#and i fully believe that at some point jason would like go to a protest and dick would be there like seriously?

[neuro-psyche]

I like to think that when Jason was resurrected and was a part of the family again and what not, when he found out that Dick was a cop he would simply ignore him whenever work was brought up. Like full on, middle of conversation, would just get up and leave. It was infuriating! But Jason stood on BUSINESS.

Like Jason grew up in Crime Alley, and was a child criminal because that was just survival. There’s absolutely no way little baby Jason didn’t call a cop a pig at some point, right?

And of course he wouldn’t call his big brother a pig, but he made it very clear he didn’t approve of his career. When Dick quit the BPD, Jason made it a big deal. Bought a cake. Threw a party. It was a big deal to him, even if he had a shit-eating grin the entire time.

[pinkmelodie]

The Red Means I Love You ❤︎

Summary: Jason Todd x fem!Reader. You and Jason used to date before you left to stay with the Titans. You both miss each other more than you’d like to admit, but stay out of contact. Fast forward to after he died, you encounter Redhood. Old feeling stir, and before you know it you’re bent over the motorcycle of someone you swore you’d leave in the past.

Warnings: Angst -> smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected s$x, mentions of death & terrorism.

A/N: This takes place right after s3ep2, right after they find out Redhood’s identity :3

You didn’t fully know what was happening; just that there were too many hostages in the building—all who would be killed if not evacuated immediately. You were about to run and help the rest of the titans get everyone as far away as possible before Kory pulled you aside.

You went to protest before she quickly interrupted you, “Go search for Jason.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uhm, what?”

“Look, I have a feeling he’ll listen to you better than anyone.” she said. “Jasons not someone who can be brought down by force. Shit, he came back from the fucking dead, you think he’s gonna let us beat this new…phase out of him?” 

You wanted to argue, but Kory wasn’t someone who was wrong often. She had a good point, and you knew you had to follow it.

“We’ve got this under control,” she assured, resting a reassuring but firm hand on your shoulder. “Go.”

You were skeptical, especially when you could see Gar in the distance shaking in his boots trying to convince an old lady to let him help her down the steps, and citizens clearly getting whiplash from Connor moving them to safety too fast. Your team was…definitely something, but with some hesitance you finally turned and ran in the direction of the one member you wanted to see.

…

“Jason!” You called out, your voice echoing through the barren alley. Gotham was creepy enough already without walking in some sketchy, busted up route in the pitch dark.

You kept calling but the only response you got was your own voice echoing back to you. You tried to scratch your mind for something to say that could persuade him, but you came up blank. Guilt ate at your conscience when you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to him for months before he died. 

To be honest, Jason never had anyone in his life to begin with. He told you that along with all his other secrets, and you still broke his heart. 

You stayed with the titans, thinking he was being naive for not wanting to. You didn’t think about the fact they never once tried to help him, or ever see him as more than an immature kid. They didn’t have the energy to help Jason through his issues so they just abandoned ship, sending him right back to Bruce and his horrible coping mechanisms.

As much as you wanted to be angry at Dick, or Kory or really anyone else for letting that happen, you had to face that you played your part.

Jason Todd died alone. He died feeling like no one would miss him, like he was a failure of a Robin and a failure of a titan. Because even after everything, all he wanted to do was prove himself.

So, yeah. Admittedly the first words you chose to say were not a good idea. Probably should’ve seen that one coming, but you never were too good at comforting him. was anyone?

“It didn’t have to be like this, you can still come back to the titans!” You tried to coax him, almost immediately regretting it. You quickly shut your mouth, tho the damage was already done. You just prayed he wasn’t here—he didn’t need to be provoked into blowing your brains out. 

Only when your muscles stopped tensing and you thought you got lucky, a voice you couldn’t even recognize rumbled above you. It shot ice up your veins and you would’ve frozen in place if you weren’t so adiment on seeing him again.

“Still taking about the titans? Why am I surprised.” He taunted, tilting his head in a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache. When you spun around you were met with someone you couldn’t believe was really Jason. He was standing on some rusted fire escape, a steel red mask boring right through you. 

You tensed, but not out of fear. No, you could never be scared of Jason, not the same nerd who woke up early to make you breakfast or who secretly wore reading glasses. 

You debated messaging him for months after your breakup, paragraphs on paragraphs you never sent. You had so much to say to him before, so why now did your mind go blank?

It was hard to see what he was feeling with the mask, but you could tell he was expecting a snarky remark back. When you just stood there dumbfounded, he sighed. “Look, I’m done trying to prove myself to them. To Bruce, to everyone! I don’t have to be some fucking nobody y/n, and neither do you.”

Now that made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. “‘and neither do you’? What are you trying to do, advertise me the life of crime?”

He groaned, “I don’t know why I ever tried with you. The titans are just a bunch of fucked up people acting like one big happy family, is that what you wanted? Are you happy you made that choice?” He sneered.

There was malice in his tone, but it wasn’t real. he didn’t feel angry anymore, just betrayed.

He would’ve splayed his heart out for you on a silver platter if you asked, just for you to turn your back on him. You followed him in his dreams, haunted him every time he smelt a familiar perfume, even appeared behind his shut eyelids while the life drained out of him. You were a part of him, and from what he knew you’d never looked back when you stormed out that day.

That’s why it shocked him when tears started to well in your eyes. God, your eyes—the ones he would subconsciously buy clothes of in the same colour. “You could’ve came with me,” you whispered. 

Your meek tone broke something in him. His shoulders relaxed and in a blink he leaped down, knees bending upon landing on the hard ground in front of you. Seeing him like this; the mask concealing his identity, various weapons strapped to his thighs and seemingly more toned than the last time you saw him—you could understand why everyone was on edge.

He stood there motionless, a silent and intimidating presence before you. You both stood there in unbearable silence until finally, he lifted his mask off.

His features were lit beautifully by the dim street light, eyes glinting ever so slightly. He looked exhausted—more troubled now, but you knew, despite everything, this was Jason. Your Jason, not who he was manipulated into.

“No, I couldn’t have.” he muttered begrudgingly, “they made that very clear.”

“So what, you just become a terrorist? Is that your idea of solving your problems?”

His fists clenched in barely concealed anger. “Bruce couldn’t save Gotham, so he abandoned it. I’ll be the one to fix it.” 

“By running around in a new suit and planting bombs everywhere? Real great strategy.” You rolled your eyes, but started to blush when you stared at him too long in the plated suit that fit him perfectly. You quickly caught yourself ogling and looked away, assuming he wouldn’t catch the red tinge on your face. 

You don’t know how you ever thought he wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed, it’s Jason Todd.

For fucks sake, the guy noticed every detail about you. The way you’d avoid eye contact when nervous, the pace of your blinking quickening when you were lost in thought, the slight heighten of your voice when you were excited about something. All these tiny things and you thought he just wouldn’t notice the way you eyed him down all red in the face?

Come on, you were basically writing your true feelings out to him in big, bold… ..red letters…

and it’s not like Kory ever specified exactly what to do once you found him… .. .

So that’s how you ended up bent against his motorcycle in some busted up alleyway, pussy spread open on his dick.

You gasped and clawed pointlessly at his covered back; nails clinking uselessly against the metal armour of his suit. 

Your own suit was pulled off just enough to get access to your cunt, panties pulled to the side so he could plunge his thick cock into you.

He was groaning more than he used to, and you could swear you even heard him whine. His pace was ruthless, thrusts messy but coordinated. He kept trying to push further inside you, pressing his body as close to you as possible like you would vanish at any moment. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-“ he rambled. Death heightened all of his senses—made things have so much more of an impact on him. Maybe he just missed you too much, or maybe he let himself forget how good you feel.

To be fair, you were far worse off than him. You would’ve alerted everyone in Gotham if he wasn’t covering your mouth with a gloved hand, though it’s not like anyone here would bat an eye to screaming.

“My poor baby just been lonely, s’that it?”He teased, manhandling you by your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. 

“Nobody to fill up this pretty hole like I do, such a shame,” he pouted in faux sympathy, as if he wasn’t balls deep at the moment.

“I’m back now. Fuck the titans, I’ve always treated you better, haven’t I?” He’s fucking your ability to form coherent words right out of your throat, but he knows your answer when you squeeze around him.

“Jay!” you moaned into his palm. Your cunt was squelching embarrassingly loud with each thrust, thighs shaking so hard you for sure would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up. Every drag of his cock in you hit the perfect spots, just like he remembered you love.

“You don’t even care that I’m red hood, do you?” he asked, his tone full of confidence. “Nah, you don’t. So fucking wet, does my suit get you off princess?” 

He moved his hand to play with your clit, getting it soaked with your fluids. You were too cock-drunk to lie bite back, just nodding desperately and mewling out something akin to a yes.

He smirked. “Pussys sucking me in the same too, fuck- I missed this. I missed you.”

He acted cocky when he was fucking you like this because it’s the only way he was sure you even wanted to be around him. Not much to complain about when his big dick is ravaging you, no?

Deep down he always felt right at home with you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would give up red hood for you. He’d give up anything for you, actually. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him. And he wasn’t letting you go this time.

With the ministrations on your clit and him pounding into you, it wasn’t a surprise when that knot in your stomach came undone quickly. Especially not with how many failed orgasms you had with your fingers, pretending it was him.

Ever attentive, he noticed immediately. “You gonna come, baby? Try not to get any on the new suit.” He winked, as if you were gonna squirt for him. (You have, many times.)

The cherry on top was when he unexpectedly flipped his mask back down and leaned in to whisper right into your ear with that deep voice, “come for me”

And you were gone. You came with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and toes curling. Your pussy gushed all over his dick, forming a white ring around it that you could see every time he slammed his hips.

Seeing your pretty face so euphoric was what sent him over the edge, and grudgingly he pulled out, pearly white cum shooting all over your stomach.

You spent a minute regaining your breath while he pressed gentle kisses all over your throat. He only let up when you whined at the slight pain of the pressure on your newly forming hickeys. He tucked himself back into his pants and re-adjusted his belt. You were wondering if he planned on just leaving until he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.

He moved you so you were set down properly on the back of his motorcycle and then stepped on. You instinctively laid against his back, resting your head on his shoulder and he admired you with pure adoration.

“Wrap your arms around me babe,” he hummed, affectionately rubbing your thigh that was pressed to his.

When your brain finally caught up to what was happening you gave him a confused look.“Wha- wait! Where are we going?” 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Home,” he laughed, “what? Did you think death was gonna do us part, baby?”

[capricorn-stark]

Othello

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am, kinda short, swearing

a/n: i got strong feelings towards Othello, The Catcher in the Rye, and Jason Todd, but this one’s for @tadpole-san smirk smirk smirk

part 2

You liked studying at Gotham University’s library for the ambience. 

Whether or not you got any actual “studying” done depended wholly on your mood and whatever being that may or may not have been watching you from above, but even if you somehow managed to procrastinate the entire time you were there, at least you could walk back to your dorm with the comforting fact that you had gotten in your cardio for the day. 

The place itself was gorgeous with its overarching ceilings, long hall lined with pillars supporting a seemingly endless array of books, the cozy golden glow of the lights, and the generally pleasant atmosphere provided by the myriads of students sitting around its tables and lounging on its couches. The entire campus was stunning - but it would only be surprising if it wasn’t thanks to the very generous grants from patrons of the Gotham elite, most notably people like Bruce Wayne.

You had a particular spot you liked near the edge of the library, in a little corner mostly surrounded by shelves with enough space for a few usually-unoccupied couches. Aside from you, the only regulars to sit there mainly just consisted of one other guy who recently had started to drop in every few days or so to listen to music and do his own work. You didn’t mind him - he never bothered you, and you both kept up your mutual solidarity towards maintaining a very comfortable silence.

That was, until one particular day.

“Is that Othello?” You glanced over the book in your hand and saw the guy’s startlingly green eyes gazing right at you over his dark-rimmed reading glasses. He wasn’t wearing his earbuds as per usual, so you figured your agonized sigh of boredom must’ve come out a little too loudly. 

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slowly lowering the book a little. “Unfortunately.” He cracked a slight grin at that.

“What, you’re not a fan of Shakespeare?” 

“I don’t hate him,” you started with a fairly nonchalant shrug, “I just think this book in particular is just kinda-”

“Boring as fuck?” he finished very eloquently, causing you to grin back despite yourself. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“I can agree with that,” he said with a nod towards the book. “Definitely not one of my favorites, that’s for sure. Good premise, dynamics were pretty interesting, but I couldn’t really get into it either.” The fact that he was discussing Shakespeare’s works in a way that suggested he had fully read the book (without wholly relying on CliffNotes) and that he did perhaps genuinely enjoy some of them suggested to you that he was probably an English major. “And Iago was a bitch-”

“I know!” you nearly exclaimed, throwing your hands up in very evident frustration. “Iago was shady as hell, and I don’t get how Othello never saw it coming from him. Like, no one can be that oblivious, come on. I wouldn’t have listened to him.” RIP to Othello, but you were different. 

He was actually laughing at that point, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You and me both. You an English major?” You shook your head, holding up your Psychology Twelfth Edition textbook that had been resting on the table beside you.

“Psych.” He raised a brow and you inwardly sighed.

“Jeez - at GU? I’m impressed.” 

Being a psych student at your particular Gotham-based university was both a blessing and somewhat of a curse. The classes were phenomenal and your professors consisted of some of the best and most experienced in the nation - but that also came with the downside that the city you lived in had some of the biggest psychopaths and the largest insane asylum in the nation as well. 

Well, you win some, you lose some.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried to say, but the smirk playing at his lips proved that you weren’t convincing anyone. “Let me guess, you’re an English major.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpanned, chuckling regardless as he closed up his own book and extended a hand out. “Name’s Jason Todd. I’ve seen you around a lot, but we never really talked, huh?” You smiled as you reached out to shake his hand, introducing yourself as well.

“I guess not. You usually look like you’re pretty busy.”

“Something like that,” Jason grinned, leaning back against his chair and sliding off his glasses. Without them, the lights somehow gave them an almost glowing effect. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to bother you.”

Bantering over Shakespeare with a cute boy wasn’t exactly your definition of being bothered, so you shook your head.

“Believe me, that was a lot better than Othello was.”

You saw Jason at your spot again the next day, then the day after and the next, lounging across from your couch and always seeming rather out-of-place with his black leather jackets and ripped jeans, but a welcome sight to you nonetheless. And just like that, suddenly, your visits to the library weren’t just for the sake of cardio and the ambience anymore.

He was surprisingly amusing to talk to, whether it was complaining about more books for your respective English courses or just ranting to each other about the struggles of being a student at GU. It was easy to bond over things like getting your midterms interrupted by random threats from the likes of the Riddler, or arguing over whether or not the city’s latest vigilante, some guy named Red Hood, was actually cooler than Batman himself. 

He had been particularly passionate about that last debate.

Aside from being easy-going and annoyingly attractive, you also figured out that he was ridiculously smart, especially when it came to helping you with your English course. Whether it was explaining the deeper societal message behind a particular reading or helping you research topics for your thesis, Jason had a knack towards figuring out exactly the things you yourself seemed to struggle with. 

“How do you figure all of this out?” You asked one day out of sheer disbelief after he connected The Catcher in the Rye to themes of disillusionment about innocence and one’s childhood, and not just towards the protagonist, Holden, being an ass. “Seriously, I thought I was pretty decent with this stuff, but you blow me out of the water.”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, sliding off his reading glasses and setting it on top of the wooden table you were at. You had grown fond of the way they looked on him.

“It’s nothing special,” he dismissed in response, lifting his gaze from the book to fixate it back on you. “You do great by yourself, I just kinda give you a little push with my interpretations.” 

He did that a lot - downplaying the fact that he was actually smart as hell like it really was no big deal. The way your grades had started rising after he started helping you out proved otherwise, though.

“Still, thanks for helping me out,” you insisted, eliciting another slight smile from him. “It means a lot.” 

“Oh yeah?” His tone had gotten cheekier as he leaned closer to you. “How much is a lot?” 

“That’s up for you to decide,” you smirked, moving back and closing up your laptop. “Not me.” 

“You know, if you really wanted to thank me, you should get a coffee with me sometime.” 

“We get coffee together like every week,” you deadpanned and he sighed.

“Not like that. Like a date.” 

It hit you like a truck.

“A date,” you repeated, like you hadn’t heard him the first time. 

“Only if you were into that,” he added, trying to play it cool as he moved to pack his things into his bag. “I’m not working tonight, so I thought you might wanna give it a shot.” That was even more surprising, because he always happened to have a mysterious night shift going on. He never told you what exactly that was, aside from off-handedly mentioning something about motorcycles and Crime Alley every once in a while.

You were still letting it process. 

“...if you don’t want to-”

“No, no - that sounds great,” you interjected, already starting to smile. At the sight of it, he managed another grin himself, an evident hint of relief flashing across his face.

