#And flagging down the next hero/vigilante they see

[ailithnight]

So, now that we are generally aware that you can usually only see ab definition when someone is either actively flexing or super dehydrated (or both, I guess)

Can we all agree that hero suits that have visible abs are all packed and padded for the aesthetics and/or intimidation factor?

We've all seen 'Do the butts match?' What about 'Got the pack?'

[luxaofhesperides]

for the Ghost Lights prompt thingy(if you’re still doing it)…

Fish?

Danny doesn't mean to witness a fight, but it's taken up the entire road and he's been stuck hiding in an alley for the past ten minutes, watching the Signal take out gang members.

More keep coming to fight, and Danny can tell that the Signal is flagging, his energy waning as he's forced to defend himself against the countless gangsters rushing him. Part of him wants to jump in and help, but being kidnapped and nearly trafficked after the wrong person caught sight of him using his powers has Danny hesitating, fearful of being caught again.

The Signal's a hero, he tells himself, If anyone can handle this, it's him.

And, to be fair, the Signal is handling it pretty well. He takes people down quickly with hard hits and pressure point strikes, his shadow rearing up behind him to crash down on people. But it's still one versus too many, and Danny watches, barely breathing, as the Signal is pushed back to the edge of the road. There's only a small iron rail separating him from the ocean and Danny tenses, ready to spring into action despite his apprehension if things go sideways.

Sure enough, a few lucky hits disorient the Signal, leave him off balance, and all it takes is one strong push to have him toppling over the railing and into the dark waters below.

The gangsters wait to see if the vigilante will resurface. No sign of his signature yellow appears from beneath the waves. They cheer and walk off, congratulating each other, groaning about bruises and broken bones. Danny doesn't bother paying any attention to them as he goes invisible and sprints for the railing, jumping over it to dive in.

Using his powers in Gotham is always dangerous, and going full ghost even more so. He hasn't transformed since he first arrived, too focused on keeping his head down and getting out of the city alive once he graduates from university.

But saving a hero is a good reason to throw away all his caution and common sense. Danny pulls on his power, goes ghost just as the waves swallow him whole, and he flies down through the water in search of the Signal.

The water is dark and brackish, polluted and full of filth. He's sure if he looks closer to the bottom, he'd only find bodies from people who's names only appear in cold cases. He's all too aware of the time ticking away as he searching, desperate to catch a glimpse of the yellow armor the Signal is so known for. He almost misses it when he does spot it, just a small flash closer to the edge of the city than he expected. Danny aims for it, cutting through the waters with ease.

The Signal is struggling weakly as he tries to swim up to the surface. His armor is weighing him down and Danny can see small wisps of blood rising into the water around him.

Danny doesn't hesitate. He can't afford to, not with the Signal's life on the line.

He grabs the Signal's arms and flies them up. He stops when their heads are above the water to give the Signal a moment to breathe, then he warps his arms around the Signal's waist and flies them out of the water.

"Do you have someplace safe to go to?" Danny asks, taking them to the top of an apartment building a few streets over.

The Signal collapses once Danny lets go of him, coughing up water. Danny hovers nearby, offering what little comfort he could by rubbing small circles onto the vigilante's back.

"Is there someone I can call? Someone who can help you?"

The Signal shakes his head. He curls into himself, taking deep breaths. A hand goes to his wrist and grips it for a moment, then he slumps over, rolling onto his back. He definitely shouldn't be alone right now, so Danny sits next him, staying in ghost form just in case he has to fly them away, and wonders if he should try shouting for Batman. That would get his attention right? A glowing ghost boy yelling for him above the streets of Gotham?

Of course, he's rather not do that, but this isn't about him. This is about getting the Signal the help he needs to recover from almost drowning.

Batman would be lenient on him once he hears that Danny fished the Signal out of the ocean, right?

"Thanks," the Signal rasps, turning his head to face Danny. Water still trails down his face, no doubt trapped under his helmet.

"No problem," Danny replies. "You should probably take that off, you know. I'll look away, so don't worry."

He turns and closes his eyes for good measure, and is glad to hear Signal mutter a weak thanks. It's followed by a deep sigh and the sound of something being dropped onto the roof of the apartment. They stay in silence for many long minutes and Danny keeps his eyes closed, the back of his neck itching. The Signal must be looking at him, and the thought makes Danny want to hide away.

So much for hiding his powers.

"Seriously, thank you," the Signal says again. His voice is much steadier now, stronger.

"It's really no problem. I wasn't about to just leave you to drown when I could do something about it."

Behind him, Danny hears the Signal moving and tenses, worried about what happens next.

"You can look now."

Slowly, Danny turns and opens his eyes. The Signal is sitting up now, helmet back on, looking much better. "I'll need to finish dealing with that gang later, but for right now, I'm going to get someplace safe to crash. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean, you were in the water too. You should probably take a shower as soon as possible," the Signal adds. "Who knows what's in the water we swam in?"

Danny grimaces, imagining all the pollution and bodies that contaminate the bay. "Good point. You'll be alright on your own?"

"Yeah, man, don't worry about me. I'll be right as rain in no time."

He takes a step back, glancing around to make sure no other Bats are going to pop out of nowhere to get him. "Cool. I'll just go now so you can do... whatever it is you need to do now. Bye!"

Danny flies away before the Signal can say anything else, going invisible to avoid any curious eyes looking up from the streets. He circles around the block just to make sure none of the gang members are still lingering outside, then heads to his and Jazz's apartment as soon as he determines that the coast is clear. He goes straight to his bedroom, goes back to being a normal human, and collapses face first into his bed. The stress of the day hits him all at once and Danny can only hope that the Signal forgets about him and they can go on without their paths ever crossing again. The last thing he needs is attention from a vigilante; getting mixed up in the hero business will only endanger Jazz, and Danny will do anything to make sure she has a peaceful, normal college experience in Gotham.

Yeah, surely there are better things that will keep the Signal preoccupied. Danny will be fine.

(A week later, Danny curses his past self for jinxing him when he turns down an alley to take a shortcut from the library home and finds the Signal leaning against a wall.

"Hey," the vigilante greets, "Mind if we chat for a sec? I still need to thank you for saving me."

He'd really rather not, but the Signal would probably just come back if Danny ran away. He sighs and agrees, following after the Signal as he leads them somewhere quieter.

He's expecting a light interrogation on his powers, what he's doing in Gotham, his reasons for saving the Signal. What he gets instead is a few worried questions about his safety and the promise of a lunch date.

...Maybe he can hold off cursing his past self. When else is he going to get a date with a hero?)

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can you write jason todd with ftm reader where he defends him from transphobia in public? I need my big beefy boyfriend to beat up transphobes for me pls. Thanks and happy pride ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Jason Todd x FTM reader

Headcanons

idc what anyone says, gotham knights Jason is beautiful to me

Hallo zusammen. Happy pride. My teacher decided last second to change everything about my next exam, so ive been stressing. So to make myself feel better, here’s some Jason going to pride with his BF.

As much as Gotham is a shithole filled to the gills with crime, its got a large demographic of LGBT. Even the heroes and villains are somewhere on that spectrum, which also means none of them target the local pride parades.

But like any pride parade, there are bigots at the sidelines. Now, Gothamites don’t do stupid well, so most are sent packing before they can even start up with their usual theatrics. Are you gonna yell homophobic slurs at poison ivy? Or when Killer Croc is walking by wearing rainbow streamers?

That doesn’t mean there aren’t stupid that sticks around. They are rarely locals, since even the most hateful locals know not to be dumb enough to cause a ruckus the one place the villains and vigilantes get along and have the same goal.

Not every hero was suited up though, seeing as you and Jason were walking side by side along with everyone else. Jason was wearing a less flashy outfit, mainly because he doesn’t do bright colors too much, but your sexuality and gender were more out in the open.

At least obvious enough for some hateful person to spot that you’re trans. And since you look like an easy target, amongst Gothamites at least, they decide to focus on you with their hateful rhetoric.

Insults weren’t anything new slung around Gotham, a city where you would get called a bad nickname more than your actual name. but it was never focused on something like your gender, your sexuality, or your race. It would be something like the fact that you wore ugly shoes, or that you ate weird.

which was why it catching the attention of more than just your boyfriend when the transphobic slurs get thrown at you. Apparently, you freezing up at the slurs seem like a win to these people, as they start yelling and jeering at you even more.

 Surprisingly it isn’t Jason that throws the first punch. Its some random chick wearing a lesbian flag over her shoulders and purple ladder laced boots. Her punch seems to unleash what everyone had been holding in, not wanting to give these bigots any attention.

Jason gets his own punches in of course, specifically targeting the people that had been yelling slurs at you. And as much as you hate this city sometimes, seeing people from all across the board come together to beat up bigots seems like its as unified as Gotham is ever gonna get.

Some other people wearing pride flags or colors come to check up on you, but you are honestly too busy watching Jason throw a guy with an offensive sign across the pavement.

The other people nod approvingly at your boyfriend. Fun to think Jason, the most Gotham guy you know, gets the approval from the Gotham gays.

When Jason comes back, he’s still jittery, his blood clearly rushing from the confrontation, but a couple of kisses and thank you gets him to settle down for the most part. He ends up more colorful than he would like, being given flower crowns and different lanyards and sashes. But hearing you laugh is enough to make him put up with it.

And if you’re wondering where the heroes were? Well, they just happen to have been busy with something else, even if Red Robin had been sitting on the ledge of a building, wearing his own pride flag the entire time.

You and Jason can both tell he won’t hear the end of this when you guys get home later. At the end of the day, the hateful speech doesn’t weigh too much on you, knowing that not just Jason, but Gotham as a whole, would chew up and spit anyone out who tried it.

[shard010]

What if when Danny does eventually goes ghost it is in one of the stupidest and most accidental way possible.

Like there's a mountain shit tons of stuff that keeps happiness and going down but Danmy still somehow is able to avoid goin ghost. No matter how hurt he is, who's/what's hunting him, what bullshit is goin on, even with planetary threats. And it keeps escalating.

Danny eventually goes full tilt into mad scientist ™ and make some ecto gear that's designed to KEEP him as a human and even stuff to make sure that he won't get outright physically hurt enough to be forced to turn into phantom or die fully. He even goes as far as to rip off Marvel and make a knock off absurd Iron Man/gundam/whatever-the-fuck suit just so he can beat this annoying b*tch ass trying to do an invasion, HE HAS HOMEWORK AND TESTS TO DO, F*CK U VERY MUCH.

And like something like Darkseid comes around and Danny just wails on his ass and co., all in such a way that the Florida man ™ & Australia peeps WISH they could do.

Also why focus on just the bats and Gotham? Why not expand the horizon? Do a Dani, more wanderlust, f*ck around and find out with the numerous other places with/without heroes. Become a squatter on the Rock Of Eternity f9r a bit, make Lex Luther hang on one of his buildings flag poles in broad daylight with nobody knowing how he did it.

Danny will undoubtedly be a little shit and have fun with things, gaslight people a lot too. But sometimes he's just too tired, hungry, and in pain with his patience in the single digits of either direction to actually give a flying f*ck.

Whatever bullshit he does and says is a future Danny problem. He's too done at the moment to think much at all.

He WILL commit to this bit out of the tangle of bits, he's doing now out of pure spite. He will parkour up a skyscraper and jump off into a dumpster assassin's creed style just to avoid the doctors(Danny: YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE, FROSTBITE!!)

Danny will make things EVERYONE'S PROBLEM when he feels like it.

You know those vigilante spotting groups for DC? Danny's got his own now with people guessing where he'll pop up next because despite not turning ghost or using those powers he still somehow ends up from coast to coast in minutes. He will be a menace and hi-jack Constantine's summons just to hitch a ride, never mind hopping in random zeta tubes to see where he'll pop out next.

And btw, it's not just Frostbite chasing him on occasion. Eventually when the ghosts start to get fed up enough they'll put a massive bounty on his head. (As if that would make anything better or speed up bringing him in. Even with being successfully captured by a capturerer speedruning things it still doesn't actually solve anything. It a lot of the times arguably makes things worse because you bet ur ass Danny's gonna take any chance he can and make more chances himself on top of those just to cause more chaos and misunderstandings. He needs a good laugh and he'll take it out on you.)

Spurred on by an existential crisis, Danny decides he doesn't want to turn into a ghost anymore. By doing this, he also stops properly fulfilling his obsession(s). This naturally causes him to start dying.... again. Only this time it's slower, and as time progresses, will also be more painful.

Frostbite is having none of that and is determined to help the boy, but Danny isn't sticking around long enough for that to happen.

Unrelated, but the bats coincidentally see a teen being chased by some sort of yeti looking creature one night.

[fluffy-lee-boa]

Lee!Vigilante :DDD

Chris has been trying to test ways to get Adrian to stop talking and nothing's seemed to shut him up for long enough except....... you guessed it.

(idk if this is at all the kind of 'prompt' you were looking for but i'd kill to see some peacemaker tickle content! ily! have a nice day/night!)

// @fanficsandfluff

AAAAAA @fanficsandfluff so i went a little overboard… but in my defense i’ve never written for either of these guys before so i felt the need to add a little context! might do more for them in this universe of mine, they’re such cuties and i need them to be happy and have lots of twords <3

can be read as platonic or romantic tbh! plot summary is basically what it says on the tin (read: ask lol!)

also! canon-typical cursing/N$FW talk (I mean, it’s Peacemaker lol) but other than that it’s very fluffy.

It had been a couple weeks since the 11th Street Kids had disbanded, thanks to a signature Amanda Waller freak out that resulted in several reassignments and a dozen or so firings. At least this time it had been warranted, as the investigations into her many, many crimes had only ramped up since her daughter had aired their grievances to the public.

Chris had returned to his quiet life in the trailer park, save for the occasional guilt-induced breakdown. With everyone having gone into hiding or staying in a hospital, the only person to come around and see him these days was, of course, Adrian Chase. Even after the horrible misadventure they’d had together, from almost being killed by Chris��� father to being shot at and tortured by butterfly infested cops, Adrian seemed determined to stick around. Something about being BFFs forever, whatever he thought that meant.

Even if he would never admit it out loud, Chris found the constant company relieving. It was hard, being on his own again, what with flashbacks of Flag and his dad plaguing his thoughts. The overeager crime-fighter following him around like a baby duck was a welcomed distraction from all the horrible shit he’d done.

But he was still Vigilante, which meant he was just as overbearing as he had been back before he’d revealed who he was behind the mask.

Chris had taken into account everything Adrian said to him back when they were working through their issues- The older hero knew he had issues with friendships and making conversation without focusing on himself… But he also knew no one in the world talked as much about absolutely nothing as Vigilante.

“-So I get that they’re called butterflies because they look like butterflies. I’m just wondering why they looked like butterflies if they’re aliens. Like, shouldn’t they be at least a little different from the bugs here on Earth since they come from a planet with a different atmosphere? Or are butterflies actually aliens too? Same with Superman! He just looks like a person. Why doesn’t he have like, 8 legs and 4 dicks? Wait- does he? Obviously not the legs but the dick thing.”

It was truly mind-numbing.

“Superman doesn’t have 4 dicks, it’s just the one. Trust me, I’ve seen it.” Chris muttered, flipping through records as he wondered to himself if a good enough song would make the other stop spouting nonsense at him at 80 miles an hour.

“Do you think there are alien eagles? With like super sharp teeth and fire breath?” He asked as if it was a completely normal question, crouching down next to Eagley to feed him some beef jerky he’d fished out of a cabinet earlier.

“Eagles don’t need super sharp teeth and fire breath. They’re already badass.” He responded deadpan, pulling out an old Faster Pussycat album he’d snatched from that dead chick’s house.

“Superman’s powers are pretty overkill. I’m not saying eagles aren’t like, machines on the battlefield, but everything can be improved with sharper teeth and fire. Like me- I’d be way cooler if I had a chainsaw with flames coming out of the spikes, right? And I’m already cool as hell.”

“Mmmhm.” Chris muttered in response, though that didn’t deter the other from continuing on.

“By the way, I bought a new chainsaw since that gorilla kind of gummed up the works in the old one before I could use it. I could set up the training field for a test run- And don’t worry, this time I made sure the car was abandoned before I took it.” Adrian shot Chris an excited smile, and the Peacemaker sighed slightly.

“We just blew up that old pickup truck yesterday, how are you already up for another round?” He asked, exasperated beyond belief, “Don’t you have work or something?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, I took a vacation. Thought you might want someone around to help you adjust now that you’re out of prison and not a hired mercenary or whatever. I mean you obviously have trouble with modern tech, seeing as you never answered my calls. You probably don’t even know about DoorDash.” the kid explained it so casually that it felt like a punch in the face-

He’d been using his limited vacation days from his minimum wage job to just… hang out. With him. He’d never felt so wanted before.

Chris didn’t say any of his sappy thoughts out loud though, instead muttering something along the lines of ‘I’m not an old man, Vig.’

Adrian had moved from crouching to sitting cross-legged on the floor of the trailer, looking up at Chris with an innocent look that didn’t quite match his words, “I mean- you kind of are. Old. You’re using a record player right now. Hey- Do you think Goff never told us it’s favorite character because it doesn’t know what color is? Like maybe it sees colors and stuff different, like a Mantis Shrimp.”

Literally what we he supposed to say to that?

It was arguable that the both of them were equally socially awkward, though Adrian seemed to have a knack for grating on people’s nerves without meaning to.

“Records aren’t an old people thing, they’re a collector’s item. Don’t you have a whole shelf full of funko pops at your dad’s place?” He scoffed, sounding a little bitter.

Adrian’s goofy little smile kept on lighting up the room, making it almost impossible to stay mad at him, “It’s just the one shelf. And I only collect the Justice League ones. And yours.”

Right to the heart. It was like the guy knew exactly just how adorable to be to balance out how insufferable he was otherwise. If he didn’t stop talking like that, the cold-blooded killer known as Peacemaker was going to explode into a pile of puppies and candy hearts. Gross.

“…The hell did you even get a Peacemaker one?” he asked a little too quietly for his usual brute self, trying to avoid lingering on that note for too long.

“I made it. I’m actually good at arts and crafts, I made this suit myself. Except the visor. That’s prescription so I had to go through my eye doctoHOHER-“ The busboy was suddenly was cut off by his own bubbly laughter, followed by a soft thud when he fell onto his back.

Chris looked over expecting to see some kind of attack, maybe a desperate Goff looking for the last bits of bug juice, though instead all he saw was both of his begrudgingly best friends tussling on the floor. Eagley was playfully snapping at Vig, wings flapping like a dog’s tail would wag in excitement. He must have run out of jerky.

“EagleHEHEY- I cahihi- AGH! Wahaha-!”

Well. It seemed like that shut him up. Nothing else had worked in all the years the two had known each other, and apparently all he’d had to do was tickle him to get him to quiet down. Maybe he should have expected it, considering how childish and oddly endearing Chase was compared to his tendency to kill criminals indiscriminately. Even now, after just a second of light pokes from a disgruntled pet, he sounded like a cartoon chipmunk.

“P!” he eventually giggled out, curling up on the ground to hide away what was apparently a pretty sensitive spot and reaching one arm out to the other, “P you gotta hehelp me- C’mon I’m your best friend! BFFs foreveheher!”

Chris couldn’t help the slight smile that came to his lips as he faked an annoyed sigh, setting the record aside to step over to the giddy mess on the ground.

“Alright, alright. Eagley, give him a break. There’s more snacks in the fridge.” he huffed, watching the eagle lift his head and fly over to try and open the kitchen appliance himself.

Adrian was still laying on the ground, his knees tucked close to his chest. Though he slowly moved to sit up as he tried to overcome his nerves, “Thanks man, IhI-“

“Besides. I want a turn.”

“Wha- AHAHAT-“

Before the poor guy could even fully recover, Chris had already dropped to his knees next to him and replaced Eagley‘s teasing maw with his own two hands. Which, honestly, felt a dozen times worse, what with the added factor of his damn fingers clawing into his ribs like that. It was by no means his most sensitive spot, but he was already reduced to a puddle of giggles and occasional screeches that the neighbors would no doubt overhear.

“This is the longest you’ve gone without saying something stupid for like ten years, dude. I’m not letting go that easily,” Chris explained, his tone half-joking yet still a little condescending as always.

“Duhude we tahAHAHALKED ABouhout this-! AHAAH- WAIHAHAIT WAIT- RehehemembeHEHER-?! Youhou have to be mohore open! LIHIHISTEN!” Adrian managed to keep up the whole therapist act even through his mirth and frantic limb-flailing, which was as equally impressive as it was annoying.

Surely there had to be some technique to get him to stop being such a dumbass.

Chris shifted around, and while Adrian was still caught up in his frantic psycho-analyzing ways, the ex-con used one hand to pin both of his arms above his head. And despite the both of them being killers, trained in every battle technique known to man, Adrian was obviously out of his depth. He looked more like a worm on a hook, wriggling and bucking to try and get away from the unending ticklish shocks and pinches on his abs.

When Chase finally did realize the situation he was in, he actually did stop talking for a moment, absorbed entirely by his own giggles and a blushy, almost excited smile.

“I’ve been listening to you since we got back from the hospital. And I feel like I deserve a reward for that.” Chris hummed casually, slowing down his tickles to instead gently walk his fingers up Adrian’s ribs, “Sooooo what spot is gonna get you to shut up for the rest of the day?”

“None! Youhou need someone to talk to, P, and I’m not gonna let you torture me into being a bad BFF.” He huffed, almost uncharacteristically stubborn, “Do your worst. I’ve survived a lot worse th- WAITWAHAITWAITWAIT-“

Even Peacemaker jumped a little at the outburst, looking down to see his gentler tickles had started drifting towards Vig’s sides.

Interesting.

“What was that? I can’t understand you, man.” Chris muttered with a smirk, slowly and deliberately tracing a line down both of his captive’s sides.

Adrian screeched, and pulled down on his arms hard enough that he almost got out of the other’s grip. From there he exploded into a flurry of the lightest, almost crazed yet oddly sweet laughter Chris had ever heard.

He certainly wasn’t talking anymore by now, all of his words coming out in the wrong order or as complete gibberish as he tried in vain to escape. It was dumb luck the man had managed to find his worst spot so quickly- he definitely could have lasted a little longer otherwise. Though he was almost wheezing from simple squeezes and digs at the dip of his sides in a matter of seconds, which prompted Smith to grant him mercy for the time being.

As soon as his hands were free, Adrian quickly covered up the offending area and rolled onto his side, still tittering and beaming so brightly his face hurt. Because honestly, even if he’d likened it to torture a couple minutes ago… this had been fun! Chris was being much more open than he had been before the whole butterfly ordeal, and if anything, tickling was a bonding exercise that the two partners in crime-fighting could benefit from.

Chris himself had stood up once he’d finished completely wrecking the aptly-named vigilante, looking down at the pile of giggles almost fondly. Even if he’d claimed that this was all about getting him to quiet down for a bit, it was nice to see the other so happy. And carefree. It was something rare in their line of work, even for a ray of sunshine like Vig.

Once the V in question could finally speak again, which indeed took at least another handful of minutes, he peeked out from his fetal position to gaze up at his best friend with a sparkling smile, “I totally won that. You just gave up.”

Chris scoffed, and despite falling back into their usual antagonistic banter, he kept that endeared smile on his face, “You don’t ‘win’ torture. You bear it until you die or pass out or you give in and squeal like a pussy. And besides, if I hadn’t stopped when I did, you probably would’ve passed out anyways. Not a win.”

“Can’t prove that.”

“You know if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were asking me to tickle you again.”

The lack of response paired with the eager look in Adrian’s eyes caught Chris off guard, and he raised his eyebrows as Vig sat himself up again.

“Oh. Wait. Really?”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 2

First part

~~~

She sighed and rested her hands on her hips, her fingers carefully detaching her yoyo.

They were giving her orders, she could tell from their tone, but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. She barely spoke English outside of a few vague lessons she’d had when she was a kid, and they were talking too fast for her to catch a single word.

“You know, I’d love to do that, but I don’t speak English.”

The person paused at this, and then they switched to fluent French: “Oh, sorry. Turn around slowly and don’t make any sudden moves.”

She slowly turned around, resting her hands behind her back. His gun lowered slightly to point at her legs and she let herself relax a little bit. A shot would be absolutely terrible, but at least he wasn’t actively trying to kill her.

She flashed Nightwing a bright smile. “Why, hello, sir!”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“I’m Ladybug...” They didn’t know who she was, so she didn’t have to hide her yoyo. She pulled it out from behind her back and started doing tricks with it to let out some of her nervous energy. “And, well, I’m here because I think my soulmate is in trouble. Apparently you, Batman, and Batgirl all know them.”

Nightwing’s eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. “Uh… can you prove that?”

“See, the problem with that is most of my soulmarks have disappeared for them. All of them, actually.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I’ll explain it to you…”

“Oh! No, they’re not dead! I thought they were, but then a new soulmark appeared and it’s… weird? Weirder than their normal ones, at least...”

She trailed off. Her eyes narrowed slightly. He’d certainly phrased the ‘I’ll explain it to you’ thing oddly, it was almost as if there was someone else there that she didn’t know about.

Her eyes searched the area for a sign of movement as she continued: “I don’t know if you can make sense of it. It’s a gun, but it’s one of those fake ones with the little flags that say ‘BANG’ you see in cartoons…”

Her eyes spotted a flickering in the shadows and she cringed mentally. Damn, she hated it when she was right. Whoever they were, she couldn’t see a glint of metal. So it was probably safe to assume they didn’t have a weapon out --.

“Where was it?”

She pulled her attention back to Nightwing. “Over my heart. Do you know what it means?”

He obviously knew, but he seemed hesitant to say anything. This really didn’t help her anxiety about the situation. He’d been prepared to tell her that her soulmate was dead, so just how bad could this be?

He opened his mouth to tell her, but he was cut off as a gun went off a few blocks away.

Listen, she wasn’t proud of it. But she was anxious... and it was at least two-on-one... and he’d had a gun pointed at her. She latched her yoyo around his wrist.

His eyes found their way to the polka-dotted yoyo and shock flickered across his face. “You’re-- oh sh --!”

She threw him to the next building without thinking and brought her hands up to her mouth as he crashed into a wall. Oops. He was a human.

She wheeled around to find Batgirl and held up her hands with a weak smile. What was the English word? “Sor-ree,” she said. She pointed the woman in the direction of the gunshot. “Can you? I’ll fix ‘im.”

Batgirl was apparently stunned enough by what Marinette had said that she complied.

She quickly hopped over to where Nightwing was and cringed as she summoned her lucky charm. The first thing she thought of popped into her hand: a computer mouse. “Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry,” she mumbled.

He could only groan in response.

“Miraculous Ladybug,” she said.

He was enveloped in ladybugs and, when they cleared, he was patting himself with a shocked expression. “What the-- how did-- why--?”

“I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Are you alright?”

“I’m… fine, apparently,” he assured her. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and gave her a weak smile. “Well… that was certainly one way to meet the inlaws.”

“HUH?”

~

She let them escort her, blindfolded, to the batcave.

Did she think it was stupid and unnecessary? Yes, she was already lost enough without the whole blindfold thing. Did she care? No, if this is what it would take to figure out if her soulmate was okay she would do it.

The blindfold was whipped off her face and a gasp left her lips.

“Oh, I need to get me one of these.”

Nightwing laughed and Marinette felt her face warm. She’d meant to be quieter.

She was allowed to wander around while Nightwing explained the situation to Batman and Batgirl. She tried not to laugh at all the names on plaques starting with ‘Bat’. She wondered if Nightwing was actually called BatNightwing.

“Ladybug!” Called possibly-BatNightwing.

She smiled awkwardly as she walked over. She perched herself on a railing.

Batman handed her a tiny device and she raised her eyebrows.

“It’ll translate everything so we can all speak in our native languages,” he explained calmly.

She nodded and placed it in her ear and pressed on. Lights flickered in front of her eyes and she stared at the interface in front of her with a stunned expression.

She reached up and selected her language and then waved for them to go ahead.

“Your soulmate is Tim Drake. He went missing on patrols about three weeks ago,” explained Batman.

Her eyes widened at the text in front of her and she pulled out her yoyo again. Her soulmate was a vigilante? You’d think she know about it from her soulmarks...

“What was his hero name?”

Nightwing shook his head. “Vigilante, not hero. And Robin.”

She hit herself in the face with her yoyo. Ah, so he wasn’t an avid birdwatcher, he was a bird-themed vigilante. She supposed that did make sense, considering her chosen career path.

Batgirl crossed her arms over her chest. “And you swear it’s a gag gun?”

“Do I have a reason to lie?”

Batgirl shrugged a little bit.

Batman seemed to think for a minute before sighing. “She’s a child, we can’t tell her this.”

“A child who launched that guy --” she jabbed a finger towards Nightwing “-- across some rooftops.” She smiled brightly. “So, how about we start talking, please?”

Batman sighed again. “No need for threats. We think he’s been captured by Joker.”

“And Joker is…?”

“A Rogue -- or I guess you would know of him as a criminal or villain. He’s pretty big here,” explained Batgirl.

She nodded slowly. That explained the deck of cards that had been on her back since she was a child. She started messing with her yoyo again.

“So, he was captured by Joker and…?”

Everyone looked at the oldest to explain, and Batman shook his head slightly. “He’s seemed to have lost his identity, if everything has disappeared.”

She thought about this for a minute and her face paled. What could Joker have done to him for him to lose his identity? She found herself hoping he’d just gotten hit too hard on the head once and lost his memory. That was the best case scenario.

Somehow, she doubted it.

“Right, so how do we save him?”

~

The Batmobile was… cramped.

The thing was huge, but there was very little actual room to sit for anyone besides Batman. Nightwing joked that it was almost as if he didn’t want anyone else in there.

In the end, Marinette got to sit in the passenger’s seat while Nightwing and Batgirl cursed their father out from the roof of the car. Sure, they were going slower than usual so no one would fall off and die, but it couldn’t be fun. She messed with her summoned yoyo (yes, she summoned a yoyo with her yoyo, what of it?) as she listened in to make sure they didn’t fall.

All too soon and yet far too late, they stopped at the gates to Arkham Asylum. She and Batman climbed out and helped the others down.

They all hopped the fence and Marinette sent a cheeky grin as she slipped through the bars.

Nightwing sighed. “I wish I was that tiny again.”

She gave a quiet laugh.

Everyone’s slight smiles dropped off their faces as they entered the asylum.

A shiver ran through her at the singing that floated through the mostly abandoned building. Everyone exchanged glances and then Nightwing and Batgirl split off.

She and Batman made their way through the halls, following the sound. She fought the temptation to curl in on herself or run away.

Batman sent her a look, a ‘stay back’, and then burst through the door.

Marinette slowly inched around the door as well, looking for cover. The place looked like Picasso had tried to make a house. There were walls where there shouldn’t be and an extra floor that just jutted out from the wall. Typical household items were placed around at random. It felt warped and… wrong.

The woman cut herself off and set a vase of flowers on the table. She turned around and looked up at the chair. “Puddin’, company!”

Marinette took the chance to dive under the table.

Her eyes landed on a… was that a bazooka? She’d never seen one in person before, and being so close to it made her anxious. She scooted as far away from it as she could. Her fingers pulled up the tablecloth slightly and she ducked down to see what was going on.

The man in the chair turned around to look and then smiled. “Hello there,” he said, stepping down. “Welcome to our happy abode!”

Joker and the woman embraced each other.

Batman didn’t humor them. “Where’s Robin?”

The couple looked at each other with mock confusion. “Robin? There’s no Robin here!”

“Maybe he means our little J!”

“Of course!” Joker snapped his fingers. “That’s it!”

They both looked at a blue curtain and Batman scowled as he strode towards it.

The woman giggled and reached under the table, her hand poking Marinette’s face. She made a quiet sound in the back of her throat and continued on, grabbing the bazooka. “Uh-uh! No peeking!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in horror as she pointed it at Batman but, before she could react, she pulled the trigger.

Ribbon wrapped around him.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mommy’s little helper!” Said the woman brightly.

Joker pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You know, bats, we’ve been doing this little runaround of ours for years. It’s been loads of laughs, but the sad fact is…” He stepped towards the curtain. “None of us are getting any younger.”

“That old clock’s a-tickin!”

“Quite right, poo. And Harley and I were thinking it was time to start a family. Add a Joker Jr. to our merry brood.”

“But rather than go through all the joy of childbirth, we decided to adopt.”

“We couldn’t do it legally, but then we remembered you always had a few spare kids hanging around!”

Harley beamed and suddenly grabbed one of Marinette’s pigtails. A curse slipped from her lips as she was pulled out from under the table. “Whoops! There’s another one!”

“A surplus, really!” Joker grinned more widely than ever. “So we borrowed one.”

He pulled back the curtain with a dramatic flourish to reveal… an operating table?

She looked at the person on the table and felt bile rise in her throat. Their skin was blotchy white and paper-like from bleach treatments. Their eyes were unblinking and nearly pupil-less. The smile on their face was so wide that it had to have been stretched somehow.

“He needed a little molding, of course. What kid doesn’t? But, in time, we came to love him as our own. Say hello, J.J.”

The person started to laugh. The kind of laugh someone makes when they’re trying their hardest not to cry. They hopped down and laughed harder, their arms clutching their stomach as a few stray tears slid down his face.

