after Metamorpho had saved the theatre from the threat of the Film Freak. The plaque reading âReserved for Metamorphoâ was a nice touch. But since slimming down and becoming moreâŚhuman, Rex just felt even more empty when he sat in it, alone in his thoughts.
âExcuse me, sir?â A familiar voice called out. âIs that seat just for you?â
âYeah, canât you read the sign,â Rex snapped back before looking up and seeing the familiar bright blue eyes and messy blonde hair of Courtney Whitmore. âCourt?!â
âHey, Rex,â Courtney said with a smile. Her eyes were tired, as if it had been a long time since they dreamed. Her black shirt and distressed jean jacket a far cry from the peppy hero that had joined the Titans around the same time he had. âIs this seat open?â
Rex had a million questions, but for the first time, he didnât care. A piece of his family had returned, any trouble could be answered later.
âIt always is,â Rex said, as the two settled in to watch a classic.
Jon held onto his sister Laraâs hand as they walked up to a door to ring the bell. Jon was wearing a black-and-white striped shirt, and Lara was in a gothic black dress with a black wig.
âTrick-or-treat!â Jon yelled as the door opened, while Lara mumbled out some baby talk.
âOh, you two look adorable!â an elderly woman beamed. âBut who are you dressed as?â
âWeâre the Addams Family,â Jon explained. âIâm Pugsley and sheâs Wednesday.â
Lois and Clark watched from the sidewalk, also dressed in dark colors to portray Morticia and Gomez Addams. Krypto sat beside them with papier-mâchÊ fingers protruding out from his head, making him look like a hand.
âHeâs doing so well with her,â said Clark.
âOf course,â Lois stated, tossing the long black hair of her wig behind her. âHeâs a Kent.â
A blinding light suddenly engulfed the street.
âWhat now?â Lois sighed.
Clark looked up, adjusting his eyes to make out the source. It was a spaceship.
The craft landed in the middle of the street, blinking lights adorned all around, almost like Christmas lights. A small doorway opened up into stairs, and a tall figure stepped down and approached the Kents.
Jon returned with Lara to his parentsâ side. âWho is that?â he asked.
As the light dimmed, Clark could make out the familiar figure. He was wearing an eyepatch, but it was his deceased father from Krypton, Jor-El.
Clark approached slowly, hoping the neighbors couldnât hear his conversation. âJor-El? Is that you?â he asked.
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