“Right. Yeah. Cool.” He cleared his throat and shot you another grin as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s head out. And I’m telling you right now, I’m not letting your broke ass pay for it.”

“Jason!” you protested as he laughed and nudged your shoulder with his, making you join in despite yourself.

At least Othello had managed to lead you to one good thing.

[chronicbatfictioner]

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 20

The dinner was just as Jason expected, bland, dull, a lot of formalities in which Bane was visibly struggling with and did not even bother to pretend to know the difference between steak or salad forks. Jason, Dick, and Tim managed to keep the conversation alive and light, somehow without offending the formality of the dinner. Good thing, Jason thought, that The League had taught him of formal dinner etiquette and whatnot, otherwise he would have been slurping the baiwang with the soup spoon instead of the Chinese soup spoon provided by Alfred - like Bane.

Dick, for all of his lack of etiquette education, won in the manners division - regardless of the fact that Tim was helping him by pointing out which cutlery should be used for what. At the very least, he was not beneath asking what he wasn't sure of. 

The day after was a little duller. Alfred merely informed them that the police were there along with the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, to arrest Bane on several counts of murder. Bane was arrested nearly without a fight - he had been purged of his venom strength and knew that he had no chance against some of the cops who were ready to taser him.

Jason was... frankly, a little disappointed.

"Would've been nice if there was a brawl or something," Dick voiced Jason's thought out loud just as he walked outside.

"Oh, goodness, I'm just glad this is over," Bruce commented, glaring apprehensively at Dick's back as the latter walked away with Damian. There was a good long silence before he added, "I presume now that Bane is out of this house, Damian will no longer need you two? I mean, he has me now - and his grandparents." he pointed out.

"I have vowed to guard Damian until he is an adult," Jason replied simply. Ignoring Bruce's sudden change of expression. "it is my order."

"Well, Talia... no offense. But Talia won't-- is no longer around to hold you accountable." Bruce argued.

"No, she's not. But Damian is." Jason looked at the child, sitting under one of the Manor's massive trees with a thick sketchbook before him. Dick, Jason knew, was on the tree. Even with Bane arrested, Oracle had warned that as long as he's not fully incarcerated in a maximum-security facility, he could still either get out and hurt the Waynes - including Damian. Therefore Jason asked Dick to remain with them for a little while longer. Thankfully, Dick didn't mind.

"He's a child. Children adapt well with changes of environments," Bruce said. "and if you're afraid that Bane would come back, I can hire some bodyguards for him."

Jason managed to hold back his smirk. People always thought that he was there to protect Damian; not realizing that he was protecting others from Damian's temper. Instead, he smarted, "like you protected your parents by sending them overseas."

"Oh, now, that's not fair." Bruce protested. "It was... we all thought that... at least mother and I..." he didn't finish his sentence as he exhaled exasperatedly. "His DNA check is back," he continued after a few moments of silence.

"Obviously, he hasn't a drop of Wayne blood in him," Jason suggested, a little dryly. "Something anyone with knowledge of the molecular structure of DNA would have known right away. You accepted Damian right away because you saw he has your mother's ears, in spite of his green eyes. Yet you doubted your father's denial in spite of the fact that there is nothing on Bane that resembled any of you - including about all of the portraits of your ancestors.

"And then there's something else I realized. Bane came with nothing; whereas Damian came with the Al Ghul wealth. You were more accepting because Damian would not equal splitting the Wayne wealth..."

"That is not true!" Bruce growled. "I would not have turned Damian away even if he was not Talia's child. He is my child, and I know that he is!"

"Then we're back to my initial point: You were unable to defend your parents because you did not have 100% faith in their virtues. The Al Ghuls are known leaders of the League of Assassins, to which the leadership shall now be Damian's. What will be your argument, when he decides to take over the League fully? 'Oh, I can't be associated with criminals, even if said crimes were just allegation and not a video recording of someone snapping off another person's neck'?" Jason sneered. "Now, Mister Wayne. I also would like to remind you, that I have Damian's legal custody. If you insist I should leave, I shall bring him along."

"You can't do that," Bruce scowled. "He's my biological child..."

"You have studied your country's laws, Mister Wayne. But you forgot the one crucial thing: Damian is not your country's boy by any means other than your claim." Jason mentally realized that he has placed one of his ace cards onto the table. But he honestly prefers this kind of conversation not to be had when Damian is present. And from the looks of it, he has packed his sketching materials and was making his way back indoors. "Do not try to deny Damian's access to me, or the League, Mr Wayne. He is not yours to manipulate," he added softly while Damian was still out of range.

"Hey guys, Damian and I are hungry," Dick announced as they went past the door. "Think Alfred would let us have cookies?"

"He's the one who is hungry, Todd," Damian told Jason. "I shall wait until tea time for the cookies. It is only a mere hour away."

"Why don't you scrub up a little? Tea should be ready by the time you're done." Bruce suggested.

Damian's scowl could have killed a cobra. "While I am planning on refreshing myself, father, it would be kind of you to cease directing me as if I am an imbecile," he stated, and for the second time in less than 10 minutes, Jason bit the inside of his cheek to stop a snicker.

Bruce, however, was not amused at Damian. "Well! That is not what a child should say to his father!" he admonished.

"Todd," Damian glared at Jason. "Did you not inform Mr Wayne here that I merely referred to him as 'father' due to common societal practices?" he asked with air quotes around the word 'father'.

"I have informed him that, Damian," Jason assured him.

"Do remind him on a daily basis that I am not obliged to remain here beyond what is demanded by his country's societal norms." Damian continued.

"I shall, Damian," Jason replied.

"Very well, I shall be in my quarters until tea time. You might consider feeding Grayson here, Todd," Damian said dismissively.

"I actually have some matters to discuss with you, Damian, if you don't mind. I think Grayson can fend for himself just fine," Jason told him.

"I don't mind. Let us, then." Damian said, leading the way back to his room.

Jason nodded politely to Bruce and motioned Dick to join him. "Mr Wayne, Grayson."

As they left Bruce, still standing in confusion - probably - Dick remarked, "ouch," softly.

"Go on and get your own cookies, Grayson," Jason remarked.

"I need to discuss something with you, too. You two, actually, somewhere safe." Dick said. Both Jason and Damian paused their steps. "Yeah, and we might need to call upon a certain bird for backup," Dick added, almost nonchalantly. It was not until then that Jason noticed the tenseness on his shoulders. He remembered that Dick, too, was trained to keep an eye out for danger.

"You go on ahead with Damian, I'll ask Alfred if he may have tea in his quarters." Jason decided. Damian nodded, realizing the urgency in Dick's posture, and stepped a little closer to Dick as Jason turned the other way.

Whatever it is Dick has to say, Jason could be certain now that besides himself, Dick would protect Damian fiercely. And/or protect other, possibly innocent people, from Damian's tempers.

He was just wondering why did it seem that Bruce Wayne was so intent on removing him.

And why Dr and Mrs Wayne would suddenly take a trip to Europe right after they were proverbially and literally freed from Bane.

Alfred, as usual, was in the kitchen preparing for tea time. In spite of being Americans, the Waynes seemed to like the habit of afternoon tea time.

Jason told Alfred of Damian's request, and Alfred nodded slowly. "Is Master Bruce still in the sun-room, then?" he asked.

"Last time I saw him, yeah."

"Ah, then... young Jason, may an old man request something from you and your vast knowledge of herbs?" Alfred's face was as impassive as ever when he said that, just a shade before he returned to his task of preparing some small sandwiches. But Jason was a little confused. Why would Alfred ask him for herbs? As far as Jason could tell, he was as healthy as... well, someone Jason's age, which has got to be at least a third of Alfred's; half at most. Jason didn't think that Alfred was any older than mid- to late-40s.

"Sure, how can I help?" he answered, anyway.

"Oh, I was wondering if there is any method you may suggest to... how do I put it... Chafe off surgical remains within oneself? I have had work done for my nose, you see, on a whim as a young lad; and I do not believe it looks becoming on me as I age. I feel as if it makes me look like another person is inhabiting my body, as Master Bruce was wont to say."

Jason blinked, and partially wished Dick was there to confirm his thoughts. In spite of being the exact same height as Jason, Alfred was bowing his head a little as he spoke; and Jason knew that there was a surveillance camera that would be able to record their conversation in the kitchen. His shoulders were tenser than the task of cutting bread would have required.

"Well, wow... okay. I'll need to actually search my books. You know some of the ladies back then would apply something to their skin for scars or bruises. But I'm not sure if it'll work on surgical stuff. I'll let you know?" Jason replied carefully.

"Thank you, Jason, for considering. While it shames me for being vain, it is... rather crucial." Alfred smiled at him.

"No problem, Alf," Jason patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to Damian's room - where each and every surveillance device has been disabled and/or misdirected by the combination of Tim, Barbara, and Damian's own skills.

Once Jason walked in and closed the doors of Damian's room behind him, he was greeted by both Damian and Dick's voices.

"That man is not my father, Todd! I believe my grandparents may still be in danger!" Damian exclaimed as Dick stormed over and announced 'There was an increase of drone activities outside, that's why I brought Damian in!' - followed by Damian and Dick glaring at each other, and Damian said, "Todd, we might need to acquire some new exit strategy!" at the same time as Dick saying, 'I've sent a text to Tim, but he hasn't answered. I've texted Babs, though!'

Jason cringed at them. "Whoa! Hold up! If this is how you two kids report, nobody would need surveillance equipment to hear you from Gotham Harbor!" he snarled. The two promptly stopped and glared at each other again, as if they both were hoping to have Superman's laser vision or something. "Okay, I've heard you both, and I'm upping the ante. Alfred just asked me practically for a method to dissolve foreign objects inside someone's body and allude that someone in the house is not who they seemed. And said someone might be Bruce."

Damian threw his fist to the air, stating, "I knew it!"

Dick's eyes were wide as saucers. "Okay... I would... I've wanted to say the same thing since we got in. But I was kinda scared I might be wrong. What makes you sure?"

"Alfred referred to Bruce in the past tense when talking to me," Jason said. "You? --wait, no, Damian first."

"He looked and behaved differently than the videos mother had shown me," Damian replied.

"I second Damian on this. Well, dude... we need to communicate better, don't we?" Dick said, telling the last bit toward Damian. "I've only met him once, way back when-- when my parents were... you know. But like I've told you, I remember everything from that day as if it has just happened. I remember Bruce Wayne was there with a blonde girl wearing chinchilla fur, a 50s hairdo, and an actual pearl pin. But when my parents... right after, I saw him directing traffic of people out of the tent calmly. His presence then was literally calming, like, everyone was looking at him for direction. This Bruce... generally, looked too nervous on everything; if that makes sense."

Jason thought a moment. Dick was really good at reading people's body language - even the most stoic Alfred. Before Bane was removed, Dick's assessment of Alfred was that he was uncomfortable with Bane, yet very welcoming of Damian. Thus his immediate trust in Alfred. However, since Bane was arrested and proven to not have been a Wayne; Jason hasn't got the chance to ask Dick to re-assess Alfred.

"Okay, I'll retrieve the video footage of your dad from 10 years ago from the League's servers. We'll cross-check. We'll tell the Birds once we're sure, yeah?" Jason suggested.

"Agreed," Damian nodded slowly.

"I'll have Tim keeping an eye on the Doc and Missus while we're at it, though. I mean, you know, precautions and all." Dick suggested.

"Okay, call Tim. If he doesn't answer, call Babs or his mom. I'd like this whole thing settled quickly before Bruce can do anything to harm Damian." Jason huffed a breath slowly, wondering what the hell is it with the Waynes that seemed to run on endless conspiracy theories, anyway.

[writingblock101]

Hooky (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request for @pickle-todd: Jason + “If we get caught, you can’t speak English and I’m deaf! (I don’t know why it won’t let me tag you)

Word count: 1,600

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish

“You know, I thought I got out of having to go to these galas when I died,” Jason rolls his eyes as you straighten his tie. 

“Guess you should’ve stayed dead then,” You quip, tucking his black tie into his jacket. 

Jason groans dramatically and Bruce clasps him on the shoulder. 

“If you don’t want to go to the galas, then don’t get caught sabotaging the Batmobile radio,” He grins, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I can’t believe I took that bet,” Jason grumbles, glaring at Tim. 

“I told you not to,” You remind him. 

“But I knew he’d be too stubborn not to,” Tim grins viciously. “And now you have to suffer with me.” 

“Well, I’d appreciate if next time I don’t get pulled into the crossfire,” You remark, adjusting your shoes which you knew you would be kicking off before the end of the night. 

“Sorry, babe,” Jason hooks an arm around your waist and kisses your head. “That’s what you get for dating a dumbass.” 

“I should’ve escaped when I could,” You tell Damian. 

“Don’t pretend that you weren’t warned,” Damian reminds you. 

“I’ll listen next time,” You promise. “But he’s kind of cute, so I’ll keep him for now.” 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“He’s not worth it.” 

“Hey!” Jason protests. 

“We’ve got guest to greet!” Bruce expertly and very subtly defuses the building argument between his second eldest and youngest. 

Smart move on his part. Arguments between Jason and Damian rarely end cleanly. 

“We’re “fashionably” late,” Tim rolls his eyes. “Why do we have to greet anyone?” 

“I don’t understand the reasoning of being purposefully late,” Damian rolls his eyes again. 

“Well, you see kiddo, Brucie over here has to play the stupid billionaire and fashionably late is something only dumbass rich people do,” Jason explains with a shit-eating grin. 

Bruce narrows his eyes. 

“Watch it, or I’ll tell the press you two are engaged.” 

Jason narrows his eyes right back. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Try me.” 

You smack Jason’s arm. 

“Stop running your mouth and getting me dragged into this crap!” 

“Should’ve listened to me,” Damian sing songs in the background. 

“You’ve been hanging around Dick too much,” You groan, recognizing Dick’s sing-songy tone that Damian seemed to have picked up.  

“At least I haven’t chosen to spend time with Todd.” 

“Listen you little shit--” Jason starts. 

“Alright, let’s go!” Another brilliant situation diffusion by Bruce. 

To his credit, it does work because when he pushes open the doors to the large ballroom, multiple people’s attentions turn to the Wayne family and co. While Bruce and Tim begin mingling with various business partners, you and Jason slip away from the crowd. Jason snags two flutes of champagne off a nearby waiter and hands you a glass. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” He compliments, clicking your glass.

“Thank you,” You smile, taking a sip. “You look very handsome.” 

Jason smiles at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s cut off by a shriek. 

“Jason!” An old cougar who’s always had the hots for Jason, especially after his major growth spurt with his return to the land of the living bustles toward you two. “Is that you?” 

Jason groans and tosses back the whole flute in one shot. 

“Come on, babe,” You hook your arm in his. “Let’s go be sociable.” 

He groans again but puts on a charming smile. 

“Mrs. Young, it’s lovely to see you again.” 

“Oh please,” Mrs. Young waves him off. “I’ve told you, call me Melany.” 

“Right,” Jason smiles tightly. “Melany, I’m sure you remember my girlfriend,” Jason gestures to you. 

Melany narrows her eyes at you for a moment. 

“Oh, yes of course, um... “ She pauses, seeming to not remember your name. 

You’re not sure if she truly doesn’t remember your name, or if she’s attempting to make you feel insignificant. If so, she doesn’t succeed. 

“Y/N,” You remind her with a sickly sweet smile. “It’s lovely to see you again.” 

“Of course!” Melany lightly taps her head. “I’m sorry, the common names slip my mind, dear!” 

“It’s quite alright,” You internally roll your eyes, knowing fully well she wouldn’t forget Jason’s name despite his name being more common than yours. 

“Jason, give me a hug!” She demands. “I haven’t seen you in months.” 

“Ah, yes, of course,” Jason says reluctantly, but releases your arm and allows Melany to pull him forward harshly. 

Your eyebrows shoot up when you notice her hand starting to drift downward, but luckily Jason breaks away quickly. 

“Come on, boy, let’s see if your dancing skills have improved,” Melany insists, dragging Jason to the dance floor. 

He helplessly looks over at you with panic in his eyes, but you can’t do much more than a shrug. Unfortunately, Jason is very well versed in how to deal with Melany Young, but that doesn’t make the experience any more pleasant. 

“Excuse me,” You turn to see a gentleman roughly Bruce’s age smiling at you, a little more predatory than you would like. “Can I bother you for a dance?” 

You suppose this is karma.

“Of course!” You insist with a fake smile. 

As predicted, the man who introduced himself as Justin, was handsy. Multiple times you had to yank his hands up to keep them from slipping down to your ass. Unfortunately for you, Justin wasn’t the only man trying to cop a feel on the dance floor tonight. Once the song was over, another man sweeps in to dance then another man after that. After the third song, you see another man moving to speak to you when someone clears their throat behind you. Thankfully, you turn to see Jason looking a bit pissed off. He seems to have noticed your struggle with wandering hands tonight.