~~~

Next part

Every time I think I know how long a fic is going to be I’m wrong help --

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper

[gaitwae]

The Blessings of Damsels [|] Batman x OC

read on AO3!

Warnings: Slightly open-ended, hinted love triangle. 

Length: 8.4k

Summary: A short timeline of how Charlene Park got over Clark Kent and set boundaries with Bruce Wayne.

=-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-==-=-=

=-=-=

The wind felt exquisite on Charlene’s skin, calming her racing heart. It wasn’t every day where her life flashed before her — she had been left under a pillar near LexCorps, then saved by an angel named Superman. Her eyes, shut tightly and pressing away tears, helped her forget exactly why you couldn’t go back to Metropolis. It had been a week, and, yet, here you were. She was hiding from someone too important to her. Charlene was hiding from shaking buildings and crumbling roads and screams and glowing rocks and a reporter who kept disappearing every time that Superman kept showing up. 

She was done with the lying and the rejection.

She didn’t plan on jumping from the rail where she was standing. She didn’t want to hurt herself. She just wanted to see something else. 

So, in search of new scenery, of something alien to her, Charlene went to the most dangerous city in America. Albeit, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, it was something that at least distracted her. Central City was just too far to drive, and Gotham was supposed to be the sister city of her home. She could just forget about this man who had worried her sick, she could just relax and listen to the cars run and the flags flap and smell the sulfur and petroleum and the flowers in the box on the building beneath her. Way up on this rooftop, she let her surroundings melt away her fears.

Char sat on the ledge of the roof, setting her fingers under the concrete lip.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” a deep voice said, startling her. The stranger set a sleek, covered hand on her shoulder to secure her. “People jump all the time. I hope you’re not looking for an escape that way.” 

“Um,” Char started, trying to find her voice, “I wasn’t going to jump. I was just trying to get over someone.” She cleared her throat and dusted her clothes off. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not that it’s important… but he’s kind of important in Metropolis. I had to leave.”

There was a hum from the man who was behind her. Char looked up, seeing a black cowl and stubble dotting a square jaw and set lips. There was a familiarity to him — not that she knew him, but that she had seen him somewhere before. Charlene felt… well, not safe, but there was something comforting about him. As she looked closer, she noticed a large silhouette of a bat was weaved into the fabric on his breast.

Batman.

“How important can he be? He’s not Lex Luthor, is he?” the vigilante asked. He sat down next to Char, setting his cape underneath his legs so it flowed beneath him. His lips twitched upwards, but not quite. 

“He’s one of the biggest writers for the Daily Planet newspaper,” she said, laughing sadly. She felt like an idiot. Why was she spilling her guts out to this stranger? “Clark Kent, such a dork, but he’s always in the building. I work with him. I’m a newscaster —”

“Charlene Park,” he filled in. He turned to look at her, bright blue eyes gazing into her own orbs.

Charlene blushed. She wasn’t surprised. This was the Batman. He was crazy smart. Who knew how much he knew about anyone at the Daily Planet. Rumor was, Superman worked there, so of course, he might have known something about it. “You know my name. Creepy.”

He gave a slight nod as if agreeing with her. “You said it yourself. You’re a newscaster. I make it my job to watch the news.”

“For Metropolis, too?”

What a stupid question, of course for Metropolis too —

“Yes,” he said, patient and friendly. “Superman lives there. I have to know if I ever need to interfere. If he was ever mind-controlled, I need to be able to step in and save the world. The other members of the Justice League aren’t capable.” Each word that came from his mouth didn’t seem arrogant or rude at all. Batman was almost… melancholy. 

“So… you’re all by yourself?” she asked.

“I have my kids. They’re trained pretty well,” he replied. He turned his gaze out to Gotham City. He had a firm stare, unwavering and determined. Her heart dipped, sorry for him, impressed by him, and so… so weirded out, too.

Charlene looked out at the city, too. “I don’t have kids. I don’t have anybody. My parents died when I was young, I was never adopted, and I don’t have siblings.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Clark was my friend back in Smallville. It’s just been so odd, recently. He hasn’t been around as much, he’s been tailing Lois Lane, and I’ve been breaking my own heart over and over.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong — Clark’s a great guy! But…”

“That’s why it’s hard to get over him,” the Batman supplied. He bowed his head. An understanding was hidden beneath layers of quiet. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in love with some kind of Clark Kent, but I know what loneliness is, Miss Park.”

“Char.”

“Char,” he corrected himself. 

She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “Do you still feel lonely? With your kids?”

He shook his head a little. “Not as much, no. There are times I feel lonely, but I’ve been blessed. Your blessings will come, Char.” He turned to look at her. “I hope that helps.”

“It does,” she said, smiling. “What makes you so sure I’ll have blessings? I mean, you coming to talk to me seems heaven-sent, but that’s not a guarantee.” Charlene twisted her hands together, now restless. The Batman took his time to collect his answer.

“You’re a woman in her mid-thirties who still pines over her high school sweetheart,” he started. “You had one good thing, and it either ended or you grew apart. You built others up instead of yourself. You’ve waited patiently for what you want — but not for everything. You let some things go for others. You fought for everything and you’ve sacrificed it all. The foster homes were nothing, and yet it was the worst thing to live through. A kid with no one made herself into a someone, even if it was half of a someone.” The Batman rested on his elbows. “You’re too scared to let people go, but you’ve accepted people letting go of you or setting you aside. Char, you’ve got to have something coming to you.”

Charlene was stunned. How did he know all these things? Was she that obvious? Was she an open book? Or was that the hero of Gotham doing his job, once more? Oh, she couldn’t tell. Her skin prickled from both his sheer guesswork and the chilling night air. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Wow. You got all that just by listening to me for a few seconds?”

“And from feeling it myself or seeing my kids struggle with it.” He unclipped his cape, standing up. He wrapped it around her shoulders. The Batman stood close, but not too close. This was all too surreal. Charlene didn’t know how to feel. This stranger was becoming less and less of a stranger. She knew he wouldn’t want to be too close, and it was foolish to think that they would be close. This was just a weird talk about Clark Kent on a Sunday night, on the ledge of a rooftop. Being in love with Clark Kent was the least of her worries, anyway.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest. She waited about thirty seconds before saying anything. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Her larynx didn’t want to cooperate. 

How to phrase this?

He set a hand on her head, signalling for her to continue. 

“If I wanted to talk to you again, how would I be able to do that?” she whispered. “I feel as if you’ve understood me more in ten minutes than my shrink has in years. Not to mention, you might be able to relate to me more than my shrink can. You said you felt some of this stuff yourself. Are you an orphan, too?” 

“That’s more than one thing,” he said. He looked down at her with a glint in his eyes. “Just go back to Metropolis. You’re needed there.”

Charlene stopped. Of course. Right. She put her palm to her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll have to just face Clark like normal.” She barked a laugh. “You’re a hero, Bats.”

“Good to know.” 

Char stood up. “You might want this back, won’t you?” She flapped the cape around her shoulders. She felt silly. She didn’t know this man. She knew nothing about him, and she was talking to him like she was talking to Clark. She wasn’t a writer; she wasn’t an interviewer; she was a reciter. This was all new to her. 

The cowled detective hooked a thumb in his belt. “I’ll walk you back to your hotel room — you can return it then, Char.”

=-=-= “The Batman Incident” was what Charlene came to remember that night as. It was fresh in her mind for weeks, as fresh as the minutes she had lived through it. Any time she felt crisp cool air on her neck, any time she was alone at night on her balcony, she was instantly reminded of the interaction. Charlene didn’t ache or wish or anything like that, but it didn’t stop her from trying to figure out why the moments felt so real compared to anything else she had been through. Out of all that, she had been now, instead of Clark’s hurt bothering her the most, it was the Batman’s words ringing in her ears. 

Char was sitting at Clark’s desk with the writer himself, now. He was leaning against it, scratching his head and playing with his glasses. Kent was antsy. He groaned, turned, then slapped his hands against the desk with a deep, deep sigh. “I can’t believe Lois caught an interview with Bruce Wayne. Wanna know the weirdest part?” he asked. He looked into Char’s eyes, pure confusion dressing his face.

“What’s ‘the weirdest part’?” she asked, repeating what he said exactly how he had said it. “She’s gotten interviews with the president of McDonald’s, before, Clark, I’m not exactly surprised. Lois is talented.” Char reached over the desk and grabbed a cup of coffee that had been nearly emptied, though had enough for her pleasure. She didn’t need to be an anchor, today. It was supposed to be her day off. She wouldn’t have even come in at all if Clark hadn’t asked her.

Charlene really needed to stop doing things because Clark asked. 

“The weirdest part was how he never accepts interviews. In fact, he asked if Lois still worked at the Daily Planet.” He shook his head, pinching his nose. “He asked if we could hold the interview here, otherwise it wouldn’t happen… oh, sometimes I think billionaires hate me…”

“Makes sense,” Charlene agreed. She propped herself up on her elbows. “Why wouldn’t they hate reporters and journalists? They could be talking with Superman or Batman or Wonder Woman.” 

Clark laughed dryly. “You have no idea how much I wish I was having an interview with Batman. Instead, I have to deal with Bruce Wayne.”

“Lois is having the interview with Wayne, Clark. Calm down. It’ll all be okay.” Char stood up, patted his back, then sat back behind his desk and took a long sip of his coffee. “Besides, Bruce Wayne can’t be that… scary…” She trailed off. She saw the elevator to the writing room open.

The man walking out of the elevator and toward her was not who she was supposed to be seeing. She might have been bad at recognition in general, but she remembered that square jaw, those blue eyes. She hoped against hope she was seeing things. “I take it back,” she whispered to Clark. Her old friend kept shooting his eyes back and forth between her, Wayne, and Lois Lane, trying to put the pieces together quickly. Charlene stood up, a smile tugging up her face at the sight of the man she wasn’t supposed to know. “He’s terrifying.”

“Charlene —”

“Mr. Wayne,” she greeted, speaking louder than Clark intentionally. “Welcome to the Daily Planet. How are you, this morning?” She extended her hand outwards to take his. Mr. Wayne took it, gave it a firm shake, then smiled broadly at her. 

“Charlene, right?” he asked, squinting his eyes and setting a hand on her upper arm in a friendly manner. His suit was about as straight as wrapping paper; shiny like it, too. He was just missing the Christmas bow.

“Yes!” she grinned. She set her hands on her hips. “Charlene Park: a lowly newscaster. I hope you like the Daily Planet and find some friends, here.”

Bruce smiled. “Then I suppose we’re friends already, Miss Park.”

“I guess we are,” she said. “Friends are life’s greatest blessings, aren’t they?”

“They are, I agree.” Bruce Wayne let go of her, moving back to Lois Lane. He kept his eyes on hers. He clapped his hands together lightly. “I have an interview to complete. It was nice meeting you, Char. I hope to see more of you.”

“Best of luck, Mr. Wayne.”

When Bruce Wayne walked away, Clark folded his arms tightly over his chest. “That was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen — and I’ve seen my dad in daisy dukes.”

Char cocked her head, trying to stifle a snicker. “Clark, c’mon. It wasn’t anything. I’m fine, really.”

The man fixed his tie, taking the empty coffee cup from his desk over to the office kitchen. As he walked past her, he said, “I’ll believe it when you don’t giggle at the billionaire.”

“Maybe he looks funny!” Charlene offered. 

“Har har!” Clark called. “I’m sure that’s it.”

=-=-= The interview with Bruce Wayne was done and over within record time. Charlene had never seen Lois so happy before. Bruce, on the other hand… Charlene had no idea someone could hide such a smile behind two eyes. 

She was shaking. She didn’t know if she was happy, mad, excited, or scared that she knew the man behind the mask all the way back in Gotham City. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what emotion she was feeling… or if she really wanted to know the man behind the mask in Gotham City. She kept replaying the Batman Incident in her head. She didn’t want to relive it. She didn’t want to have a vigilante smile at her and know exactly who she was pining for. 

Yeah, she still hurt for Clark. It wasn’t going to go away so quickly. But billionaire Bruce Wayne didn’t need to know that. 

She let her mouth run twice. She needed to keep a lid on it the next chance she got. To make sure she didn’t even risk it, Charlene packed up and left early. She was at home without another run-in with Bruce. 

Boy, did that make her feel worse. She felt terrible, cowardly. Running from her problems was just another thing Char found herself doing constantly. She had made herself some pasta, wrapped herself in a bathrobe over her T-shirt, and sat with a mug of sweet tea in her lap. 

Her newspaper clippings of the Batman littered her coffee table. Every award-winning article written by Clark was framed up. Her old dog was sitting next to her, chewing on his toy without a care in the world. For being a coward’s safe space, it was very comfortable.

“Real brave, Charlene,” she mumbled into the ceramic as she took a sip. She switched on the TV, hoping for white noise. “Just hope I was wrong about Wayne…”

“That depends on what you think you’ve found,” said the last voice she wanted to hear. Char exhaled through her nose.

“Come in,” she called. “Don’t just hang around in the shadows.”

The Batman slipped out of her bathroom door, cowl on and frown deep. He was regal and knightly, feet apart and shoulders taught. “Char,” he greeted.

“I was hoping you could tell me if I was wrong, actually.” Charlene sat up, putting her mug aside. She beckoned him over. He sat down next to her. “I just never noticed how similar the Batman is to Bruce Wayne.”

“Similar?”

“Like your eyes are the exact same shade of blue,” she reasoned. “And you wear the same aftershave, too.”

“Charlene,” the Batman said quietly, “anyone can have similar aftershaves and blue eyes.”

“Not everyone in Gotham knows who I am.”

“Not everyone in Metropolis knows who I am, either,” he countered. “Do you really want to know who I am?”

“I know Clark is Superman. Part of the reason I’m furious with him is that he lies to me.” Char made sure her emphasis was on lies. “The allegations would be too crazy for anyone to believe, trust me.”

“There are too-crazy people in Gotham that can’t know,” he answered. “I’m sorry. Even if I trusted you above everyone, your position makes it hard for me to tell you.”

“My position?” she repeated.

The dark knight looked at her as if it were obvious. It was, but she didn’t understand why she couldn’t at least hear the truth from him. “You’re a friend of Superman’s and a newscaster. I have responsibilities, a lot of them. My kids, my city, my assets.” He said assets, not money. He was a businessman at his core, even if he had the heart of a lion there, too. 

“Just tell me if Bruce Wayne can answer me, then.” Charlene stuck her hands under her arms. “Since the two of you already know I know.”

“Charlene,” he said quietly, roughly. She turned her head away. She felt insulted. 

It took her a second to realize it, but the Batman was pleading. He didn’t do it the same way Clark did. Clark would soften up, not set up defenses. Clark would take her hand, not give her space. Clark wasn’t anything like the Batman. He just sat, frozen, waiting his turn patiently. 

She had to be patient with him, too. She wasn’t a superhero. She didn’t know what this was like for him, but she could still be patient. So to help, Charlene waited, too, for what seemed like forever. She took his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t recoil. The hand was limp despite her grip and she couldn’t say that she blamed him for it; she was thankful he didn’t rip his fingers away so soon.

“Why did you agree to an interview?” she whispered. “And… and don’t say it wasn’t you. Lois doesn’t talk about me, I wasn’t wearing a nametag, and Bruce Wayne has no reason to be watching the Metropolis Daily Planet Newscast outside of the financial updates.” 

“I figured it was time for an interview,” he answered. The Batman didn’t deny it. Bruce didn’t deny it. He kept his eyes away from hers. “I remembered that you worked there. You owe me after that talk, so I came to collect.”

“You think you’re funny,” she said with a smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness… Lois will be grinning ear-to-ear for weeks because of you.”

“I was supposed to be meeting Clark, anyway. I figured the pitstop might be worth it.” Bruce’s lips twitched again. Char grinned broadly. He removed his cowl then faced her. “You could really tell it was me because of the eye color?” 

He seemed more at home in his bat armor. He was comfortable in this grey/black getup. When he wore the crisp suit, he seemed fidgety, but when he was sitting next to her, his muscles weren’t so tense. His eyes didn’t dart all over. He was at rest as the Batman.

“You do a good falsetto, but yeah, it was the eye color.” She stood. “Can I get you tea? Or are you going to disappear?” 

Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “I don’t know how long I can stay.  I have to drive home tonight… and I’m not the type for this sort of domesticity.” 

“I won’t tell anyone you’re docile,” Charlene promised, crossing her heart. She took her cup and went into the kitchen. “As long as no one knows about me, no one can hurt me or my family — there is no family to hurt.”

“You’ve thought this through?” he asked, footsteps not far behind hers. He stopped in the doorway. “May I?” He pointed to the kitchen wall lined with the cupboards and appliances. Charlene nodded. Bruce poked around her cabinets and her drawers, casually picking something up every now and again. She didn’t mind — he was getting to know her. He was a detective. She had nothing to hide, and he had everything to see. Win-win. “Impressive.” 

“I’ve been dying to see you, again,” she teased. “You could say I’m crazy for you.”

“Not really my type,” he mused. Char could hear items jangling around behind her. “Desperation isn’t my style.”

“But stopping a girl from jumping — when she wasn’t — is?” She poured another cup of tea, looking back at the dark knight. He was holding a spatula and studying it carefully. He pretended as if he hadn’t heard her.

“My son, Damian,” he started. He set the spatula down, digging for something else. “He wouldn’t admit it, but he would love to rescue a damsel in distress. I think he would like you.”

“I’m a damsel in distress?” she laughed. She set a teabag in the cup, doing a one-eighty to face Bruce. “Who are you? Some kind of prince charming?”

“The term is ‘knight in shining armor,’” he corrected. He closed the drawer he was meddling in. “The prince is the kid from Smallville, Kansas.”

“I’m from Smallville, Kansas.” Charlene walked over to him. Bruce was still standing rigidly. She didn’t know if he knew how to relax. Could he relax? Was it even physically possible for Bruce “the Batman” Wayne to relax?

“I’m from New Jersey.” He crossed his arms, rubbing his fingers together. 

“Hey. You don’t have the Jersey accent,” Char pointed out. She pulled his gloves off gently, setting them on the counter. She went to get his tea. “Let it steep for about thirty more seconds.” She set the mug in his hands. They were so large that the orange cup seemed like a plaything compared to a real item.

“I never said I interacted with New Jersey,” he said dryly. “I just lived there. I was raised by my butler.” 

“Does Detroit have any superheroes?” she wondered aloud. Bruce waved the tea under his nose, scrunching his nose upwards. He took a sip without glaring at the tea again. “Your butler sounds like a wonderful man. He raised you well.”

“I’m lucky.” He paused for a moment. “Aquaman, the Green Lantern, and Amazing Man live in Detroit. Why are you asking?”

Charlene patted his shoulder, throwing away everything he had just said. Truth be told, she just wanted to hear Bruce’s voice. “Not many kids are lucky.”

“Three of my boys are adopted,” he said quietly. He rubbed the mug that she had given him. “I give to adoption centers. It’s important to me to give kids homes where they’re loved. Clark Kent’s only known family’s love, and that’s what drives him. What drives me is the chance to make sure all sorts of people never have to worry about losing it.”

“I admire that,” Char murmured. “I wish I had a family of my own, but I just don’t have the time.”

“Someday, you’ll find the time.” Bruce gave her a smile. “I promise.”

Charlene smiled back. His small smiles were infectious. “I’ll hold you to that, Bats.”

=-=-= “Hey, Charlene?” Clark called from the living room. She was too busy combing her hair out and fixing her gown. She had received a letter in the mail (honestly, who does that anymore?) from Bruce, inviting her to a charity gala with him. She almost gave Clark a heart attack when she started laughing triumphantly at some paper. He wasn’t particularly happy that Charlene was going for a night on the town with Bruce Wayne, billionaire bachelor supreme. “Are you okay up there?”

“I’m fine, Clark!” she called back. “I’m just seeing a friend, tonight. Tell Martha and Johnathan I won’t be able to come to dinner tonight. I’m going to a foster care fundraiser with Bruce Wayne. I’d think you’d be coming to interview some of the guests there since you were adopted, too.”

“I can’t! I don’t have any way to get in. It’s private, Char.” Clark was starting to sound impatient. “Are you going to meet him or is he going to meet you?”

“He said he would pick me up!” she answered, finishing her eyeliner and walking downstairs. “Does that bother you, wonderboy?” She gripped the rail, fanning out her yellow skirt around her legs. She wore simple copper chains and glass earrings — nothing expensive, but classy enough that she didn’t look like a bum. Charlene knew Bruce liked his reputation (not a lot, but still) so she thought she would save him a few steps. No jewellery, no dresses. He would just have a friend tonight.

Clark’s eyes flew open wide. His cheeks colored. “Wow… you’re going like that?” He puffed his cheeks and took off his glasses. “You look…”

“Terrible?” she fretted.

“Like an angel. Like Wonder Woman,” he said quickly. He looked down at his lenses and quickly wiped them with his shirt like they were going to melt off his face. “You’re gorgeous. Wayne is going to love it, Char.”

“Thanks, Clark.” Charlene walked over and kissed his cheek. The writer wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest. He felt warm, he felt like home. She never had to worry about being something more than she was around Clark. But Bruce knew how to take her walls down. Charlene was better off with a friend than with someone who had never noticed her. Suddenly, she got an idea and pulled back to see Clark. “You should ask Lois out! I heard she likes the boys in blue.”

He stopped. “‘Boys in blue’? She knows?”

After meeting Bruce a few more times, she finally gained the courage to confront Clark about the whole Super-gig. She made sure she wasn’t going to be blown off — so sure, Char almost confessed her years-old feelings to him. She couldn’t have lived through that, even with Bruce’s support. They had talked through the deception and somehow managed to build better trust between themselves. She almost forgot why she had originally left Metropolis for that fateful encounter with Bruce Wayne.

“Clark,” she scolded gently. “You haven’t told her?”

“Listen, I’m working on it —,” he started, holding his hands up in defense. His feet slowly removed themselves from the floor. Charlene set her hand on her hip, pinching her nose. 

“You promised she would know before she kissed you, again.” 

Another reason why Charlene absolutely could not tell Clark she liked him. Lois, caught up in the rush of being a damsel, kissed her rescuer unabashedly in front of half the staff of the Daily Planet. Charlene’s heart didn’t break for the first time; it didn’t mean it didn’t crack a teeny, tiny bit. 

“I know I did —” There was a knock at the door. Clark’s face fell into a scowl. He tucked his knees up to his chest, silently moving toward the door, and straightening his clothes out once he reached his destination. “Wait there for a moment, Char.”

Charlene crossed her arms. “Clark.”

Clark opened the door. Bruce was standing on the doorstep with a single pink rose. “Hi,” he said, giving his signature subtle smirk. “Is Charlene ready? Tim’s not too patient behind the wheel.”

“Hi,” Clark greeted warily. He kept his fingers curled around the door. His gentle manner was nearly nightmarish. Every breath was a slow calculation of how to kill a billionaire and get away with it. Charlene sighed deeply into her hand. Clark continued despite her wordless sass. “She’s ready. You better know that if you hurt her —”

“I wouldn’t do it without a positive benefit,” Bruce swore. “Besides, I’m not the one who’s dancing between two ladies. Save the shovel talk.” He pat Clark’s shoulder, pushing him aside and out of the way. When his eyes hit Charlene, his jaw dropped. She had never seen that reaction before, so her temples tingled from slight self-consciousness. “Char, you look beyond stunning. You’re shining.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up Charlene’s throat. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” She grabbed her clutch on the side table where Clark was standing. Quickly, she hugged him in a farewell. “Bye, Clark.”

Clark released a big breath, hugging her back once more. He set her back next to Bruce. “Bye, Charlene. Bruce.”

“Clark,” he responded in kind. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.” Bruce put his arm around Charlene’s waist. “There won’t be any need to play hero; if there is, I’ve got all I need within reach.” With that, Bruce took Charlene out of the foyer and into his limousine. 

“That was weirdly intense,” Char commented. With the knight’s help, she sat next in the back of the cab. “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

Bruce took her hand and set the rose in her grasp before sitting down next to her. “No. He doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Clark is very protective; I didn’t want you in the hospital for saying the wrong thing.” Charlene played with the rose in her hands, resisting the urge to breathe in the sweet aroma. The cab of the limousine was warm, spacious, and smelled comforting. It took her a second to realize it smelled like Bruce: his aftershave, his cologne, and a hint of something metallic. Her cheeks heated at the realization. 

How close had she and Bruce become? So close she knew exactly what Bruce smelled like? So close that she wasn’t nervous about the speculations tied to being on a billionaire’s arm? She looked at the rose petals. The color always meant something — Bruce always meant something. Pink… Why couldn’t she remember its meaning outside of being her favorite color? Why? Did she just forget everything the minute Bruce smiled?

“Char?” 

