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samjohnssonvt:
tyrantisterror:
thestuffedalligator:
The daughter of Clayface swears that she isn’t.
And she isn’t, technically. She’s a mistake of magical and chemical shenanigans. She’s a bit of Clayface that happened to fall off and be sentient, and there’s a couple steps missing from that process before she could be called the “daughter of Clayface” to any real definition. To the world at large, she’s officially the adopted daughter of CEO Tim Drake, and she’s no more the daughter of Clayface than she’s the daughter of Red Robin.
Sometimes, this is enough to appease. Sometimes, the dark corners of her brain remind her that she’s legally a thirteen-year-old girl who’s only been an independent self-conscious being for an accumulative three months. That she’s made from the flesh of a forty-year-old man, and that she might not be a real person. That sure, Wonder Woman was also made of clay, but that she at least had the common courtesy to stay in one shape.
The daughter of Killer Croc swears that she is.
She isn’t, technically. She’s the daughter of a wealthy upper class Gotham family who happened to be born with the same reptilian ativism that afflicted Waylon Jones. It’s just that when she ran away, finally fed up with being invisible to her family, an embarrassment locked in her room and forgotten, news had gotten around about sightings of “the daughter of Killer Croc,” and Croc had decided to investigate himself.
When her first instinct was to try and bite him, he fell in love instantly and decided that yes, in fact, she was his daughter, and he took her into his home and showered her with all the love and attention her biological family never had tried to give.
Sometimes, this is enough to appease. She has a good enough life in the Gotham underground, and she never has any need to complain. But it bothers her sometimes, how it took an escaped convict who barely considered himself human to finally be treated like someone worthy of love.
The daughter of Mr. Freeze pretends that she isn’t.
This is wrong by all accounts. Yes, she had been raised by her grandparents since the diagnosis came through - MacGregor’s, yes, how sad, the poor dear, father lost his mind - but Fries is still her name, and when he makes his debut as a befishbowled supervillain, it’s easy for her schoolmates to make the connection. When she tries to keep them out, to keep her emotions in check, the taunts only become more fierce - Oh look at that, like father like daughter, the Ice Queen of Gotham Academy, chilly bitch - and it’s only easier to freeze them out, making her denials even more obviously false.
The daughter of the Riddler is quite proud of it.
Her father is a neurotic private investigator who can only take things seriously if he can process them in the form of riddles, and she’s proud of it. She wears it like armour, and waves it like a flag - My dad is fucking nuts and wears green spandex like it’s a normal thing to do, but I’m somehow the most socially adjusted person in this whole school - and neither the sneers of her peers nor perhaps the will of god himself can deter her.
This is perhaps why when, confronted by Gotham Academy’s Ice Queen, a metahuman with identity issues, and a very attractive girl she met in the sewers one time, she hitched up her suspenders, bunched up her nerves, and decided she was going to lead them.
And this is how the Gotham Girls Detective Club was formed.
I’d read that comic!
I would pay money for that comic.
samjohnssonvt:
tyrantisterror:
thestuffedalligator:
The daughter of Clayface swears that she isn’t.
And she isn’t, technically. She’s a mistake of magical and chemical shenanigans. She’s a bit of Clayface that happened to fall off and be sentient, and there’s a couple steps missing from that process before she could be called the “daughter of Clayface” to any real definition. To the world at large, she’s officially the adopted daughter of CEO Tim Drake, and she’s no more the daughter of Clayface than she’s the daughter of Red Robin.
Sometimes, this is enough to appease. Sometimes, the dark corners of her brain remind her that she’s legally a thirteen-year-old girl who’s only been an independent self-conscious being for an accumulative three months. That she’s made from the flesh of a forty-year-old man, and that she might not be a real person. That sure, Wonder Woman was also made of clay, but that she at least had the common courtesy to stay in one shape.
The daughter of Killer Croc swears that she is.
She isn’t, technically. She’s the daughter of a wealthy upper class Gotham family who happened to be born with the same reptilian ativism that afflicted Waylon Jones. It’s just that when she ran away, finally fed up with being invisible to her family, an embarrassment locked in her room and forgotten, news had gotten around about sightings of “the daughter of Killer Croc,” and Croc had decided to investigate himself.
When her first instinct was to try and bite him, he fell in love instantly and decided that yes, in fact, she was his daughter, and he took her into his home and showered her with all the love and attention her biological family never had tried to give.
Sometimes, this is enough to appease. She has a good enough life in the Gotham underground, and she never has any need to complain. But it bothers her sometimes, how it took an escaped convict who barely considered himself human to finally be treated like someone worthy of love.
The daughter of Mr. Freeze pretends that she isn’t.
This is wrong by all accounts. Yes, she had been raised by her grandparents since the diagnosis came through - MacGregor’s, yes, how sad, the poor dear, father lost his mind - but Fries is still her name, and when he makes his debut as a befishbowled supervillain, it’s easy for her schoolmates to make the connection. When she tries to keep them out, to keep her emotions in check, the taunts only become more fierce - Oh look at that, like father like daughter, the Ice Queen of Gotham Academy, chilly bitch - and it’s only easier to freeze them out, making her denials even more obviously false.
The daughter of the Riddler is quite proud of it.
Her father is a neurotic private investigator who can only take things seriously if he can process them in the form of riddles, and she’s proud of it. She wears it like armour, and waves it like a flag - My dad is fucking nuts and wears green spandex like it’s a normal thing to do, but I’m somehow the most socially adjusted person in this whole school - and neither the sneers of her peers nor perhaps the will of god himself can deter her.
This is perhaps why when, confronted by Gotham Academy’s Ice Queen, a metahuman with identity issues, and a very attractive girl she met in the sewers one time, she hitched up her suspenders, bunched up her nerves, and decided she was going to lead them.
And this is how the Gotham Girls Detective Club was formed.
I’d read that comic!
I would pay money for that comic.