“Bill,” He greets tightly. “Mind if I take my girlfriend back?” 

“By all means,” Bill gestures. 

Jason sighs but takes one of your hands, the other resting on your hip. You place your free hand on his shoulder, grateful to be dancing with your boyfriend and not another creepy man. 

“Bruce is lucky this is a charity ball because if I saw one more hand slide down your back, someone would be going home in an ambulance,” Jason growls to you. 

You smile, pressing a kiss to Jason’s jaw. 

“Good thing I have Red Hood to scare them off.” 

“I should’ve broken their hands.” 

“It would’ve been satisfying,” You admit. “But way more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Jason looks down at you. 

“Not to me, it wouldn’t. You’re worth that and more.” 

“You see, that would be really cute if you weren’t talking about literally breaking people’s hands.”

Jason laughs, pulling you close for a moment to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Come on, I’m tired of being groped by old horny women, let’s go get some real food.” 

“Gotta love the casual sexual assault that comes with rich people,” You roll eyes. “But we can’t just leave. Bruce is going to notice we’re gone.” 

“Oh trust me,” Jason glances over at Bruce, surrounded by women. “He won’t notice a thing.” 

“You know, if he was actually Brucie Wayne, I’d believe you,” You admit. “But he’s not. He’s going to notice.” 

“Well, it looks like we’ll have to be sneaky,” Jason grins with a quick kiss. “Come on,” He takes your hand, leading you to the back of the ballroom. 

You both watch Bruce carefully and wait until his back is fully turned then dart for the door. You can’t help but giggle as you two jog down the long elegant hallway toward the kitchen. 

“No, wait, Jason,” You tug his arm to a stop. “If we go to the kitchen, we’re definitely going to get caught!” 

“Don’t worry,” Jason insists. “If we get caught, you can’t speak English and I’m deaf!” 

“As great as that plan is, I don’t think that’ll work on your family,” You roll your eyes. 

“You underestimate my acting skills,” Jason insists, tugging you toward the kitchen again. 

You let him but roll your eyes again. 

“I’ve seen your acting skills. They’re nothing to be proud of.” 

“Tell that to Melany.” 

Okay, he’s got a point. 

“Hey, wait a second,” You frown. “Why am I the one who can’t speak English and you’re deaf? Don’t you know five other languages or something?” 

“Just make one up!” Jason shrugs. 

“What?” You laugh. “That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard!” 

“It’ll be a language from a small, little known country! Trust me, it’s foolproof.” 

“Yeah, maybe against a five-year-old!” 

“Hey! I resent that!” 

“Master Jason, Ms. Y/N,” A voice interrupts from behind you. 

You both freeze but slowly turn around, looking a little guilty, to see Alfred watching you with an amused smile. 

“The gala is not in the kitchen, perhaps you got lost?” He offers. 

You smile awkwardly while Jason pretends to not have heard Alfred, gesturing to his ears with a confused expression. You close your eyes for a moment to resist the urge to face palm. He’s really going for it. 

Alfred raises an eyebrow at Jason’s antics and you bite your tongue to keep from laughing. He signs something, which you will admit that it’s impressive that Jason actually knows any sign language. Alfred chuckles with a fond smile. 

“I recall Master Bruce often creating elaborate plans to sneak out of these galas as a young boy, although, I do advise you next time to have a better plan,” Then Alfred turns his back and wanders down the hall. 

Jason grins and takes your hand again. 

“Thanks, Alfie!” 

“You’re ridiculous,” You laugh as you two continue down the hall away from the gala. 

“I told you, foolproof!” 

“No, it absolutely was not!” 

“I totally sold that with my amazing acting,” Jason insists. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Okay, babe. Whatever you say.” 

Jason grins, kissing your head. 

“So, where do we want to go first with our new found freedom?” 

“I could go for a Frosty.” 

“Wendy’s it is!” 

Alfred needs a raise for putting up with all these fools. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Distraction {One-Shot}*

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Silliness, Cursing, Mild NSFW

Words: 1.9k

Note: So, this came in and I thought this is cute. It got me thinking how this would go down for both Chris and Jason. So, this is for Chris and I’m thinking of doing one for Jason as well. Anyway, I hope I did this right and I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you, as always for reading!!!❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were very active on social media. As a model social media really gave you the free exposure that kept your name on everyone’s lips. These days, a girl had to use every tool at her disposal, and social media was a massive tool. Your management team thought it didn’t hurt you, so they allowed it. Of course, there are some things you kept off of social media completely, and sometimes you teased at.

 At the beginning of yours and Chris’s relationship, both of you thought it was a good idea to keep things quiet. You didn’t want the hoopla about being his “new fling,” and he didn’t want you exposed to that kind of negativity. He knew his fanbase was insane. For the first year and a half of your relationship, it was kept so quiet that no one but your families knew what was going on. By the time the public got wind of things, you and Chris had been together for two blissful years.

Today, at almost three years in, your relationship was not a secret. Everyone knew how crazy Chris was about you. He was not quiet about expressing his love for you, and he was not shy about posting pictures or little snippets that were about you. You two were crazy in love and had yet to get out of the honeymoon phase. When you got the message from Scott, you didn’t think anything of it. When you opened the link attached, it brought you to a Tik Tok page.

 The girl was whispering to the camera about doing some sort of prank. She was going to walk into the room naked while her boyfriend was playing video games to see what he would do.  You watched her drop the towel and everything and prance into the room. As expected, it took her boyfriend a whole of ten seconds to look at her and one second for him to drop the controller and approach her. When the video ended, that started your descent down the rabbit hole. You watched video after video of girls and guys doing the same thing.

 Almost all the videos of the girls doing it ended just as how you’d expect. The videos of the guys doing it were mostly met with giggles, but a few you could guess what happened after the screen darkened. Thus started your wheels. You spent the next ten minutes trying to come up with a plan. You didn’t need a reason to be naked in your own house, but you wanted optimal results. You could pretty much imagine what was going to happen. You got on IG and posted a quick live.

 “Hey guys it’s your girl Y/N. I hope you guys are well. So, I just got sent a video from one of my favorite humans on this earth, and it gave me a wonderful idea. I’m bored, and you know what they say idle hands do the devil's work.” You gave a sinister smile.

 “Tune into my Tik Tok for just exactly what I mean. Bye, guys.” You blew a kiss to the camera and ended the video to post it.

 A message came in from one of your friends.

 MSG Simone: What are you about to do now?

MSG: Nothing, just mess with Chris a little.

MSG Simone: That poor man. I know he’s about tired of you during all this free time.

MSG: LOL. 😂 I know you’re right. TTYL.

 As you were finishing up formulating your plan, you scurried downstairs looking through the rooms of Chris and your Boston townhouse. He wasn’t anywhere you expected. When you got to his office there he was behind his desk.

 “Hey beautiful,” Chris greeted with a smile as he reached out for you.

 “Hi, baby.” You approached him and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist as you sat on his lap. Chris moaned and nuzzled his cheek onto your breast.

 “Perfect attire you have there,” you pointed out, nodding to his half-dressed state. He wore a short-sleeve fitted Henley and his boxer briefs. He snorted.

 “What? I think this is the perfect attire for where we are. Don’t you?” He nudged his hips up, sending his half-hardened member on your ass.

 “Woah, calm down.” Chris trailed kisses along your collar up to your neck and your ear. Once there, he softly nibbled and sucked your earlobe. He was doing such a good job distracting you that you didn’t feel his hand creep underneath your tank top to grip your breast. When he gently pinched your nipple and rolled it between his thumb and pointer, you groaned. With his free hand, he trailed it into the front of your lounge shorts and quickly found your clit.

 “Fuck.” You sighed out and closed your eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands on you. His moan was like a croak, and you knew what he wanted.

 “Nope. I did not come down here for this.” You got off of his lap and took a few steps away.

 “Come on. You’re really gonna say no to this?” He motioned to his lap where he was hard enough to proceed until he reached peak hardness.

 You bit your bottom lip because are you kidding, your man was a whole snack, and he had dinner right before you. Shaking your head, you focused.

 “I’m gonna say no. I wanted to know what you wanted for dinner.”

 “I’m looking at dinner and dessert.” He rose his eyebrows, and you couldn’t help but snort.

 Turning your back, you saw the perfect spot for your phone. Playing it off and knowing his eyes were focused elsewhere, you poked out your ass a little while you planted your phone, ensuring it was recording. When you turned to him, he looked ready to pounce.

 “Fine, since you won’t tell me seriously. I’ll make whatever.”

 With that, you turned and walked out of his office. “I know you want me!” You smiled at his cocky but absolutely true statement.

 When you got back upstairs and calmed yourself down, a message came in from Chris.

 MSG Chris: About to hop on this Zoom with the group. You wanna come join me?

 A wide smile spread across your face. You couldn’t have planned this better.

 MSG: No, I’m going to hop in the shower.

MSG Chris: Ooh, want some company?

MSG: One track mind. Didn’t you say you were getting on Zoom?

MSG Chris: They’d understand. We can reschedule in an hour. What else do they have to do?

MSG: Keep it in your pants. I’ll shower alone. Tell them I said hi.

MSG Chris: Boo!

 This was perfect, you thought. In order to make it a little believable, you answered a few emails and got a little work done in order to pass a little time. After a good fifteen to twenty minutes passed, you got yourself primed and ready by stripping down, grabbing your towel, and just adding a little natural colored lip gloss and making sure your hair looked right. After being pleased with your reflection, you felt the nerves. This could go either way, but you were more than sure he would be embarrassed.

 As you walked down the hall toward Chris's office, your excitement returned. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction. The closer you got, you could hear the voices from the Zoom. You heard Mackie, Pratt, RDJ, Scarlett, Seb, and Hemsworth. They were carrying on as if the zoom was nothing. They were laughing and everything. You also heard the sound of the tv. They were watching some old boxing match. This was a modern-day bro’s fight night and chill. You shook your head.

 Before you walked into his office, you took a few deep breaths and dropped your towel, and walked inside.

 “Aw come on, that was clearly an easy takedown he should’ve--,” Chris paused midsentence and just watched you enter the room. In one hand, he held his beer bottle, and the other was raised in the air to the TV before him.

 “You alright, buddy?” You pinched your lips at RDJ’s inquiry. He sure was not alright.

 “Uh—what’re—what’re you doing?”

 “What?”

 “Is that Y/N?” Scarlett’s excitement fully came through.

 “Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” they all exclaimed in unison. Chris didn’t look as if he were breathing.

 “Come on, dude, let us see her. Don’t hog her all to yourself,” Pratt groaned out. Chris gulped.

 “Nope, you can’t—can’t see her. uh-uh.” You smiled and walked further in going in front of your phone, knowing that the angle wouldn’t show anything.

 “Jesus Y/N.” Chris stood, and everyone on the zoom shouted out.

 “Woah! No one wants to see that!” Hemsworth’s protest was loud.

 “Put that thing away!” Seb mimicked the vomiting sound.

 “What the hell is going on, man!” Mackie just sounded through with all of it.

 You couldn’t conceal your laughter anymore and busted out.

 “Wow, okay, so I’m gonna go, guys. I have some work to do here.”

 “Ewww, work?” Scarlett sounded disgusted.

 “Please mate, we know we’ll see you in ten minutes,” Hemsworth teased.

 Chris dipped down and looked into the camera of his laptop.

 “Ha, that might be how they do things down under, but here in the Evans house, work doesn’t end until me, and my woman are thoroughly drenched if you catch my drift. Later.”

 “Wow, dip on us for some pus—,” Mackie’s sentence was cut off by Chris, closing the laptop and damn near pouncing on you like the predator he was. You screamed and ran out of his office, but you weren’t quick enough before he scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder. You laughed the entire way back to his office.

 “Where you going with all of this running from me?” Chris attacked your neck and dropped his head to your nipple. You moaned and got lost again before you remembered.

 “Wait, wait. My phone.”

 “Nope, you don’t need it. I need your hands free for what I want you to do.”

 “No, Chris, my phone. It’s recording.”

 “What?”

 You pointed to your phone on the ledge underneath the wall mounted tv.

 “Why is your phone there and recording? Did you want to make a video?” He wiggled his eyebrows again, and you laughed again.

 “No! oh my god, it was a Tik Tok thing. Walk in naked while your boyfriend is doing something to see his reaction.”

 Understanding washed over Chris’s face before he laughed.

 “Wow, so this was all a little trick?”

 “Stop recording, or this will turn into a very different video.”

 Chris’s eyes darkened, and he smiled widely. “Guess it’s turning into a whole different video. I’m not stopping anything.”

 You stared at each other, and you could tell he was serious. Chris pushed you back onto the desk and plopped your legs wide open and got to work.

 “Oh, fuck!” One lick and everything fell to the wayside. You could edit it out after all.

[blakelywintersfield]

As a victim of gun violence myself, I will be keeping my guns, thanks. Fear mongering? Maybe a little bit the fact is politicians absolutely “hell yes I want to take your AR15, your AK47”. They’ve said it often and loudly that they would like you to be disarmed. If you feel no one in your home is mentally stable enough for a gun, great, but you have zero right to tell others they should do the same.

1. If you're a victim of gun violence then the NRA gives absolutely NO fucks about you. You're not a victim of gun violence in their eyes, you're a victim of a criminal who happened to have a gun. Calling it "gun violence" is liberal propaganda to blame the gun, instead of the person. The gun didn't create the violence, the person did. That's their shitbrained logic and that's how they would respond to you if you told them (without disclosing if you're a gun owner or not) "I was a victim of gun violence." Because just like your dumb ass, they're not responsible gun owners, they're reactionary gun owners, and if you're reactionary as opposed to rational, you shouldn't have dangerous weapons, and your "you can't tell me what to do" 5-year-old attitude towards that would not hold up in a myriad of other scenarios. By your logic, suspending the driver's license of an elderly individual with dementia is unconstitutional. Not allowing someone with chronic seizures to drive is unconstitutional. Not allowing people to sell food without meeting safety and sanitation standards is unconstitutional. "You can't tell me what to do 'cause muh freedumb" isn't a fucking part of the constitution, you're just a chronic nationalist boot deep-throater whose mommy told him that the world owed him everything.

2. Where did I say guns should be taken away from you, or anyone else in my tags. Where? Here, I'll post the fucking screenshot of it and you can highlight it:

Please show me where I said "people should have their guns taken away" you reactionary cowardly fuck. I'll wait.

3. Politicians stating "no one needs a stockpile of AK47s" is not synonymous with "we want to take your guns". Gun buy-back programs that are VOLUNTARY are not the same as threatening to "take your guns". What benefit would you, as one person, gain from owning 5 semi-automatic weapons in the argument of "self-defense"? Are you going to wield one in each hand, one with each foot, and one with the mouth you can't seem to fucking shut? Do you think any of these weapons would protect you against government militia (which is what the second amendment is FOR, for one, and which the NRA does NOT condone if it's conservative sanctioned militia takeover) breaking into your property with a force of 10 people in bulletproof gear and military-grade weapons that could probably blow your fucking empty head off your body in one shot? Or do you like owning all of these shiny scary-looking toys for intimidation, thinking it'll protect you from future violence, like a fucking Halloween house made to scare away children? If that's your reasoning, then you definitely need therapy because that's textbook maladaptive coping with trauma -- I'd know because I have my own array of self-defense weapons that I got in response to my traumatic event, including a knife that could fatally gut an adult man with one stab. That's not a reasonable response to trauma!! But at least I can admit it! Your pisswad ass on the other hand can't, and views anyone saying "the NRA is a shit organization that doesn't support responsible gun ownership or the responsibility of gun owners and their actions, and is essentially a domestic terrorist grooming organization" as an attack on you as an individual, because you can't stomach the idea that maybe, just fucking maybe, you may be on that list of people who shouldn't have a gun because you're too mentally fucked up to be trusted with something like that, like people who are chronically suicidal (in other words, the MAJORITY OF GUN RELATED DEATHS), people with psychotic tendencies that can lead to hurting themselves or others (not because people with psychosis are "scary evil people", but because those moments of psychosis literally keep a person from making rational observations and decisions, and these individuals are already advised to have possible harmful tools locked up or just not in the house for their own safety), people like incels that believe if their entitlement is denied that they have the right to murder, etc. Honestly, you do sound like someone who shouldn't have guns, because your unstable ass probably read up to the second tag and skimmed the rest in a blind rage before sending an ask two days after I made that post, and seemed to conveniently miss the end:

What's your reasoning for the NRA keeping silent about responsible black gun owners being gunned down by police because the cops know they're legally registered gun owners (Jason Washington, Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, whom the NRA defended being murdered by police while pulled over for a traffic violation, in his car with his wife and CHILD, and verbally informed the cop like a responsible gun owner that he had a conceal and carry permit, and was reaching for his wallet in plain view of his family and the fucking pig)? What's your reasoning behind them callously dismissing police violence against black people who are unarmed or have a history of supporting gun control (Botham Jean, Clementa Pinckney, fucking JAMES SHAW JR., WHO STOPPED A MASS SHOOTING WHILE UNARMED HIMSELF), as though that makes it their fault they were murdered, injured, or otherwise victimized? What's your reasoning behind them only piping up about "muh guns" whenever politicians say "there's a gun problem" after the 29th public shooting that month, but not tackling the issue of gun control disproportionately impacting people of color while letting crazy little white kids run loose with a multitude of firearms? What's your reasoning behind them siding with idiot fascist Trump's temper tantrum over the NFL's protests on police violence -- something they, once again, consistently respond to with "they should've been armed" if the black person wasn't, and give complete fucking radio static to if the black person was armed (even if legally armed)? They're so against gun control, but never seem to care when it affects black and brown people -- only when Jack Incelson, age 16, who posts on 4chan about how he wants to cut women's heads off and fuck their dead bodies, is at risk of not being allowed to keep his AR15. If people of color are killed while armed, it's justified because "they had a gun"; if people of color are killed while unarmed, it's their fault because "they should've had a gun" -- this is something the NRA is notorious for, because they don't give a flying fuck about people who should have the right to arm themselves.