“I’m fine,” she said, snapping out of her thoughts. She set the rose down next to her, clasping her hands over her lap. “I guess I got so swept up in the idea of an adoption charity… I forgot who I was going with.” She looked at Bruce with a half-smile. “Thank you for taking me to this. I have as much as I can give on me, tonight; I even sold some of my old pieces of jewellery for these kiddos.” Charlene laughed nervously. “It seems so little compared to what you have… will it even be taken? I’m not an elitist. I’m not even close to well-off.”

Bruce’s eyebrows drew together. Something in his eyes softened, but she couldn’t pin what. He held her hand. “It’ll be taken. It’ll help someone, and any help at all can go a long way. You don’t have to worry about earning a position to give.” He tilted her head upwards, locking eyes with her. “You don’t have to earn anything. Not with me.”

She laced her fingers with his to signal her acknowledgement. Char couldn’t form words. She kept opening her mouth to protest but no sound came with the action — she felt helpless, yet all the same, she knew Bats would understand. Bruce let go of her hand to favor her face, instead. She leaned into the touch with a shaky breath.

“I’m not Clark, Charlene,” he whispered. “I’m not going to keep stringing you along; I won’t compare you to anyone or make empty promises. You’re more than a comparison.” Bruce brushed her hair out of her face, keeping those electric blues trained on hers. “You don’t have to earn anything from me. You don’t have to earn me.”

“I’m not…” Charlene stopped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about this; she didn’t want to beat around the bush, either. “Gosh, how do you know this stuff? Is it all estimation?”

“Observation,” he admitted. He kissed her forehead. “Cheer up. We don’t want your mascara to run just yet, do we?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath in to calm herself. She hadn’t realized her eyes were quite that full. “Bruce.”

He hummed, arching a brow. Yes?

“You don’t have to earn anything from me, either.” She kissed his cheekbone. The corners of his eyes crinkled, which made her smile. She rested her head on the dark knight’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“But?”

“No ‘but,’” she hummed. “You’re a good man, and that’s all.”

=-=-= Saturday morning, three weeks after the gala, Charlene’s heart felt heavy and light at the same time. She couldn’t put the gala out of her mind: the party; the guests; the smiles on the Wayne boys’ faces; Bruce’s kindness. She was trying her best to think it all over. The waiters kept offering her champagne, but she declined every time. She didn’t drink out of anxiousness, yet the whole ordeal was a blur. Blurry, except the speech about the children, and the way Bruce’s smile widened every time she smiled back.

She was sitting at the window, holding a water bottle and gazing out into the street. It was raining. She had a few pink roses in a vase, all from Bruce. A note was attached, something like “Thank you for your support,” but it didn’t really matter to her. He was gentle in his own way. That was just the way the Batman was: gentle and swift, yet blunt and cold at the same time. How had she managed to stumble into his good graces? What if she brought down his reputation? What if she did the wrong thing?

The Wayne boys were very polite. Dick was making her laugh all night long, Jason knew how to talk old-money downlookers away, Tim was a good conversationalist, and Damian asked all the good questions. All the right questions. Questions like, “What’s your relationship with my father? Do you believe in this cause? Are you using my father? Do you know how to play Mario Kart?”

She almost couldn’t answer some of the questions. Were she and Bruce friends? Were they something else? Were they acquaintances? Was she being kept around because she knew who Bruce really was? When it came to Mario Kart and the adoption cause, she couldn’t say anything but “Yes!” enthusiastically. Every now and then, Bruce would come over to recharge. He seemed tired with all the interaction. 

Then there was the turn of the night.

The most vivid part.

Dancing with Bruce Wayne.

Charlene stopped herself from clawing over her heart. It was sinking deeper as she recalled the moment.

“You’re nervous, Char,” Bruce whispered into her ear. “Why?” The question was innocent, concerning. He kept a steady hand on the small of her back, swaying to the beat of the soft jazz band. He was a natural at it. Charlene did her best to hold onto him, gripping his shoulder and his hand. 

“I’ve never been to anything like this, before. Not even some kind of prom,” she laughed quietly. She looked down at their feet. Bruce was leading, but what else was new? The floor gleamed… Bruce’s shoes were worn, despite his money and status… Worn shoes said a lot about how he spent his money on himself. Oh! Beneath the suit, it was clear that he wore a compact utility belt — at least, it was after learning he wore one everywhere. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, at all,” Charlene continued. “After talking with your boys, it just made me realize how scared I was to be jumping into this life with you.” She cleared her throat as she prepared to tell him exactly what was on her mind. “I know I’m just on a leash to keep you guys safe. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

The dance halted. No one paid any attention to them, keeping up with the music and circling around them. “Is that what you think?” he asked. Amusement lined his words, as well as a vague hint of hurt. “You’re just a liability?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Charlene had answered honestly.

As of right now, she still felt like a liability. Even though Bruce had promised her she didn’t have to earn anything, her heart was having difficulty believing it. She looked over at her vase of roses. Were those flowers from him? Or were they a product of manners?

Was she seeing things that weren’t there?

Bruce had been so quick to answer her when she admitted her insecurities. He had taken his hand out of hers. “You’re not a liability.” He ran his hands through her hair, pulling her closer. “If you were a liability, I would have used other ways to keep an eye on you.”

Char’s heart was racing faster by the second. “Ba… Bruce…” She wanted to call him Bats. She wanted to say so many things, just then. She wondered if Bruce could feel her pulse through that utility belt he had under his suit. His eyes fluttered shut before she realized what was happening. She didn’t want to believe it was real.

With a never ending, agonizingly slow quickness, lips met hers. Moving, soft, warm lips met hers and drew a gasp from her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to reciprocate the best she could without losing her cool.

Now, three weeks later, she hadn’t talked to Bruce about it. She hadn’t brought it up. He didn’t verbally acknowledge it, so neither did she. A kiss with Mr. Wayne meant nothing. Not in public. Not when he had a false reputation of being a playboy. A kiss between them would have meant the world… but that was in the middle of a gala; in the middle of a party filled with people Bruce was supposed to impress. 

So, even though she loved that kiss, she was still confused about Clark and she was miserable about the manner it came about. She wanted to know the truth. She knew if she asked he would have an obvious answer and call her a fool for believing him. 

“Hey, Charlene?” Clark called. Her ears pricked back at the sudden noise. She stood up and walked downstairs, rubbing under her eyes to make sure there weren’t any tears. She hadn’t cried, yet, but she didn’t want to start crying over it, either. “Come here.” 

“What, Clark? Can’t you see I’m busy moping about — …what is that?” she yelped. Clark was standing with his writing tablet facing outward, a glower painted over his features. She could hardly care about his nasty expression, however. There she was, her yellow evening gown and Bruce’s hands laced in her hair, plastering the first article of the month. Big, bold words read: 

“Bruce Wayne Finds New Lover — Will It LAST?” 

“Who took that picture!?”

“You’re saying this is real?” he asked angrily. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. “Charlene!”

“I’m sorry!” she apologized, not really sorry. “We’re not lovers, anyway — it was one kiss. Who wrote the article?”

“You never kiss people you don’t know.” Clark turned the screen back to his face, scrolling down and shaking his head. “Jimmy wrote this one, I think, I recognize the alias. I should have known something was going to happen when I told him to follow you…”

“For the record, Clark, all I’ve ever wanted was to kiss you,” she snapped. “Bruce is just differe— you sent Jimmy to follow me!?” She was so engulfed in her defenses that she forgot she had just told Clark she had feelings for him. She didn’t even register the implication that they didn’t matter anymore. She was angry at Jimmy, and at Bruce, and at Clark. She grabbed a throw pillow and fluffed it furiously. She needed an outlet. “I can’t believe you.”

“It’s Bruce Wayne, Char,” he said. He set his tablet down on the coffee table. “He’s not exactly the safest guy to get involved with.”

“And neither were you! I appreciate the worry, but it’s misplaced.” She spun around to stick her finger at Clark accusingly. “For ten whole years I tried to tell you I was in love with you, Clark, so don’t even try to talk to me about what’s good for me! You hear? I can kiss Bruce Wayne if I want to.”

“You tell him, Char,” a small voice came from behind the TV stand. Charlene and Clark both froze. Charlene knew who that was. She did her best not to sigh.

Muffled, a much bigger voice complained, “Look what you did! Now we’re caught. Bruce is gonna —”

“Shh!”

Clark moved over and gently removed the TV stand. “Damian I expected, but you, Dick? That’s low. Spying on Charlene?” 

“She’s a friend of Father,” the young boy answered for his big brother. “After the gala, he went to brood in the Bat Cave and when he came up, he said she was going to be more involved.”

“I think he’ll be happy to hear you like him, Charlene,” Dick smiled. He extended his legs and sat like a toddler on the floor. “We came here on our own, by the way. We wanted to surprise you by picking you up and surprise him by bringing you to Gotham. We racked his schedule up with business meetings so that we could pull this off. Think of it as a rescue.”

“Surprise me,” she regurgitated. She wanted to cry, laugh, scream, and fall over all at once. “You wanted to surprise me.”

“Sure. Why not?” Damian shrugged. “But your friend, here, got in the way with all his mumbling and weird comments about our father. He’s scary but I could take him.” That comment made her smile. Damian taking on Clark. Dangerous, but it still tickled her mind.

“They were not weird —”

“Yeah, they were.” 

“Guys, guys,” Charlene interjected, “Bruce and I aren’t much more than friends. He’s just my knight in shining armor.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “If anything were to happen, it would be very slow.” She made sure each male looked at her. “Very, very slow.” 

“So he does make you happy?” Clark asked quietly. 

“He does,” Charlene confirmed. “It could be more with work. Relax, Clark. You’re not going to be walking me down the aisle so soon.” 

He squeezed his eyes tightly, confusion coloring his face. “So when you said you used to want to kiss me…”

“It’s mostly ‘used to,’ now, yeah.” Charlene’s mouth moved before she even filed how truthful the statement was in her brain. She sat down on the couch, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I hope that’s not an issue — I know you don’t approve of Bruce.”

Clark pursed his lips. He set his hands on his hips and looked at the two delinquents on Charlene’s floor. “The gala with you and Wayne wasn’t a full-on date. Was it?”

“He and I went to sponsor the same cause and spend time together as friends. It couldn’t have counted as a romantic date, anyway,” she said. “The boys spent more time talking to me than Bruce did.”

“I saw him kiss you, though —”

“Dick, shut up,” Damian hissed. “You’re not helping.”

Clark tried for a smile. “I just want you to be safe and happy, Charlene.”

Charlene nodded, feeling much better since the gala. She had made an impression on the Wayne family? “I know I will be.”

=-=-= Charlene, in the end, told the boys she wanted to stay at home and sent Clark back to the Daily Planet to do his work. She had a lot to think over. She took a seat in her loveseat and got comfortable. She had to sit there for a long while. A kiss with a billionaire, a concerned Kansas Chiefs fan, four young men who already looked up to her, and a melting pot of feelings. If this were a young adult novel, she would have already picked someone by now. She had roses in a vase that called her name. She had a heart that wanted her attention, too.

Her whole past screamed for her to let go of Clark Kent — she was learning to set those unrequited feelings aside. He had always looked out for her and been her friend. Sometimes friendship, in the end, was just friendship. Clark was in love with Lois Lane. By the looks of things, he was starting to grow closer to her. Stepping away from that, Charlene could see he was happy; for the first time in years, that didn’t sting as much as it had before. 

Then there was the new friendship: Bruce Wayne. He was more than a friend, but less than a romantic partner. His affection was a different brand than Clark’s in all the good ways. He brought some kind of freshness, a sense that she never had to pretend to be pulling herself together. She knew deep in her heart that Bruce would have a hard time being with her — she would find difficulty being with him, too. They had much in common, as well as a lot of differences. He saw through her, she saw through him. Charlene needed some kind of stability. She needed a friend that offered their hand instead of shared reliance. 

Clark was the bright summer’s day that you longed for in the winter; he was the smell of newly cut grass and the way a paintbrush head felt between someone’s fingers. He was khakis and ball caps and the colors in the sunrise. He had always been the simple pleasures in Char’s life. 

Bruce Wayne had already proved what he was. He was the necessity in life like the clap of thunder in the middle of the night or the hardwood floor on bare feet. Bruce was the crowded streets of Metropolis after dusk; he was petrichor after a much-needed rain, the thimble on your thumb, he was the flick of the light switch that you could never balance. He was the mundane, everyday wakeup call that life was buzzing everywhere around her.

That was the difference between Clark and Bruce. Charlene had always had Clark, but she could imagine life without him. When it came to the Batman, she had a hard time thinking about her life without the petrichor on concrete, the snippy wind on her ears, and the occasional clap of thunder. She didn’t need him, but he was her equal.

He was the equal. 

Not the hero. 

“I’ll have to tell him, then,” she sighed. Charlene buried her face in her hands. 

“Tell who what?” a gravelly voice came from behind her. His presence was close. Char leaned back and extended her hands. 

“You,” she said. Bruce pushed her hands back down, setting his own on the cushion behind her. “We need to talk about what happened at the gala, don’t we?” 

“I don’t see why,” he replied. “You know it was a public display of affection.”

“From the world’s Bruce Wayne,” Charlene countered. Bruce pressed his lips into a line. “Not mine.”

“I know. I figured if the world knew you were Bruce Wayne’s, it would give you a chance to find that time you wanted,” he said slowly. “The boys could teach you how to defend yourself. You’d always have a place at Wayne Manor.”

“But what about us?” she asked, turning to see him better. “C’mon, Bats, you know that kiss was a little more than just a well-rounded plan to turn me into a Bat-Person.”

The dark knight was still for a long second. “It was a moment’s weakness. Even if we wanted to pursue a relationship —”

“We both know we do.”

“— neither of us are ready for it.”

Charlene stood on the loveseat. She cupped Bruce’s face, holding his jaw with both palms. “I agree. I think we should take our time before we even worry about labeling this.”

“We cannot be involved.” He held her hands, prying them ever-so-gingerly from him. “You aren’t ready for the livestyles I come with. I’m not ready for that kind of —”

“Domesticity,” she said with him, nodding. “I know, I know. You don’t want to be a husband, I don’t want to be a wife. No, we can’t be involved, yet.” She rested on her forearms. “You can guess what that means.”

He smiled sadly. “You won’t come stay at Wayne Manor.”

“Not for extended periods of time,” she answered with the same bittersweet expression. Char stroked his cheek. He had been so open to her physical affection. “It wouldn’t really work the way we want it to.” 

“You mean Alfred will be asking about dress shopping?”

“I’ll be asking about dress shopping!” she teased. “Why are you here, exactly?”

“If I said that you no longer worked at the Daily Planet, what would you do?” he asked bluntly. 

Charlene stopped. “I would ask you to fix it, right now.”

He hummed. “You want Clark, still?”

“No,” she said defiantly. She crossed her arms. “I’m just not ready to date, yet.” Charlene was quickly learning how to own herself around Bruce. She felt at home, like he was at home in his spandex. Bruce made her feel like her own woman: strong, compassionate, and happy. If he could be her complement, she could do anything. Absolutely anything.

Bruce leaned in, smirking. Charlene hit him with a pillow, which he promptly caught. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Promise to try someday?” she teased.

“Maybe.”

[kacchanrawr]

Things I want to see in the future of MHA

(not just post-war stuff, but also the entire series. Some of these are kinda self-indulgent)

1. Endeavor and Hawks’ judgment

I honestly don’t know if I want to see them punished or pardoned. I’m interested in both of those so I’ll just trust Horikoshi on that one. But anyways, there’s no way they aren’t getting shit for this.

2. Whatever the ‘fake heroes’ are gonna do after this

Going back to Stain’s ideology about fake heroes. I agree with parts of it, there are a lot of people that become heroes without the conviction. They get into it by treating it the same way as any other office job, not as a mission to be well, heroes. But I don’t agree that they should be killed or eliminated. Being a hero for money isn’t inherently a bad thing, it’s when you let greed take over you to the point that you forget what it means to be a hero. Some of those ‘fake heroes’ like Mt. Lady who was originally in it for the fame and money have grown to become real heroes. Others who really have zero conviction, will probably quit after facing this amount of despair, like the guy in chapter 296.

3. The Todoroki family’s image

How will everyone else see the victims of the situation, Natsuo, Fuyumi, Rei and Shoto after this? Especially Shoto. Now that his past is out in the public, that will probably affect his future as a pro. Would his classmates and peers see him or treat him differently after this? Like out of pity or sympathy?

4. The public’s backlash in general

How will the public start viewing not just Endeavor, Hawks, and the Todoroki family, but all heroes? Will they lose faith in heroes? We know they kinda already are when UA had a lot of backlash when Bakugo was kidnapped. UA as well, will it get shut down?

5. Bakudeku’s talk

I don’t think their relationship is actually gonna stay the same after this whole ‘my body moved on its own because I care for you and wanted to save you so I just got stabbed and risked my life for you and even told you to stop trying to be so selfless and do everything by yourself’ thing. All Might also did foreshadow that they were gonna talk soon. Maybe we could get the long awaited Bakugo apology scene ? Though it feels way too soon. And if Hori feeds us Bakudekus even more I think we’re just gonna combust.

5. Deku’s character development

His mindset and view of the world will probably be way darker and even more serious after this. I also want to see how Bakugo getting hurt for his sake and saying “don’t play hero all by yourself” will affect him. We know that he has decided to become a hero that wouldn’t make anyone worry about him when he had a flashback of his mom crying and being worried for him. He decided that the solution to that is to be stronger, but now maybe he can learn that selflessness doesn’t necessarily mean that he has to carry all the weight by himself. But then there’s the 4th user’s quirk that will probably push him to be even more selfless.

6. Ochako’s development

Please please PLEASE let this girl have more development. The way her fight against Toga ended, and her seeing the grievous side of being a hero? Probably a set up for her development.

7. Basically the rest of the kids’ development?

Obviously it’s not just the people involved in the fight against Shigaraki, or Ochako that are gonna view the world differently after this. I wanna see how they will deal with this. Kirishima and Mina will probably be some of the highlights. Also Momo, since Midnight meant a lot to her when she was the one that trusted Momo to lead their classes in the battle against Gigantomachia.

8. Aizawa and Present Mic dealing with Midnight’s death

Those two are especially highlighted amongst all of the other UA staff members because they have a past with her, as shown in vigilantes. We saw their anger and sadness about Shirakumo, what more when it comes to Midnight?

9. The villains dealing with their losses

Yes, know Toga went on a rampage after Twice’s death, but how will she and deal with it in the long run? How about losing Mr. Compress? How will Shigaraki react to both of those, and having the other Paranormal Liberation Front members like Geten captured? Not just emotionally, but how about the loss in terms of strength and power?

10. Prison break arc

People have been talking about this for years, maybe ever since we knew All for One was only imprisoned and not killed. We’ll probably see it happen next chapter. Will it cause the public to lose even more faith in the hero system? How will it affect the villains? Will AFO be their boss now, or will they resist him and stay loyal to Shigaraki?

11. All for One vs Shigaraki

Related to the previous point. We know Shigaraki really doesn’t want AFO bossing him around. They’ll probably have a fight. Maybe Deku and Shigaraki vs AFO? Then they’ll go back to fighting each other once the common threat is gone. This doesn’t feel very likely, but it could be a way of interpreting Deku’s “you looked like you needed saving” at the end of chapter 295.

11. Deku’s arms?

I don’t know if I want him to lose them and get prosthetics, or get healed by Eri. It would be great to see him experience a major loss, but ability-wise and emotionally? Not so good for him, though that’s kinda the point. Also he might not be able to use OFA in his arms anymore and I kinda don’t wanna see that. Even if he can, will he be able to use it at 100%? So far, we’ve seen that the level of technology in MHA aren’t enough to withstand 100%

12. Deku mastering One for All

I wanna see him consistently use 100% without injuring himself. I want to see him do more with black whip, float and the fourth user’s quirk. I’m also curious about the other three quirks left.

13. Power buff for everyone else

I kinda don’t wanna see the MC getting so ahead of everyone else, to the point that they leave everyone else in the dust. But I know that it’s been established way earlier on that Deku will surpass everyone in terms of strength. Even now, Bakugo, one of the strongest in Class 1-A could barely catch up with 30% OFA. But from his internal dialogue in chapter 293, I’m guessing he already had a quirk evolution when he saw Deku at the verge of death. I want to see more details on that though.

14. Everyone else’s reaction to Bakugo’s sacrifice

It’s gonna be a big thing for his character and all, but I don’t think this is gonna happen because of well, everything else being a mess. But maybe at least All Might’s?

15. Deku’s father

I don’t want him to be a really big famous, important figure, or someone involved in this whole AFO vs OFA stuff. It will kinda ruin Deku’s character of like, ‘just an ordinary boy that was lucky and so his character arc is to be worthy of that blessing’. If Deku’s father was someone like that, that would mean he was the fated or chosen one in the first place anyways? But what else can Deku’s dad be? I honestly don’t know.

16. All Might’s death

I see so many people complain that he should’ve died in Kamino, but I disagree because saving that big moment for later was actually a good decision. We know he’s gonna die, he has death flags everywhere. But I wonder how exactly he will die, when he will die, and how big of an impact his death will have.

17. The final battle

As in, the last battle of the entire series. Deku vs Shigaraki rematch, Ochako vs Toga, Shoto vs Dabi. And for Bakugo, well...... he doesn’t really have a villain nemesis? (Huh maybe I’ll talk about that some other time) But the best I could think of right now is Bakugo and Deku vs Shigaraki, like in Heroes Rising. If the Heroes Rising ending was the original series ending, maybe Hori was hinting that Bakugo and Deku will be fighting the final boss together?

18. Bakugo and Deku as a hero duo

Related to the previous point. Shipping lenses aside, I think there’s plenty of foreshadowing for that? Even if they wouldn’t officially be hero partners, I’m guessing they’re both gonna be important pillars. “Win to save, save to win”

19. The ending

I want to see how they will fix the broken hero society. I want to see Class 1-A as wonderful heroes. I want satisfying closure for the villains as well. What I don’t want to see is everyone getting married and having kids like Naruto, and those kids being the characters for a sequel series. I’m sorry but as much as I like a lot of the ships, I think that’s probably one of the worst endings possible. But a next generation sequel actually wouldn’t be that bad if the main characters were the established kid characters we already know and love, Eri, Kota, Katsuma and Mahoro. We can see through them how the new hero system/society works, and maybe all the smaller subtle stuff that they still need to patch up. Other than that, I don’t think there’s anything else good about it.

20. Deku becoming the greatest hero

Also very much related to the previous point but I only remembered it afterwards. We know it’s gonna happen, but how? Also notice that while Bakugo always says ‘number one hero’, Deku always just says ‘greatest hero’, which kinda aren’t the same thing. Maybe it’s just cuz I’m a Bakugo stan, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to just let the rival characters be content with number two? Either ‘Bakugo is the number one in ranking while Deku is the greatest hero’, or ‘Deku is the greatest and number one hero but their rivalry hasn’t ended and it’s a push-pull’ thing. Or just kill one of them (cough Bakugo cough) and it’ll be fine.

21. Other people finding out about OFA

I don't think it's going to stay a secret between Deku, Bakugo and All Might anymore. At the very least, the people involved in the fight against Shigaraki, like Shoto, Aizawa and Endeavor should be given an explanation on why Shigaraki was targeting Deku in particular. At worst, it becomes public news and Deku will now have to deal with a much a greater pressure of everyone expecting him to take up All Might's mantle. I'd rather go with the former, but the latter is also interesting I guess. Or if not those, they'd have to come up with a really good excuse.

Anyways that’s all I can think of for now? There’s probably way more at the back of my head. I’ll just edit whenever.

[drxwsyni]

Prey ︱ Yandere Keigo Takami x f!Reader

@theladyshinigami asked: “Hello! First of all, I've been looking for an account like yours for a long ass time, so thank you for existing. Second, may I request a yandere Hawks pinning for a foreigner with a siren quirk that can hypnotize people when she sings? Thanks again”

a/n: thanks for the request babes! hope you like how this turned out!

warnings: swearing, drugging, mild violence, mention of mutilation

2.9k words

It had been no surprise when the people around you deemed your future to be damned after hearing about your quirk.

Like the mythical siren, you could hypnotize people just by singing to them. It put them under a trance, allowing you to do whatever you saw fit with their mindless bodies. As much as you knew it would be more honourable to take the high road and contain your abilities, the potential it held was too great to pass up.

Now, you weren’t a ruthless killer or anything of the sort. No—you simply used your abilities every so often on the unsuspecting lowlife who probably deserved a little bad luck. Almost like a vigilante of sorts.

For the longest time your actions went unnoticed. You were smart—never staying in one place for too long. The fruits of your labor even brought you to different countries.

But good things could only last for so long, and much to your dismay—a certain avian hero picked up on your actions.

In any other case, this would’ve meant the end of your less than honourable career. But instead, the man you came to know as Hawks chose to turn a blind eye to your antics. You should be grateful—your slip up didn’t end with you in prison.

But the reality you faced now was by no means preferable.

Since being initially caught in the act, you could feel an almost constant looming presence above you. Distant, but there nonetheless. You never actually saw anything that would hint at a shadow, but the blanketed weight of instinct was undeniable. Most notably so was when you were forced to lure in unsuspecting criminals to make ends meet.

A once simple and painless task was now something you dreaded.

The crimson vale of feathers would flash before you, their owner taking a stance when you had the job done. By then you’d swiped any necessary valuables from your latest victim—but that never seemed to bother him. Like the visible vacantness of any belongings from them wasn’t a problem whatsoever, the winged hero would tie up your loose ends. Even said you were helping him out, despite your assistance not exactly being legal.

It lasted like that for a long time. Slowly, you grew to hate the means in which you kept yourself on your feet. Not because your sense of morals were shifting to hold concern for those unfortunate enough to be caught in your sights. Rather, it was because of the sights you were caught in.

Those narrowed and piercing—searching eyes always found you in your worst times. And his attitude, it was enough to give you an aneurism. So nonchalant with his dismissal of your behaviour, such a thing that goes against everything he stands for.

But perhaps, this should’ve been the first red flag that showed you he wasn’t the hero everyone knew him to be—something you were supposed to pick up on and use it to your advantage.

You didn’t have time for that though. It was more important to simply erase his taunting words and carelessly intrusive behaviour from your mind for the sake of your sanity. That, and you were much more concerned with making your next move—one that’d hopefully lead you out of the country.

Or at least far enough away from Hawks.

The back and forth to the pawn shop wasn’t the most enjoyable outing, but it was necessary. You could sense that the owners were at least a little suspicious of how much you frequented their establishment—especially given the items you’d exchanged.

Thankfully, the shop was on the bad side of town, meaning they were quite used to people like yourself. Slowly but surely, the stash you kept hidden in a floor vent in your shambly apartment grew steadily. It wasn’t much at first, but as of late you were making a point to be increasingly active with your efforts.

Everything finally came down to one night—you being immensely grateful to your recent catch. The old man was practically dripping with sin, along with undeserved riches to boot. You’d followed him from the luxurious nightclub, where you knew some less than honourable individuals did depraved things to the vulnerable.

It was just your luck—the man was mind numbingly drunk, stumbling back and forth on his feet in an attempt at a walk in a straight line.

While your quirk wouldn’t get rid of his uneasiness, it would give him more motivation to make his way towards a certain direction. One that led him right into your hands, along with his overpriced belongings.

The deed was done in less than a minute—speed being essential in not getting caught. But you weren’t the only one who held that strength to a high standard. Just as you were pocketing the last of his trinkets, you glanced upwards towards the pitch black night sky. Your eyes focused on the abyssal expanse for a few seconds—now was about the time you’d expect the crimson of his wings to grace your presence. It’d be followed by his unbearably confident remarks, and the frustrating way he’d disregard you as a threat.

But the last minute arrival never came. For the first time since you met him, Hawks didn’t show up to court off your latest prey to the police. Frankly, you didn’t mind it.

The man would never know it was you anyways, you being safe enough to keep your face hidden from prying eyes. It just meant you could return home, one very successful haul in tow with complete peace befalling your mind. No dealing with Hawks’ irritating antics—just a quiet walk back all by yourself.

Naturally, the night’s events had you in high spirits. If your calculations were correct, this would be just enough for your stash to equal out to an amount sufficient enough to get you moving again.

The thought brought a smile to your face, and with a spring in your step you trailed back to the cheap and small apartment complex you called your temporary home.

Every time you opened the front door you cringed at the sound of rusty metal rubbing together on the hinges. Now was no different as you shut the rickety frame back into its closed position, sliding the lock into place.

Removing your shoes with a sigh, you trudged to the back of the apartment where your bedroom was stationed. A cold breeze washed over you as you pushed the slightly ajar door open fully. The window was open, causing the curtains to sway under the wind's influence. Shivering slightly at the sensation, you threw your bag onto the bed and made your way to the worn down looking window.

The lock never worked on the damn thing, so there was never a need to care about if it was closed or not. But on a chilly night like tonight, you mentally cursed yourself for not taking more care in regarding it before you left. It got hot in the daytime, often resulting in it being left open for the most part. It’s only expected that every now and then you’d leave the damned thing like that, now mentally cursing yourself for doing so as the room’s temperature was unpleasantly low, shutting it with a thud.

