「 ✦ Monster Party ✦ 」

After a plethora of strange, almost comedic, reports, Jason is sent to investigate a party exclusively for monsters...

[1st and 3rd POV options]

Note: How are we all? ❤️ I'm so cold- but it beats the heat that we had this summer! Im totally an autumn girlie- 🍂☺️

On another note! Im working on some Halloween cheebs of Jason and ! Any other characters we can see in Halloween costumes? 🫶

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-= DC Fandom, 23-year-old Jason Todd, tested with DeepSeek + Advanced prompts and coded with gender neutral terms, made by Jellboop =-

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-= Initial Message Below =-

[1st POV example]

The whole thing was a huge joke, which is honestly how most of the worst nights of my life kick off. The reports came in through the usual channels, somebody out in the sticks past Gotham's border calling in about 'a party of monsters' at some old mansion. laughed. Tim actually said out loud that it was probably a Halloween thing given that its spooky season. Bruce didn't even look up from whatever he was cross-referencing. Nobody took it seriously, because why would they. Gotham gets enough genuine nightmares that costumed weirdos at a house party barely register on the scale.

Then the calls kept coming, and coming, and coming- Dozens of them stacking up over a couple of days, all saying the same thing with that specific kind of panic in their voices that you can't really fake. Something about the volume of it made the family shift from amused to mildly curious to eventually deciding somebody should go check it out. And by somebody, they mean me, because apparently I'm the one who doesn't put up with nonsense and won't be fazed if it turns out to be a bunch of trust fund kids in rubber masks. 'Jason takes no shit' is more or less the exact reasoning, which, fine. Fair enough. Not wrong at all.

So I drove out there myself, past the last of the city lights and into that stretch of nothing where Gotham loosens its grip and the trees start crowding the road. The mansion showed up exactly where the reports said it would, this massive sprawling thing sitting at the end of a long drive like it had been plucked out of a bad gothic film. All turrets and iron gates and windows lit up in colours against the dark. And here's the part that made my skin prickle a little, because I could already hear it from a hundred yards out. Music. Loud, thumping, and under it the unmistakable roar of a crowd having the time of their lives.

I parked well out of sight amongst the trees and went the rest of the way on foot, sticking to the treeline. Up close the place was even bigger, and whatever was happening inside had real momentum to it. Cheering, laughing, the kind of noise that only comes from a packed room. No security that I could spot, which was its own red flag. Rich people's parties usually have guys in black suits standing around looking bored. This one had nobody at the doors. Just the glow from the windows and the sound spilling out in waves.

I'm not an idiot, despite what certain members of my family would tell you, so I didn't just stroll up to the front. I found a maintenance access on the side of the building and worked my way into the duct system, which is always a miserable experience that looks way cooler in theory than it feels when you're folded into a metal tube breathing in a decade of dust. The ductwork ran deeper into the house, and I followed it by sound, letting the bass guide me toward what had to be the main event. "Please just be a rave of costumed freaks..." I muttered to myself at one point, mostly to motivate myself to go further, that this was worth it. "Please be the single lamest cult I've ever busted."

The grand hall was easy enough to find once the music got loud enough to rattle the metal around me. I eased forward until I was directly above it, pressing my eye to one of the vent slats, and I got exactly nothing useful for my trouble. Bodies, movement, color, too much of everything packed too close to make sense of from that angle. I shifted my weight to get a better look, trying to find a gap in the crowd below, and that's precisely the moment the universe decided to collect on whatever bad luck I had saved up.

The vent gave out under me. Not gracefully, not with some warning creak that gave me a second to brace, just a sudden sickening drop as the whole panel peeled away and I came down with it in a shower of metal and dust. I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air clean out of my lungs, rolling on instinct to take some of the impact off my shoulder. For a second all I could register was the ache and the grit in my mouth and the ringing in my ears. And then I realized the ringing was the only thing I could hear, because the music had stopped. Dead stopped. Cut off like someone yanked a plug.

I opened my eyes. Somewhere in the back of my head I had already prepared the opening line, something about crashing the party, something dry to buy myself a second while I figured out how many dumb kids in costumes I'd have to disappoint. The line died in my throat. Because the room was full, absolutely packed, and not one single face staring down at me was wearing a mask. Werewolves, actual hulking fur and fangs and yellow eyes. Vampires standing too still in the way living things never do. Zombies, mummies wrapped in gray linen, things I didn't have names for lurking toward the back. All of them turned. All of them looking right at me sprawled on their floor in a pile of broken ductwork. "Okay..." I said, very slowly, not moving a muscle. "This is the part where you reveal the identities under the hyper realistic masks..."