4. On that point: I fully support the Socialist Rifle Association, even as someone who does not want to own guns -- because, as stated in the post you're shitting your diaper over -- I support organizations that vouch for responsible gun owners. The SRA holds irresponsible gun owners accountable. They actually support people's right to bear arms to defend themselves against tyrannical government forces. They are active in disaster aid, in environmental defense, in protecting people of color. I do not like guns but I 100% support the SRA, because they fight for people who do need to arm themselves to have that right, and I support that sentiment. I believe people of color should be able to arm themselves. I believe queer people should be able to arm themselves. I believe poor people should be able to arm themselves. But the NRA doesn't actively fight for any of those groups' rights -- the SRA does.

But you know what the SRA doesn't do? Send out unsolicited letters begging lower-middle-class white people for money so they can "fight the gun-hating liberals" from "taking away our guns n freedumb" and offering "i <3 guns" bumper stickers and shit in return. They don't view any political party as their friend because they know that Republicans and Democrats alike do not actually want you to be able to defend yourself against the government. They don't send fear-mongering letters full of hyperbolic bullshit to scare people into thinking that Biden or Obama or whatever Democrat is in the office is going to break into your house with police, beat your wife and children, and steal your guns while cackling maniacally over you as you sob "why mister president? why would you do this to your loyal and patriotic citizens?" The SRA opposes gun control laws that unfairly target demographics that are at the highest risk of police violence. The NRA does not, and, in fact, has a very heavily documented history of siding with conservatism, including making statements about things that don't even involve guns -- stating that American men are being turned into "second-rate women", outcried banning anti-queer discrimination and compared the ban to slavery, made a call to imprison people protesting against Trump's Cabinet picks, called the Women's March anti-American. These are all recent you shithead, so you must be purposely ignoring all of this to feel justified in defending this domestic terrorist organization, or you're probably a self-victimizing white man who can't handle being told no. Or maybe both. I don't know and I don't fucking care.

Don't fucking message me again. Unfollow me if you were previously following me and haven't already. Get some fucking therapy instead of crawling through strangers' blogs trying to find a reason to justify your irrational anger at them. And while you're at it, do me a huge favor, you cowardly fucking cunt: go to your nearest sex shop, buy 5 gallons of lube, pour them over your guns, and shove each and every one of them, fully loaded, up your ass. That way you can keep a close eye on them since your head is obviously already lodged up there.

Alternatively, you can eat shit and die.

[vikingpoteto]

27, 9, pick any two bats

 To no one’s surprise I pick Jason and Tim + cleaning wounds + “Listen, I know it’s hard, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Red Robin looks around his kitchen and tries to list 5 things he can see. The pictures of his friends held by magnets on the fridge. The pile of dirty mugs in the sink. The unread papers spread on the table. The closed window. The trail of blood leading to the counter where he’s sitting. He makes a mental note to clean that up in the morning. Before that train of thought leads him somewhere else, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 4 things he can touch now. The leather of his cowl that he slowly peels away. The cold surface of the counter. The hard wall behind his back. The needle between his fingers. Another deep breath. 3 things he can hear. The clock ticking against the loud silence. Traffic and distant sirens. His mildly ragged breath. He opens his eyes, hoping he doesn’t have any cracked ribs. Another deep breath. He can smell antiseptic and also something coppery. He licks his lips. The one thing he can taste is the bitter pang from the antibiotics he took. 

Tim Drake glares at the needle. This isn’t the first time he had to stitch himself up. This isn’t the first time he had to take care of his own wounds. 

However, this is the first time he’s the one and only responsible for it. 

In another life, he would do a patch job, emergency stuff only, and then get to Alfred as soon as he could for a double check. In a time that felt like a dream now, he would have the latest health tech available and Cissie hovering over his bed while Cassie fussed about how he irresponsibly hurt himself, Bart made a joke out of everything and Conner, of all people, would be the one getting Tim proper care. Less than a month ago, the most deadly organization of the world was making sure Tim was getting the best care available. While his trembling fingers put the thread in the needle, he thinks of the almost healed scar from a damn splenectomy. He doesn’t know what Ra’s people had done to him, but he’s been recovering unnaturally fast, especially considering his immunity. 

Tim bites his tongue and looks down at his battered outfit. He could go to Leslie’s clinic. But it’d be stupid to go all the way there for a couple of bruises and a wound that would probably take less than five stitches. Tim could go to the cave, but… No. He puts the needle down and starts pulling his shirt out. He can’t completely muffle a pained groan and he hates the way it echoes in his empty kitchen. It’s been less than a week since he left Dick, Alfred and Damian. He’s an emancipated adult by all means. Bruce trained him to be independent. He can do this. 

Except… as soon as he reaches for the antiseptic, he hears a noise coming from the living room. Tim freezes. You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the nights to have a robber breaking into his apartment, tonight? Did it have to be tonight? 

Painstakingly, he jumps to the floor and reaches for his staff. He has half a mind to get his cowl, but he thinks Tim Drake defending himself with what could’ve been a broomstick is easier to explain than Red Robin just hanging out at his place. If he’s lucky - and, after tonight, he feels like the universe owes him - he’ll knock out the robber before they see him. 

The most ridiculous thing about all this is that he feels like crying. He doesn’t know why. He barely remembers the last time he cried. Probably right before he realized Bruce could be alive. As much as he’s in pain now, this is no reason to cry like a baby. Especially not in front of a robber. 

Tim silently hides by the side of the fridge and listens. The person in his living room is good. He can barely hear their steps. He can tell there is only one of them, however, and, judging by the way the sound become louder, they’re coming towards the kitchen. Partly to focus on his hearing, partly to ignore the way his eyes are glazing over, he closes his eyes, listens and waits. He waits. He waits a little more.

Ignoring the way his muscles ache in protest, he swirls around and aims for the gut, hoping to knock the air out of the robber. Gloved hands grab his staff and the invader takes a step back before recovering his balance.

“Woah,” he says in a familiar voice, “easy there.”

Tim raises his gaze to face him. Red Hood lets go of the staff in order to remove the helmet, revealing Jason Todd’s frown. Tim feels his shoulders slumping.

“What the fuck, Jason?” Tim hisses. He feels his voice will break if he tries to speak up. 

“I should be the one asking that.” Jason puts his helmet aside. He takes one second glancing around until he finds Tim’s medical supplies. “Is this sanitary? Shouldn’t you be doing first aid in your high tech basement?”

He should. It would’ve been more practical than getting the whole first aid kit and bringing it up here. However, using his medical bay for the first time… It would make it all too real. Too definitive. Tim can’t tell Jason that.

“Medical bay isn’t finished. Kitchen or bathroom were my best options,” he lies.

“Hm,” Jason says as though he doesn’t believe him.

Tim could lie to Batman if he needed to, but, for some reason, Jason seems to always know the truth.

Without another word, Jason takes off his gloves and leather jacket. He drops them aside and walks to the sink. Tim doesn’t ask Jason how he knows where Tim lives - he won’t insult Jason’s detective abilities like that - but he does frown at the older boy as he strides through Tim’s kitchen like he owns the place. 

In fact, Tim doesn’t want to ask anything. He wants to scream at Jason to go away. He wants to lie down on the cold floor and not move for days. It’s comical in a twisted way that Tim had been just thinking longinly about the time in which he wasn’t alone, and, now that he has company, he wants nothing but to go back in time and hide inside the cupboard until Jason goes away. 

“What are you doing?” Tim croaks. 

“Washing my hands,” Jason says simply. He turns to Tim and waves at him to come closer.

It’s a testament to how miserable Tim feels that he does it without questioning. Jason arches an eyebrow at him and points at the counter where Tim had been sitting not long ago. Tim doesn’t move, even as Jason wipes his hands dry with paper towels and reaches for the hand sanitizer in Tim’s medical kit. 

“Jason,” Tim insists. “What are you doing?”

Jason sighs. “One of my guys told me this new vigilante, this Red Robin guy, took an ugly beating near the harbor while he took down one of Sionis’ turfs.”

“It wasn’t an ugly beating,” Tim mumbles.

“Wasn’t it?” Jason asks, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Was it easy to fight fifteen guys at the same time, Superman? Did it feel wise to bring a freaking staff to a knife fight?”

“I won!” Tim says. 

“Yeah, and which victorious mighty hero is bloody and purple all over?” Jason barks. “Sit your ass down, Replacement!”

Tim flinches and… freaking hell, his eyes are stinging again, which is the most absurd thing ever. 

Jason sighs one more time, but this time he sounds… Well, annoyed isn’t quite the right word. He does sound somewhat irritated, but there is something else in his tone. Discomfort? Embarrassment?

“That’s not… Ugh, I’m sorry, alright?”

Except that’s actually worse. 

Moments ago, Tim wanted nothing but to be seen. It was pathetic. He wasn’t even that hurt and tonight hadn’t been special. It was just the first time he went out for patrol since he moved into his new apartment. He didn’t stop Poison Ivy, didn’t get into a scuffle with Harvey Dent. He just put away a bunch of low level henchmen even if he miscalculated how many of them would be there. Such a small feat, but there was a part of him that wanted someone to acknowledge that. To see all the bruises and bloody scabs, to pat him on the back and tell him he was great for how hard he was working.

How childish. 

Now that there is someone and he seems to be fully aware of Tim’s misery - enough to apologize for speaking a little too loud - Tim only feels small and stupid. He should’ve hidden it better, he shouldn’t be in this sorry state at all. 

The last time he saw Jason, they made amends. Just returned to Gotham after his mishaps with the League of Shadows, Tim found him to let him know he was aware that Red Hood was active again. Jason had said - albeit not in so many words - he lamented trying to kill Tim one year ago. Tim had told him it was water under the bridge by now and they agreed to work around each other, even if Jason still didn’t meet Dick eye to eye after last year. Then Tim had promised himself he would become strong like that. Jason had been through hell and back so many times and he always bounced back on his own. Why couldn’t Tim?

Maybe that’s why it felt like rubbing salt to the injury when Tim glares at Jason, the boy he was supposed to replace, the man whose shoes were too big for Tim to fill, and Tim’s vision is blurry with tears and his voice is overflowing with frustration when he asks yet again:

“What are you doing here?”

Jason meets his gaze. His brown eyes show clear unease, but he doesn’t look away. His brow is furrowed as though this is painful to admit, but he finally says:

“I heard you were probably hurt like that,” Jason gestures at Tim’s bare torso. “I knew you weren’t going to the cave for aid, so I brought the aid to you.”

“How did you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I wouldn’t go there either,” he states simply.

Tim bites his lip. “You dealt with your wounds alone after you came back.”

“Yes,” Jason says. He gestures at the counter again. This time, Tim sits. “I know it sucks. You ever tried stitching your own back? It’s really fucking hard.”

Tim looks down and doesn’t say anything. Jason brings a damp cotton ball to Tim’s wounds and stats methodically cleaning them. Tim doesn’t flinch, even when it really stings. Even when he feels like shame and guilt are all going to drown him.

“How did you do it?” Tim finally asks.

“The back stitches? A mirror and one of those grabby claw things, whatever they’re called…”

Tim glares at him. 

“So serious,” Jason complains. Then, in a calm voice, “I did it the same way you were doing before I got here. If I didn’t I’d die. Guess I wanted to keep living. You’d be impressed with the things people do when they have no other option.”

“You’re incredible,” Tim admits quietly. “I’m not like you. I’m not strong or… I gotta do this alone. I don’t know how.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying out loud all the things he struggled to keep hidden for so fucking long. Jason doesn’t seem surprised with the confession though. He keeps calmly checking Tim’s injuries. 

“Not strong, huh? Which one of us took fifteen guys in a fight and won?”

“You know what I mean, Jason.”

“Yeah.” Jason grabs the needle Tim picked earlier and checks it before starting to work. “I know. Except you don’t gotta do anything, Timbers. And I don’t mean the vigilante thing. Fuck, I know none of us can quit this fucking life. We’re in too deep. I meant you’re not supposed to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. That’s what fucked up the old man. That’s how you lose yourself.”

“What’s that?” Tim scoffs. “You sound like a shrink.”

Jason looks up and smirks. “Maybe I have a shrink.”

Tim frowns. “Who?”

“Guess.”

“Jason.”

He chuckles. “Okay, so… I know it seems crazy, but she found me and asked me to join my crew in exchange for taking off this explosive thing that Amanda Waller put in her. And she’s crazy competent, so…”

“No,” Tim interrupts him. “You did not let Harley Quinn join your crew.”

“Actually, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy,” Jason has a shit eating grin even as he finishes his stitch job. “They’re a package deal. Ivy showed up a couple of days after Harley and I couldn’t get her to leave so…”

“You’re working with Harley Quinn and letting her give you therapy sessions,” Tim says. “Am I on a parallel Earth? Have those guys killed me and I’m hallucinating?”

“A lot changes in a year, Timbers, you’ve been gone for a while,” Jason shrugs. “People change too.”

“Not that much!” Tim protests. 

“Is that so? Then how come you gave me, what now, three, four second chances?” Jason glares at him.

That catches Tim off guard. He takes a moment to realize what he’s talking about. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tim asks, genuinely confused.

“I came back, I tried to kill you. You let it go. I get arrested, you help me to break out. I thank you by losing it after seeing B’s clusterfuck of a testament. You come back like it was nothing and tell me you hope to do business in the future. And you think I’m insane for giving shelter to an abused lady?”

“I’m not saying you’re insane for helping her. I’m saying I wouldn’t trust her advice,” Tim corrects. “Besides I know what you’ve been through. I understand, even if the others don’t. You’re still a hero. Why wouldn’t I help you get back in the game?”

“Because I could hurt you again, you moron,” Jason frustratedly points out.

“You could also be helpful. I decided it was worth taking the chance,” Tim states.

“Yeah, you did,” Jason whispers, using the bandaging as an excuse to avoid Tim’s gaze. “You’re the best of us, Tim. I’m not letting you crash like I did so many times.”

Tim just stares, his lips parted in shock. 

That’s when he feels the dam breaking and tears finally start to stream freely down his cheeks. He sniffles and makes that horrible choked up sound of someone vainly trying not to cry. Jason keeps tending to his injuries even as Tim’s body shakes with barely contained sobs and Tim doesn’t know if he’s ignoring the meltdown out of mercy or because he simply doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s probably both. 

By the time Jason finishes wrapping up Tim’s many scrapes and rubbing medicine on countless bruises, Tim has managed to contain his sobs and is gingerly trying to wipe his face and pretending he doesn’t feel like he almost drowned.

“Listen, I know it’s hard, Baby Bird,” Jason mutters, a tad awkwardly. “But I’m not going anywhere. It’s not just you against the world.”

“Then what, is it the two of us against it?” Tim tries to quip.

“Maybe,” Jason says. “You did a lot for me. It’s about time I start deserving it.”

“I didn’t do it because I wanted you to pay me back.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here, dumbass,” Jason takes a step back. “I’m done. Go get changed into a pair of sweatpants or something. I’m gonna introduce you to the wonders of 2am cereal.”

Tim lets out a chuckle. “I’ve eaten cereal at 2am before, Jason.”

“Not mine, you haven’t. Chop, chop, kid, we don’t have all night.”

Tim listens to him. 

He should know better, after all he had experienced new beginnings before. All of them inevitably lead to crashing and burning, some rather spectacularly too.

However… There are a few firsts here. This is the first time someone truly understands. This is the first time Tim doesn’t feel like he’s entering a challenge, that he has to earn his place as Robin, as Young Justice’s leader. He feels like his place had been earned, like there’s a small beacon of hope after a long struggle. 

Tim lets himself accept it.

[trashystar420]

Babysitter Maribat AU AGE Reversed Chapter 2!