You moved back towards your bed, unzipping your backpack and emptying the contents atop the duvet. Sorting things was always the most interesting part of your night—seeing just what people were willing to spend their money on. You picked up the wad of cash first, being decent enough not to just take his whole wallet. After thumbing through the stack, you took a bobby pin laying on your nightstand and clipped it over the papers, holding them all together.

In your early days of using your quirk to your advantage, you made the mistake of keeping all of your findings in one place. Call it karma, but at one point you were the one being robbed, both cash and other luxurious items going missing.

Now, you were smarter than that. Learning from your mistakes, you kept the two piles separate. At the moment, all cash was hidden in the floor vent.

Getting on your knees in front of the grating, you lifted the top off, letting the light from the room’s lamp flood into the small space.

The cash was gone.

Your hand dived into the metal-lined crevice, sweeping back and forth frantically. There was no way it could’ve fallen back further into the vent. The heating didn’t push that way, and even if it did you always kept the cash bundled—it was too heavy to be blown away out of arm's reach.

Your heart sunk into your chest, a gut wrenching despair taking hold of you.

“Looking for something?”

That voice—you knew who it belonged to before your head whipped around to face the direction it came from. Standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wings outstretched almost threateningly was the avian hero you’d come to hate.

And god, that smirk plastered across his face. He always wore it, like the damn thing was a permanent expression solidified into his being.

You stilled your actions, eyes unmoving from him. “Where’s my cash?” In a way, you could almost take pride in how you managed to keep a calm and steady voice. The rage was still there, but it was contained—for now.

Hawks moved past the doorway, casually stepping towards the closest nightstand. Like he hadn’t even heard you question, he idly picked up a framed photo—the only one you had of your home town that was thousands of miles away. You’d taken the shot at sundown, showcasing all its best features in the honeyed lighting cascading over it.

“Y’know, it’s almost impressive—the money you rake in.” He was still looking at the photo, eyes searching the minuscule details your camera picked up—one that you had to sell for some extra cash in the early days.

He set the frame down, smirk falling ever so slightly. It was the first time he looked even remotely serious—the casual leaned back stance doing nothing when you saw the dangerous glint in his eyes. “I simply...took it upon myself to donate the cash to a better cause.”

Your blood ran cold, the constricting feeling in your chest tightening at his words. For a moment you couldn’t respond, too mortified by his statement. The room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, until forcing yourself out of a stupor, you responded. “...You did what?”

In the most condescending tone of voice you’d ever heard, the winged man replied. “Hey, don’t look so surprised. I mean what were you even gonna do with it anyways?”

Still kneeling on the floor, you felt pure, seething hatred for the hero in front of you. “What was I—I was going to use it to get away from your deranged ass!”

The sound of your raised and angered voice reverberated off the walls, him paying no mind to it. “Oh, were you now?”

Almost in a lazy manner, Hawks pushed off the nightstand he was leaning on. “C’mon, you didn’t really think I’d let you get away with robbing people.” The sound of his boots hitting the floor seemed louder than they should’ve as he stalked towards your frozen form. “I mean that would be so...unheroic of me, after all.”

Even in the dim lighting of the room, his eyes were almost inhumanely bright as he looked at you like you were a piece of fresh meat.

You should’ve known this would happen. All this time spent putting together enough cash just to get yourself out of this city and far away from the man looming over you—none of it really mattering in then end.

Not if you couldn’t get out of here.

The stash of money might be gone, but you still had the belongings on your bed. They would go for a good price, and if you played your cards right it’d be enough to get you far enough away from him. It would be tight—but it’s possible.

As far as you were concerned, Hawks was no more virtuous than the lowly individuals you entranced with your quirk. It may have taken this moment to solidify it, but now you knew who he was.

Not a hero, just a man pretending to be one for his own gains.

You opened your mouth, prepared to voice whatever melody came to mind. The feeling of a hand clamping over it came before you could manage a noise, and then your back colliding with the cold hardwood.

The feeling of Hawk’s weight on your body felt crushing, rendering you completely immobilized underneath him. He had you hands pinned above your head with his free one in an almost bruising grip, you unable to move away as he sat on your hips.

“Ah ah ah—little bird.” He grunted through the words, still steady as you made some final weak attempts to throw him off before resigning to your predicament for the moment.

Hawks let a few seconds go by after you stilled, eyeing you warily in a way that you could only assume was to make sure you were fully calmed down. He let out a breathy sigh, “So, here’s how this is gonna work…”

He paused, lips upturning ever so slightly before continuing. “I’m gonna take my hand off, and if I hear so much as a peep from you, I’ll rip your fucking vocal cords out. Got it?” The casual look to his face gave a stark and disturbing contrast to his gruesome words.

You swallowed dryly, tears prickling in your eyes. He knew how much weight those words held—your quirk riding on the fact that your means of speaking were intact.

The winged man tilted his head slightly, a look of what felt like fake concern flashing across his face. “Hey, don’t go looking so scared. I don’t wanna do that, I promise.”

His words did little to ease your worries—the promise meaning absolutely nothing to you.

“Now, if you behave then maybe I’ll consider keeping you awake on the way home, okay?”

On the way home—what the fuck is he talking about?

A crease formed between your brows in confusion, mind racing from unknown sentiment. One might think you’d been running for miles with the way your heart beat was hammering inside your ribcage. But it would turn out that fear was much better at producing the same effect.

If you could manage even a second to use your quirk, he’d be done for. You shakily nodded your head, the grip on your face making the action somewhat difficult.

Hawks seemed pleased with your forced compliance, smirk widening in satisfaction.

“There’s my good little bird, now—”

His hand lifted from your mouth, and without hesitation you activated your quirk.

Or at least you tried.

You should’ve known, the man pinning you to the ground was notorious for being incredulously fast. So much so that you didn’t even see him move, only registering the feeling of a cloth sealing over your mouth and nose.

That smell—sickeningly sweet. Your eyes blew wide at the realization, body thrashing beneath him. Looking at him pleadingly didn’t work, especially when the tears running down your face blurred your vision. In the midst of you violently kicking and attempting to throw him off you, Hawks effortlessly dealt with the consequences to your actions.

“Don’t be like that, I tried—”

Even in your weakening state, you managed to knee him hard. But it was no more in force than a kitten scratch. It may have taken him off guard, even interrupting his train of thought, but he was still the one on top.

You knew you would have bruises later on, but that was the least of your worries right now.

“I tried to warn you, and it’s only fair that I hold up my end of the deal.”

The strenuous efforts of your resistance had you sucking in involuntary gulps of breath in exhaustion. You could feel your mind spinning, not being able to focus on any one thing in particular. It was a lightheaded sensation, you not even realizing that your limbs fell almost completely limp in his hold.

Your focus drifted away from the avian human above you, landing on the once opened bedroom window. Your eyelids felt increasingly heavy, once loudly muffled screams turning into defeated whimpers—and then silence.

Hawks released his iron hold on your wrists, leaning back with a deep and relieved sigh. The cloth was shoved back into his pocket, and he mentally thanked himself for bringing his car so he wouldn’t have to fly you back to his apartment for everyone to see.

It wasn’t the first time he regarded your sleeping form, face peaceful and distinctively not contorted with fear—and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’d known your caution well, seeing it in action the countless times he’d pry his eyes into your life. Whether it be from above on those late nights of you scrounging for cash, or through your window as you sifted through the stockpile of valuable collections. Always thinking that your efforts of evasion were enough.

Surely, after going so long with the same routine—laying low and moving against those who had bad luck coming when the opportunity arose—this new stop in your travels would show no need for change. Even when he made his presence obvious, you stayed set in your ways.

You didn’t deem him a threat. You thought that you were the apex predator, and he was nothing more than a scavenger reaping the rewards of your latest catch.

And now, he would teach you that no—he was the predator, and you were the prey.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately. 

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you. 

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly. 

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship. 

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes. 

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry. 

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered. 

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die. 

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth. 

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day. 

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it? 

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal. 

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N. 

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time. 

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape. 

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit. 

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building. 

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago. 

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest. 

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss. 

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there. 

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest. 

[ghoularts]

Let’s talk about the future chapters and fates of some characters!

Oh boy so this is gonna be a long ass post but I just wanted to discuss things about the ‘war arc’!

First, I’ll start off with Hawks/Keigo Takami.

Status: Unconscious/Severely burned, escaped to the forest away from the mansion

Hawks has become quite the controversial character in the fandom. It’s up to the reader to decide whether they believe his actions was right or wrong. There is no correct/clear answer here. I won’t dive into any of that right now, instead I’m going to focus on what his arc holds in the future.

Since he hit his head on the concrete, he was knocked unconscious and could possibly go into a coma. (Because we know Horikoshi likes to drag things out when it comes to the possibility of Dabi being Touya.)

I do not believe Keigo will die. Especially now that he holds important information about Dabi. We also don’t know Keigo’s whole backstory yet nor do we know what really happened with Jeanist. The recorder he had got burned up with his jacket or was destroyed by Dabi in this panel:

You can see a little piece go flying from his hand just above his staples.

What I do believe is Hawks will die. His hero persona. Now that his wings are gone, the Hero Commission will most likely drop him just like that. Keigo will live on with the guilt of killing Twice. He really wanted to save Twice, trying to get him to surrender, only aiming to incompacitate him until, well... you know.

When Dabi calls him dirty, he doesn’t deny it. It’s probably going to impact him a lot when all this is over. The best direction for him is to have a talk with Tokoyami about his actions and break away from the HPSC. He should expose them since they groomed him as a child into a weapon, sent kids into a war, etc.

Personally, I’d love for Keigo to become a vigilante. It suits him much better at this point. I don’t think he’ll be able to regrow/regenerate his wings. There’s nothing left, plus he could only regenerate the feathers when there were his little stubs left. Also if you remember Endeavor talking about his blue flames it makes sense; “Carbonized cells can’t regenerate.”

Next up we have Tokoyami!

Status: Alive, slightly burned, escaped to the forest away from the mansion

I’ve seen many posts about how Tokoyami was brainwashed. This is simply not the case. The Hero Commission seems to kind of despise UA or doesn’t have all to that much influence with the school. Except for the time they didn’t want the cultural festival to take place (at least that’s what I remember). Many of the teachers have their own thoughts about the Hero Commission such as Midnight in the teacher’s conference saying that the kids shouldn’t be put in battles like this. Aizawa has his suspicions about the organization as well.

Tokoyami respects his mentor because Hawks taught him many things about his Quirk and gave him good advice. (“If you’ve got wings, you should spread them out and fly. Don’t be confined to the ground.) Hawks means a lot to Tokoyami so of course he’d come to his rescue. When Dabi points out Twice’s body, Tokoyami looks horrified. When flying away and telling Hawks he did the right thing, he was running on emotions and shock. His mentor needs medical attention and fast. Caleb, a translator for the manga, notes that Tokoyami drops his edgy tone when he says these things to Hawks. Tokoyami is panicking. He just wants Hawks to be safe.

Also, his experience/interactions most likely play a role in his thinking. These villains tried to kidnap him, kidnapped a classmate, killed multiple people and plan to kill many more, and attacked his class on several occasions. Why would he believe Dabi right away when Dabi has burned alive dozens of people, thugs and innocent heroes like Snatch, and is trying to actively kill his mentor and Tokoyami himself?

Again, I think Hawks and Tokoyami will have a talk after this and Tokoyami will have to question Hawks’ actions. Keigo will probably tell him something along the lines of ‘Don’t support what I did’ or ‘Don’t follow in my footsteps.’ Call me crazy, but there’s actually the possibility that the HPSC will take notice of Tokoyami’s power and the risks he took to save Keigo. They might offer him training to be a ‘special hero’ like Keigo was. 

Miruko!

Status: Missing arm/part of leg, bleeding severely, in Jakku Hospital

Oh man where we last left off with the rabbit queen herself was her bleeding on the floor out of energy. Endeavor cauterized her wounds so at least it stopped most of the bleeding. It is worrying to know that she’s still in the hospital when Shigaraki is about to wake up and destroy everything. 

Though I don’t think she’s going to die. Especially since that color page showed mechanical limbs in the same spot where she lost them. Horikoshi also loves drawing her, so let’s hope he likes drawing her enough to keep her alive lol. She’ll probably be in recovery for a while before resuming her hero work with her new prosthetic limbs. 

Endeavor

Status: Alive, in Jakku Hospital

Endeavor was taking on Nomu with Ryukyu in chapter 269. He is also in range of Shigaraki being in the hospital with all the other heroes. Many people believe he has huge death flags, but I seriously don’t think he’ll die this arc until we know what happened with Touya. Hawks might ask him about Touya if the black speech bubble was Dabi saying that he’s Endeavor’s son. This will both crush Keigo’s admiration for the flame hero and make Endeavor realize just how badly his abusive behavior affected his family. Perhaps he’ll go public with it? Or maybe the villains will use it against Endeavor one day and the public will turn on him? 

Gigantomachia/Kirishima/Ashido

Gigantomachia is truly terrifying. He could wipe the floor and completely wreck the heroes. He has finally stood up and will be on the move, heading in Shigaraki’s direction because of his ‘Master’s Scent.’ Since Shiggy now possesses All for One, Giganto will follow his orders.

What’s even scarier is that this guy was introduced way back in Kirishima’s and Ashido’s backstory. Which means those two could possibly face this giant. Kirishima wouldn’t be able to make a dent, but Ashido could wear him down over time with the exposure to acid. I’ve also seen theories floating around about him being Crimson Riot. So Kiri facing his idol?

I’ll touch more on other characters later (Deku, Shiggy, Dabi, Mic, Aizawa, Kaminari etc.) but I’ll tell you guys which characters I think will die:

Xless (I mean, come on, Shiggy’s gonna kill this man)

Crust (we have no attachment to him, plus he hasn’t been fairing well with the Nomu. Not to mention he’s near Shigaraki as well)

Anyways, what do you guys think? Have anything to add like other potential outcomes of their arcs?

[johnconstantinesdick]

Elaborate on your Aizawa is a Shimura theory?

Okay okay before we begin I need to preface this by saying this is a fun au idea I came up with that turned into a crack theory after I realized how many things fit... weirdly well. The best image to have in your head right now is the conspiracy board meme.

That being said, let’s go.

[[MORE]]

The first time I considered this was after seeing this heartbreaking art by @/trevowashere. After having my heart crushed, I went to my notes and jotted down something along the lines of “AU where Aizawa is Nana’s grandson instead of Shigaraki and AFO lives in fear of ever facing this man who can erase quirks and whose grandmother he killed” and that somehow morphed into me having a couple of fic scenes written out where Aizawa is Hana and Tenko’s older brother and so things don’t go completely to shit.

And then I started to think about it seriously, and I had to stop for a minute because Aizawa actually looks like he could be a part of that family. Nana, Hana, and Tenko are all shown to have dark hair, all of them presumably black because Nana’s is. Tenko has red eyes post-quirk (still not 100% sure if he has them pre-quirk bc if decay made his hair lose pigment it’s not a stretch to say it made his eyes lose pigment as well, and plenty of Albino people have red or pink eyes), and Aizawa has red eyes while is quirk is activated.

Aizawa also has black eyes when his quirk is dormant, and Nana has grey eyes—someone with more experience in genetics can tell me if these two things are related in any way, but my color-focused brain says they’re similar.

Consider, also, that we haven’t seen, like, anything on Aizawa’s family, (tune in at 7 pm est next week for my “Aizawa and Monoma are related to AFO” crack conspiracy theory rant) even in Vigilantes, where he’s still in school and it would totally make sense to see them. It seems like Horikoshi goes out of his way to not even mention them, in fact, leading many fans to speculate that Aizawa has a neglectful family at the least. Maybe this is for a reason? SHOW US AIZAWA’S FAMILY YOU COWARD.

Moving on, Aizawa’s hero costume is very similar in structure and color to Nana’s—this could be a deliberate parallel because they’re both teachers and okay wait fuck is this another death flag for Aizawa??? FUCK!!

...Okay I needed a minute to process that and I’m manically typing this right now so it’s not getting edited out, you’ll all just have to live with this knowledge. Anyway, costume similarities!! Y’all will have to deal with some costume talk because as a cosplayer I am physically incapable of not doing that.

Nana’s costume is fairly simple—a plain black bodysuit, a white cape held on with a gold chain, bright yellow gloves, a red belt-skirt-cape-thing held up by a gold buckle, and white boots.

Aizawa’s costume is also simple but in a lazier way. He wears a baggy black jumpsuit, his white-gray capture scarf, yellow goggles, a gray utility belt, and black boots. When he uses Erasure, his eyes glow red.

While Nana’s costume is brighter on the whole, both of them share the same basic color palette (mostly—Aizawa’s scarf is usually colored gray, but it does seem white in some artwork) and structure. Bodysuit=jumpsuit, cape=capture weapon, belt-cape-thing=utility belt, boots=boots, and all that’s left over is their respective bright yellow accessories (gloves and goggles). Nana’s costume is meant to emulate a more classic superhero, while Aizawa’s is meant to be more on the vigilante side, but they share many similar components.

I haven’t eaten yet and this is starting to get even MORE ridiculous oh my god.

Anyway. Uhh I’m going to just point out that many people have talked about the physical and quirk similarities of Eri and Aizawa AND ALSO of Eri and Shigaraki. Thinking along that line, Erasure and Decay aren’t actually that dissimilar. (And If you go by the theory that Tenko was actually Quirkless and AFO gave him Decay, then there’s no need to justify quirk similarities anyway.) I don’t believe we know at this point what Hana or any of the other Shimura family members had as a quirk, so I can’t draw any comparisons there.

And that brings us to the thing that made me go “Oh shit this is even more plausible” and that’s Nana’s quirk being revealed!! It allows her to levitate, with no indication that it’s telekinesis as far as I’ve heard (not caught up on the manga so do let me know if it’s been talked about more in depth).

This actually makes me pretty happy because I’ve seen people call Aizawa’s secondary quirk thing telekinesis, but that doesn’t sit quite right with me because it just seems to make his capture weapon and hair levitate with no indication that he can control their movement like he would be able to if it was actually telekinesis.

So if Aizawa is related to Nana in some way, that totally explains why his hair and capture scarf float when he activated erasure! Because he would have inherited that part of his quirk from her!

And that’s why I lost my shit internally when I heard what her quirk was, because that just adds to the pile of similarities these two have (I’m not even getting into some stuff about their teacher parallels because I’m hungry and I want to go eat now) and at this point it seems like Horikoshi is deliberately throwing in parallels as a narrative tool or he accidentally made it plausible that they’re related in some way. (I don’t think he’s actually intending for my conspiracy theory to be canon, because we already have so many “secretly related to” plotlines going on here that this would seem like overkill.)

If you’ve read to the end of this mess (I’m sorry) please join in on making seemingly-ridiculous theories that actually have some substance to them if you look a bit closer!! It’s very fun, 10/10 would recommend.

And now, as a closing statement, feel free to imagine the heartbreak if All Might had to look at Aizawa every day while struggling not to see his dead mentor. Thank you. I’m going to go consume food now.

[loyally-unfaithful]

desolation!au (lunatic!kaede au)

summary: in canon, kotetsu manages to restore barnaby's memory at the last second, but what if it didn't work? what if kaede ex machina never got the chance to save her father at the top of the apollon media tower and restore the other heroes' memories? in fact, what if she never knew they were being brainwashed in the first place?what if kotetsu died that day?

basically me developing my idea of an au where, consumed by anger and grief, kaede seeks lunatic to help her in carrying her revenge and murdering her father's killer.

illustration of lunatic!kaede is attached at the very end of the fic :3

a/n: tbh, i was watching tiger & bunny w/ my friends and at some point i thought about kaede being lunatic's student because i just want to see her start shit and it wasn't anything much at first, just small headcanons here and little doodles there. but then idk , i made a little sketch and it all snowballed from there.

i ended up developing this au and have become quite invested in it.  

i’m aware the format looks like cat shit on mobile, im sorry. if it’s super disruptive to the reading experience, feel free to refer to the ao3 version (links are in my desc).

alternate names lmao

lunatic!kaede! au

cats-on-the-moon!au

revenge girl!au

revenge-girl-out-for-revenge!au

vendetta! au

synopsis

follows the same storyline up until the memory loss arc, where the au experiences a massive canon divergence.

kotetsu receives a chance to escape after being aided by lunatic, and, not letting his unsuccessful attempt at making his friends remember his true identity deter him, he gathered them at the top of the apollon media tower. he tries again to make them remember that he is wild tiger, and not a murderer, but much like in canon the rest of the group do not believe him—though some falter briefly. unlike canon, however, is that kaede ex machina does not appear in time to unleash maverick’s next power that she copied to restore everyone’s memories.

she does make an attempt to reach the tower where her father is taking a stand, but she does not encounter maverick and on her way up the roof the elevator stops—as it should during emergencies... without her interference, the rest of the hero team overpower kotetsu who is smashed through the roof and lands into saito’s lab. realising that the latter doesn’t remember who he was either, kotetsu quickly grabs his suit and motorbike to try to escape and regroup with ben. the rest of the heroes rush to go after him, though some (blue rose, etc) are more hesitant than others (rock bison, etc). on the way down they [the heroes] find kaede and become preoccupied with her. they’re experiencing an emergency but the child refuses to leave, so some of the heroes have their hands full handling her.

during this, the cameras continue to follow kotetsu. in the end, barnaby pursues kotetsu on his own vehicle and they fight at the bridge where they first teamed up. kaede can follow what is currently happening as the event is broadcasted and grows increasingly hysterical, screaming that she needs to be there and that they’re [blue rose, sky high, etc] supposed to be helping her dad, not pursue him. at some point before the final blow, the feed cuts—the camera probably got hit by chunks of armour or other sort of debris.

the fight follows canon up until barnaby intends on delivering the final kick

« so this is it, eh? take care lil’ bunny…»

this time, the kick connects.

at this point kaede is inconsolable, not being able to handle the fact that the broadcast cut and she can’t check her father’s condition in real time anymore. the heroes’ attempt at getting her to speak or to tell them who her guardian is is met with choked sobs and no response.

there’s two way i see her finding out about her father’s defeat, and subsequent death:

the least traumatic, but still traumatic option: the feed was the last time she ever saw her father. the heroes only hear that « the criminal has been captured/dealt with by barnaby » on their private channel so they slowly excuse themselves and disperse, leaving kaede alone. some of the security guards approach her, trying to get a number to contact but eventually learn that she wasn’t speaking and let her sit there for a bit before calling the authorities.

the intensely traumatic “whoa you ruined a perfectly good 10-11 year old” option: as kaede grows increasingly distressed and the heroes try to keep her under control, she sees members of staff trying to cart something off discreetly. she gets a quick glance on what is being carried and recognises the hand poking out under the large tarp covering the rest of the body. it had her father’s wedding band, which he continued to wear, and upon realising what had happened, she immediately goes catatonic and wouldn’t react to the heroes anymore.

she either sits in the empty building until very late at night, sits outside on the bus stop with no intention of getting on simply watching the last of the buses disappear in the horizon, or waits at the police station with no intention of telling them who to call.

she eventually reaches the conclusion that her father will probably never come back as he died on her own and breaks down.

much like option 1) she sits in the empty building, waiting for someone who will never return.

in both options, ben ex machina (yes kaede got demoted in this au im sorry) finds her and explains to her that he was her father’s boss. this gained her attention somewhat, and she let him drive her back home after he told her that her grandmother has been frantically contacting ben after realising that kaede wouldn’t pick up.

during all this, she remains silent and out of it, still not fully accepting that her father wasn’t coming back home: kaede knows it’s no use to wait for her father anymore, but doesn’t outwardly admit the fact just in case he really is alive. she knows she’s just lying to herself.

on their way back to the kaburagi home, ben explains to her that he tried to get on that bridge as fast as possible to intercept the two, but only arrived after barnaby had left the scene. he doesn’t go into much detail, but does give her the few things he had found and recognised was kotetsu’s:

the tiger emblem that he kept this whole time

the two matching christmas pins that (unknowingly to both ben and kaede) he shared with his former partner

the first sound kaede makes in a long time is more wracking sobs as she clutches the small objects.

she passes out sometimes during transit, and wakes up the next afternoon in her room, the memorabilia safe in her pocket.

the next day, hero tv, and the organisations that funds it, refuses to make an official statement on kotetsu’s whereabouts after being intercepted by barnaby—they know that the latter murdered kotetsu, but they avoid the question in order to save his and the company’s reputation. they would answer something like:

kotetsu running away

being imprisoned for 250 years, with no visitors.

accidentally got himself killed

for the most part, the general populace accepted this outcome and thanked the diligent work of the heroes, but kaede and her family know better. kotetsu wasn’t the type to just leave, and he wouldn’t have committed murder in the first place. this official statement further cemented the fact that kotetsu had died—been killed. within sternbild, another powerful figure also doubted the credibility of the statement. yuri would literally see the red flags, but the situation really isn’t in his favour and he doesn’t know where to even tackle this. he’d need to do more digging up before planning out his attack.

kaede concludes (correctly) that barnaby was behind her father’s death, and possessed with anger and hatred, decided that she will get revenge one way or another and prove her father’s innocence.

basic plot

headcanon form now, because it’s more convenient.

the lead-up:

during the few days/weeks that followed, she barely went out of her room unless necessary. 

she barely ate, even ignoring the flan pudding she adored so much. 

in her self-imposed isolation, she marinates in her own grief, which turns into anger and hatred. 

at first she regrets not having spent more time with her father and reaching out to him, instead of expecting kotetsu to do that for her. 

but the focus slowly shifts to wanting to make kotetsu’s murderer suffer as he has made her dad suffer. 

you know what, throw in the rest of the heroes. 

they should’ve been kotetsu’s friend and believed him instead of pursuing him relentlessly: they’re complicit too and should be punished accordingly.

it’s important to note that, since kaede didn’t interact with maverick and inherit his next power, she doesn’t know that the heroes have been brainwashed. 

she just thinks that they’re secretly an evil group posing to be heroes.

she loses faith in them, and their flawed justice that got her father killed

she wants to avenge her father and prove his innocence so badly, but doesn’t know how or where to begin. the odds are stacked against her, since only her family and a few people here and there believe in kotetsu’s innocence.

while she’s holed up in her room, she mindlessly replays the video clips that featured her dad over and over again until she memorised every single word and committed her father’s movements to memory. 

one day, as she flips through the different collectibles and magazines that featured him, she came across one such issue which showcased a different type of “hero”: the sanctioner with blue flames.

the vigilante who’s idea of justice was becoming more and more appealing to kaede the more she thought about it.

she’s seen the clips, how his next power allowed him to continually keep up with the 100 power duo. how it always allowed him to have the upper hand and to deliver his justice. 

kaede wants that kind of strength, that kind of power, to avenge her father.

she resolves herself to find or contact the vigilante no matter how, though that seemed to be a complicated enough task in and of itself.

kaede figures that when she does find him, she’ll either get him to work with her to get her revenge or copy his power if he refuses.

her searches prove more or less fruitless tho since lunatic can't be found when he doesn't want to be found lmao

after a few weeks/months, she grows disheartened and becomes rather depressed again.

the actual encounter:

i don’t have an actually have a concrete idea on how they met and how kaede convinced yuri to work with her, just a bunch of possibilities going from plausible to straight up crack

one way she could meet him is by bumping into judge petrov when she’s tagging along with her fam to try and claim kotetsu’s body.

the intent was to go to sternbild to recover kotetsu so that they can bury him in the family grave (and rejoin tomoe), but since the city refuses to acknowledge that kotetsu is dead and admit that a hero killed a person, the kaburagi fam can’t get his body back.

very sad times, maybe after the unsuccessful hearing kaede cries and rlly begs to be able to get her father back, and grabs hold of yuri to make her point come across or something.

do you even see a judge when you try to claim a criminal’s body? idk it’s probably illegal to make physical contact w a judge but kaede is only bby so maybe she won't go to jail? i don’t know i’m dum

anyway, he’d probably carefully peel the child off of him and say something vaguely sympathetic before going wherever the hell judges go after trial? court? i know nothing about the legal system and it shows

uh oh skin to skin contact

kaede unwittingly copies his power and moves on with her day. it wasn’t until she came home and felt a burst of anger that she noticed that??? she can summon blue flames??? like lunatic does??? except she doesn’t recall meeting him at all???

she puts two and two together and susses yuri out

or instead of literally harassing him in court

maybe she just stumbles on lunatic because his favourite hobbies are standing ominously on roofs and killing murderers, in that order.

kaede: why is there a funny looking scarecrow on the roof…???

kaede: hoLY HECK

how she manages to get lunatic on her side is more convoluted

one way would be her going back to the city and confronting yuri about it. of course, he’d deny her claim until she gets angry enough and her eyes light up. 

yuri’s like “oh sHIT”. 

she could threaten him by saying that if he won’t help her then she will just seek her revenge by herself. 

yuri doesn’t want her to do anything rash and cause him to get in hot water because he rlly doesn't want to deal w/ the aftermath. also he doesn’t want to like, see a whole child get hurt :(

so i guess he’s like, “this is my lot in life now”, and accepts to take her as his apprentice so long as she doesn’t cause any trouble

that was the peaceful route

kaede could also fight fire with fire

just hound down lunatic instead of yuri and when she finds him it’s on sight. chuck a whole fireball to catch his attention and demand that he takes her as his apprentice. idk maybe threaten to fight him mono e mono unless he complies. 

lunatic would probably just ghost her lmao 

but she’d continue to show up whenever he’s raring to kill a murderer so maybe he’ll accept because it’s getting more disruptive if he doesn’t

if anything, her persistence would impress him somewhat: she’s determined, and even when she’s only had the flames for like, what? 3 days? she can already control it well enough to shoot projectiles. she has potential and would be a helpful ally instead of burdening him.

the chaotic crackhead route is for kaede to somehow get her hands on yuri’s address and bully him until he listens to her

just show up outside his room at 3 am, eyes glowing, floating 3 feet from the ground. hell, t-pose outside his window. 

terrorise him.

she’d play loud music or shout at him day in day out 

she may even follow him to work and just pester him

constantly asking him to mentor her so she can have her revenge, poking and prodding about his secret night job as lunatic

kaede will leave mama petrov alone this doesn’t concern her

her beef isn’t w mama petrov

ever since that encounter, yuri has not known peace

yuri has 2 ghosts to deal with 

that’s 2 too many

he’s gonna take one out

the minimum age of criminal responsibility in japan is 14, while in new york it’s 18 (thanks google)

take your pick

kaede is 10-11

so either way yuri can’t take her to jail for harassment 

she’s coming out of this scott free

he snaps and literally begs her to stfu if he follows her wish :b:lease

he hasn’t slept for 34 days

regardless, kaede will come out victorious and yuri is now stuck with a child 

on a more serious note, yuri’s and kaede’s agenda are the same and it just so happens that their goals align. he has been suss since day one ever since the kotetsu debacle.

in hindsight maverick really should’ve brainwashed the only judge, the person in charge of the justice bureau, the curator who has access to the hero’s files

maybe i’m jumping to conclusion

for all i know maybe maverick also attempted to invite yuri to that announcement “party” thing

but yuri was like 

« no ? fuck off »

and went on his way

yuri wants to look oddly menacing in his basement dungeon thing 

and maverick brushed it off because he didn’t think yuri was lunatic, or a next one the first place

we know that yuri learns that maverick is behind all of this and is probably a next on his own, but decides against taking action. i suppose in canon because he knows it’s not his battle to see through, but in the au maybe because he knows he’s fighting a losing battle. also he kinda injured his arm after being shot by H-01, so he doesn’t want to fight with a handicap.

he doesn’t want to take any rash action and cause more problems for himself.

potentially putting his whole secret identity scheme in jeopardy.

he chooses to take a moment to regroup and plan his actual attack. he couldn’t take on 7 heroes and 1 android at once, and risk getting brainwashed too.

at first, even if working together seem to only benefit kaede, the situation also gives yuri some strategic advantages. 

like once he finds out that kaede’s power is a mimic ability, not the flame ability. i feel like he’d find that hella useful

also kaede is a child who’s also basically a nobody in sternbild. she can infiltrate spaces he can’t, and not raise any suspicion.

  possible denouements:

i see 3 major endings possible, with secondary endings which is just a one of the 3 major endings with some slight changes:

1. all sinners must die ending

pretty self explanatory. kaede gets her revenge: with the help of lunatic she kills barnaby and maverick, potentially killing or maiming the rest of the heroes. her father has been avenged, but the city is more or less in a panic because there are no more heroes to protect them. “faith” in the vigilante, or at least in kaede, plummets because they attacked “innocent” people. it’s possible that she brings her father’s framing to light (but not that the heroes were brainwashed), though it’s doubtful that she gets the chance after causing such an uproar.

kaede probably never learns the truth: that the heroes were brainwashed.

this may or may not leave kaede incredibly bitter and nihilistic, as even though she got her revenge she doesn’t feel any satisfaction or sense of closure. she doesn’t get any form of catharsis and probably still has a difficult time moving on and coping with her grief. the city of sternbild adopts a very cold atmosphere and regains a strong distrust towards nexts, kaede may or may not continue to be a vigilante as she’s still trapped in grief limbo, yuri has to deal with the messy aftermath.

overall, it’s probably the worst possible ending.

of schemes and double agents ending

a kinda slow burn route, i suppose? in this ending, kaede realises that the heroes are being manipulated unlike in the previous one. she decides to restore the hero’s memories one by one and getting them to secretly help her. i don’t think she could recruit everyone, but i’m thinking about those like blue rose, who seemed to remember somewhat after kotetsu’s speech thing. kaede could slowly remind them, and despite initial mistrust and animosity they would come round and realise there was a huge discrepancy in their memory.

outright rebelling against maverick would be rash and the heroes risk being brainwashed once more, so they figure they would pull the strings somewhat and provide kaede/lunatic with internal knowledge to help them.

in the epic showdownTM, when the heroes and kaede finally have a face off, barnaby (and those who weren’t approached by kaede) would experience quite a curveball: those who regained their memories would side with kaede.

safety in solitude ending

in this ending, kaede works alone (with lunatic) without having recruited the other heroes even after realising they’ve been brainwashed. perhaps because it’d be too risky just in case they get brainwashed again or that they don’t agree with the vigilante’s idea and rat them out, whatever the reason may be the duo works alone.

this will lead into an even more epic showdownTM where it’s 2 v. 8: even though the stakes are not in the duo’s favour they somehow manage to come triumphant? or maybe the heroes regain their memories one by one and decide to stop fighting, even though they don’t exactly join the duo’s side.

constants:

maverick dies. lunatic kills him. i doubt many are against the idea though.

barnaby’s memories would be the last one she “restores”: (courtesy of my friend) it would probably go something like, in a burst of anger she jumps him and gets his hundred power. as she punches at him, she tearfully confronts him about how her father must’ve felt in his last moments and how much kotetsu seemed to adore him back when he was alive.

if bunny dies (ending 2/ending 3) kaede would not feel as angry and cynical, but more regretful or grievous. she’d probably stop using her next powers to do much anything (instead of continuing to be a vigilante like in ending 1). she’ll move on eventually, with more than less difficulty. the city of sternbild is on edge, but continue to place their faith on heroes.

if bunny lives (ending 2/ending 3), kaede would get a stronger sense of closure as she would be able to dialogue with bunny. barnaby would however, feel unending grief once he realises what he has done. 

regardless if bunny is dead or not, the truth is revealed to the general public along with maverick’s scheme and true intent in ending 2 and 3. so basically canon episode 25 ending except more angst and kotetsu is dead a while ago

not a constant… but it’s possible that because of lunatic’s whole code being “kill murderers and those who protect them” he’d be displeased with kaede choosing to spare bunny. maybe he’s the last boss… kaede and bunny defeat lunatic with 100 power, much like barnaby used to do with kotetsu?... nah that’s too messy and honestly i prefer lunatic and kaede to remain on peaceful terms lmao

lunatic’s satisfied with killing maverick, he’ll back off of this one—barnaby was manipulated anyway. so technically... it wasn’t his conscious decision nor his fault???

basically i don’t want kaede to fight her mentor figure, but i’m merely acknowledging the possibility.

actually…

maybe he walks up towards barnaby, the other heroes too beat up to do anything but watch while kaede remains by barnaby’s side

and lunatic just stands ominously in front of bunny, looking like he’s about to shoot him

but then he turns away

« hmph, how ridiculous. repent for the rest of your life, barnaby brooks jr. »

and then lunatic disappears in a flash, leaving a singed mark—the only proof that he had stood there.

heck, remember how she recovered the christmas pins? she could chuck those angrily at barnaby’s general direction to put emphasis.

kaede knows she’ll never be able to bring her father back, but she’d manage her grief easier. if barnaby lives, kaede would probably become a hero to honor her father and to use her power for good as her father would’ve wanted her to do.

miscellaneous

headcanons in no particular order, certainly not chronological. crack, fluff, angst, just whatever comes to mind. for ease of reading, i will try to organise them thematically.

relationships

tiger x bunny

rest in peace king, you will be missed.

kotetsu ded so the gay cannot be, rip in species.

but i’m putting this here because prior to the brainwashing they do be kinda gay tho, and even if kaede doesn’t know the exact nature of the relationship between the two she knows that her father was very fond of barnaby and cared for him deeply.

lunatic | yuri petrov & kaede

this au is pretty lunatic & kaede centric, because well,,, kotetsu kicked the bucket, and barnaby and the heroes are considered the villains here

i see lunatic and kaede having a mentor-student kind of relationship, that can be fluffy sometimes a found family trope could eventually be established, but that’s super delicate

on another note, if you really want to fuck up your 11 year old because you absolutely want to give kaede the worst possible outcomes for some reason, she could—as a young child who has lost both her parents at a very young age—develop an unhealthy dependence on this [lunatic] new authority figure. she might incorrectly interpret his concern for familial care, etc… but i’m not even going there, that’s too messy.

tbh the real tragedy would be kaede imprinting on yuri’s garbage sense of fashion… the secret to dressing well died with kotetsu.

idk if i should explicit this, but just in case: this is not a romantic ship please don’t come for my throat. literally this au was created because i wanted to see kaede start shit—just go absolutely feral and start chaos lmao

i would like snapshots of him teaching her how to control the flames better but also look out for her general well being because this kid has issues. basically give me a montage of yuri mentoring kaede and slowly becoming fond of her or give me death:

lunatic probably made his own costume so? i’d like to imagine yuri takes the time to make one for kaede too?? also he makes sure it wooshes cool in the wind and idk, flammable enough to allow her to burn the cape off before she attacks???

just yuri hand sewing some apparels for kaede uwu

also give me vaguely domestic yuri or give me death

also mayhaps, gives kaede affirming headpats?

like if she performs well and her mastery over her powers improves in leaps and bounds? or when she finally unlocks a skill she’s been struggling with for a bit?? just a proud head pat and a well-intentioned-but-cold-sounding « well done »???

maybe when kaede first actually learns how to use her powers, her emotions might get the best of her or maybe she’s plain nervous because fire = danger and scary. 

and it shows because the flames grow more erratic and out of her control, and yuri grows very concerned for her well being because he doesn’t want her to get burnt like he did when he first awakened his power.

before it all degenerates, he helps calm her down and prevent his house from burning down. or wherever he goes to when he’s doing lunatic stuff…

a dungeon ?

his basement ?

my basement don’t look like that

we know where all the judge money is going: renovating the basement

much like her mentor, when she gets rlly angry her eyes burst into flames. to prevent her from getting into trouble by accidentally activating her power and injuring someone or simply revealing her identity, yuri would teach her grounding exercises or anchoring phrases that he himself uses.

idk just teach her breathing techniques to ease her anxiety or a mantra to recite if she feels like she’s gonna set someone on fire

also idk if i should give kaede a different weapon from lunatic (i know i will because the crossbow is lunatic’s aesthetic, and his only), but i like to imagine yuri teaching her how to shoot crossbows and her becoming oddly proficient at it

grandma kaburagi wondering why kaede has wicked aim all of the sudden

tbh kaede would just shoot w her hands. just pew pew finger. 

or she does the kamehameha thing she did w blue rose’s power lmao

at first he kinda sees being responsible for her as a bit of a chore and annoying, but maybe he slowly grows fond of her and idk, dotes on her. 

protecc the bby

help her do her homework

« i’ve only had kaede for a day and a half. but if anything happened to her, i would kill everyone in this room and then myself. »

on the flipside, at first kaede thought that yuri is hecking weird, man. just creepy suspicious prosecutor dude who she allies with because revenge girl rlly wants revenge

but he grows on her and kaede thinks he’s not so bad after all. an good authority figure whom she respects and cares for 

she still probably thinks he’s hella weird tho

kinda weird but also sometimes kinda cool 

eccentric but like in a good way

like your weird neighbour henry who means well despite what he says sometimes 

kaede would learn his corny cool catchphrases and repeat them when she’s out and about as a vigilante. 

just adopt/mimic his speech pattern of saying things slowly for more oomph

gotta do the whole code of justice and thanatos speech before she bombards barnaby with flaming arrows

yuri feels oddly proud

they’re both probably hella protective over each other tho. because that’s just kaede’s personality and yuri feels responsible for the safety of this child that he has been entrusted with.

children love sweets right? yuri secretly likes sweets. they can share sweets after setting murderers on fire uwu

idk man i just want some good mentor-apprentice relationship

it doesn’t have to always be angst

we can have fluff

maybe they can learn from each other and be semi-functional human beings 

that thing where the apprentice’s outfit is like directly taken from their mentor’s but also vaguely different. i want that.

sometimes the real revenge is the friends you make along the way uwu

  school + domestic life

ok so like

kaede gets big depressed because duh your dad just got murdered by his partner 

and she rlly misses him and wished she was more understanding back then. she wished she spent more time w him back when he was alive

but it’s too late now and that makes her big depressed

so i feel like for the first few weeks/months after her father’s death, kaede wouldn’t go to school?? and i feel like her grandmother would understand and just like

not pester her about it and let her sort out her emotions first before talking to kaede about the elephant in the room

but also like, the school board also agrees to wait it out because the parents are kinda iffy about what has transpired

to be fair, oriental town is probably one of those small towns where everyone knows each other? so the parents/adults who know kotetsu are like??? kotetsu wouldn’t kill a person??

but the children who are more connected to the media and don’t know him personally believe that kotetsu murdered someone and deserved to be “arrested”? because why would you doubt hero tv and the heroes, they’re the good guys after all.

so when kaede found it within herself to finally go back to school, she has a rude awakening and learns that words travel fast in a small community

the other kids, not knowing any better, believed that kotetsu is a criminal w their whole chest and started all kinds of rumours on kaede

when she went to class she was greeted w her desk being pushed far away from the rest of the class, the other students steering clear from her

all sorts of nasty things were carved/marked with a sharpie on her locker and table—some others stuck paper with w the word “murderer” on it

kaede lost most of her friends and the rest of the classmates avoided her like the plague as they say vile things about her and her father

« look she’s back »

they don’t even try to hide the fact or bother to mask their voice and speak in a hushed whisper. 

« they said her father killed someone, who knows what she could do »

so kaede hears everything.

« don’t get close to her, or we might end up finding your body in a ditch »

kaede doesn’t follow through, but sometimes she thinks about running away from school to escape the bullying.

« come to think of it, she was always weird wasn’t she? she’s so creepy! »

maybe at some point it gets so disruptive that kaede can’t have a functional or healthy school life due to the constant harassment and alienation, so the school board agreed to let kaede do the rest of the year through online classes or homeschooling

in a way this works out very well for kaede, because it allows her more freetime to do vigilante stuff and she gets to avoid people’s gaze. 

she’s grown to dislike them, the scornful gaze of her peers and the pity from the adults.

the student’s parents always come to apologise to her, but for some reason their pity infuriates her to no end.

sadly this means that kaede isn’t as cheerful as before and becomes more closed off and reserved :(

kaede would continue to do ice skating tho

because it’s her passion

but also because she’s obstinate like that

« oh the others don’t want me here? they hate me?? they think i don’t belong on the ice??? they can go stick it, i’m gonna be amazing out of spite! »

at home kaede becomes even more protective over her grandmother, as seeing as she’s being homeschooled means she gets to spend more time w her and help her out with the housework

idk the blue flames could be handy for doing housework

oh the stove won’t light up? oh you’re gonna go get a different lighter? nice this is a convenient time to use my next power to spark the stove! when grandma is back kaede is just like « look i got it to light up, guess u didn’t have to go through all that trouble huh? » :D

since the fire doesn’t burn indiscriminately, could she, theoretically, control the heat/where it burns to make laundry dry faster???

kaede nearly gets a heart attack seeing the new scarecrow for grandma’s cabbage patch, but turns out she just found kaede’s vigilante costume laying around and didn’t think twice about it 

bonus points of grandma uses lunatic himself as a scarecrow

lunatic would make an incredible scarecrow fight me

despite not being able to retrieve kotetsu’s body to bury him with tomoe, kaede often visits their family grave and the shrine in kotetsu’s room and bring them flowers. 

she knows she’s just talking to air, but she likes to recount her day to her parents. about whatever she’s up to, and keeping them updated on everyone’s condition: grandma and uncle are doing well. grandma is still healthy thank god, while uncle sometimes like to joke about how his store is terribly quiet now without kotetsu around.

she tells them the whole truth, how she found lunatic and was going to avenge her father. that she was going to prove his innocence to everyone, if it was the last thing she’ll ever do.

in a bittersweet way, it comforts her somewhat that her father is finally with his wife again and that they’re both watching over her.

  of next powers and secret identities

to this day, kaede is the only one who knows about yuri’s secret identity

they’re both complicit in this secret matter

schemes 

this continues even after the endings 

even if she became a hero she’d refuse to reveal lunatic’s real identity

it’s a matter of principle

she will always hold a great deal of respect for her mentor 

schemes

on another note, i’m fixing kaede’s next power because it’s too broken and is kinda inconvenient lmao: in this au she needs actual skin-to-skin contact to assimilate someone else’s next power, so if the individual is wearing gloves or touching clothes it won’t work.

adding on to this, kaede starts wearing gloves when she’s up and about so that she can limit the amount of nexts she may unknowingly make contact with and keep her current ability [blue fire].

the power would be super useful tho. like you can make yourself disappear into a puff of flames,,, so theoretically if kaede finds herself in a situation she’d rather not be in she can just ghost you irl

« y’all ugly. boom. »

remember how kaede’s room is filled to the brim w barnaby merch???

great for target practice and for letting out your anger

also to dramatically scribble out the eyes in black sharpie to get the revenge girl aesthetic 

oh man she’ll probably be sad that she snipped her father off from that one picture with barnaby 

in that regard her attitude towards bunny will take a complete 180

she used to think the world of him, but now all she thinks about is crushing him under her heel

also, i know she’d imitate lunatic’s whole speech thing, but what if she repeated her father’s catchphrase to provoke barnaby?

also in homage of her dad ofc

« it’s time to let out a wild roar! »

*strikes pose*

*angery barnaby noises*

what if as time goes on it gets increasingly harder and harder to hide the fact that kaede is a vigilante. 

like at first, her family is like “oh she’s grieving in her own way, let’s give her some space” and they’re surprised by how well kaede is taking it because she’s so calm, even if she’s more distant 

while kaede sneaks out at night to start shit

and her grandmother starts to notice how she seems more alert and jumpy, or sleep deprived. how kaede seemed to be hiding bruises and injuries, and tries to clean her wounds herself late at night. 

when asked kaede would deny everything and say she doesn’t use her next powers anymore because it freaks her out

but grandma is suss

she concerned for her granddaughter

maybe she doesn’t know about kaede’s secret identity but maybe she finds out she’s been meeting with yuri

a grandma beats up a man in his late 20s-mid 30s on live television 

maybe at some point the heroes learn kaede’s real age, or assume correctly that she’s barely a teen and they’re like

is lunatic forcing you to do this ?

you don’t have to do something you don’t want to

it’s not too late for you if you give up

when rlly this was all kaede’s choice in the first place, not even lunatic’s

and that assumption rlly makes kaede angry, because their inactivity led to her father’s death and forced her hands

so it’s not their place to act like they’re concerned for her and her safety

just rlly distrust and dislike the heroes 

has a strong disdain for them

real talk, but kaede doesn’t know that the heroes were brainwashed. that’s why she’s able to be so ruthless against them, because she thinks they’re evil and working for some big conspiracy while playing a helpful and friendly front.

but when/if she does learn the truth? the kotetsu factor jumps out.

they aren’t acting as if they were the good guys, they rlly think that they are because to them they just took out another criminal and not their longtime friend.

she’ll have an inner conflict. because on one hand, the heroes don’t know any better and are being manipulated so it would be cruel to punish them so harshly. on the other hand, they got her dad killed and for that she wants to inflict them as much pain and grief as they have caused her.

the kotetsu factor would keep her going tho. now she’s determined to not only clear her father’s name, but also restore everyone’s memory, because it’s the right thing to do.

but now everytime she has to face them and fight, she feels a slight hesitancy and feels sorry for them.

mayhaps blue rose as double agent ???

origami got big double agent potential, but he wasn’t having any of kotetsu’s shit so alas

another important character we gotta talk about: h-01

hear me out

so the android isn’t built with a voice box so it can’t speak. it don’t got any acoustics. but because of maverick’s brainwashing, when the heroes talk to the empty air they hear “tiger’s” response, which is purely borne from their own psychosis.

h-01: …

barnaby: perfect idea tiger, you can cover me

or

rock bison: who is that guy?

h-01: …

rock bison: yeah they look very suspicious to me too…

or

or

h-01: …

barnaby: i know!

anyway, it’s very weird and surreal to watch

just the heroes having a very one sided conversation

lunatic and kaede don’t know what to make of it and finds it really bizarre, because they know the android isn’t saying anything at all

yet the heroes are convinced he’s communicating with them

so maybe if kaede manages to restore someone’s memory, they start to notice that “tiger” doesn’t actually talk. he never did this whole time.

and it gets hard to come up with a response and pretend he answered them. 

the restored heroes also find it super creepy how it’s just silent and watching, how the others seem to think that the robot can speak.

maybe this will cause some suspicion amongst the heroes (who will brush it off) and maverick, and the restored hero will have to pretend to still be brainwashed to not get manipulated a second time

basically h-01 is creepy and just generally not fun to be around

illustration

edit: thank you @kyarymell​ for cleaning the sketch up on photoshop ;w;

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[kashimos-hajime]

come undone | q.b.

summary: “you a hero on this earth, too?” “is it bad to say that i actually prefer the term vigilante?” two months after the battle of earth, quentin beck meets the avengers-level threat he’s been dreaming of.

WARNINGS: endgame spoilers, manipulation, illusions, unable to tell what’s real and what isn’t, some not-that-explicit banging, lying, intense situations, gun violence, swearing, angst, unstable reader, trust issues, low self-esteem, etc. lmk if i missed anything pairing: Quentin Beck x fem!enhanced!Reader, past Steve Rogers x fem!enhanced!Reader word count: 15.7k

a/n: written for layla, my love @wxntersoldiers. my prompt was i’m a vigilante and you’re a hero. that never works out well. as always, i go the weird, unorthodox route. this is a post-endgame au. old!steve doesn’t come back. instead, he’s just gone. peter’s been with the avengers for a while (even though not technically an avenger until infinity war). there will be a prequel featuring this reader and steve rogers and how she got her powers!! it’ll be posted some time next week :)  prequel can be found here (x). for some vibes, the song undone by ffh 

gif credit (x)

Quentin’s read the tabloids, and he’s read government reports, and he’s read every little thing about her.

He knows exactly who the pretty thing sitting alone at the end of one of New York’s finest bars is.

The music is loud, deafening and the people in the room aren’t even dancing on the floor. Thrashing and jumping, they spill their drinks and grind in the heat and Quentin wonders how long it’ll take before the pretty one joins.

She doesn’t.

All night, she nurses some monstrously pink drink Quentin thinks is named Jersey Sunset. She doesn’t take part in the celebration of the return of the Blipped, and the only life in her face is when someone comes up to her, asks for an autograph or picture. Otherwise, she stares at the bottles of wine lining the walls as if she wants to drain every single one, and her eyes reek of grief.

He smiles.

Taking his scotch, he saunters along the bar and scans her figure, at the way her ankles cross on the foot rest of the stool, the hoodie and tight jeans she wears. If she had been trying not to catch attention, it had failed on him. In the strobe lights of the bar, the dark canvas punctured by red and blue and green, she glows.

“Do you want a picture?” she asks without even looking at him. His smile doesn’t waver as he slides into the stool beside her and sets down his scotch.

“No,” he says carefully, and she finally looks at him. Despite the sharp edge of her eyeliner and the blood red of her lips, she looks minutes from crumbling. Reaching over, Quentin brushes a loose strand of hair away from her cheek, knuckles grazing her skin, his thumb brushing over the rouge of her mouth. She’s perhaps one of the most stunning women he’s ever seen, and if Steve Rogers truly is missing, he’s missing a phenomenon. “You looked sad, and I wanted to make sure you were okay

She smiles, and it’s soft, tired, strangely charming. “That’s sweet, but it’s easier if you just ask for an autograph and photo and go.”

“I don’t want a photograph. I want to know if you’re okay.” His eyebrows raise when she doesn’t answer, and she turns back to her Jersey Sunset, pinching the grass-colored straw umbrella and twirling it between her fingers. In the dark light of the bar, he can barely make out the shadows of her face when she turns to her drink, and the only glimpses he gets are when the strobe lights spin their way.

She scoffs, smiles disbelievingly, and lets the umbrella fall sideways. It lands in the crushed ice of her drink. She holds out her hand and he notices her long slender fingers, calluses where she had grabbed a gun, and a healing cut along her wrist, disappearing in the sleeve of her hoodie when a red light runs darkly over her body. 

“I think we got off the wrong foot,” she says and he takes her hand, trying not to let his smile grow from his carefully constructed concern. “I think you know who I am, though.” 

Quentin knows she’s clearly expecting ‘Steve Rogers’ fiancée’ but he says, “You’re Viper, of course.”

“Right.” Her smile is small, stunning, gorgeous and Quentin frowns, hand limp in her strong one. A sort of feeling tumbles in his stomach and she withdraws her hand as he blinks. “And you?”

“Quentin Beck.” He remembers himself, and she doesn’t seem to think much. She’s probably used to starstruck fans, he thinks with a repressed scowl. But he’s always been one to stick out.  “Thank you for your service in the final battle. I heard it was a hard one.”

“Yeah, well, that’s war,” she says loosely, grabbing the black straw and sucking down the rest of her Jersey Sunset. Quentin flags down a bartender and gestures for another for his new partner. 

“And I’m sorry for the loss…” He pauses to catch her attention, and as soon as he gets it, he twists his lips into a sympathetic smile. “The loss of your friends and fiancé.” She laughs then, but it sounds hollow and it echoes in his chest. 

“He’s not dead.” She stabs her straw through the crushed ice just as the music switches, and Quentin’s gaze drifts, disinterested in the dance floor. Not dead. So Steve Rogers is still alive.

That puts a pin in his plan.

“At least, the Steve you guys all know. Steve I know?” She scoffs, her breath whistling between her teeth. “Long gone.” Her black straw bends under the force of her stab, and her lips have quirked into a deep scowl. Blinking, the Viper turns to look at him and she shakes her head to herself, as if embarrassed. “Sorry, uh, it’s just been hard without him.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just… uh, can I let you in on a secret?” he whispers, and she frowns, nodding. Leaning over, he twists his ring around his finger and swallows. “I… I actually approached you because there’s talk around here. I read that you can manipulate reality?” He feels every inch of her stiffen, and stifles his own smile. “That you’re the reason there was a tear between realities?”

She pulls back as if burned, and a myriad of emotions flickers over her face before she gives him a freezing glare. “No one’s supposed to know that. I… I fixed it as soon as I could.” Her voice trembles, and her finger traces the swirls in the wood. ”How did you know?” 

The corner of Quentin’s mouth quirks up and he drains the rest of his scotch. “Two months ago I was sucked into a multidimensional tear from my world and landed here,” he says and she smiles again, bitter sympathy twisting on her face. He can’t tell if she believes him yet or not. Quentin leans on his bar by his elbows. “I realized that your Earth is much different than mine.”

“Like?” She narrows her eyes but he can see the breaking in her eyes. The vulnerability — the guilt. Oh, how fragile she could be in his hands, and how powerful. Another startling pink drink is placed before her, an orange slice wedges on the edge and the empty glass is taken away as he swallows. “I’m sorry if it’s something you don’t want to talk about it.”

She grabs the drink and Quentin notices the distinct lack of the ring on her left hand.

Perfect.

“No, it’s - it’s okay. My Earth… my home, we call it Earth-833. Where I’m from, this is Earth-616.” 

“And… what happened on your Earth?” She sounds so tentative, so sensitive to his feelings, that Quentin knows he’s picked the perfect little hero to play his leading lady. Clearing his throat, he watches the bartender refill his glass. The liquid amber swirls in his glass in the dark corner of the bar as a red light causes it to glow in his hand.

“It got destroyed. I was… I used to be someone like you. A hero, I guess, but most would define me as a vigilante because of the methods I employed. I tried to stop the Elementals who destroyed my home, but… I failed and I was nothing more than a failure, too.”

“Oh, my god. That must be terrible. I’m so sorry.”

His smile wants to grow and it wants to sink its claws into his cheeks as Viper raises the glass and directs the straw between her lips to give herself a reason to look away from him. He instead nurses his drink, drains it away and lets it swim in his head.

“I mean, it lead me to you, didn’t it? And… there’s so much life here, even after such a terrible battle. It really is something else.” His smile softens as he places a hand gently atop of hers. “You are something else to bring me here.”