“I am very sorry for the delay, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, it is a pleasure to meet you” Bruce Wayne spoke. Marinette had to resist the urge to gap like a fish, because god damn, he hot. Selina definitely knows how to pick em. But due to her years of masking her own emotions with a smile, she responds back in kind.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir” and giving a knowing look to Selina, who rolled her eyes and gave one back.

“Just be sure to treat her right.” She warned playfully, but the venom was there. Selina had to cover herself, lest she burst into a fit of giggles, while the man she wrapped her arms around had to do a double take. Giving a dutiful nod, he starts to introduce his boys.

“This is my youngest son, Dick Grayson.” Mari had to refrain herself from cooing at the adorable kid before her. But the sparkle in her eyes was fully noted by everyone else, and they felt pity for her. ‘She won’t be thinking that for long.’ Bruce thought bitterly.

“My second youngest, Jason Todd.” Jason merely rolls his eyes at her, and Mari can’t help but give a knowing smile.

“My second oldest, Tim Drake.” Said boy was too busy on his phone, and barely acknowledges her. Giving a meek wave. Bruce and Alfred both gave dejected sighs at the rude behavior of the young teen. Damien rolled his eyes, and shakes the hand of his replacement.

“Damien, Damien Wayne” he answers, the Bluenette returns the handshake politely. And with some serious warnings from Bruce, and some recommendations on what to do and what NOT to do, and a lot of pulling on Selina’s part, Bruce reluctantly went. Once the mansion door closed chaos ensued.

“Think you can manage?” Damien asked haughtily. Mari simply rolled her eyes at him and walked towards the two troublemakers. Dick noticed first, and hid behind Jason. Jason made an intimidating face to the Bluenette. Mari gave a nod, knowing that the warning was received. After staring into the young boy’s blue eyes, the babysitter gave a warm smile. One that threw off the the troubled child.

“I know this might seem tedious, but how about we introduce ourselves again? I didn’t get to hear your voices.” She offered. Jason gave a guarded expression, while Dick reluctantly looked up at the Bluenette, still clutching his older brother. Damien could only watch the scene, completely confused as to what was going on, even Tim looked slightly apprehensive.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’ll be your babysitter” she outstretched her hand, offering a handshake to the two.” Jason looked at it wearily, but Dick took it first. ‘So cute’ she thought

“D-Dick Grayson” said boy answered timidly. That had Tim and Damien gap. It took Tim a week for Dick to even speak to him. For Damien it took a good year for Dick to gain the courage to look at him. A pang of jealousy went through the older boys. Alfred was shocked again, for the second time.

Giving a warm smile, she spoke.

“I really love your voice, Mr. Grayson, I hope to hear it more.” Dick blushed , but remained eye contact. Jason was smirking.

“And hello to you-“ Mari purposely pauses for Jason to say his name. Jason sighs, and playfully rolls his eyes at his new babysitter. However, that did not deter the young woman’s hand away. The boy reluctantly returned the handshake. Muttering his name, his eyes casted down.

“Jason Todd.” He meekly gave. Marinette has to RESIST the urge to hug out the two precious beans before her. It gets harder by the minute. Jason then pointed out the box she placed on a nearby table.

“What’s that?” He asked hopefully knowing the answer. Dick also noticed the box and was curious as well. Marinette gave another warm smile as she got up from her crouched position.

“How about I show you instead?” As she retrieve the box and opened it. The mansion was flooded with the sweet aromas of the mysterious French pastries. Strawberry, blueberry, chocolate, vanilla, and many more. It was a colorful batch of delicious looking goods. The boys all stared hungrily at the baked goods, wanting them soo badly, but refrained from taking them. Tim also looked hungry, while Damien scowled at the scene before him.

“What are those?” Dick meekly asked, while Jason nodded. She giggles again and responds in kind.

“These are called Macaroons. They are a dessert back in France. I didn’t know what kind of flavors you two liked, so I just made a bunch and hoped for the best.”

“T-t-those are f-f-for us!?!?” Jason pointed to himself and his baby bro. Marinette couldn’t help herself, she was laughing at their stunned faces. It was just soo fricken CUTE.

“Yes. Think of this as a bribe for you two to behave. And if it goes well, then I can come back again with even more treats.” Dick was clutching Jason’s jacket even tighter, while Jason was drooling like a dog. Afred sighed at their rude behavior. Tim was trying so hard not to laugh, while Damien was seething. Whoever this harlot was, is obviously using magic.

“Hey Alfred, is it ok if I can give them their treats now?” She asked, Alfred gave the nod.

“Thank you Alfred!!”

“You da best!!!”

...

...

...

“Do you think the mansion will stay in one place Selina?” The apprehensive bat asked, poking his medium done stake with a fancy fork. Selina rolled her eyes.

“Relax Bruce dear, my girl’s got this. If there is anything you need to know, it’s that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is not a quitter. Trust me, she’s even more stubborn than me.” Bruce still eyes her warily, but let’s out another sign. Selina felt bad for her lover, and put a reassuring hand on his.

“You need to destress a little dear. Say, how about we stay at my place for tonight?” Bruce perked up at the offer, and off the two went to do god knows what (ya I know what they do but do you?!).

...

...

...

...

“Wow Pixie-Bob you’re really good at this.” Jason complimented as he was beat yet again in ultimate Mecha strike three. Dick wanted to fight Mari next so the older bro gave the controller to him.

Damien had already left to the bat cave to let off some steam after the events that went on in the house. It was a miracle the house didn’t even burn down yet. Tim was also down there doing a real quick scan over the ungodly stack of papers,on another case in Killer Frost. The atmosphere was tense, until Tim spoke up first.

“What do you think of the babysitter, Demon Spawn” Demon spawn growled at the nickname, but gave his answer.

“A witch.”

“I am genuinely surprised she hasn’t been killed yet. And all those two are doing are playing video games!?!? Like NOrMAL kids!!!! How did she do that?”

Damien also wished to know how a stranger such as her, could lower the guards of his brothers when he’s spent years with them, and never seemed to get along with them.

He proceeds to cut another dummy into sixteen pieces with deathly accurate precision. Sheathing the blade, the older boy made his way to the costume racks.

“What are you doing?” Tim asked, already knowing the answer.

“ patrol” he answered. Tim sighed.

“Well try not to kill anyone demon spawn” he chided. Damien ignored him as he went off into the night as Robin.

...

...

...

“But Mari I wanna stay up longer!” Jason protested to the stern babysitter, already holding a sleepy Dick.

“No means no mister, what did we talk about with behaving?” Mari reminded him. Jason widened his eyes and pouted to the floor. The Bluenette made a sympathetic smile, and gingerly places a delicate finger on the chin of the child.

“How about a bed time story?” Jason practically jumped.

...

...

...

...

“I am terribly sorry if any of the boys gave you a difficult time” Alfred began, only to falter when the Bluenette giggles again.

“Don’t worry about it Alfred, the boys were absolute angels.” Now Alfred couldn’t help himself, try as he might, as he started to laugh at that. Marinette gave her farewells and went off into the night. Bruce returned the following morning.

A nervous knock, and Alfred answers the door.

“H-how much damage did they do, oh god I can’t look!” Bruce covered his eyes, wanting to deny the harsh reality that would come to him. However Alfred simply patted the man out of his breakdown.

“I assure you Master Bruce, the mansion is still in one piece, all thanks to Marinette.” Bruce gatherer the remaining courage he had and scanned the entire mansion. Not taking off his coat he ran to every nook and cranny. He checked every closet, only to find them all clean. He checked the bathrooms, bedrooms, hallways and dining halls. Going so far as to check under the rug to see if there were any hidden messes.

Nothing. The mansion stayed in one piece.

“The BATCAVE!!!!” He practically screeched as he bolted towards the supposed secret lair of his ‘secret’ vigilantie work. Only to find that it was neat. Everything was were it was supposed to be.

Feeling his knees go weak, he collapsed to the floor, not caring how he looked and laughed. He fricken laughs. As tears stream down his face. Tears of unbridled joy. The family butler offers him a handkerchief, the bat gladly accepting it.

“I believe a thank you card should be addressed to one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Along with a rather generous tip, don’t you think?” Bruce was still crying, and only gave a nod. As if out of habit, the man summoned a blank check , signed his name and wrote $10,000 on it.

“Be sure to deliver this to Ms.Dupain Cheng for me Alfred. Make sure to include a gift along with a card as a part of my gratitude. If you will excuse me I need to make a phone call.” Bruce left to recollect his thoughts, while Alfred left with the check already on the task at hand.

Holy shit you guys chapter one was well recieved and I thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging the shit out of it. I couldn’t wait I had to write chapter two to get it out of my system. You all really mean so much to me ahhhhh

@BlueRosette23

@novicevoice

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@theatrendcomicfreak

@Caffeinetheory

@liawinchester67

[flying-nightwing]

Dark Fox (6/7)

Shorter chapter, but hey, just as important. All I’ll say now is finally. *Wink*

Enjoy :)

Previous - Next 

Pairing: Jason x League!reader

Word count: 3109

Warnings: kind of a mental breakdown, 

Note: yes I know I do abuse of italics for emphasis. I love it

The moonlight was glowing on the soft wave of the basin of the river, so much it seemed you had your own spotlight. Your eyes were trailed on it as the warm water from the sun during the day caressed your bare sides. You were lost in your thoughts. It had been a few days since the river incident, yet you couldn’t get it out of your head. Hell, you could barely train him without your mind wandering back to it. You could barely recognize yourself, and you knew it had the potential to be disastrous, but you weren't sure you disliked the feeling. It was just new and foreign, and you felt like you had to go to it rather than runaway from it. 

You heard movement in the water behind you, the waves softly rippling on your back. You didn’t turn around, as you had kind of known Jason would have followed you here sooner or later. He stopped a few inches behind you, and you could feel his eyes on your profile. 

“It was a night like this when my mom left me in Nanda Parbat” You began, and he listened. It had been his silent question ever since you revealed to him you had joined the League at eight years old. “We were on the run from my father. She had signed a contract to have me and walk away, but she couldn’t leave me. She was afraid of him, and she was afraid he’d get his hands on me”

“Why was she afraid?” His voice was barely over a whisper over the sound of the water.

“She told me he was evil” You shook your head. “That what he wanted from me, it wasn’t right. He chased us all around the world. She was tired and desperate when she hid me with the League. I think… I think I realized it all years later when I tried to look for her and learned she was dead. Then I searched into him and I saw what he did to me. To a lot of people”

“What did you find?”

“Lex Luthor”

You didn’t see his face, but you knew his expression had changed as well as his posture. He knew about him, you were aware of that much. He was from Gotham, after all. 

“Sometimes life gives us shit fathers” He spoke after a moment. “It doesn’t say anything about who you are of what you do. You decide that”

You turned your head to look at him. The glow of the moon highlighted his bare skin tanned by the long days out training under the sun. His hair messily fell on his forehead, and his blue eyes had this intensity showing through them. It made you shiver despite the warmth of the night.

“I’m not just his daughter” You said, not looking away. “I was his first clone, way before CADMUS or any of his big initiatives. I’m him”

“You’re most certainly not” He half shrugged, a discreet smirk gracing his lips.. “Sure you’re a pain in the ass, even slightly evil at times, but you’re not a monster”

Your lips lifted up in a smile. “And how would you know that?”

“Maybe because I spend every waking moment of the last, what, ten month, in your close proximity” As for emphasis, he moved closer to you, as close as he was the other day but without the arm around your neck. “And you don’t even come close to compare with the fair share of monsters I’ve seen, including Luthor”

His hand caressed your shoulder like a feather, and you leaned into his touch. It was familiar and comforting, and it made you realize that you might have needed it more than you ever thought you would. 

“Even if I train you without mercy?” 

His hand trailed up your collarbone and rested on your cheek. You were so close you could feel his breath on your face. You turned the rest of your body, finally fully facing him. Your bare chest were almost touching from the proximity, and so were your lips. You could feel your heart beating so loud in your ribcage you thought he could hear it.

“I kind of like this part, actually” 

“Mhh?”

His lips were lightly touching yours, but not quite yet. You held your breath and closed your eyes. 

Ever so slowly, his lips pressed further into yours. You didn’t quite know what to do, it was the first time you had been kissed. But he kept things slow, guiding you to move with him. His free hand circled your waist and brought you flush against him as yours rested on his arms. His muscles flexed under your touch, letting you off to wonder how so much power could be so gentle at the same time. He pulled back, meeting your eyes again and gently combing your hair back. It was the first time he had seen you with your hair loose. You didn’t know anything anymore at that moment but one thing.

You wanted more.

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled his lips back on yours. He didn't protest, on the contrary he seemed to welcome it. He might just have been as touch starved as you were, seeing as he was trying to pull you impossibly closer to him.

You parted again to breathe, like you were underwater and you didn’t want to come back to the surface before the last minute possible. Jason didn’t waste time moving on to your jaw and neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin there. The feeling was sensual and exciting, brewing up unknown feeling inside you. You whined him name, kind of like you had done some days before at the river, calling him back up to you. His eyes were now darkened with want, his lips flushed and his breathing fast. You thought back at your slip up, and wondered if his eyes had changed like that when you did.

“Fuck” He breathed out. “I want you. Bad”

“You have me”

His lips couldn’t be back on yours faster.

---------

You had never lost that many matches against Jason, but you didn’t even have the energy to be angry about it.

You had spent all morning in the cage, fighting away your frustration with yourself. Your hits were sloppy, imprecise and most of all, unsuccessful. Jason wasn’t even sweating, and you suspected he had stopped brutally knocking you off when you basically offered him the wins on a silver platter. Concern was growing in his eyes, he had never seen you so… Not you. But he wouldn’t talk first this time. He knew you were on the verge of spilling everything up, he could see it in your eyes, but pushing it would only delay the inevitable. 

The previous night had been a mess, way past the disastrous Luthor encounter. Bruce had wanted to know exactly what had went down when he lost contact with you, and in between revealing his motorcycle had been totalled and Luthor showing up for you, he had been furious. He obviously had demanded explanations as to why he would attack you specifically, why he had sent three cars for your group and your group only. You had no choice but to tell him then the true purpose of your visit to Gotham, as well as your actual family name and relation to Luthor. 

It was an understatement to say that Bruce did not take it well. 

But Jason had little care for his father’s reaction, as he was more preoccupied by your state. He could tell Luthor was still in your head, messing with you. He had no idea what he told you, but it must have been bad.

“I’ve been Thaelib fi alzalam for most of my life” You huffed as you attacked with a kick. “Yet I could never fully become her. I always had something pulling me back, and I thought by killing Luthor I could finally be the Fox”

He kept deflecting your hits without attacking, his eyes on you. 

“I’ve killed, I’ve done it so many times without flinching” You paused. “But couldn’t even kill him when I came face to face with him, and he actually seemed confident I wouldn’t. What if it was all bound to happen eventually?”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking” His face fell.

“I don’t know what I’m thinking!” You yelled, throwing your hands up. “Luthor genetically made me up for one purpose, and I’ve been pushing that purpose away for 18 fucking years! I used the League to get to him under the pretext I wanted to kill him, I'm using you right now for the same thing, only to be made aware I did exactly what he would have done to get to him”

“Are you even hearing yourself?” He scoffed. “How hard did that little electroshock weapon scramble your brain?”

“He made me a weapon, Jason” You sighed aggressively. “Violence is all I know. I am made for destruction--”

“And you fucking believed him?” 

“I pierced your shoulder with my sword when you lashed out” You tried to prove your point, but he only rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I was being an asshole who had very much tried to kill you five minutes beforehand” He argued. “If the roles were switched, I would have done more than just a sword in the shoulder. And guess fucking what, Luthor would have actually killed me”

“So that magically proves I’m good?” You challenged, taking a step forward. “It forgives the fact that I’m not here to help you stop a bioweapon but for the revenge I seeked for my mother?”

He muttered a curse under his breath as you lunged forward. You gripped his shirt collar and tried to bring him down over your extended leg, but he sneaked his elbow in between you two and flipped you instead. You landed on your feet and attacked with your fists, rapidly throwing punches he blocked without much trouble. He kicked, aiming for your ribs, but you bent your upper body to avoid it. 

“Are you so stubborn that it finally blinded you?” He tried to reason. “If you were a lost case, Talia would have never sent you here. She did because she knows just like I do that you have the potential to be more”

You gaze dropped, your jaw still clenching. “I can’t be more”

“Bullshit, you can be so much more” He tempted a step forward. “Tell me again why you came after Luthor”

“Because he killed my mother”

“Don’t think so” He shook his head. “Try again” 

“Because he fucking killed my mother!” You repeated, losing patience.