She sets the drink on the counter, but her fingers linger on the glass, and she turns to him, a glint in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. It changes the way the light plays in her face, changes her to look less like prey, more like the predator he knows she is.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Her smile is an endless bottle of rich red wine, and Quentin’s knifepoint grin carves into his face. “But maybe I could show you around, if you’re interested.”

“Becoming friends with you?” he asks like it’s an out of this world feat, and it is, but Quentin Beck has never been the one to be stopped by the impossible. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Oh, arranged, hm?” Her eyes spark with life, and Quentin’s smile grows impossibly. The black straw slips between her lips again, and her cheeks hollow as she sucks down that Jersey Sunset. Her eyes don’t rip away from his, and his smirk is hidden behind his glass of scotch as he tips it back. His glass clatters against the counter, and she waves to the bartender. “Another for the gentleman here and a line of shots.”

“Right away.”

“My treat.” She shrugs when he tries to protest, and her hand slips into her tight jean pocket, pulling out a hundred dollar bill pinched between her middle and index finger. “How many shots do you think a hundred dollars can buy?”

“What’s wrong with…” He gestures to that pink monstrosity, and she chuckles.

“My Jersey Sunset?”

So he was right. 

Quentin smiles sheepishly, trying to pretend it’s not an offense to the eyes and to the body, but the Viper simply chuckles and pushes it away from her. “Yeah, I’ve had three of these and they really don’t do the trick.” Shot glasses line the counter as the bartender fills each one up, alcohol overflowing. 

“Three?”

“Yeah. And it’s getting kinda revolting. I just need to get drunk,” she sighs and he watches as the bartender lines crystalline little glasses behind the bar, tipping a full bottle and running it over the ten — he counts — glasses. He overfills many of them, no doubt doing so for the Avenger sitting before him, before leaving to attend to other patrons. 

“Any occasion?”

“Besides the big traumatic battle and half the universe coming back? Uh, I don’t really have a fiancé anymore,” she says, and he knows it’s in confidence by the way her eyes flicker around for reporters or paps. He scoots closer and she sighs, leaning until their shoulders brush. If she realizes she did this, Quentin doesn’t know. “He left me for some other girl.”

Quentin nearly screams in elation, because this is better than he could’ve hoped for. Now this is perfect. A scorned lover, rather than a mourning one. Bitterness, anger, all much more powerful than grief, and a dashing hero to save the day and restore her faith in love — oh, how has life set him up to be a leading man in his own private drama? “That’s awful. Why would he ever do that?”

“Yeah, well, I want to say it’s not my fault, but you already know what my powers can do, so maybe he thought I was too much, or I was too hard to be with, or something. Maybe in the five years I was gone, he realized how much easier life was without me.” When she turns to look at him, he can taste the oranges she’s sucked dry hours before he’d joined her, and he wants to kiss the fruitiness off her mouth, taste it for himself. A drum pounds in his stomach when her eyes flicker to his lips, and his mouth curls into a sly smile. “Does it freak you out?”

“Not at all. In fact, I find you intriguing.” He’s honest, then, because he truly does find the woman sitting before him a mystery. A mystery he can’t wait to crack. “The powers you have must be difficult to control.” 

“They are, but I like to think that I’m doing well in keeping it under wraps. The press don’t know that I could literally end our existence as we know it, which I always count as a good thing.”

Quentin chuckles, unexpected but still welcomed, and he catches the slight curl of her mouth as he glances at her pink monstrosity of a drink. He nudges her with his elbow, nodding to the Jersey Sunset and she pushes it towards him. He braces himself for a moment before taking a sip, and a fruit cocktail explodes on his tongue, sweet yet tangy and brain-burning cold. “How about you?”

“What?” He doesn’t understand.

“The ring on your finger? You’re married, so why are you here chatting it up with me? Don’t you wanna see her when you somehow figure out a way to get back?” Her tone is fledged with a teasing note but underneath it all, he knows she accuses him. He looks down at his ring, forgotten since he’s arrived, and puts on the softest, saddest smile he can muster. And to the passerby, it’s enough to break someone’s heart. His eyes downcast, he twists the ring along his finger and sighs quietly.

“My wife died,” he says, barely audible over the pulse of the music. “I couldn’t save her from the Elementals, and I…” He swallows, and his eyes begin to burn as he looks up, the smile digging further into his cheeks like a grieving widower, a man trying to be strong for his new companion, a man wearing a mask. “I guess I wear it out of habit.”

“I get that. Sometimes I make coffee for two and I wonder what the hell I’m doing.” Her fingers wrap around his wrist, just underneath the sleeve of his shirt and, unadulterated, a shiver runs up his spine. When his eyes meet hers, he feels like he’s on cloud nine at the tender smile that curls her lips. “I’m so sorry, Quentin. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to know someone who understands. Even if it’s more bitter and resentful on your part.” He’s reaching to make her smile, and it comes through as a success when she chuckles. But then, her smile slips away and he twists his wrist to take hold of her hand, squeezing. Eyebrows knitting together, a sympathetic smile swells on his face. “And, maybe if you’re still in the habit of making coffee for two, I could help with that?”

She lets go of his hand, tucking hair behind her ear with a shy smile, and nods. “I’d like that. Really, I would.” She drags her Jersey Sunset back towards herself and takes another small sip. When she speaks, she sounds remarkably more somber. “It’s kinda weird, living alone again. I thought when Thanos was gone, things were supposed to be happy.”

“You’re awfully sad for a hero who saved the world.”

“Guess heroes can’t have any fun, but maybe you would know about that.” 

“I find the answer is simply you’re just hanging around the wrong people,” he murmurs, fingers brushing over hers as he reaches for a shot glass behind the bar. The sharp smell of vodka bites at his sinuses and Quentin wrinkles his nose, tossing one back. It burns on its way down, and he clears his throat as she laughs. This one comes easier, lighter, and he fights back a smirk at his victory. Taking a shot for herself, she lets it go down as easy as water.

“Maybe I am.” 

“Well, let me see if I can fix that.” 

Glasses clink. Vision blurs, and heads spin as two lone figures stumble out of the bar at the witching hour. The moon is covered by grey satin clouds, the alleyway nothing but shadows and dark and everything that hides during the day. By the kitchen exit, there’s no paparazzi, no one in their tiny vodka glass of a world, and Quentin lists all the things he could do here in his head, everything he could.

“This might be stupid,” she whispers, and her breath tastes so delightfully sinful that Quentin barely holds back his groan. His hand trails along the bare skin beneath her hoodie, and he sighs as she tugs him flush against her. Her fingers dig into his neck, and her lips snag on his as he feels her pulse in her throat. It beats in her mouth, and his blood rushes to his head and feet, utter lava causing his head to spin — or maybe it’s the alcohol. 

In the darkness of the alleyway, he barely knows what she looks like drunk, but when a car drives past, her face flashes silver. Ironwire in her bones, stardust in her eyes, he has never seen a nebula quite so stunning. 

“You’re an Avenger. You can do whatever you want,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the waistband of her jeans and she inhales, a quivering little breath that steals from him. Her eyes meet his, and he smirks, his other hand following the curve of her neck. “You’re the most ravishing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Instantly, the tenderness in her eyes melts and a strength floods her body, her smile becoming crooked. Quentin nudges her legs apart and and pushes every inch of his hips against hers, relishing in the gasp that escapes her lips. Her hands shoot through his hair and her lips seek his for a moment before he ducks down and finds the strong cord of her throat. The taste of sweat and sugar pushes into his mouth and he nearly bites down before fingers tug at his hair, rip him away from her neck and push him into searing lips.

“You said you could fix this,” she whispers against his sloppy mouth. His seeking kisses never falter, from her mouth to her cheeks and jaw and neck. His fingers pull her zipper down, spread her wide and he pulls away from where he is sucking a mark onto her neck to meet her eyes. Her pupils are blown, and her lips, once swiped with red, are parted. “You better be packin’, because I wasn’t expecting company.”

“You’re trouble,” he whispers, and her fingers trail through the roughness of his beard, brush over his lips. “Rogers was a fool to leave you.” She narrows her eyes, and he smirks, rolling his hips hard against her heat. The Viper merely crumbles in his arms, and she closes her eyes as his lips swallow her whole. He tastes her drunken sigh, feels it swirl in his own spinning head. 

Her hand searches for his wrist, and when he feels her gunmetal fingers wrap around his skin, he swallows down her plead for comfort, her plead to soothe the ache he knows festers in her heart. “Beck, please,” she cries into his mouth and she urges his palm flat against her stomach. Her other arm wraps around his neck and he smiles into her needy mouth as she trails his hand down her skin, his fingers brushing against the hem of his jeans before pushing past even that, and against the warmth of her. 

Everywhere he touches burns, and it is delightful. 

He has her open and panting and easy within moments, and all goes perfectly well.

That is, until his pants are barely shoved beneath his hips and he’s cock-deep in the Viper, and she whimpers out Steve. 

Hot-white rage fills Quentin to the point that he barely sees straight. The alcohol drowns out his senses, and he growls against her neck. Teeth grazing her tender skin, his hands grip bruises into her hips, and she whispers thank you, like it was merely a temporary lapse in judgement. Like she doesn’t even remember, and maybe she doesn’t, so Quentin merely smiles. Merely pretends he didn’t hear, pretends it never happened. 

It’ll only be a matter of time before Steve Rogers is nothing but a pile of ash in his wake, and if that means Quentin has to suffer his new lover calling him another man’s name, then so be it.

.

You are the Viper.

The tabloids would rather call you Mrs. Steve Rogers, and despite his many promises that it means nothing, that it’s not like that, you’re starting to feel like it’s more true with every passing moment. You may be a hero, but it was always up to Steve to convince you you weren’t the villain.

Steve, who didn’t love you anyway. 

Fucking whatever. It doesn’t matter that you’re basically the newest celebrity ‘widow’. No one except your colleagues know where Steve’s gone, and the media can speculate all they want. 

The truth will always hurt way more.

“Hey, you’re awake?” 

You drop your phone from where it’s been blasting bluelight in your eyes for the past hour as you scrolled through Instagram and look over at the man beside you. He twists in the darkness to switch on the lamp on his nightstand, and immediately you blink at how bright it is. The dottiness of your vision fades slowly, and you turn off your phone screen, sinking into the blankets beside him. Quentin rolls over onto his side and the soft smile on his face makes your own surface. He props himself up on his elbow, head resting in his palm as you turn to toss your phone onto the nightstand on your side of the bed.

You can’t remember the last time you smiled until now. One of his hands moves to touch you tentatively, and you offer your hand. His fingers lace with yours and he gently tugs your knuckles to his lips as you turn onto your side. With your free hand, you weave your fingers through his messy hair and lean over to snag his lips in a morning kiss.

“Good morning.” Your murmur is lost in another one of his kisses and you feel yourself smiling as his knuckles brush over his cheek.

“This is a nice way to wake up,” he chuckles and rolls away. Tossing off the blankets, he sits on the edge of the bed and stretches, the muscles in his back catching the golden light of his lamp. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past six. Way too early for a Sunday but you can use the bathroom through there.” You smile to yourself, unable to help the little victory fistpump your brain does when he grins in thanks. You note the ridges of his shoulders, the gentle slope of his back and the heat that seems to radiate from his very being as you nod your head to the adjoining bathroom in your flat. He turns to flash another grin before getting up, nude as the day he was born, and walking around the bed. He leans over to kiss your forehead, hand cupping your face warmly before brushing your cheek with his thumb. Reaching up to take hold of his wrist, you lean into his touch as his lips stay for a moment.

When he breaks away, you nearly melt at how gauzy and soft his blue eyes are as they meet yours. “I’d be happy for you to join me in the shower.”

“Noted.” 

He smiles then, and drags himself away, showing his figure without even trying. You cross your arms over your chest as your heart flutters in your throat. He was nothing like you’ve ever sexually encountered before. Kind and giving, yet he’d been insatiable, a predator hiding underneath his charming little facade, and nothing at all like Steve, who was nothing more behind what one saw. You got everything on the label. There were no secrets with Steve and— 

Steve.

Just the mere thought of him makes your tape-and-glue heart want to crumble again, and your smile fades.

Two months. He’s been gone for two months, and you’ve just started to let go of the hope that he might be back. Might come back to you. Might help you heal — heal with you. A sort of guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders and you throw off the blankets, disgusted. You don’t know whether it’s with Steve or yourself.

Had it somehow been your fault? 

The rational part of your brain wants to say no. It isn’t your fault the Snap took you. It isn’t your fault Steve seemed to forget you in those five years you were apparently gone. It isn’t your fault you, fiancé and girlfriend of five years, didn’t matter more to him than some woman from the 40s he knew for a year, if even that.

But maybe it is.

You want to sink into the earth and disappear forever, but you don’t. You’ve had enough with disappearing for what felt like forever. You’ve had enough with not existing. You’ve had enough. Feeling like a second choice, feeling like not enough, feeling sick with the thought that Steve never really loved you.

Your phone vibrates on the table and you move to grab it, letting out a tiny squeak when you feel something inside you tighten.

You’re sore. 

Quentin Beck really was the best lay of your life. 

Picking up your phone, you spot Bucky’s profile picture and sigh, picking up.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Missed you at the bar last night. Did you go home early?” Bucky doesn’t sound that concerned but you know it’s because he’s still reeling, too. No doubt the same doubts run through his head whenever he thinks of Steve, and with the paparazzi flashing in your face every moment you step outside the compound, neither of you are in a supply of patience. 

“Uh, yeah.” You can hear Quentin’s shower running and the thought of a steaming shower pelting your skull nearly makes you sigh. “I hooked up with someone, and I brought him back to my place.” Your thighs press together as a shiver runs down your spine. Hell, when did the room get cold?

When he left it, your battered heart teases, and you roll your eyes to yourself.

“Oh.” You can tell Bucky’s either not impressed or too shocked to say anything else. “You’re safe though, right? Do I need to come pick you up?”

“No, I’m fine. He’s…” from another Earth wants to spill out of your mouth, but instead you say, “a good guy. I’ll manage fine on my own.”

“Okay, well, we have a meeting so be at the facility by nine. Parker’s coming back for the first time today.”

“Really?” You haven’t seen Peter since the funeral, and although you've tried to reach out to him, you know space is what he might need. You’re more than aware that everyone who’s returned is fucked up, but you also know the kid took the worst of it. He’s only sixteen, coming back only to have Tony die. And Nat’s gone… You don’t want to think about what you’ve lost anymore. “Shit. Shit, he didn’t tell me. That’s really good.”

“Yeah, well, he’s taking it slow, so it’d be good if you’re there with him. You know, familiar face and all. I don’t think he’d want to see me after I tried to punch him in the face with my bionic arm.”

“Yeah, well, he thought your metal arm was cool.” Neither of you laugh, but you think you can hear Bucky’s tiny smile despite the silence. “I’ll be there.” You press your lips together and swing your legs off the bed with a slight grunt. “And Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it fucking stupid to ask if Steve’s triggered any of the markers?”

Bucky is silent for a long while, and you close your eyes, wondering what Steve is doing now. Enjoying life without you, no doubt, or maybe he’s trying to get back. It causes a vile taste to flood your mouth and your head aches at the thought. 

“You know he hasn’t. He’s gone for good, Vipe. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I thought so. I’ll see you soon, Buck.” Tapping End Call, you set your phone on the nightstand and plug it into a charger conveniently by the stand before standing up. Your whole body feels ravaged and a satisfying warmth floods your stomach as you get your legs to wobble over to the bathroom. For the first time in months, you feel like someone really wants you. 

Wants you. Not some rosy-tinted dream, not some utopia out of reach.

You.

“Quentin?” You knock on the bathroom door before pushing yourself in and the mist that hits you immediately coats your skin in wet kisses. 

“Hey.” His voice echoes against the tiles and you pull open the glass door as he turns around, his hands midway through his hair. “Glad you could join me.” Shampoo foaming in his fingers and his body shining with wet, he looks delectable with his half-hearted smile.

“Well, it was a tempting offer, Mr. Beck.” You take his proffered hand and step under the stream of bullet water as he closes the glass door behind you. He snags a kiss and you find yourself kissing back before remembering the phone call. “I’ve gotta head out after this. I’m sorry I have to cut the morning short.”

“You don’t have to lie, y’know? You could just tell me straight to my face that you find me strange and kick me out,” he drawls, and you chuckle, your heart stitching itself together at the sly curl of his lip. Looping your arms around his neck, you press a kiss against his mouth as shampoo foam runs over your skin.

“Well, in my case, I think strange is good.” Kissing his chin and jaw, you run your nose along his cheek. “And I want to see you again,” you promise, and his smile against your lips is everything. It’s addicting, kissing him like he’s the only man in the world. Something about Quentin Beck makes you feel wanted. Something about him pulls you out of whatever state Steve Rogers had left in, and although your gut twists every time Quentin touches you as if it’s wrong, you know in your heart that it is right.

“Really? A hero wants to meet me again? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Yeah, well you’re pretty impressive.”

His smirk blinds you as he presses you against the cool tile. Goosebumps track up your arms and you shiver as he nudges your chin up and his breath whispers where tiny bruises litter your neck. His arm barricade you, one a dominance along your hip. His thumb runs soothingly over the bruised skin and your stomach pushes at his touch. You’ve nowhere to run, and you don’t want to run anymore One of your hands runs through his sopping wet hair, and you giggle when he kisses a trail up to your mouth, lingering around your lips but never quite meeting. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs, low in his throat and your stomach flips. Your heart slamming in your throat, you feel something curl inside you, something you always stomped down. You can feel yourself beginning to purge the thoughts and you sigh as Quentin shoves you against the wall. No matter how much you want to just break the chains barring you back, you can hear some voice in your head stopping you, some voice in your head that whispers no, do not unleash the monster. And so you listen, because it is all you know how to do. Listen to the voice in your head.

“You’re impressive,” you whisper and he chuckles, a sound that echoes deep in your chest as his hand runs down your slick skin, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh as his hips roll into yours. “I bet you like hearing that.”

“You have no idea, honey.” His beard brushes against the tender skin of your neck as he nips at the plane of your shoulder, and you smile, running your hands up his back, into his hair and holding on as tight as you can. His hips meet yours, every inch of him hot against yours as your knees begin to buckle. “Let go. C’mon, let go.” Your eyes slip shut, you can feel hot rain slip over your arms as more skin slides against the cold tile. His hands leave tracks of fire and he squeezes your hips teasingly as he slowly guides himself in between your legs, tantalizingly slow. “C’mon, nice ‘n’ easy, honey.”

His soft voice, deep, insistent, prys you open like a book, and you let out a soft whimper when he presses against the darkest mark on your neck with a kiss.

“Beck, I…” Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel the smirk against your collarbone as he hitches up your legs, pinning you against the wall. Your arms shoot around his neck, pulling him as tight as you can towards your chest. “I’ve gotta go soon.”

“No worries, darling. I’m somethin’ of a miracle worker myself.”

“Is that so?” you whisper, and he raises his head, slick rain trailing down his cheeks. His searing heat makes you light-headed and you suck in a hot breath as he presses a sloppy kiss against your mouth.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” The words push into your mouth and you let out a gasp when his tongue licks at the seam of your lips before pushing in. Your eyes close, and in the darkness, you see his porcelain blue eyes burning in the shadows like flames, unquenchable, hungry for more, and you are the forest fire he shall feed on.

.

The Avengers leave you and Peter alone in the rec room. You’re fidgeting with your phone in your pocket, the slip of paper Quentin had pressed into your hand before you left bending beneath your fingers, and Peter has calculus spread out before him.

You’re wondering if he’ll text first as you nurse your massive hangover. Peter’s pretending to do his work while he sneaks glances you pretend not to notice. It sounds like the beginning of an awful joke.

A Spider and a Viper walk into a room. The Spider turns to the Viper and says:

“So, how’s it going? A-around here, I mean.” 

You look up from your steaming mug of coffee that you’ve used to chased down some aspirin, and spot the boy sitting on the edge of the love seat he’s picked as his perch, pencil rolling over the textbook and onto the glass. Peter looks pitifully awkward and you want to reach over and hug him tight, but you feel like the boy before you craves something you can’t give him.

Tony.

Just the thought of your friend makes you feel it all over again. Your body aches, your head spins, and you suck down the coffee like it’s your lifeline. Letting the heat simmer behind your eyes, you close your eyes and set down your mug, leaning back as Peter pretends to work on some calculus equation you know he already knows the answer to.

“Peter, you don’t have to pretend like you’re okay. None of us are, anyway,” you murmur, leaning into the sofa and hugging a cushion to your chest as you regard the teen. He grabs the pencil, rolls it between his fingers, dark eyes not meeting yours. “And you’re just a kid.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” He closes his calculus workbook with a sigh, taking a sip of the glass of water you’d poured for him when he first arrived. “How… how are you doing?”

You smile softly, wearily at how tender his question is and you know he is far too kind for such a world. You still remember him, just nine and already braver than most men are staring down a Hammer bot with his plastic gauntlet — his little mask that was too big for his face.

How much you wish it was still 2010, you cannot even describe. You may not have known Steve then, but you wouldn’t know the trembling heartbreak that wrecks your body, the complete and utter shambles your mind is crushed beneath. It’s strange to think how young you felt then — just a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent partnered with the Black Widow. And now… now you’re something else. Stronger, broken, unstable, unbreakable, so many oxymorons and paradoxes you barely remember who you were before the Reality Stone altered every little thing that used to make you normal.

“I’m doing okay, Pete. Missing Tony a lot. And Nat. Feels weird without them but we’re getting by.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He doesn’t say anything about the absence of one name, despite it showing on his face for just a moment. He sets down the glass a little harder than you think he intended, and you squeeze the cushion to your chest. “I… I like a girl, though.” His words, timid and quiet, part the storm clouds nesting in your head.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Her name is MJ. She’s pretty, and smart, and she’s really funny, in a really twisted way.”

“Sounds like my type of girl,” you quip, scooting up against the couch and sitting straight. Tossing the pillow aside, you lean forward on your knees. Taking out your phone, you check it with a quick glimpse before setting it on the coffee table. “You should go for it. Do something normal for once, y’know?” Peter grins then, and you know that smile. It’s a smile of mischief, of a sixteen year old who’s being just a teen and in this moment, you don’t mind. “You have that school field trip coming up this summer, right? Make a grand gesture in Paris, the most romantic city in the world.”

“Yeah, but Mr. Harrington isn’t sure it’s going to go.”

“Oh, why?” 

“Not enough supervisors, and just a whole bunch of other stuff. I dunno,” he mumbles and you reach over to grab his arm, the warmth of him startling. It’s different than you remember, something stronger yet softer, a hearth that’s been burning longer than you realized. 

“Maybe I could chaperone, or pull a few strings. Just tell me if you need anything, okay? I think one of us needs a win.” His dark eyes meet yours and you grin, trying to pull his own smile out of him. “Come on. Can you imagine telling her how you feel on the top of the Eiffel Tower?”

“That would be pretty romantic.” 

“Yeah, it would.” Your hand slides down to take hold of Peter’s and you squeeze his palm. “Pete, you know Tony wouldn’t want you just… just living like a ghost.”

“Yeah.”

You let go of his hand and reach up to stroke at his cheek, your small smile growing when he ducks away from your hand like a tough little nine-year old. Letting your hand drop, you hear your phone buzz and two sets of eyes dart to your lit screen on the coffee table. Your eyes barely scan the notification before your screen turns off again, but you know who it is and you know Peter saw.

“Quentin? Who’s that?” Peter’s innocent question rattles in your skull, and you paste on the most sincere smile you can. Your mind scrambles for an answer, and underneath Peter’s stare that looks all too much like Tony’s in some respects, you fail.

“The guy I hooked up with last night,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. Unlocking it, you read his text as quick as you can and your thumbs hover over the keyboard, eager to reply. “Uh… what should I say? Oh, god, I never really dated anyone before.”

“Are you sure? Because you used to be engaged.”

Shooting Peter a dirty look, you elaborate, “Yeah, well, we bonded over work. This is a guy I met at a bar, and it’s different.” Turning off your phone, you tell yourself you’ll find a quiet time to compose a reply that makes sense. “He’s really nice, though.” 

Your phone buzzes in your hands again and it’s embarrassing how fast you go to check it.

Quentin Beck: Good morning. Sorry that you had to miss out on breakfast. I went to Starbucks and got a croissant.

Quentin Beck: Attachment: 1 Image

Swiping open the notification, you let out a sigh at the smug smile of Quentin Beck and his croissant of ham and cheese and a latté — breakfast that sounds undeniably scrumptious after a night of drinking.

“Anyway,” you mutter, clearing your throat, “it’s nice having someone outside of us treat me like I’m just a normal person. Most people are freaked out when they meet me because they think I might destroy their perception of reality or something, or they, like, ask me to do a tiny trick on them, and I don’t know which is worse. Because I really could just fucking destroy the universe, Pete, and I don’t even know how to stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter’s voice is soft, quiet. You set down your phone. “I’m really glad no one knows who I am, because the things they’d do if they found out, I’d… I can’t imagine how it must be for you.”

“It’s okay. You’ve got a lot on your plate already without having to worry about me.” You think you smile, but it comes out uneasy. You want to cry, but you’ve no tears left, and you want to scream, but your throat bleeds at the thought. You want to shelter Peter away, but you know he’ll never listen. Curse a hero’s heart, you think bitterly, curse every single one’s. The world would be hell, but at least Tony would still be by his side. At least Nat would still be by mine. And Steve… “It’s fucking awful, isn’t it? Living with the world on our shoulders.”

Peter smiles, then too, and it’s a warrior’s smile. One forced to the surface, not quite meeting the eyes, and torn in all the wrong ways. One too old for such a young face and you wonder when it’ll be enough. When will the world have enough heroes so children won’t have to fight our battles? When will our battles stop being theirs? 

It’s later that night when the waves crash onto you as they have every night since the Battle. You hold a pillow to your chest again, another underneath your legs and one beneath your head as you stare up at the ceiling of your room in your flat. You never slept at the compound, not unless you had a reason to stay.

You don’t have a reason anymore. You’d driven Peter back to his aunt’s place and now, with nothing left to do except prepare for a new day, your mind wanders.

It’s the empty nights that make you miss Steve the most. It’s the darkness in your room, the laughter echoing against the walls, what could’ve been and what should’ve been haunting your every waking hour. But tonight, it hits differently.

Tonight, guilt sinks her teeth into your body and tears out your guts. Tonight, it carves you out hollow, makes your stomach deflate, makes you feel sick. Because Steve’s not supposed to be so ingrained in your head. You shouldn’t love him still, and you’re quite sure you don’t when the sun’s beating down on you and the morning wind kisses your cheeks, but at night, you can’t recognize being lonely from being in love.

You want to throw up.

Turning onto your side, your stomach slides uneasily into your lungs as you tug your blankets up to your chin. The smell of something cool stings your nose and you bring your blankets to your nose, inhaling deeply. Quentin. His smell still lingers in your room. It chases away the gut feeling and you bundle yourself, cocooning in the scent as your phone lights up.

Reaching for it, you squint at the blue light in the black of your room to see Peter’s text of thanks. You smile to yourself, typing out a quick response before exiting the conversation to the list of your texts. Right beneath Peter’s name is Quentin’s with an empty profile picture.

You’d replied earlier to Quentin’s texts with a simple ‘Wish I were there. I’m starving. Looks like today’s gonna be a bit busy.’ and left it at that to give you an excuse to reply late, but it seems like he’s had a busy day, too. Probably wandering around NYC, taking in Earth-616 in. He’s left read receipts on so you know he’s read it, but other than that, conversation has stalled.

Weird, since conversation never stopped until he fucked you in the back alley of a bar.

Just the memory sends a delicious pulse up your legs and you grab your phone, rolling onto your stomach. Fingers tapping away, you don’t give yourself time for second thoughts before you press send.

You: Is it weird to feel guilty over the stupidest thing?

His reply is nearly instantaneous.

Quentin Beck: About what?

You: Guess I’m still not used to sleeping alone.

Quentin Beck: Are you feeling okay? Do you need me to come over?

You: I dunno. It might make me feel worse. I feel like I need a vacation to like Paris or somewhere like that. Europe sounds fun and my friend is going with his school during the summer and I’m thinking of chaperoning.

Quentin Beck: That sounds fun.

Quentin Beck: Also not at all what you want to talk about so I’m all ears

You bite your lip, an urge in your chest telling you to keep going as your thumbs hover your keyboard. The fact that he can read you, even without hearing your voice, seeing your face, makes you feel both unnerved and warm inside.

You: It feels like I’m cheating on him with you, but it doesn’t make sense. 

You: He didn’t love me enough in the end.

You: Maybe I’m just an idiot.

Quentin Beck: You know he’s the idiot, right?

You nearly laugh, and it sounds thick in your throat as just the mere expression you can imagine so easily in your head the cock of Quentin’s eyebrow, the inflection in his voice. You can hear him so clearly saying it that it fills you up inside.

You: He wasn’t.

Quentin Beck: He was in leaving you, and I swear I will prove it to you no matter what.

You: You’re really sweet, but are you sure? Everybody wants to date a superhero until they date a superhero. 