“That’s the easy answer” He took another step. “The real reason, is because you care. You know you have what it takes to stop Luthor from doing to other people what he did to you”

“I don’t care”

“But you do” He taunted, stopping right in front of you, like he was daring you to prove him wrong. “About Talia and Dami, about even those random civilians you put your mission aside for. About me”

You wanted to argue at first, but it died down in your throat at his last words. You remembered all that time spent in the hut, your midnight swims in the river. You remembered how it felt to hear his voice again after three years apart, how his lips felt on yours. How returning to him had always been around in the back of your mind, no matter how far it might have been. Then you thought of Talia, how much you loved her and everything she did for you. You thought about the time you had fought to exhaustion the four rogue assassins who tried to kill Damian when he was just a toddler, and came through because you were attached to the kid. 

You attacked again. You didn’t want to admit he was right. 

“See, you do care” He repeated in between your hits. “You were just taught not not”

Your hits began faltering. The resolve in your head was fast dissolving, and you wanted so bad to give in. 

“You’ve always stopped your emotions from making you weak” He easily dodged your fists before grabbing your extended arm and pulling you forward. You were then spun around and caught in one of his infamous headlock, his bicep and forearm squeezing on your throat. You tried to pull his arm down, clawing at him, but his lock was solid like iron. You felt his head get closer to you as he leaned in. 

“Now let them make you stronger”

Your chest heaved as you processed his words. Let them make you stronger. Thaelib fi alzalam has always rejected any kind of emotional ties or reasoning. She was always mechanical, precise and detached, efficient and never flinching. But being her was like being stuck in a perpetual fog, and the only time the fog had ever lifted was during those two years in the wood with Jason. In one way or another, he was always stirring up your emotions to the surface. 

Let them make you stronger.

You grabbed his wrist, tugging down just enough to slip an arm in between you and him. You pushed him back as you freed yourself, then spun around and blocked his chest with your forearm. You backed him up and slammed him against the wall, staring right at him the whole time. He had a conspiring smile, and his eyebrows up with his own satisfaction.

“You’re not a faceless soldier in an assassin army, and you’re certainly not a Luthor either” He breathed, remaining in your grip. He looked like he had you exactly where he wanted. “You’re the fucking Dark Fox. Embrace it”

It was like time had slowed down to a halt. Your heartbeat resonated in your ears, and the intensity of your stare matched his. Never had you seen anyone so determined and passionate, and it made all the doubts plaguing your head dissolve like plastic under acid. And just like that, your mind was made.

Fuck the League. 

You didn’t need to hide from your problems behind Ra’s. You were strong enough to face them, and you would no longer allow your life to be owned by anyone else than yourself.

Fuck Thaelib fi alzalam.

She was obsolete, a product of lying to yourself and pretending you had forsaken the person you’ve have always been. She restrained you from your true potential, and kept you from experiencing the love you held for the people you cared about.

Fuck Luthor.

He didn’t know anything about you or who you were. All he could do was try to confuse you to cover his own failure at creating the soldier he wanted. He was a coward and a power obsessed maniac, and you deserved way more than associating yourself with that pathetic excuse of a man.

Fuck everything. 

You gripped Jason’s shirt collar and crashed your lips on his. His response was immediate, kissing you back just as fiercely. One of his hand went behind your neck, the other arm circled around your waist to pull you flush against him. All the emotions from the last days, all the bottled up feelings of the last three years, all the passion and love still alive in between the two of you, all the silent longing for the other from your separate corner of the world; all of it came out through this kiss. While you were so close, so connected in such an intimate way, ou couldn’t help but think you should have left with Jason the first time around. You had missed the warmth and comfort of his close proximity way more than you had initially thought, and now you never wanted to let go. 

You paused to get some air, but you still remained inches from each other. He was panting just as much as you were, his eyes sparkling with a strange mix of smugness and relief. He wasn’t sure this pep talk would work, to be honest, it had a 50/50 chance of working. But he was just so fucking glad you made the best decision. 

“Fuck, I missed that” He breathed, stealing a few pecks. “I missed you. Welcome back”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, blinking slowly. “I never thought you’d ever be the teacher but here you are, pulling me back from my own head”

“My time has come at last” He grinned. “You know what that means, right?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Lesson number one” He began, making you cock your head slightly to the side. “Self control is overrated”

He didn’t let you time to react before pushing his lips against yours again. Your hands went to his hair and gently pulled on it, eliciting a small moan from him. You felt his palms sneaking under your shirt, trailing up and down your waist like he was discovering you all over again. Your skin felt on fire under his touch, igniting every feeling of desire you’ve ever had for him. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. 

“Wait” He reluctantly pulled away from you. “Are you going to stay here? Or leave when it’ll be over?”

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to leave you, Jason Todd” You smiled, dropping your hand to cup his face. “Not again”

“Good” He mumbled, nodding to himself. He then gently pulled you against his chest, much to your surprise. You rested your head on his shoulder, circling your arms around him as well. His hold on you tightened, like he was afraid you’d be gone if he let go. “I’m so fucking glad to hear that”

“I’m tired of denying” You murmured against his skin. “You have me, for real this time. You have me”

He softly pulled your chin up to look in your eyes. He recognized the words, you had said them some years ago at the lake, a promise you had broken out of stubborness and false sense of belonging. This time, however, you meant the words. He was your home, you had always known but you truly realized it now. And wherever he’d be would be where you’d go.

“You mean it?”

“With every fiber of my being”

And you did. That afternoon, you completely gave yourself to him. You wanted, longed to feel that connection with him again, and this time, you were ready to tear down the last wall separating you two. 

For good.

[stevesnailbat]

oop here is my request: drunk!steve admitting that he's in love with the reader, a drunken kiss & maybe some playfulness, then he has no memory of it the next morning until he's told later that day and bam! it all comes back to him. maybe he finds reader to ask her out sober this time? thank you soooo much!!

warnings: underage drinking

word count: 1.7K

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that Steve was a flirtatious drunk, especially to Y/N. Any time he was around her at a party, his attitude would do a complete turnaround. No matter how drunk he was, he would always seek her out, clumsily stumble over to her and spend the rest of the night by her side. This night was no different, besides the fact that he was a lot farther gone than he usually would get.

She didn’t think anything of his flirtations anymore, considering they were constant, but only when he was drunk. Sure, it was hard to have him flirt with her only to get nothing out of it in the days after, but it was alright. This night was no different, besides the fact that she had finally realized that she was in love with the goofy, drunk boy in front of her.

“Oh shit.” Steve mumbled at one point after taking a shot of vodka with no chaser, earning a wild look from Y/N and the people around them; he winced momentarily then flashed a hazy smile in her direction. “Let’s dance!”

“Dance?” she giggled as he reached for her wrist to bring her towards him, mumbling the words as Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper played through the living room. “This isn’t really a song to dance to with a friend.”

“Shush, just c’mon!” he slurred as he grabbed her other wrist, making her nearly fall onto him as she tried to keep her drink from spilling. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Yeah?” she said with raised eyebrows as she finally got a closer look at him for the first time all night, realizing he was a lot more drunk than she had thought. “I think you’re already been having a lot of fun tonight, Steve.”

“I have been, and I’m having more fun now that you’re here with me.” he chuckled, snaking an arm around her waist as he swayed them both back and forth. “I think this song—this song is my song to you, Y/N.”

“Why do you say that?” she retorted, her tipsy mind failing to catch up in the moment.

“Because—Y’know. I think about you a lot.” he replied, his speech still slurred but too confident, just like the Steve she knew and loved. “And when I think about you, I think that I love you.”

“You think that you what?” she asked, her eyes wide as she peered up at him in disbelief even though his gaze was on the wall behind her.

“I think—I think that I’m in love with you, ‘kay?” he laughed, finally looking down at her to see her conflicted expression. “What?”

“I—I don’t know what to say to that, Steve. I think you’re too drunk and not thinking straight.” she explained, still not believing his words.

“That doesn’t matter right now! I might not be thinking straight but it’s okay. Even though I’m drunk, I know that I want to say that.” he mumbled to her.

Before she could get a word of protest in, Steve cupped her cheek, making her breath hitch. He started down at her for a moment with heavy-lidded eyes, waiting to gauge her reaction to his touch. She looked confused by his words but hopeful about them at the same time. So, he took his chance. If he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t ever do it; even if he wouldn’t remember it, he wanted to finally confess.

The kiss that followed told her everything she needed to know. Like he said, he may have been drunk, but he was damn sure when he said he was in love with her. The kiss was sweet and slow, but passionate enough to show her that he spoke the truth.

“Do you believe me now?” he slurred after pulling away, smiling down at her.

“I think so, but I won’t fully believe you until you tell me sober.” she teased, suddenly becoming very aware of the drunk teens around them staring. “But right now, I think it’s time to get you home. People are watching us.”

“But the party’s just started!” he protested, shaking his head as she tried to pull him away from the crowd of people.

“It’s one in the morning and I think you’re drunker than anyone else here.” she replied matter-of-factly, getting him to finally quit his protests and follow her towards the door.

The whole night was a blur to Steve, it felt like he was in fast-forward as she drove him home and got him into his bed. He was complimenting her the whole time, telling her that she’ll make an amazing girlfriend to him when he’s sober. She only giggled and shook her head at his remarks, knowing he wouldn’t remember it all in the morning.

“Here’s some water and Advil for the morning, Steve. You’re gonna feel really bad when you wake up.” she laughed, patting his cheek as he laid down in his bed. “Sleep tight.”

“Wait, before you leave.” Steve called, grabbing her wrist gently. “Can I get another kiss before you leave?”

“You can get that when you’re sober. Sweet dreams, Steve.” she said, smiling over at him before walking out of his bedroom.

She was right, the next morning was absolute hell for Steve. His head was pounding when he woke up, the sunlight flowing through his window adding to the sensitivity. He groaned loudly as he rolled over, looking over at the clock on his bedside table to see that it was almost noon, which meant he was almost late for work. Steve really considered calling in, but he knew Keith would chew him out if he didn’t come in for the second time in a month. So, he trudged out of bed to start getting ready for work, his mind desperately working to figure out what happened the night before. He was grateful for the Advil and water he found next to his clock, but wasn’t sure how they got there. But, he pushed his thoughts aside and made his way to work.

The day wasn’t in any way unusual for Steve when he got into work; it was a typical, slow Saturday. Robin was of no help to him with remembering the night before, since she left before midnight even came around. He was left to his own devices to find out what happened, he thought. That was until Jason Hawthorne walked into the Family Video just before his shift ended, a grin plastered on his face when he saw Steve at the counter.

“Harrington! How the hell did you survive the night? Did that girl take your drunk ass home?” Jason asked, chuckling at Steve’s disheveled appearance.

“What girl?” Steve replied, furrowing his brow.

“The one you kissed? You were all over her before she dragged you out.” he shrugged, seeing Steve’s confused expression. “Y/N something, I don’t know her last name.”

That was when it all came back to him. The dancing, the flirting, the touching, the kissing. He remembered it all now. His eyes widened in realization as he stood there, wondering what all she remembered him confessing. Because he sure as hell remembered confessing his love for her that night.

“Yeah, I guess she must have taken me home.” he chuckled, shaking his head to play it cool.

“Are you guys like, a thing? Because if not, there’s plenty of takers for Y/N.” Jason replied, wiggling his eyebrows in a weirdly suggestive way.

“That’s—That’s something I’m gonna have to ask her about.” Steve replied, looking down at his watch to see that it was time to leave. “Speaking of, I’m going to find her right now, so I wouldn’t hold your breath on being next in line to win her over.”

With that, Steve turned on his toes to grab his keys from the back room, almost running Robin over as she came out from her break.

“Hey Y/N works at the arcade next door still, right?” Steve called out to Robin as he packed up his things after clocking out.

“Shouldn’t you know that already, Dingus?” she replied, narrowing her eyes at his question only to get a huff of annoyance in return. “Yes, she works there, but you better hurry up, lover boy! Someone might take your chance before you get there!”

Steve was out the front door after waving goodbye, and rushing towards the arcade next door. Luckily, there she was. Y/N was sitting at the counter, looking bored out of her mind and slightly exhausted as she stared off into space. Steve took a deep breath before walking towards her, a sheepish smile plastered on his face as he did. She finally looked over at him once he got close enough to break her attention, her eyes widening when she saw it was him.

“Steve! How are you feeling today?” she said, feeling her heart flutter lightly at the way he was smiling at her.

“I’m feeling better now, not so good this morning, though.” he laughed nervously, trying to keep his cool as he leaned against the counter. “I—Uh, just wanted to stop by and say thank you for taking care of my drunk ass last night. I really appreciate it.”

“You remember that?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d remember anything from last night.”

“Oh, I remember everything.” Steve replied as her amused expression persisted. “And that’s why I’m here. I mean if I was too much of a burden to you, then I’m sorry, I’ll back off. But, you never really said how you felt.”

“I told you that it was a conversation for when you were sober.” she giggled, rolling her eyes slightly as her heart raced.

“Which we are right now.”

“And?”

“And—And, I want to say that I do actually feel that way. And I want to prove it to you by taking you out on a date, a real date. Also to make up for you taking care of me.” he suggested, his gaze meeting hers as she listened to his words so intently.

“I guess I could give it a go.” she giggled, leaning on the counter from the other side to be closer to him.

“Really? You’ll go on a date with me?” he replied, almost in disbelief as she nodded at him. “Can you do tonight? Maybe after you get off work we could go to the movies or something—“

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“That sounds great. Pick me up here at seven.” she said, leaning over the counter to kiss his cheek gently before making her way out of sight and into the back room, leaving Steve with a grin and blush spread across his face.

[fuckofffuckofffuckoffloveme]

Runaway - Part Eight

~Masterlist~

Concept: Hazel Richards is a twenty-year-old woman living in London. When she meets a mysterious time-travelling alien known only as the Hunter, she’s thrust into a world of wonder she could only have imagined.

Warnings: swearing, follows S1 of Doctor Who.

In the end, having dinner with Hazel and Jason hadn't been that bad. Jason was a good cook, and the conversation hadn't been awkward. They'd mostly been talking about the adventures they'd had - leaving out the parts where they'd nearly died - and the Hunter had even told Jason a little about the Doctor to emphasise that she wouldn't let Hazel die too.

Now, though, Hazel was grabbing some things and saying her goodbyes to Jason, and the Hunter had made her way down to the TARDIS, where she'd earlier instructed a young boy to clean some graffiti off it. "Good lad," she sad, nodding as her TARDIS was now squeaky clean. "Graffiti that again, and I'll have you. Now, beat it." The boy nodded and ran off, and the Hunter went over to Mike, who was sitting on a bin reading a newspaper.

"I just went down the shop, and I was thinking, you know, like the whole world's changed. Aliens and spaceships all in public. And here it is," he said, showing her the front page headline: 'Alien Hoax'. "How could they do that? They saw it."

The Hunter shrugged. "They're just not ready. You're happy to believe in something that's invisible, but if it's staring you in the face, nope, can't see it. There's a scientific explanation for that. You're thick."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "We're just idiots."

"Well, not all of you," the Hunter allowed, glancing up at the flats. "I've got a present for you." She handed him a CD. "That's a virus. Put it online. It'll destroy every mention of me. I'll cease to exist."

"What do you want to do that for?" Mike asked, frowning.

"Because you're right, I am dangerous," the Hunter admitted. "I don't want anybody following me."

"How can you say that, and then take her with you?" Mike shook his head.

"You could look after her," the Hunter suggested. "Come with us."

"I can't," Mike denied quickly as Jason and Hazel approached, the girl toting a large backpack. "This life of yours, it's just too much. I couldn't do it. Don't tell her I said that."

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright?" Jason was asking as they walked closer.

"Of course I will, Jace. I'm travelling, that's all, and then I'll come back," Hazel assured him.

"But it's not safe," Jason protested weakly.

Hazel grinned at him. "Jace, if you saw it out there, you'd never stay home."

"Got enough stuff?" the Hunter asked, raising her eyebrows at Hazel's huge backpack.

She pointed at her cheekily. "Last time I stepped in there, it was spur of the moment. Now I'm signing up. You're stuck with me." She handed the rucksack over, and looked over to Mike, who fully expected her to at least offer for him to come. "Right, see you, then."

Mike blinked, put out. "Oh. Right. Yeah, good luck."

"You still can't promise me," Jason said to the Hunter. "What if she gets lost? What if something happens to you, Hunter, and she's left all alone standing on some moon a million light years away. How long do I wait then?"