Quentin Beck: Then, they’re missing out. I really enjoyed last night, and I was wondering

Quentin Beck How about a date? Saturday, Le Bernardin at 6.

You: Expensive. You think that off the top of your head?

Quentin Beck: It was what I was doing today.

Quentin Beck: I researched many, MANY top ten lists of attractions and restaurants to come up with a plan to see you again that didn’t seem too clingy.

You: Oh, really?

Your heart thuds in your throat as you try to imagine living a life without Steve Rogers. A life without your rock, the man who helped you learn to control your powers, the man who helped ground you when you were lost in your head, the man who told you you’re more than an atomic bomb waiting to explode.

And then your brain reminds you sharply that you’ve done it before, and that you can do it again. It’ll be different, new, and maybe Quentin….

Quentin Beck: Did it work? Or did I come on too strong?

Quentin could be your new anchor, if he’s willing to.

You: Not at all. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.

Quentin Beck: Great. I’ll pick you up?

You: Sounds perfect.

.

The date goes perfectly fine. And so does the next, and the next, and suddenly it’s been a month, and five dates in the past two weeks, and you barely remember the last time you’ve smiled this much. 

Peter certainly notices the difference. 

You’re in the middle of manipulating the massive illusion you’ve created in your flat for his plan to confess his feelings to MJ, and the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower is breathtaking. The magic flows warmly through your veins, fizzling easily between your head and heart.

Sitting next to Peter on the railing, you let your legs swing and twist your wrist, turning the bright morning to a dusky sunset. The boy beside you gasps, and you turn to him, the wind playing at your face. 

“Like it?”

“Yeah. This would be perfect,” he sighs, leaning back and suddenly the rail is wide enough for him to do so. You make a mental note to remind him to both a, not to sit on the rail of the Eiffel Tower’s balcony and b, not to lean back. “So, how are you and Quentin doing?”

“Oh, it’s been going good, actually.” You feel heat rush to your cheeks at the very thought. He’s much different than Steve, but at the same time, has the same qualities that make your heart melt, and just the very thought of him makes you excited. “We’re meeting up later tonight for dinner at my place. He’s shopping at Rockefeller and apparently he’s going to cook me dinner? I don’t know.”

“You’re inviting him to your place? It sounds fun,” he says, grinning from ear to ear and you nudge him with your elbow, staring into your lap.

“I really like him, Pete. How about you? How’s MJ?”

“She’s good, too. Caught her staring a bit, but I dunno if that means anything,” he mumbles and you laugh, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He leans towards you and you bend your arm, fingers running through his hair. “Maybe this is all stupid.”

“No. It’s not stupid, Pete. You’re just a kid. It’s worth it to try.” A bird chirps and you glance to your side to spot a little pigeon wobbling on the railway. Extending your free hand towards it, you let it hop onto your finger and transfer it to Peter’s lap. “And hey, maybe a pigeon will shit on you if things go awkward.”

Gawking, Peter raises his head from your shoulder and narrows his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s offended or relieved, but an impish smile curls your lip anyway. “You wouldn’t.”

“I could.” You shrug and snap your fingers, letting the illusion dissipate with a wave of red. The corners of the room start to appear, the TV and your couch and fridge coming into view. Sunlight streams through your glass balcony doors and you hop off your kitchen counter, checking your phone. It’s nearly lunchtime and May’s out with Happy doing…

Whatever May and Happy do.

“Wanna head out for lunch, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” Hopping off too, Peter walks over to the couch and grabs the hoodie he had tossed carelessly over the back. He pokes his head through the old MIT hoodie that you think Tony must’ve left in his lab once. Your smile softening, you watch as he fiddles with the hoodie strings, tying it tight in a simple little bow. Nat used to do that all the time, and you wonder if he’s picked that up from her. You let him fix his hair in the bathroom mirror as you begin to turn off all the lights in your flat. 

Grabbing your keys and wallet, you shrug on a jacket and head out to the balcony windows that let warm sunlight stream through your living room. Standing by the window and looking at New York skyline, you let your gaze drift off. 

In the distance, you can see Brooklyn and your smile slips away all together. 

You’re furious with yourself, but you can’t help how your body seems to react to any hint of Steve. You’re so tired of missing someone when you’ve met someone new.

Digging out your phone, you try to distract yourself from those thoughts. You scroll through your notifications as you listen to Peter mutter to himself about his hair from the bathroom, and you sigh as your phone buzzes, the banner at the top of your screen revealing a text from Bucky. Without thought, you frown as you read through the message.

Bucky Barnes: Shooter at Rockefeller. Unknown casualties. Weapon of mass destruction.

Rockefeller. Your blood turns to ice, and you feel like you might throw up as you stare at the message.

“Okay, do I look okay?” 

Peter’s voice jerks you out of your daze and you blink, typing your message, sending it, and pocketing your phone without a second thought. You push out the thoughts of what could be when you arrive at the tourist center, and instead swallow everything down. You lock everything you feel into a cage and throw away the key, trying not to imagine Quentin shot, Quentin dead, Quentin with a blood-soaked box of chocolates as he bleeds out on the floor of Jacques Torres Chocolate.

You: On my way.

“Pete, I need you to get me to Rockefeller.” You turn around to see him standing there with his hair all swept to the side and make another note to yourself to apologize for lunch as you throw off your flats and shove your feet into boots. Although you know how much it must break his heart, you can’t afford to delay. “There’s a shooter at Rockefeller Center. I… I need you to take me there.”

“Quentin’s at Rockefeller,” Peter whispers, and you let out a shuddering breath as you feel yourself short-circuit. Your whole body burns and Peter nods to himself, tugging the strings of his hoodie and pulling it off. He taps the watch containing all the nanoparts of his suit and it begins to spread over his skin as he flings the hoodie off in some random direction. “I can get you there.”

Nodding, you shove open the glass door to step out on the balcony, and you tie your hair back.  The wind buffets at your face and you breathe in as deep as you can until your chest aches. Bracing one foot against the railing, you tie your boots as tight as possible.

Quentin dead, another funeral, not enough time. 

The other shoe now, and you tie it tighter before you take hold of the railing, and push off the balcony. Balancing atop the edge of the world, you look towards Midtown Manhattan, stepping along the rail until you are at the corner of your balcony. 

Spreading your arms wide, you step off the railing, letting yourself fall as Spider-Man jumps after you, and together you swing through New York as you’ve practiced before.

You reach Rockefeller in a break-neck speed that would have made any citizens’ heart burst, but you simply unlatch from Peter and run towards where the NYPD Commissioner stands by the tape, hand on his radio. 

“Commissioner Kelly,” you greet shortly, nodding to Bucky who stands on the opposite side of the tape. He’s geared up in an NYPD vest and a pistol is gripped tight in his flesh hand. “What’s the status on the shooter?”

“We have no eyes on them yet.”

“Casualties?”

“Twenty racked up so far. Three officers.” The air squeezes out of your lungs and you sigh, taking the bulletproof vest an officer offers you and strapping it on quickly. “We’re ready on your signal.”

“Barnes.” You nod to Bucky who takes hold of a radio and walks off to gather the teams. You can hear his voice rallying troops like he must’ve done back in the War, and you turn to Peter who lingers behind. “Spider-Man, I need recon. Get me eyes on the shooter. This is a big fucking place.”

“Right away.” He fires two webs, catapulting himself towards the building as you duck underneath the police tape. Walking towards the building, you pull out the wireless comms unit and stick it to the backside of your ear, activating it with a simple tap. It latches onto your skin, and you hear it’s tiny beep telling you both the com unit and the tracker are online. 

Your magic sizzles at your fingertips and you suck in a breath, trying to calm down your frazzled nerves. The last time you were in combat was the Battle, and although you don’t like the nightmares that come with that day, it’s all you can think of now. You can’t remember what was a dream and what wasn’t as it blurred into one gaussian memory, and you can’t control your thoughts. They’re scattered, tipping you to one side or another, making your head spin.

What you can remember is worse than what you can’t, and it’s taken you four years to come to terms with the fact that your powers are very, very real, and universally dangerous. The world pulling apart in your hands, reality paper-thin, like clay between your palms, being barely able to distinguish reality from the illusions your head makes.

You wonder if it would’ve done the universe a kinder favor if you’d died alongside Tony Stark.

.

Red smoke curls over your skin as you step over the tile. Your heart in your head, you can hear almost everything — a pin dropping, the subtle shift of glass, the faint echo of movement. Your boots almost squeak at how slowly you roll through your feet, your eyes darting across the empty floor. You hear something topple and you turn with a slight scuff of your foot. Your eyes flicker over the dead body by the women’s restroom and you mouth a silent prayer before moving on.

“Hands up!” a rough voice pierces the ear-shattering silence and you raise your wrist to your lips. “Hands up where I can see them.”

“I have the shooter,” you whisper, falling into a crouch as you run towards a nearby column. “Converge on my position.” 

“I’m not going to listen to you,” another responds, and you furrow your brow, lips barely parting as you catch a flash of brown hair and blue eyes. The sunlight streams through the broken windows, shards littering the floor. The floor is sticky where you hide and you glance down at the spilled soda pooling around your feet. Shit. Pressing yourself against the column, you take a deep breath. “You know I can help you, Gargan.”

Quentin. Shit, what is he doing on this floor? Despite your hope that he could’ve evacuated, only now does his words the first night you met him ring in your head.

“I used to be someone like you. A hero…”

Shit, shit, shit. Your mind racing, you try to ignore the ache that begins to fester deep in the core of your brain. 

“Really? ‘Cause the Avengers ain’t fucking coming and you’re not some fucking hero.” 

“Think again.” Swinging around the column, you raise your arms before you. The voice that speaks is not yours and although you recognize it as the Viper’s, you haven’t heard it in so long that you almost want to stop talking. “Put the gun down, now.”

The shooter turns around and you stare into the face of the Scorpion.

As if the day hasn’t had enough surprises. Your arms falter for a moment, but then you catch sight of the gigantic silver weapon he holds in his scarred hands. It gleams in the sunlight, shifting with every move Gargan makes, and you let out a groan as the ache in your head grows.

“Oh, great, they allowed you out of prison?” you hiss, squinting your eyes against the pain.

“Who said ‘allowed’?” Mac Gargan smirks and the scar on his cheek stretches as he raises the weapon. He’s got a new nasty scar above his eye, and he looks like utter death — pale, with dark bags pulling underneath his eyes and all the meat scooped out from his cheeks. A hollow man. 

Purple energy hums in his hands, bathing the silver gun in a violet glow, and you take a step back at the wave of nausea that hits you when he points it at your chest. Narrowing your gaze at the Chitauri core, numbing cold begins to bite at your fingers as a cold sweat crawls down your back. “You wouldn’t believe what happens in prisons, Viper. Wouldn’t believe what they did to me.”

“I really would.” Your magic burns and you meet eyes with Quentin over Scorpion’s shoulder. Jerking your head for him to run, you widen your eyes. Blood is smeared all over his face, and his white shirt is stained maroon that drips down to his pants as you try to see if he’s hurt. He shakes his head minutely, and you let out a tiny sigh of relief before your gaze focuses on Gargan again. “Let Quentin go, and I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

“Go easy on me, huh?” Gargan adjusts his grip on the gigantic silver weapon. The more you look at it, the more it looks like a grenade launcher but from your angle, you have no idea what’s going to happen if he pulls the trigger. “So your little boyfriend can go free? What? Wanna save him from another incident?”

“Stop.”

“Come on, Viper. Your old boy toy couldn’t take it, so what makes you think this one’s gonna be different?” The nausea swirls in your head, adding to the knot of pain in the center of your head as you let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes burn and a red flash makes you squeeze your eyes tight as metal clacks. “There’s a lotta little tools on this bad boy here. I can make you suffer.” Prying your eyes open, you cradle your head in your hands, fingers digging into your skull as if you can rip the pain out of your head. Through your burning tears, you can nearly taste the energy that wants to sink into your flesh as Gargan pulls the handle on the side, whirling around to aim the launcher at Quentin. “Or should I force the truth outta Beck here instead?”

“What?” Quentin’s voice pierces through the muddiness in your head, and you reach his wretched blue eyes. Mouth opening, you try to force out a sound but it catches in your throat. You blink, another stream of tears tracing over your cold skin as red, blood-like mist spills out of your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I don’t know about your warehouse on Long Island?”

“You talk too much,” you breathe as the ache festers deeper inside your skull. It’s almost as if someone took a jackhammer and stuck it into the center of your brain. You feel the metallic taste of blood flood your mouth as you carefully bring yourself forward. If you can just get close enough, you’ll be able to disarm him as quick as you can. The edges of Gargan’s form flicker red and you pause. “What?”

“Having doubts too, Viper?” Gargan turns to look at you and you blink, lips pressing together as you reach forward. His image fizzles and you let out a sharp breath, eyebrows knitting together as another jackhammer stabs into your brain. 

“Stop, please—” Your voice cracks as you take another step forward, but with every step you take, you watch as everything shifts. You see doubles, red outlines of every little thing that it blinds you. Two Gargans grin back at you like the Cheshire Cat and you close your eyes tight, trying to push through what you know can’t be an illusion. 

Can it?

“I have nothing on Long Island.”

“Just like you don’t have a dead wife.”

“What?” Your eyes open, jerk towards Quentin and he tries to speak, but all that comes out is silence. “What is he talking about?” Quentin fizzles in and out of view like a faulty hologram and you let out a groan, your hands raking through your hair until they’re right before you, glowing with untapped energy. Red mist spills from your palms as you tear your gaze to Gargan. “What are you talking about?” 

“Your little boyfriend isn’t from another Earth. Like that fucking exists,” he spits, the words rattling in your skull, sucked into the vortex of agony that nearly pulls you to your knees, and you inhale sharply. Whatever is in the Chitauri core is causing the pain to multiply by tenfold and with every step you take, you can feel your skull breaking. “Isn’t that what he told you? Earth-833, his little sob story about being a hero. It’s his fucking fantasy, Viper.”

“Beck?” Your eyes dart to him and Quentin shakes his head, blood dripping down his cheek. “Is it true? You… you lied?”

“No. You don’t understand. Gargan is confused—” Quentin takes a step forward towards you as a rush of searing heat burns through your arms. You can feel the energy surging into your head as a shout echoes throughout the empty floor. 

“No, no, you’re not real.” The whispered words barely push past your teeth as you clench your jaw. Quentin moves to run towards you, his red shadow behind him crackling like a broken TV screen but Gargan whips around, his launcher pointed straight at his heart. 

“You don’t call the shots here. Stay where you are.”

“Let me reach her, or we’re going to die.” 

Lies, lies, lies.

“Was it all a lie, Beck?” You take another step forward. You watch as the image of Quentin seems to flicker in and out, the hologram of him breaking, and you let out a breath, blinking as hard as you can. Your hands trembling, you try to make sense of it all only for Gargan to point the launcher at you and pull the trigger. A purple beam shoots out of the weapon, bringing you to your knees instantly. A scream tears its way out of your throat, ripping it raw as you hunch over, tucking your head into your knees. Your hands take fistfuls of your own hair, nails digging into your skull and you can barely hear yourself think as a high-pitched ringing echoes in your head.

Everything hurts, it hurts, oh god, make it stop— 

“Gargan, we’re going to die if you don’t get out of here, and let her go!”

“She needs to know the pretty little lies you’ve told her, Beck. Come clean with her or break it off, ‘cause you know we can pull this fucking masquerade off without her. She’s a loose end.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gargan!”

Heat begins to blister in your head and you let out a whimper as the blood mist pools around you. The ground begins to tremble and you let out a gasp as it begins to split beneath your fingers, fissures spreading with every passing second. Slamming your palms hard against the tile, you desperately try to grab hold of the glossy floor.

“Shit!”

“Not my fault you got attached. Suppose you both deserve each other.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Look what you made her do! Viper, honey, listen to my voice. You can do this, okay? Close that tiny tear and we can go home.”

“Cut the vigilante bullshit, Beck! You’re a fucking pyscho and you’ve gotta make a choice. You better make the right one, because one wrong move, she dies, and I’m taking all that tech with me.”

“Home. I want to go home,” you whisper, trying to usher the split close. A dark void stares back at you through the beginnings of a red seam split open and you feel a hand take hold of your wrist as it cracks wider.

“Hands up!” Bucky’s voice tears through your mind-splitting agony and you hear something clink just as you wrench your head up. “Hands where I can see them.”

Turning around, you meet his gaze and let out a cry as tears trace down your skin, slip into your mouth and fall into the void torn below you. “Bucky?” As you stare at the man, you sob at how his eyes — eyes you know are blue, eyes you know don’t look like a snake’s — flicker to yours, blood red and venomous.

“Hands up where I can see them now,” Bucky orders, tearing his eyes away from you, and you let out a pathetic sob, turning to stare back at the void you struggle to sew shut. The hand grabbing your wrist is alien, something that sends a wave of cold shock up your burning skin, and you rip your hand away, uncaring of the claw marks that drag over your flesh. Blood gushes forth, flowing warmly, thickly down your skin and you let out a harsh gasp.

“Don’t focus on them, honey. Focus on my voice, okay?” Quentin catches your attention again and you look at him, flesh colored and solid like nothing else. His very image, the eye of a hurricane, calms the storm that beats in your heart as you try to fight the urge to rip the seam wide open. You nod as another surge of tears crawls down your face. “You can do this.”

“Fuck you, Beck. You’ve fucked this up for the both of us.”

“Mac, do not shoot!”

“No, no, no.” You let out a desperate whimper as the tear widens and you grab uselessly at the tile as you wrench your head up to stare at Quentin. “I can’t. I can’t close it!”

“Yes, you can! Just focus on my voice. Trust me. I’m real, you don’t have to be afraid, okay?” Quentin forces a smile onto his face and you try to smile as Gargan switches the aim of the beam from you, to Bucky. Red smoke covers the floor and you let out a shaky laugh as the ground knits itself back together.

“Hands up, now!”

Something clicks.

You can hear the hiss, the sizzle of energy as it burns through the air and you look up from the split ground. Time seems to slow before your very eyes as a purple blast sends a shockwave of dust through the floor.

The Chitauri core spirals through the air as it begins to crack, burning azure and dark satin purple spilling from the cracks in blinding rays of light. Throwing out a hand, you grab at the air as red smoke shoots towards the ticking bomb in tethered cords, wrapping around it and snuffing out any kind of light. As soon as your magic coils around the energy core, time resumes its pace and you hear the frantic shouts, screams to take cover as you take hold of the rope.

Yanking towards yourself, you catch the Chitauri core and it sends spears of pure, frying energy up your arm before you look down into the void and throw it as far down as you can. Your veins burning beneath the surface of the skin, you dig your fingers into the tile and push the tear closed as the explosion rattles in your head. You feel as if you’re being blown apart, torn from limb to limb as blood, the same blood that gushes down your wrist and floods your mouth, begins to leak from your ears.

You hear the words of someone yelling ‘Get down’.

You don’t have time before you feel yourself begin to tear.

Everything goes black, and for a moment, it is silent. 

And then, someone takes you by the neck and throws you forward, and you can hear so many voices you can barely register them all. You hear Tony’s, Nat’s, Steve’s even, and other voices you don’t recognize. You watch as everything flickers like a hologram, like Tony’s last message to his family, like the fragments of reality you can barely keep hold of.

“Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end.”

Your mind’s eye is knocked through portals of your own making and you let out a gasp as darkness surrounds you, then orange light, squirming cells and bacteria, the deep violet, and a face you can barely make out, a name whispered: Dormammu. You fly through golden cities, a planet like your own except you are nothing more than a ghost and you want to scream but the wind has been knocked out of your lungs as you plummet through the universes. Plummet through the multiverse.

The knot in your head unwinds.

Your arms are washed in ice, and you jolt as you’re thrown back into your body. The red staining your vision oozes into sharper, defined edges and colour and you blink, trying to get rid of the dots still blinking in your vision. You’re on your side, coated in ash and blood as you raise your head, only for it to fall heavily to the ground. Quentin is running away from you, tackling Mac Gargan to the ground and you glance down at your hands, black with smoke and still sizzling from red magic and blood and lilac energy. You hear soft groans and your eyes dart towards the sound as you reach up dazedly to touch your head. It pulses beneath your fingertips and you brush blood away from your ear as it trails down your neck. 

“Viper, hey!” Bucky, crouched beside you, reaches to grab your shoulder and you jolt back, blinking as you try to catch your breath and Bucky’s eyes, blue and round and wide, stare back at you like you’re a wild animal. Trying to push yourself into a sitting position, you feel pain lance up your arms and wince. “Hey. You’re awake.”

“Stay away,” you murmur, shaking your head. The pain in your head, although fading, comes back stronger and you let out a whine when everything distorts, breaks like static.

Pushing yourself to a stand only for you to stumble, you try to catch yourself as you fall back and you shake your head again. Your head swimming, dizzy, you lean against a column heavily as you try to make sense of the scene before you. 

In a pile of bodies atop of each other, Quentin wrestles Mac to his back, and where you tried to contain the tear is where there is a massive pool of ash, fire and blood. Bucky stands by the shape of where your body had left in the smoke, his face ashen.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter whispers in your head and you turn yourself wretchedly to look at the kid as he lands beside you. You’re sure you look quite like hell, just barely catching your reflection in the nanometal of his mask and you want to pull away, something primal inside you urging you to run. But you’re too tired, too weak, too pained. Everything hurts, and all you want to do is fall asleep for a century as his hand floats above your bicep. Like he wants to touch you, comfort you, but knows something will happen if he does.

Shit.

“Are you okay?” You look at him, and the sharp question of ‘How can you even ask that?’ pounds at the roof of your mouth. Blinking when the red melds with the metal of the Iron Spider suit, you shake your head just barely. You’re not even quite sure he stands before you as he lets out a sigh.

“My head really fucking hurts,” you utter and you watch the SWAT team swarm Gargan. He growls like a cornered predator, thrashing and screaming, spitting venom at you but you barely hear him as you try to remember what had just happened. His weapon smokes red a few feet away as you begin to sink into a sitting position, looking at the thing dazedly. It’s stained with soot, the silver sheen lost and dull. 

Peter hovers around you in case you need help to slide down to the floor before he heads over to the weapon, mechanical spider limbs deployed to pick up the black market grenade launcher. He comes back towards you then, the mechanical eyes widening and shrinking every few seconds. He inspects it in his hands, turning it over to get a taste of what it’s standard use was before telling Karen to scan it. 

“Pete?” You catch his attention immediately, voice faint and he crouches beside you. “Was… did anyone—”

“People took cover. No one died, but it was a pretty big explosion so maybe some people got hurt,” Peter whispers under his breath. “Then, you kinda got knocked unconscious, and no one could touch you for a while, except Mr. Beck, just like how it didn’t touch Steve? Uh, I don’t know but your… your, uh, trick, prevented anyone else from touching you, so you’ve been out for a couple of minutes. Mr. Beck sat by you in case you hurt yourself until Gargan started running.” Your breath rattles in your chest as Quentin walks over to you, the red holographic outlines of his face fading away immediately as he comes closer and you smile weakly. Staring up into his battered and sweat-slick face, you swallow and reach for him with weak hands. 

“Hey, you okay? Shit.” He collapses to his knees, wraps an arm around you, pulling your head to his chest as your arms fling around his waist. The sound of his heartbeat beats away the pulse in your head and you let out a whimper as he threads his fingers through your hair, gently shushing you. “Hey, okay, focus on my voice, honey. It’s okay.”

“Beck.” Your chest aches and your throat feels like it’s been choked within an inch of your life as you bury your face into his bloody shirt. “Oh, god. Why didn’t you just run?”

“That was the hero in me, I guess,” he whispers and you pull back, the blood in his shirt staining your cheek. He wipes away the tears tracking down your face as you let out a chuckle. He sits down and sends a nod to Peter who, still in his Iron Spider suit, lingers for a moment before you raise your face towards him.

“I’m okay. I… I think I’ll be okay with Quentin,” you murmur and Peter finally nods, following Bucky and Gargan out of Rockefeller. “Quentin, did I… did I—”

“You saved me. He would’ve killed everyone on this floor if you didn’t destroy the crystal, throw it into that multidimensional tear,” he whispers and you raise your head miserably to survey the scene. Black smoke, fires, blood and broken glass.

And you’re supposed to be a hero.

“Listen to me.” Quentin catches your gaze when he tips your chin up at him, and the warmth of him causes the tears to increase. Here he is, kind, gentle, when you’re nothing more than a destroyer. You turn away with a choked breath and he presses a kiss to your hair. With every second that passes in his silence, you note that the red fades away faster. “You feeling better? Just focus on my voice, okay?” 

“Okay.”

“Does it always get this bad?” he murmurs, and you close your eyes, fingers digging into him as tight as you can. You need to know he’s real.

“Worse. Last time I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t, it took… it took someone close to me to get me to calm down.” You can barely stand to mention Steve now, knowing that this time, there wasn’t a surefire way to disarm you. Knowing that this time, it could’ve ended differently, worse.

“I can’t trust myself, Quentin,” you mutter, eyes shutting even tighter at the very thought of what could’ve happened, “and it’s… it’s hard for me to get close to people, so I’m asking if I can trust you because you’re why we’re still here.” You sigh heavily as your heart rate steadies. The pain is nothing more than a dull ache, and you open your eyes to stare at the burnt skid marks beneath your boot. “If Gargan didn’t fire that weapon, I know I could’ve closed the tear, because of you.”

“I’m honored.” He tilts his head and you turn to look at him, a watery smile working its way onto your lips as he grins down at you. It’s soft, fond, and he kisses your forehead. “All I am now is just glad that you’re okay. You got some nasty gashes and burns here, so you need to get that treated, okay?”

“Sounds like a hero talking, Beck,” you murmur and his smile grows as he cups your cheek. His thumb brushing away any stray tears lingering underneath your eye, he presses his head against yours and closes his eyes. “You a hero on this Earth, too?”

“Is it bad to say that I actually prefer the term vigilante?”

“No. Gives you more room to work in, I guess. Maybe I should start working within those means,” you whisper and he presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling away. Breathing him in, you wrap your arms up and hold his shoulders tight to you, lifting your chin. “Thank you for grounding me, Quentin. It could’ve been so much worse if you weren’t here.”

“I think I made it worse by being there, didn’t I?” he whispers, and you half-smile in sympathy at how guilty he looks. “I’m sorry I made you worried.”

“It’s okay. That’s just the hero gig, I guess. Worrying about things you care about.” Your heart flutters at how he seems to melt in your arms. “And I care about you, Quentin.”

“I care about you, too. A lot.” His lips curl into a shy smile as you card your fingers through his hair. “Do you mind my asking what you saw while you blacked out, or is that too insensitive?” he quips and you chuckle against his neck, curling yourself into his body. He cocoons you in his heat, a constant that sends a wave of drowsiness to crash down on you.

“The multiverse. I guess the reaction with the Chitauri core and whatever was done to me all those years ago made for a fucking massive acid trip.” Sighing, you’re simply content to just sit there in a broken building until someone forces you out. “What was he saying about you, that you were lying about the multiverse?”

“Nothing, honey. It’s nothing.” His response is quick and you frown, eyebrows knitting together as you unwind yourself from his embrace. 

“Then, what’s on Long Island?” You want to know. You want to know because Gargan — the Scorpion — doesn’t do throwaway lines. You know it means something and somewhere deep inside you, you think you know that nothing he said was a lie. “What was the tech Mac was talking about and… and the sob story you made up?”

“Honey, I—”

“Just tell me the truth, Beck, ‘cause I trust you,” you whisper, fingers clutching onto the front of his blood-soaked shirt. His eyes are soft, dark as the void and just as intoxicating as your eyes flicker from those eyes to his lying little mouth. All you can hear is lies, lies, lies and yet you’d give anything to hear him speak. “It’s not like I can ever get rid of you. I’m terrified of losing you, if you couldn’t tell earlier.”

“Well, don’t worry. Your hero isn’t going anywhere.” He runs his hand through your hair, takes a deep breath, and then lets it all out. The smell of mint on his breath doesn’t fit with the burning glass and blood and smoke, but it’s so delightfully him. Clean and fresh in the midst of chaos, not a hair out of place. A perfect hero. “And… what Gargan said, it’s a lie. I’ve been honest with from the start."

Lies, lies, lies.

“The weapons… he must’ve thought I was someone’s supplier? I don’t know. Maybe there’s a version of me on this world that used to do that but I don’t know. You know I’d never lie to you. Not like Steve did.”

Lies, lies, lies.

“Right,” you whisper, and he kisses your temple quickly before getting up. His hand slips into yours as if it’s meant to be and he pulls you up, hoisting you into his arms. “Thank you, Quentin. For being the hero.”

“I just wanted to save the woman I care about, even when I couldn’t save my wife.” His voice weaves between your ears and you loop your arms around his neck, kissing him softly on the cheek.

“So you’re basically the hero of every Disney movie ever?” you tease and he laughs, turning to look at you as you ride the elevator down to the ground floor. Nosing your cheek, he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“I am, aren’t I? Oh, but, vigilante, remember?”