Hazel rolled her eyes. "Jace, you're forgetting. She's a time machine. I could go travelling around suns and planets and all the way out to the edge of the universe, and by the time I get back, yeah, ten seconds would have passed. Just ten seconds. So stop worrying. See you in ten seconds' time, yeah?" She hugged him tightly, then followed the Hunter into the TARDIS, which dematerialised shortly after.

~~~

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[mobius-prime]

277. Sonic Universe #8

Mobius: 30 Years Later (Part 4 of 4): The Freedom Fighters of the Future

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley! Colors: Jason Jensen

So things are bad. Tikhaos is wrecking the castle and is already looking to move on to the rest of Portal, and no one really knows how they'll stop her. Sonic doesn't even know what he's looking at, and is baffled when Lara-Su mentions the monster's name, leading to the mention of a couple more noodle incidents.

I will say it seems a little trite to rehash the whole Perfect Chaos thing once again in a new setting, akin to how Star Wars just rehashed the Death Star twice after the original movie, but then again, the whole point of this arc is to show history repeating itself in both negative and positive ways. I actually do like the concept of the Future Freedom Fighters, the children of the original Freedom Fighters, carrying on the fight against renewed threats to the world - in m opinion it's one of the only things this arc actually gets right. The team wonders how Tikhaos was released and how she got all this Chaos energy in her in the first place, but decide they have to focus on the most present threat first.

This is one of the only actual character moments King Shadow gets at all in this arc, and honestly, I don't buy it. I suppose this is meant to be sort of a "bad future" Shadow, in which he never truly got the chance to fully comprehend Maria's ultimate wish and ended up horribly misinterpreting it, trying to bring peace to the world by conquering it and enforcing that "peace" through his brutal regime. But it falls incredibly flat without any kind of attempt at explaining how he ended up like this. Literally all we know about the past of this particular timeline is that Sonic disappeared shortly after Eggman was finally defeated for good - details that were covered in Penders' version of the future, such as Knuckles going green once more and "remaking the world as he saw fit" or whatever aren't confirmed to have happened or not happened, making everything about what led up to this moment entirely uncertain. Thus, there's no explanation whatsoever about what could have happened to Shadow that led to him becoming so brutal and tyrannical - literally, the backstory provided in SU#5 just makes it seem like he showed up one day and started taking over for no reason. Given his relatively tame character progression in the comics compared to in the games (where he undergoes significantly more trauma and is actually directly exposed to the temptation to violently take over the world), I find him developing in this direction extremely hard to believe. Like, I know I've gone on about how he's my favorite and all, but even if he wasn't, him becoming evil like this just makes no logical sense.

Anyway, Sonic orders Lara-Su to organize the rest of her band of new Freedom Fighters to stall Tikhaos while he rescues his family from the panic room, and orders Argyle to contact the Echidna Security Team to evacuate the city. Lara-Su is nervous about being totally in charge, but takes to it like a natural, ordering the others to distract and halt Tikhaos' advance so people have a chance to get away. Meanwhile, Sonic finds the half-destroyed panic room… with Sally still sitting pretty inside it, a vapid smile on her face. Seriously, normally Ian is good at writing his female characters, so I don't know what the hell happened here with Sally. I get she's close to fifty years old at this point and she was never a frontline combatant in the first place, but the Sally I know wouldn't exactly be content to just sit around while the castle literally fell apart around her, she'd be getting everyone on their feet and looking for an escape route, goddammit.

Once again I have to point out that Silver's motivations don't seem to make sense here. In every other appearance he makes in the comic, he's fully convinced that a traitor within the ranks of the Freedom Fighters is what caused his future to come to ruin, and yet here it's pretty clearly a result of Tikhaos' rage, which was obviously not caused by any Freedom Fighter at all. As Sonic carries Sally and encourages his kids to follow him to safety outside of the castle, Argyle reports that the evacuation of the city is going smoothly, with no reported casualties so far. The new Freedom Fighters are doing a decent job of holding back Tikhaos, but they're nowhere near strong enough to actually take her down, and are due to wear down eventually. Most importantly, the Dark Presence has actually fully renounced Shadow, and are helping to evacuate the civilians and have also freed Tails and Mina. Seems like a pretty quick turnaround for a terrorist organization, but whatever. There's also no further elaboration on the whole Shadow thing, by the way. You'd think everyone would freak out at the knowledge that Shadow has escaped containment and is clearly behind this disaster, but he's never mentioned again in the issue. This would have been the perfect opportunity to actually explain what the hell happened to him to cause such a drastic change in personality, and to have him show some actual regret and character growth from it all, but nah, he apparently just vanishes into the aether never to be seen again or face any consequences for his actions here. Great writing, Ian! Lara-Su decides that the fight is becoming a little too dicey, and decides to try appealing to Tikhaos' emotional side.

Hey, Tails! As he joins in the fight, Mina rushes in to grab their two kids and carry them to safety, much to Melody's annoyance. She protests that she and Skye are Freedom Fighters now, to which Skye emphatically agrees despite his timid nature, and this softens Mina's heart a little, no doubt remembering her own past with the original team. Meanwhile, Jacques and Belle are almost crushed by one of Tikhaos' tentacles, when Silver jumps into the fight.

While he helps stall Tikhaos, Sonic and Lara-Su discuss what needs to be done to actually stop her entirely. Manik and Sonia chime in at this point, reminding Sonic of his victory over Perfect Chaos when he was young and how he targeted its brain, and though he's not too pleased with being reminded that he's not young anymore, he decides they have a point. He calls on everyone on the field to clear a path for him as he rushes the beast, but he's not as fast as he used to be, and it turns to face him…

Look, I know Mobians like to start 'em young, but have we forgotten Sonic's kids are literally four years old?! I mean, kudos to them and all, but that's incredibly dangerous! Still, I can only imagine how popular one might be growing up if they were not only the offspring of a great war hero, but could also boast they took down a deadly monster at the age of four. With Tikhaos weakened, Lara-Su approaches while reciting Tikal's prayer, and this calms her down until she's reverted back to her ordinary Tikal-shaped spirit form, sleeping on the ground. Sonic congratulates everyone on working together effectively to save the day, and cracks a few obligatory jokes about his back hurting because, you know, he's old now.

"Chronos Control," huh? I actually like that quite a bit, nice twist on the ol' familiar Chaos Control. Sally congratulates Sonic on helping save the day, still relegated to being the useless cheerleader on the sidelines instead of doing literally anything proactive like her present-timeline self would definitely have been doing, and everyone poses for a nice final shot, excited to have formed the new Freedom Fighters. Despite the many, many (many) criticisms I have of this entire arc, it is a nice ending at least, fit to stand with the other triumphant finales in the comic at least. Still, overall, I feel like it was shallow, nonsensical, and full of bad characterizations of all the familiar characters. Individuals like Tails and Sally don't feel like themselves at all, but blank slates with the same names as their present-day counterparts, and others such as Shadow are entirely unrecognizable. Luckily for my sanity, this is the last foray we make into the Light Mobius timeline in the comic, and any future issues that deal with the future are set… a bit further into the future, if you catch my drift.

Like the last SU arc, this one ends with a teaser epilogue for the next arc, featuring none other than Finitevus coming out of a warp ring somewhere in a desert in Downunda, speaking to an unknown shadowy figure about how Angel Island is almost overhead and how he's "dying" to meet Knuckles again… Dun dun duuunnn!

[ma-gic-gay]

Knock Before Entering

If Chase had simply knocked before he went in that room, there would be nowhere near as much awkward tension right now between the three of them.

But alas, he hadn't knocked and they were all in an uncomfortable position.

Let's set the scene: Just an hour ago, Michael and Willow had made their marriage official. In Wiley's playroom they were supposed to be painting stars on the ceiling in so their son could have stars to see when he was an astronaut. He was going to be one when he grew up and so they had begun painting them when the annulment papers had came in.

Instead of annulling their marriage, however, they'd finally said everything they felt about each other to each other- and acted on it. Several times.

They'd decided to go again and were making out like fifteen year olds when Chase barged into the room.

The mood had never been killed quicker.

Glaring at Chase, Michael and Willow threw on their shirts and tried to look somewhat presentable as Chase was standing there awkwardly, looking at everything but the sight in front of him. Willow blushes a deep red color, more embarrassed than upset. For her especially, this is an awkward situation.

When everyone's fully dressed, she excuses herself to go find Wiley. As she leaves, Michael's glare returns, as well as his bulging neck veins. "You wanna explain what you're doing here right now?"

"Brook Lynn and I made a deal where if she and Ned talked, I'd talk to Willow," Chase explains, clearly digging himself deeper and deeper into the hole he's created.

"Why are you and Brook Lynn making deals? And what do you have to say to Willow?" Michael asks.

"We're friends. For God's sakes, she's living on my couch! So, since we both have things we don't want to do but should, we made this deal. She tries to work things out with her dad and I tell her how I feel."

Confused, Michael asks, "What do you feel for my cousin that involves Willow?"

"No, not Brook Lynn. She's great, and very interesting, but I don't feel that way about her. We're just friends, nothing more. The deal was I tell Willow what I feel for her. Willow, she told me you two were getting an annulment so I thought it was my final chance to tell her how I feel about her."

Taking a deep breath, Michael asks, "And what do you feel for my wife, Chase? Please, tell me. I'm dying to know. I'm dying to know how you feel about her."

Chase can sense the anger in his tone as he says, "I love her. I-I know what you two-"

"You cheated on her with Sasha. The two of you broke our hearts when you did that, and I don't think you can say you love her if you can have an affair. I get that your conscience might not have let you date Sasha afterwards, but you still managed to cheat on her while you were supposedly in love with her. It's been months Chase, months since the affair," Michael reminds him. "So don't tell me you love her when you broke her heart and didn't care about that. Don't you dare do that."

"I didn't have an affair with Sasha! We faked it for the custody case, so you two would get married and keep Wiley safe from Janelle and her manipulations," Chase exclaims loudly.

Suddenly, everything comes to a halting stop. How loud was he, could Willow hear? Could Brook Lynn hear? What had he just said? The affair was fake?

Willow walks back into the room, confused. "What did you just say?"

"Willow, I love you. Sasha and I never cheated on you and Michael, we made up the affair because you two needed to get married for Wiley's sake. Now that you're getting annulled, I thought this would be my last chance to tell you that I love you and I don't know if I'll ever stop loving you. I need you to know that I still love you." The look on Chase's face is one of anxiety, but it's obvious he's telling the truth.

"You two were making out on a couch! That's still cheating, you just didn't have sex. Do you want an award? Some applause? Chase, you broke my heart. You broke Michael's heart. I've moved on and I don't love you anymore. It's best you move on too," Willow explains to him.

Brook Lynn opens the door, seeing the three of them in an awkward conversation. "We heard yelling from Chase and it was decided I'd be the best to come up here and figure out what's happening."

Angry, hurt, and annoyed, Chase kisses the Quartermaine girl intensely. Is he using her? Only slightly. The kiss feels right though, and so they pull away moments later breathless. Neither were expecting that to be... That. For a first kiss, it was a solid 10/10.

Anger fuels through Michael as his cousin actually kisses him back. "What the fuck are you two doing? Chase, you love Willow but somehow you're making out with her? You can't make a decision for the life of yourself. When you chose to play god with all of our lives, you knew what you were doing. And now you don't want to deal with the consequences of your own actions."

"Michael! I'm an adult, I can take care of myself. Look, I'm fine, alright? That was the first time him and I did that," Brook Lynn reassures him and his breathing calms slightly.

There's a pause before Michael's anger at Chase continues to spew, uncontrollable. "I can't believe you! Saying you're in love with my wife one minute and the next you're making out with my cousin. Brook Lynn, I trust you can take care of yourself, and I trust you told the truth. But Chase, how can you do that? How can you break someone's heart and then say, months later, that you love her? Tell me, please. I'm begging to know. Maybe I can break someone's heart who doesn't deserve it like you did!'"

"Look, let's all take a deep breath before we do anything we're going to regret," Willow suggests, bringing Michael back to reality: they're still in the playroom, trying to solve a problem. With annulment papers conveniently somewhere around here if they so choose to get them and sign.

After that momentarily breather for everyone, Chase says, "I do love Willow, and I think you might love Sasha still, Michael. Things could go-"

As he says that, Michael can't hold back and, neck veins bulging, punches Chase. It's a good punch, one Jason taught him to throw years ago. There are perks to having your mother's best friend being a hitman and your father being in the mob, and one is punching lessons. Well, really more self defense lessons, but still. It's a perk to growing up in dysfunction.

Chase and him fist fight for several minutes to the protests of Willow and Brook Lynn, who both were trying to stop it. But alas, nothing can stop two angry men from fist fighting each other like 12 year olds over an XBOX.

They finally stop the fight, both having taken good punches and thrown good ones. Fury burns in Chase's eyes as shame fills Michael. He let his temper get the best of him and this happened. "Look man, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thrown that punch and started that-"

The detective throws another punch, this time leaving a bloody lip. "Damn right you shouldn't have. But now, you're going to be arrested for assault."

"You do not want to arrest him. Arrest me," Brook Lynn suggests.

"As much as I'd like to, Brook Lynn, you don't have any grounds for arrest at the moment and he does," Chase reminds her.

"Chase, please don't do this. At the very least, let me take care of his bloody lip," Willow begs and Dante walks into the room.

Whistling, Dante says, "What the fuck happened in here? It smells like sex and Michael's got a bloody lip and Chase has what looks like a bruised forehead. Is this some weird sex thing I don't know about because if so I feel like it's illegal."

"Do not start that conversation or there will be more blood," Brook Lynn warns him. "But currently all I know is Chase told Willow how he feels and Michael punched him when he said that she still loved him and he still loved Sasha. But I'm guessing that the sex thing came from Michael and Willow, so I'm pretty sure that's actually encouraged in most religions. Also Chase made out with me."

"How much did I miss? But Detective, arresting him is a shoddy at best move. Trust me, I was with the police department for a while." Dante chuckles.

"Thank you for your input Dante, but I'm going to go and bring Michael to the station," Chase says before reciting the Miranda rights to him. "If you don't want him to be in jail tonight, I suggest you go to the police station."

"I feel like this is harassment and that that's how the commissioner will see this as well," Dante informs him.

But the protests of his family don't have any meaning as Chase handcuffs him and he's dragged out to the police car, absolutely silent while everyone sees him being arrested by his former best friend.

An hour later, Diane's there and clearly displeased with him. "Michael. I would expect this behavior from, say, Jason or Carly. They've actually both been in a situation like this at one point. Irony's a beautiful thing. That's not the point. You are supposed to be the good one! Not the one fist fighting people with no real reason except you're mad they're in love with your wife!"

"I know, I know. I overreacted to it and I'm sorry for that and I let my anger get the best of me which I shouldn't have and I feel like hell but it was so great finally punching him. But, in my defense, he also said false things that we'd already said we're false and made out with Brook Lynn after insisting they were just friends. And he gave me a bloody lip, so I'd say we're even," Michael struggles to defend himself. "Is it still bloody?"

"Yes, it's still bleeding. Carly, Sonny, and Jason have been made aware you're here, and I'm sure that you and Chase have very different sides to the story but, provided he drops the charges, you'll be let free. If he doesn't, someone will need to post bail money for you and this petty case will be taken to court."

Chase walks back into the interrogation room. "Michael, I think we can make an agreement. I'll drop the charges if you and Willow get annulled."

Diane steps in, chuckling. "This form of agreement seems harassing, as does the proposition in question. Detective, I understand you decided to arrest him on the grounds of assault but a jury or the commissioner will just see this as you harassing my client. Additionally, the annulment papers were received by them today."

"Diane, we're not getting annulled. We, uh, we decided we're staying together. Chase, he walked in when we were making out and then told us he'd lied about the affair and that he still loves Willow and so Brook Lynn came upstairs to figure out what was happening and he made out with her and I asked him how he could do that and he insinuated several things about my love life so I punched him, not hard, and he fought back so we had a minor fist fight and then I apologized for throwing the first punch because that wasn't smart or productive and he gave me a cat lip," Michael explains.

"Detective, I strongly advise you stop harassing Mr. Corinthos here because that's what it looks like to me. Willow can make her own decisions, that's her choice who she wants to be with. She is not to be sold as property."

Chase, exhaling, says, "You're right. I shouldn't have arrested him in the first place, and I'll drop the charges, but someone does still need to bail him out."

"What is bail set at?" Diane asks, smiling.

"$500. I'll alert his family, which is loudly congregated out there," Chase says, standing up from the table.

"Thank you," Michael smiles.

As Chase leaves, Diane's smirk widens. "What's this I hear about no annulment? Did your grounds for it become, how shall I say this, void?"

"Well, the Quartermaine's already know, why not you. Yes, we did decide not to get annulled. It isn't something either of us want, so sorry for wasting your time."