“Right, vigilante. Flynn Rider, then.”

“Who is… Flynn Rider?”

“You never watched Tangled?” you gasp and he chuckles, shaking his head. “What’s the last Disney movie that came out on your world?”

“We didn’t have Disney. I started watching them when I came here, and the last one I watched was WALL-E.”

“So what did you do for fun?”

“We had other movie companies a lot like Disney.”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter a ‘of course’ before explaining. “Well, Flynn Rider is this thief who is kinda a vigilante? I mean he does good but he’s selfish in the beginning, and Rapunzel is the hero. She has magic hair.” The elevator dings and he steps out. Your eyes cast to the destruction, you feel your smile begin to flicker, but then Quentin catches your attention again in an effort to distract you.

“A hero and a vigilante, huh?” He sounds amused, and you smile again, tired, but warm at his attempt to make sure you don’t see any of it. His blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and you lean forward to rest your heard against his neck.

“A hero and a vigilante,” you agree. You can hear the shouts of reporters, the clicking and flash of the cameras just outside the walls of broken glass. You’re not quite ready to face them yet, and it’s almost as if Quentin can read your thoughts as he stops just by the escalator, “like that ever works out well.”

“Well, we’ll be the first,” he promises and you smile to yourself as he lowers you to the ground. On unsteady feet, you manage to wrap your arm around his and walk into the view of the paparazzi. They call your name, ask for his, and your head spins at all the questions they ask, but you and your new partner merely walk through towards the rows of ambulances. 

“I’m just a ticking time bomb,” you tell him once he’s seated on the edge of the rig, the blood cleaned off his face. Your arms are wrapped up, blood barely seeping through the bandages and your own blood has been wiped off your face as you kick a loose pebble on the asphalt. “And… having that power to bend the very laws of reality makes me really fucking unstable.” He holds a towel to his face, wiping off the sweat and he smiles, almost charmed by your bluntness. “So… I know you never saw it before today, but if you decided to just ditch me now, I wouldn’t really hold it against you.”

“I’m not like Steve, okay?” He reaches to grab your fingers, and you lower your gaze to your intertwining digits. “I’m not going to leave you just because things get hard when you need me. I’d never lie to you. I don’t… there’s no one who has captivated me like you have, and your power has brought us together. Don’t ever think I don’t want to be with you because of who you are.”

And somewhere in your head, a voice whispers, Lies, lies, lies.

But out loud, you say, “Okay.” You smile and sit down beside him, resting your joint hands on his lap as you lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

“Of course. This new universe is terrifying, you know? What’d I do without my anchor?”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you let out a soft sigh, smiling against his cheek as he wraps you in a tight hug. “What would I do without mine?”

.

“Get some sleep, alright?”

“Yeah, I will.” 

Quentin pulls the covers up to her chin and brushes hair away from her forehead, planting a kiss between her eyes. Her burning, healing little fingers snag on his wrist and he leans down to kiss her rosebud mouth.

“G’night, Beck,” she whispers and he smiles, dragging himself away. Despite how much he wants to join her, sleep for months, he has work to do.

“Goodnight. Call me if you need anything, and remember to take your antibiotics.”

“I promise, Quentin,” she whispers and a genuine smile comes onto his face at how exasperated she sounds. Despite his original intentions, the warmth he feels, the rapid beating of his heart— 

It’s all very real, how much he cares, even if he must use her to his own ends.

Turning off the light, he double-checks to make sure her water is full before leaving the room. Dinner is in the fridge despite it being an already ungodly hour, and he makes sure that all the lights are turned off before he grabs his jacket and shoves his feet into his sneakers. He digs his phone out of his pocket as he exits the apartment and turns it on, walking to the elevator. Putting in Riva’s number, he steps out into the lobby and through to the fresh night air just outside and dials the number as he looks back and forth on the road. He still hasn’t managed to scrub the scent of smoke from his skin, and he needs to shower, but the red magic blasting in his head has yet to be an image chased from his mind. Picking at the sweater his new girlfriend had offered, he smiles at the mere thought of her. Her warm clean scent clings to the fabric, the smell of autumn, vanilla orchid and amber, flooding his nose on a spring night.

He is all smiles as he hails a car rolling down the street. Waving to the driver, he grins as he ducks into the front passenger seat and nods to Janice who barely stops before speeding away from the apartment building. Quentin grabs her phone to dial Riva, holding it between his ear and his shoulder as he fiddles with his own phone. Checking the news and media outlets, he smirks at every headline showing his face. 

“Hello?”

“Riva,” he greets cheerily, turning on the radio in the car. “Tell me the good news.”

“Well, they’re calling you a hero, sir.” Turning the radio volume up a notch, he listens as the news reporter, J. Jonah Jameson, sing his praises, recounting the day’s events like it’s breaking news. As his own interview plays over the news station, he rolls down the window and lets the cool night breeze steal into his lungs with a satisfied sigh. “Way to make the best out of a poor situation.”

Quentin sounds so grand, so official as he recounts his tale of the shooting on the radio and he can’t help the disappointment that nips at his stomach. Gargan could’ve been an asset to the plan had he not gotten so keen on his revenge on Spider-Man. He wanted his weapons too early, wanted to just jump into action. Well, Quentin knows all about patience, and if that means turning an unfavourable situation into an opportunity, then he’ll grab what he can get. Because he doesn’t want to destroy Spider-Man personally. 

He wants to destroy Tony Stark’s legacy.

“They want to know if you’ll be joining the Avengers soon, with very few who take the opposition.”

“Great. That is perfect.” Tapping his hand along the car door, he rolls up the window and glances at Janice, who sends him a look. “Meet me on Long Island, Riva, I have an idea.” On his phone, he opens up his messages and types a quick message to the woman he left in her flat.

Quentin Beck: Have a good night, honey. I’ll be back at your place in the morning for breakfast and to help with the burn dressings. Remember to take your antibiotics

Quentin Beck: And hey, I was thinking. You know how you’re thinking of chaperoning for your friend’s trip? Why don’t we go together like a vacation?

“What are you thinking, boss?” Turning off his screen, he looks out the window, at the night that whips by. 

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just make sure all our drones are operational, because I’m thinking of a vacation.”

“Where to, sir?” Janice asks and he shoots her a lazy look, the beginnings of a sly smile curling his lip.

“We need to go global if I’m going to be an Avenger. And I found just the threat to match their level.”

“The Viper, sir?” Janice asks, uneasy. “Don’t you think that’s a bit too far?”

“We could literally meet the Queen, Janice. This isn’t the time for doubt.” Clearing his throat, Quentin continues, “How do you feel about Europe, Riva?”

“Well, I always wanted to go there,” Riva says and Quentin lets out a sharp laugh. Perfect.

“Good. Because you might not enjoy it once we’re done with her. Stay in touch.” “Will do, boss.” Hanging up, he slides Janice’s phone into a cupholder just as his phone lights up, and he grins at the text notification, at who it’s from.

You: That sounds fun! I just got the forms from the school, so I’ll ask Peter to get you yours. Maybe we can hash out the details tomorrow?

Quentin Beck: It sounds like a date. I can’t wait to see the rest of your world with you.

You: I can’t wait to show you.

You: I’m glad that you’re here, Quentin. Even by unorthodox means.

Quentin Beck: I’m glad that I’m here with you, too. Now go to sleep. We have a vacation to plan.

[asagimeta]

Batwoman: Don’t Believe All The Negativity

So Batwoman premiered tonight

It's about an out-and-proud lesbian, played by an out-and-proud lesbian, with several major cast members- INCLUDING the main love interest- being POC, and it's very gay, this is not your "Power Rangers- let me quietly hint at being gay for One Scene and never mention it again" type of representation, there's lots of kissing, "I love you"s, goofy initial carvings, and serious issues like homophobia in the military and lying about your sexuality to avoid persecution

This is Tumblr bait if I've ever seen it so imagine my surprise when I barely get a few scrolls into the tag and already see people hating on it for not being queer enough because Sophie is married to a man

Hahahha..... I'm pissed

Allow me to advise ya'll to sit down as I explain why this is the OPPOSITE of a problem

First of all I cannot believe that on TUMBLR of all websites I actually have to explain to people that being in a heterosexual relationship- even married- does not automatically cancel out your queer ship

Shows have been putting their charectors through divorces and widowing for decades and it isn't going to stop now, in fact, I'll be THOROUGHLY surprised if The Husband makes it to see the end of the season

But I digress

We'll come back to shipping later because right now I'm going to tackle the biggest problem I have with these "You guys are making her straight!!!!" posts I keep seeing: CLOSETING. DOES NOT. ERASE. QUEERNESS.

I cannot believe I actually have to say this at the home of ships like Destiel, Sterek, and whatever the fuck legion of ships that Voltron produced but being in a straight relationship does not make someone less queer, ESPECIALLY if the relationship is fake, and ESPECIALLY if they have been ALREADY CANONICALLY SHOWN TO BE QUEER

Look I ship Destiel and Sterek and Supercorp too but "closeting" is a THEORY for these ships- with Sophie, it's CANON, she was in a canonical relationship with another girl where she kissed her and said she loved her and planned a future with her and the only reason she's not still with that woman is because was threatened to be kicked out of the military for it, I cannot process how the home of "They're in a straight relationship because they're closeted" is actually trashing this

But even THAT'S irrelevant because I can already hear some of you screaming that you don't ship any of those things but listen to me: Closeted charectors are just as important as out-and-proud charectors are

We live in a world where people are STILL being murdered for their sexuality every single day, where kids are still being sent to conversion therapy, still being kicked out of their houses, still being forced to be in straight relationships out of fear for their LIVES if they aren't- and fear for their jobs, their families, and everything else

I bought my first pride flag yesterday and hung it up today and legitimately my first thought was "gee, I hope this doesn't attract any crazy Trump supporters who are going to light my house on fire" but I did it anyway because I have supportive parents and have NEVER made my sexuality a secret and anyone who talks to me for ten minutes is PROBABLY going to hear atleast 1 "lol I'm bi" joke and I haven't been threatened with bodily harm for it YET so I figure I'll atleast probably live through the night

Other people aren't that lucky

For as important as it is for out people to have our Kate Kanes, it's JUST as important for closeted people to have their Sophie Moores

Please don't take away from the fact that the CW is trying to give that to people just because it means The Ship isn't happening Right Here Right Now

Please don't try to take away Sophie's queer identity because of being closeted

This plot development gurantees us atleast a season of Sophie exploring her identity and circling back to the question of "Do I really value being a member of something that's going to hate me for who I am over the woman I love?", we're going to have a season of her exploring what her identity means to her and we're going to get a really great juxtaposition between one lesbian who's out and proud and telling the story of pining for a lost love and how to navigate Queer Problems being out, and another who's closeted and afraid and in love but doesn't think she can return and how to navigate Queer Problems being closeted

That's GREAT??????

Why are ya'll complaining??????????

That's not something that we get very often???????

Also by arranging Sophie's story this way the CW is trying to AVOID giving us the same problems we always complain about like tokenism and Burry Your Gays, let's be totally honest here, if Kate and Sophie started off in a happy relationship and stayed that way through the beginning of the show, then for Conflict Reasons something way worse was going to have to come along and ruin that- like, you know, probably death? Or cheating, or a petty fight, or Sophie being evil....

This gives us a really NUANCED reason for why there's a story of pining and trying to get back to eachother here

Much like Alex and Maggie in Supergirl, the writers were clearly trying to take care to give us what we needed from a plot standpoint WITHOUT shoving gross stereotypes and tropes down our throats or making one person out to be The Bad Guy in the relationship, because yes you can read Sophie that way, but I think anyone who's ever been closeted can probably sympathize with her about this, esepcially as we don't know the nature of her home life, yes she signed the Gay Lie Document so she could be in the military but we don't have any indication that that was her only reason for giving Kate up so easily

For all we know, going home with Kate may not have ever been an option to begin with

And it's really hard to blame someone for risking their life and the life of their partner for wanting to be Out, especially if they were raised to believe that queer = bad, but I'm getting off topic

Instead of doing what alot of superhero stories do and fridging Sophie- making Kate's reason for doning the cowl to be revenge for her dead lover, they gave us somethin much tamer, something that will last all season but without lowering the number of main queer charectors on the show, they used the same trope that The Straights always use about becoming a superhero For Love but they did us one better because The Girlfreind isn't dead like she would have been in.... SOME.... stories....

But I promised to get back to shipping and here we go-

Aside from the fact that they're priming The Husband to get killed off early on just by virtue of existing (an unimportant charector who will greatly emotionally impact the love interest and create an opportunity for her to pursue the main protagonist, possibly even becoming a hero or a vigilante in her own right for revenge) there's also the fact that Sophie is hardly Kate's only chance at a relationship

If I'm not mistaken, they've already cast Renee` Montoya, and Maggie Sawyer already has an established charector in the Arrowverse too, so if the actress ever wanted to dip her toes back into the superhero waters, she could appear for a bit of time as well- wich would also be prime subplot territory for the next crossover, considering her history with Alex Danvers on Supergirl

So even IF they damned poor Sophie to Straight Hell for the rest of eternity- and I HIGHLY doubt that- do you really think that a show on the CW that opened with a love story is just going to let it's lead go without a love story for the foreseeable future...?

They're giving us a queer-lead show, wich means that it's going to be open to the same "UGH" romance moments that every other show on TV has, they're probably not going to give us an easy ride just because this one is gay like we get out of the background relationships in other shows where the leads are straight and I honestly appreciate that

Sure, I'd love if Kate got the Yuri On Ice treatment where she was able to maintain a steady romance through the entire show with only very short-lived, very easy-to-resolve conflicts ever denting it- I'd love that for alot of shows actually, imagine all of the plot that could get done if the relationships weren't being killed off or broken up every five minutes- but I appreciate as a queer person that she's probably going to get a gallery of love interests just like every STRAIGHT protagonist gets and I'm happy for her, in that respect

But my point in all of this is just that... guys... we finally have it

We have a show lead by a queer actor playing a queer charector who isn't going to get straight-washed or muted down the line because issues of homophobia and her sexuality are coming up in the very first episode.... and ya'll are complaining because her love interest is in the closet and married to a dude to stay that way as if that ever stopped any ship on any show ever??? Really?

TL;DR: Batwoman is great and if she and Sophie WERE in a happy and stable relationship ya'll would just complain about the show being "boring" and not actually working to examine queer relationships so I guess there really is no winning with the people on this website

[controloffandoms]

Numb Pt. 2 (D.W.)

Prompt: @arcvnunn said: This was super good! I'm really hoping you do another part! <3, @annatheowlsstuff said: OMG!!!! This is soooooooooooooo amazing!!!! I NEED more

Pairing: Older!Damian wayne x Super!reader

Words: 3232

Warnings: past!torture/experimentation, Past!mind meddling, past!violence, violent reader, decapitation, needle, cursing

Notes: Thanks for the positive responses!!! I’m not sure how I feel about this one, so let me know what you think!

Part 1    Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Damian ran a hand over his face as Jon yelled when his shoulder was popped back into place. Something was really wrong. As Jon, Clark, and Conner returned to the lobby of the penthouse, Damian stood, giving Jon his seat. “You look like you have a theory. Spit it out,” Jon stated as he took the seat.

Damian nodded, turning towards everyone in the room. “Yesterday after we brought her home, everything was too loud. We could be whispering in here and it felt as if we were screaming in her ears. I think she subconsciously turned her hearing off in order to not be hurt again. I think she’s turned everything down. She doesn’t seem to be feeling any pain. She isn’t freaking out about what happened yesterday. I think she blocked her emotions so that she could get through the day. Then she realized how good she felt without her emotions, without the pain, and she doesn’t want to go back to feeling like shit. I think some of Black’s changes in her mind have taken hold. The pure hatred in her eyes as she looked at Clark before she left, attacking Jon, that wasn’t her. We need someone to enter her mind and set it all back.”

“Damian, that could do more damage. We don’t know exactly what Manchester Black changed in her mind. Anything we try to ‘undo’ could cause further problems,” Bruce sighed. 

“But if we leave it like this, slowly she’s going to become someone else. Someone who doesn’t give a shit about anyone in this room. Black’s already forced her to feel indifferent about her family. Next, she’ll drop Dick. Eventually she’ll hate all of us and we won’t be able to help her after that because she won’t trust us,” Damian was pacing. “I’m not going to let her slip away from us when we can help her.” 

“No one is asking to let her slip away. But we can’t go in her mind and make things worse,” Dick placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. 

It was silent as everyone thought about what Damian had said. He had a point. “M’gann could mentally put herself in (Y/N)’s mind, find the repressed part of her mind and bring it to the front. Maybe that repressed part can help her to locate everything that’s been changed,” Conner suggested. 

“That’s brilliant,” Damian exclaimed as Clark disagreed.

“She could get stuck in there as well, let’s not take the risk.”

“If we do nothing and she stays like this, you’re going to hate yourselves. You can’t just abandon her. If you’re able to get her back after all of the shit she does in the future, she’s never going to be able to forget. Take that from someone who’s been there,” Jason glared at those opposing all the suggestions being made. 

“I’m not saying we abandon my daughter,” Clark sighed. “I just don’t want to further hurt her or have anyone else hurt by breaching her mind.”

“So you’d rather do nothing,” Jason huffed. “Right, there’s the reason we all get fucked over.”

“Jason, where are you going,” Bruce sighed. 

“To make sure she doesn’t do something she’ll regret later. Don’t want her to go through what I did.”

_______________

You were almost done with your article when a shadow loomed over you. You turned, rolling your eyes as you saw Jason. “What do you want Jay,” you asked. 

You watched his mouth as he formed his reply. “Wanted to make sure you were alright. Plus, it was getting a little too stuffy in the penthouse. I thought I could see the article you were working on.”

You stared at him for a long minute before nodding slightly, offering him the seat beside you. You passed over a couple of papers you’d printed out with your corrections written all over them. “It’s a story about Bludhaven’s vigilantes, how they work together and such.” You continued your revisions as you let Jason read the article. 

As you were starting to reread the article on your computer to make sure it all flowed, there was a tap on your arm. You looked to Jason who had a smirk on his face. “You make this Nightwing and Krypton out to be the perfect duo...but who really carries the two?” 

A small smile graced your face. “Definitely Krypton. She can take more hits than Nightwing, she can fly him out of tricky spots, and she’s just cooler than Nightwing.” Jason laughed at your response which caused a bigger smile to emerge. “Thank you for not treating me like I’m fragile and could break any moment. I’m glad to see at least one of you has enough sense to realize that I can take care of myself.”

Jay placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I remember how Bruce and the others treated me after I came back, I wanted to show you that you have someone in your corner. I believe in you one hundred percent. I’m here to help if you need me.”

You gave him a pat on the shoulder, printing out your revised story and handing it to Jay. “Tell me if everything looks good.”

_______________

After finishing your article and turning it in, you had told your boss that you were still feeling under the weather. He understood and let you leave early. “Did you drive here or use other means,” you asked Jay as you walked into the elevator with him. 

“Other means. I would appreciate a lift. After all, I proofed your article for you.” You chuckled and nodded, leading him to your car once the lift opened. 

“I know a great little pizza place if you’re hungry,” you stated. 

“Lead the way Kent. I’m always up for pizza.” The drive was silent, Jason didn’t want to distract you from the road. He had no doubt that if you had a wreck that you would get him out of the car with ease, but he didn’t want to be the cause of the wreck. Once you pulled up alongside the pizza place, he waited for you to exit the car before entering the establishment. 

After you’d ordered and sat down, you both made small talk. You had always liked Jason. You both had an easy friendship, plus he knew all the ways to annoy your other best friend, Damian. Jason was also a kindred spirit. He had been through hell yet he still found a way to fight it all and become a pillar of good-or mostly good. There were still a couple of things that didn’t stand up to the code of a hero, but you didn’t hold it against him.

You glanced at him as his phone buzzed against the table. You rose an eyebrow as he frowned but answered the text. “It’s the worry warts wondering if your still alive, right,” you rolled your eyes.

“They’re not expecting you to go rogue, (Y/N).” He paused as the pizza was delivered to the table. You both thanked the man before you turned back to Jason to watch his lips as he talked. “They just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“So you’re reporting back to them about my every move,” you asked, starting to pull back from the contact. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.

“No!” Jason’s hand reached out to you, but you moved your arm from his reach. “(Y/N), I’m here with you because you’re my friend. I’ve been ignoring my phone but I also know when they’ll start sending out people to search for you. I give them an update here and there so that you’re not pressured into doing anything you don’t want to.”

Slowly the tension was released from your body. “I guess that’s a good enough reason.” 

The rest of the lunch went by without incident. You and Jay caught up on what you had missed with each other since you’d moved to Bludhaven. As the lunch started to wind down, Jason knew where he stood on the matter of what was going on with you. The old you was still in there, but everyone had to stop looking at you like you were going to crack at any moment. They could fix this if they didn’t make a big deal out of it. 

As you pulled into the parking garage of your building, you stayed seated in your car. Jason paused, sitting with you. “I don’t want to go back in there,” you sighed after a bit of contemplation. 

He moved into your sight so you could see his lips moving. “I know they’re a little overbearing right now, but they all mean well. They’re just worried about what happened with Lex and Manchester Black.”

“They could stand to be less overbearing. It’s not like I’m going to go on a killing spree. The only reason I hurt Jon was because he was trying to control how I live my life. Had he not put a hand on me, I would have left him alone.”

Jason’s face was completely understanding, but on the inside, red flags were slowly raising. While you talked as if you felt emotions, he could tell by the words you spoke that you didn’t really care if you had hurt Jon or not. It was all facts, no emotions. The (Y/N) he knew and loved to hang out with would have felt at least a little guilty about the fact that you had physically hurt your brother.

“I think he understands that now. I think everyone does. We should sit down with them and explain to them how you feel. Once they realize that you’re thinking rationally, maybe they’ll back off a bit?”

You sighed but nodded, following Jason to the penthouse. Your eyes were calculating as you entered the penthouse. No one moved from where they were, just watching you as you made your way into the living area. Jason turned to you, “I told them that you wanted to say a few words to them.”

You looked at everyone in the room, eyes landing on Jon, Conner, and your father. “I understand that everyone is worried about yesterday’s events. I can assure you that I feel totally fine. I don’t feel like going out and killing everyone in sight. I don’t feel like hurting other superheroes. I don’t feel like I’m under anyone’s control. I can function and take care of myself. I don’t need you to run my life.” You looked directly at Jon as you started again, “I’m sorry for hurting you this morning, but I was fed up with everyone blowing what happened yesterday out of proportion. I didn’t want you and Dad trying to control my life. I had enough of others controlling me yesterday.”

You turned to the group. “I know that I can’t hear right now. I’m taking a break to give myself time to recuperate. I know I wasn’t making much sense yesterday, but I’m doing everything I know to get better. I know that me walking out this morning didn’t seem like it, but I made a promise to myself when I moved out here that neither of my jobs would interfere with my other job. I had an article due today, an article on Nightwing and Krypton’s partnership. I’m trying to have a better public opinion on both heroes so that our jobs aren’t as hard. Jason can confirm what the article was, he read it.”

No one said anything that you could see, so you nodded. “I am going to take a nap. If none of you mind that it,” you rose an eyebrow in challenge. “Right, I’ll see you in a bit.”

________________

“How does it feel to know that you’ll either be under our control or dead in less than thirty minutes?”

“That’s not going to happen,” you growled. Monolith, Zod, and Blockbuster emerged from the shadows and Lex smirked. 

The cage door opened and you took the chance to attack, pushing the Monolith back into Zod. You used your heat vision to blind Blockbuster temporarily. You had to admit that you were panicking on the inside. You were a cornered animal and they all knew it. It would only be a matter of time before one of them restrained you. 

You screamed and fought as Zod held onto you, dragging you through darkened hallways as the others followed. “When we get in there, make sure to inject her with the compound before we hook her to the machine,” Lex turned to smirk at you. “The show is about to begin.”

A door at the end of the hallway had light peeking from the bottom. It blinded you as the door swung open. It took a second for your eyes to adjust. That was enough time for your handlers to be changed out. Monolith was now holding you as Zod approached with a syringe. “No,” you shouted and tried to fight against Monolith’s hold on you. You used your heat vision, superstrength, and flight to try and get away, but nothing you did got you free. 

Whatever was in the syringe burned your veins as it moved through. You grit your teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much pain you were in. “Lock her in,” Lex stated as he moved further in the room. 

You fought the whole way there. You weren’t going without a fight. As the last restraint was put on you, you felt tears of frustration building up. “No no no no no,” you mumbled, pulling at the restraints. 

“You’ll find that those restraints are made of Kryptonite. While I’ll be displeased if this doesn’t work, at least I have one Super out of my hair,” Lex turned to look at Black behind the console. “Light her up!” 

As the machine roared to life, you heard glass breaking all around you and multiple figures entered the room. You didn’t have time to take it all in before the machine sent a steady stream of energy at you. Upon contact, the fire in your veins intensified tenfold and you couldn’t help but scream out. You could feel Black probing your mind and implanting thoughts, but you couldn’t focus enough to block him out. You felt like your body was being torn in two.

The room disappeared from around you and you were surrounded in darkness. “Puny little half breed, I think we have unfinished business. Come prove yourself.” 

You jerked awake, breath coming out faster than usual. Your room had crystals of ice covering it...you still didn’t understand it. Did the compound bring out your other Kryptonian abilities? It was confusing as hell. Your hearing was back to normal levels and you could hear people moving about the penthouse. The sounds were a little fuzzy after not using your hearing for a while, but it was nice to have the comfort of your hearing back. 

You opened the window to let a warmer breeze come through. You still weren’t sure how to reel in the cold breath, it was a work in progress. You leaned slightly out the window, letting the summer breeze roll across your face. 

You zoned out, you realized, as you jumped when a hand touched your arm. You turned slightly to see Jason and Damian. “Hey,” you stated, turning back around. “The breeze is nice.” You still felt numb, you knew you should be feeling some sort of pain, but there was none. You still couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“She can’t hear us, is this her way of telling us to leave,” Damian asked. 

“To be clear, I can hear you just fine, Dames. Just needed a little rest,” you stated.

You zoned again, unable to stop yourself. “Come prove yourself,” Lex’s voice called. You tensed, stretching your sight to find him. Images flashed in your head, showing you where Lex was. 

“That jackass,” you hissed, not bothering to look behind you as you flew through your bedroom window. 

_______________

By the time your family and the bats found you, Joker, Harley, and Zod were down for the count. Monolith was making his way back to the fight from where you’d thrown him. Bane was looking worse for wear as he tried to get out of the ice you’d put around him. Lex and Black were fighting you off, both seeming unafraid. 

“Did you flip the last switch,” Lex called to Black. A few seconds later, Black nodded and you stood still. 

“What did you do,” Conner shouted, making everyone’s appearance known. 

“Just a little experiment. Your sister should be under out complete control now...so sad she couldn’t prove herself to be able to withstand the physical and mental onslaughts. Pity really, I was wanting more of a fight,” Lex chuckled. 

“Good thing I’m full of surprises then,” you growled, jumping Manchester Black. Before anyone could react, his head was rolling away from his body. “I’m really sick of telepaths and Luther Corps!” 

As you leveled yourself with Lex, Jason was suddenly in front of you. “Don’t do this. This isn’t you. (Y/N/N), think about it. There’s no justice here if you kill him.”

“Move Jaybird, I don’t want to hurt you.” He stayed in place and you glared at him. “I don’t care about justice. I want him to hurt how I hurt. After everything he’s done to everyone I care about, after everything he’s done to me, he doesn’t deserve to be able to keep planning and hurting everyone he hates.” 

“If you do this, there’s no going back. You’ll regret this later,” Jason held his hands up to you. “Please.”

“Sorry Jay, but I won’t regret this later. I’m numb, Manchester Black made sure of that.” Without a second thought, you flung Jason out of the way and went back to your original target. 

You growled in annoyance at your father and brothers standing in front of Lex. “You’re protecting him? He has made our lives a living hell since he started his obsession with Superman. We’d be better off without him!”

“This isn’t you talking, (Y/N). We can’t let you kill him,” Jon leveled. 

“Right,” you nodded, “you’re right, I’m not thinking straight.” You forced yourself to relax, waiting for an opening. 

Jon gave you the opening you needed by stepping closer to you, his own posture relaxing. “Let’s just get you home and we’ll figure it all out.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, stepping closer. “I think not,” your whole face changed as you sent your younger brother soaring through the air. You took your father’s surprise and used it against him, dislocating both his arms before he could react. 

Conner’s arms wrapped around you, but you wouldn’t stop. You flew above the buildings, finally getting a little wiggle room before you pushed him off. You sent him speeding to the pavement with a firm punch. “I’m sorry, Beloved,” Damian stated as he appeared behind you on the roof after you’d landed. 

You felt the needle before you could act. You could only watch as the glowing green substance was injected into your body. “Fucking Kryptonite,” you growled, stumbling. “Shit, I hate syringes,” you muttered, collapsing against the roof exit. The last thing you remember before everything went black was Damian’s worried face.

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