"It's your private life so I'm not going to dig into it, Michael, but for what it's worth, I wish you and Willow the best on your marriage. Trust me, she's probably the only woman who both of your families will agree is good for you and who can deal with the chaos that is your life."

"Thanks, I think," Michael chuckles as she leaves and he finds out his bail has been posted and gets uncuffed.

He walks out of the room, embarrassed but fine minus the bloody lip, and sees that there's a good fifteen people out there for him; Carly, who's pacing and talking to Jason very loudly, Jason, who's remind her they're at a police station, Willow, who's trying to just ignore the situation, Brook Lynn, who's harassing Chase about how he acted, Dante, who's smirking about everything that's happened, Wiley, who clearly isn't comfortable with this situation, Sonny, who's just scrolling through his phone, Diane, who's discussing something with a disinterested Sonny. Dysfunction at it's finest.

Willow looks up and sees he's there and runs up to hug her husband. "You're okay? Your lip's not bleeding, but are you sure you're okay and we don't need to go to the hospital right now to get you checked out?"

Chuckling, Michael says, "Willow. Look at me. I am fine. Trust me, I've been through worse than my busted lip and soreness. You have absolutely no reason to worry."

"You were arrested! For punching him over me! I feel like there was plenty of reason for me to worry and be upset," she smiles.

"Well, I promise you, I am fine and don't need to go to the hospital. Your overreaction is, though adorable, unnecessary right now. I'm fine, Wiley's fine, you're fine, and that's all that matters," Michael assures her.

Smiling, she quickly kisses him which is convenient seen by everyone there. "Promise on your life?"

"That's a bit extreme."

"Then you're going to the hospital," she declares as Carly and the adults are laughing. "What's so funny?"

"How casually you two just kissed. Yesterday, you were getting an annulment and today there's this. We clearly need to be caught up on what happened. Besides, your concern is just so much like a wife, you two really are married now," Carly laughs.

"I'm still making him get checked out at the hospital. Would any of you like to join me?" Willow asks, earning another chuckle from them.

"Sure, why not?" Dante chuckles as the rest of them minus Brook Lynn agree to join; she's doing a thing she does where she just stares blankly while you talk so you can't see her emotion with Chase.

"You are way too worried about me," Michael protests.

"You wouldn't swear on your life."

"You're lucky you're my wife."

"I am," she agrees as they walk out, him kissing her forehead. "And you're lucky I'm your wife."

"That I most certainly am."

wsdfgbhnjm words

[thecomicsnexus]

BATMAN: WHITE KNIGHT #1-8 DECEMBER 2017 - JULY 2018 BY SEAN MURPHY AND MATT HOLLINGSWORTH

SYNOPSIS (FROM WIKIPEDIA)

Batman corners Joker in a pharmaceutical warehouse, beating him excessively as Nightwing, Batgirl, and the GCPD look on in horror. Joker boasts that medication would let him do more good than Batman, prompting Batman to force a bottle of pills down Joker's throat. With a recording of the beating leaking and the Batmobile causing huge collateral damage, debate is sparked over whether Batman is doing more harm than good. Barbara and Dick learn Bruce's violence stems from Alfred being near death, kept alive only by Freeze Tech. Joker, now stable and using his real name Jack Napier, wins a case against GCPD for insufficient evidence and for non-intervention in his beating.

Freed, Napier visits Harley Quinn, who attacks him and insists he's not himself. Saved by a second Harley, Napier learns she is the original but was replaced: with Joker's obsession culminating in Jason Todd's torture, Quinzel left to try and help Batman save Todd, and was replaced when Joker unwittingly adopted an obsessed hostage named Marian Drews. Bruce and Victor Fries develop a treatment for cryogenic illnesses. Despite not being fully tested, Fries attempts to resuscitate Nora; anticipating this, Wayne hooks the system up to Fries' suit, curing him but aging him to his natural elderly state. Running for councilman, Napier funds construction of a library in poor district Backport and befriends Duke Thomas, an ex-GCPD officer who runs a local youth group. Meanwhile, Bruce discovers that many of his fellow billionaires have been profiting off of Batman by purchasing properties destroyed by Batman's battles and then flipping them after the city repairs them; Bruce is left shaken by this discovery. Using the Mad Hatter's tools to control Clayface, Napier gives Gotham's Rogues Gallery drinks secretly laced with his dust to control them by proxy.

Making the villains rampage across the city, Napier uses the distraction to access restricted documents and discovers a tax fund for Batman's collateral damage. In an attempt to move the villains to a less-populated area, Batman baits them into attacking Backport and Napier's library, thinking that they wouldn't attack a property owned by the Joker; the villains proceed to damage Backport and raze the library. Injured when Napier's library crumbles, Bruce later collapses at Alfred's bedside; waking to find himself stabilized on Alfred's life-support, Bruce finds Alfred dead in the bedside chair. Dick and Barbara discuss whether to intervene in Bruce's developing obsession in convicting Napier.

Drews, now Neo Joker, recovers the Clayface's remains, taking the Rogues Gallery into her control. When Batman intervenes in his protest, Napier goes willingly to GCPD. Warning he knows of the collateral fund, he offers to reallocate it to GCPD as councilman, giving Gotham a culpable Batman equivalent known as the GTO - the Gotham Terrorism Oppression unit.

Neo Joker attacks the GCPD, prompting Gordon to side with Napier and place an APB on Batman. Batman asks Quinzel for help taking down Napier, convinced he's pulling a long con; Quinzel refuses, certain Napier is legitimate. Bested by the GTO, which has recruited Duke, Nightwing and Batgirl and has built their own makeshift Batmobiles, Batman is arrested by Napier. Neo Joker uses a revealed superweapon to freeze Gotham harbor, demanding she be given Joker. Earlier, Bruce discovered Thomas Wayne funded Fries Sr. to create Freeze-Tech, circumventing US laws by tunneling under Gotham's German embassy; Fries Sr. later cut ties with Thomas to build the superweapon against his wishes.

Napier's medication becomes ineffective, making him periodically revert into Joker. Napier frees Batman, asking for help stopping Neo Joker in exchange for a confession (provided Quinzel isn't arrested). Napier, Batman and the GTO organize an assault on the freeze ray, piloting a fleet of Batman's Batmobiles. During the assault, Napier attempts to focus on Joker's memories and recalls that Todd is alive: Joker drove Robin to hate Batman and reveal his identity. Napier explains he already knew Batman's identity as all collateral taxes indirectly come from Wayne Enterprises. Making peace with Dick, Barbara and Gordon, Batman races through Gotham tunnels with Napier, who has reverted to Joker. The GTO bests Neo Joker's forces and reverses the freeze ray, flooding the tunnels. Overpowering Neo Joker, Joker releases Clayface and undoes the mind control. With Batman protecting him from Clayface, Joker and Quinzel pursue Neo Joker in the Batmobile; Napier returns and professes his love for Quinzel. Approaching a closing floodgate, Napier launches Quinzel through the gap in the Batcycle, causing him to crash. Quinzel beats and apprehends Neo Joker, and Batman saves Napier.

Confessing to his crimes, Napier surrenders and is granted a nicer Arkham cell and a wedding to Quinzel; as he finishes his vows, Napier permanently reverts to Joker. Using Napier's remaining funds, Quinzel begins restoring Backport. Confronting Quinzel, Batman reveals she manufactured Joker's medication and orchestrated events so the chase would end in the factory and be recorded. Explaining he only learned the truth from Joker, Quinzel explains she did it to break their stalemate before they destroyed Gotham.

Meeting with Gordon, Batman gives him the keys to the original Batmobiles for the GTO and confesses that Napier was right about him. Revealing that he's realized that he's been taking pleasure in harming criminals and that he's allowed himself to go too far in his war against crime, Batman unmasks himself in front of Gordon to earn back his trust.

REVIEW

To say this story is about role reversals would be an underwhelming generalization. There is more to this story and it is a product of our current times.

The first thing that comes to mind while reading this story is the how Trump got to be a president and how the UK voted for a Brexit. It’s about trust in the good guys, and how when that trust is broken, people will trust anything but the good guys. I’m not saying that Trump is a villain, but, you know, he wouldn’t be in power had he had better (trustful) competition. And coming from a third world country, this happens a lot, in many countries, with politicians in particular.

But it goes beyond that, when you feel like the authorities (like the police or the army) acts like a bully, you do not trust them anymore. You second guess all they do. That is actually a very good practice though, you SHOULD think rationally about motivations and goals of those you trust. But it doesn’t help institutions, it breaks apart trust in other things that may be actually good for society, and you open the door for crazy conspiracies and hoaxes that do more harm than good (like anti-vaccination fanatics or climate change denialists).

So it is fitting that this story ends with Batman revealing who he is, because had the people known he was paying for his own destruction all along, the Joker wouldn’t have had the upper hand. And people were eager to believe in the Joker, who in the shadows, was still doing evil (even if it was for a good cause).

And that is another thing to consider, that no one is right in this story (just like in real life). All these characters are wrong at some point, the Joker is right in his views most of the time, but the alternative is also flawed.

I am saying this is a story of our times, because it feels like the good guys are not as trustful as they used to, and they really need to step up and be more transparent in order to stop hate and corruption from coming into power (many countries seem to go for fascist ideas at this moment, last time something like that happened was before World War II).

Going to specifics of this story, Jason is alive (but thought dead) and he was also the first Robin. Dick is not the loyal partner here and Barbara is a bit less mature than we are used to. The whole story feels like a remix of the Batman movies and the animated series, but it is clearly not in any of those continuities. It also introduces a second Harley Quinn, who looks pretty much like the new 52 version of the character.

And of course, the stand-out of the series is the original Harley Quinn, and how he was the actual mastermind behind everything... for a good cause. That kind of reveal was justified and throws mediocre mystery arcs like Hush and The Long Halloween out the window.

There are a lot of easter eggs in the art, and it helps create this big landscape that is Gotham City. You can feel these backgrounds as being a very important part of the story.

It also leaves some unanswered questions to justify a sequel.

I give this story a score of 10.

[phroyd]

The Proud Boys want the public to believe that they’re a “drinking club” who only resort to violence to defend themselves from anti-fascist protesters during political rallies.

But in private, these extremists have discussed injuring and even killing their adversaries, plotting tactics and optics for months in order to assert a claim of self-defense should they face charges.

According to private chat logs obtained exclusively by HuffPost, the punch-happy, pro-Trump street gang was particularly excited for its “Resist Marxism” rally, scheduled for April 6 in Providence, Rhode Island. With the right plan of attack, members said, this one could put them back on the map.

This mother f**ker needs to meet a 7mm [Magnum rifle] from about 500 yards.Proud Boy Shaun Hufton in private chats.

The group had been floundering ever since 10 of its members were arrested for assaulting protesters outside a GOP event in New York City last year. Their leader, Vice Media co-founder Gavin McInnes, reportedly arranged for his followers’ surrender.

In the chats, covering a time period between February and March of this year, members claimed they needed a conclusive “win” this time around, which they defined as a bloody battle against “antifa” in Providence. If this brawl were bigger and more violent than previous iterations, they might regain some of the street cred and followers they’d lost.

“We’ll grow this group of patriots and we’ll never back down,” wrote the event’s organizer, Proud Boys member Alan Swinney, in the private chat messages. “If we win, it will make more patriots come to the next rally. We just need to go there and we’ll beat them. We’ll have enough to crush them at some point.”

A source with direct knowledge of the exchanges confirmed to HuffPost that the logs were authentic. Swinney also responded to several screenshots. When asked about discussions of violence in the chat logs, he told HuffPost, “They’re warriors. ... Choir boys don’t go up against people like that [anti-fascists]. It takes a person with a certain type of mindset.”

The logs contained a revolving door of up to 30 Proud Boys and their allies, including militia members and other “patriots,” as Swinney called them. Those named in this story either publicly identify as members of the Proud Boys or affiliated groups, or have been identified as such in national news stories or by the groups’ leaders.

Looking forward to Providence, members in the private channel were pumped for the opportunity to cause mayhem. One Proud Boy named Anthony Mastrostefano said:

“All I want to do is smash commies too. Actually I’m lying, I’m way past just hitting them. When the time comes I will stop at nothing to fully eradicate them all!”

“We’re A Drinking Club”

The Proud Boys have a yearslong history of violence, and they’ve built an entire brand off of the fights they’ve helped organize in American streets, from spars in Los Angeles and Portland, Oregon, to attacks in Providence and New York.

McInnes created a set of rules by which his gang members could gain clout in the organization, which include forgoing masturbation, getting a Proud Boy tattoo and fighting in the name of the gang.

Their leadership has always claimed that such violence is incidental, acts of self-defense necessitated by their anti-fascist opponents, who show up to each of their purported free-speech events in protest.

They’ve gone as far as to file lawsuits to maintain that facade ― on Monday, several of their members stood at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., and announced that they were suing the Southern Poverty Law Center for labeling them as a hate group. McInnes himself filed a defamation lawsuit against the civil rights organization in February.

“We’re a drinking club that stands behind Donald Trump,” said Proud Boys chairman Enrique Tarrio at the D.C. event. “That’s enough to earn hate of the left.”

But private chat logs leaked to HuffPost fly directly in the face of that sentiment, showing Proud Boys premeditating violence they hope to commit. They spent months before the April rally meticulously planning strategies for injuring protesters.

Members discuss what weapons they might use against the “commies” they’ll meet in the street, which police officers might be sympathetic to them, how they’ll raise funding to fly out their long-distance compatriots, and how they’ll “bait” protesters into throwing the first punch so that they can claim self-defense.

HuffPost has reviewed dozens of private messages shared among a small group of Proud Boys and their allies, mostly on the social app Telegram, in the months leading up to the “Resist Marxism” rally they had planned for April. The chat logs were leaked by a source who wished to remain anonymous out of fear for their safety.

The rally ultimately didn’t happen, but the logs provide an inside look into the extremist group’s strategy as well as evidence that such planning continues to this day.

The Proud Boys Premeditate Violence

“Group, meet Kindness,” wrote Proud Boy Jason Cardona on Telegram, above a selfie in which he’s holding his pet, an ax.

“Ahhh, Kindness,” crowed Proud Boy Peter Scott in response. Scott then posted a picture of himself holding a large knife. Another member, Jake Adkins, posted a short video depicting an unknown device, asking the group, “Think I can get this thru in a checked bag?”

On Telegram, the Proud Boys privately fantasized about the weapons they might like to use against anti-fascist protesters at the rally in Providence. But they were also cautious about what weapons they told others to bring, as they didn’t want to face more arrests.

Scott noted that mace is “100 percent legal for self-defense” and directed everyone else in the chat to “armor up boys!” Makeshift armor is a common sight among Proud Boys, militia groups and other far-right extremists at these rallies. Depending on where a gathering occurs, concealed guns are also a possibility.

“If you’re in a state that can show up with your guns that’s fine. Up here in New England you can’t but some of us still show up,” wrote Proud Boy member Kenny Lizardo. HuffPost reported on Lizardo last year after he showed up on the doorstep of a comedian to intimidate him over his tweets

“I carry but it seems like to [sic] much could go wrong with that,” wrote Proud Boy Jason Lewis. “Big patriot fists and boots will do just fine.”

The gun-measuring contest was interspersed with analysis of street-level warfare. They explored how to counter “black bloc” tactics used by anti-fascists, in which protesters wear all black to make it hard to distinguish individuals, and they shared stories about previous exploits, most of which included getting a solid punch in without getting caught.

In some chats, the Proud Boys claimed to have ties to local law enforcement, though it’s unclear how legitimate those relationships were. As reported by the Portland, Oregon, alt-weekly Willamette Week, the Proud Boys and Patriot Prayer ― their close allies on the West Coast ― have had some success garnering police sympathy during their fights.

“Last year we had two different cops ‘admiring’ our work,” said John Stewart. “One told us ‘they don’t want to fight you guys again they are pussies.’ The other thanked us as we walked by him.”

But they would never learn if their apparent clout with police would help them stage their April 6 rally in Providence ― it fell apart before it began. The national Proud Boys “elders” announced at the time that the gathering was postponed while they focused on the trials of those 10 Proud Boys arrested and charged over last year’s attacks in New York City.

They Know What They’re Doing

The Proud Boys repeatedly acknowledged that their plans could get them in trouble.

“I advise all of you to only speak in terms of self-defense and never speak of premeditated violence,” wrote a man who identified himself as Kyle “Based Stickman” Chapman, an extremist who has previously been convicted of violent felonies and is known for his attacks at rallies and repeated parole violations, among other crimes.

He added: “I could be liable for what happens in Providence. So please stop making it easy for these people to prosecute us by putting threats of violence in writing that can be used against us later.”

Few seemed to listen, and leaders like Swinney had to attempt damage control on a regular basis.

For example, Proud Boy Shaun Hufton at one point made a direct threat to kill an anti-fascist activist who goes by the pseudonym Antifash Gordon on Twitter:

“This mother fucker needs to meet a 7mm [Magnum rifle] from about 500 yards,” he said, to which Scott responded, “Do not post any threats on here, the feds will use it against [us] in court.”

For his part, Swinney often repeated the “defense-only” deflection, demanding that other Proud Boys characterize their “rallies against communists” as acts of preservation and their presence as a security detail for rallygoers.

In an interview, Swinney corroborated the authenticity of chat screenshots HuffPost showed him and said he personally agreed with statements about “smashing commies” like Mastrostefano’s.

“He specifically said ‘when the time comes,’” Swinney told HuffPost, adding later: “When the time comes, and the order is given, I’ll do whatever it takes to stop these people. The constitution is the greatest document of freedom ever written. I’ll give my life to defend it if nessicary [sic].”

Phroyd