#but they do all Menace the fuck out of baby Bruce

[navree]

there's a lot of reasons why that titans show wanting to do batfam specific arcs, especially death in the family/under the red hood, flopped so hard each time, but one of the biggest is that they basically brought jason back after, like, a fucking month and it basically negates the entire thing

[clockwayswrites]

The bitties must cuddle. ""Birdtritch"" Part 5

masterpost

“Nightwing!” Tim shouted, leaning forward on his perch.

Nothing.

Then a black and blue stripped hand poked out of the green feathers in a thumbs up. “I’m okay!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Nightwing,” Hood grumbled as he stalked forward. “Hey bird brain! Let go of my brother.”

“Aww, he called me brother,” Nightwing cooed over the line.

“…maybe you can keep him after all,” Hood said to the bird thing that had leaned down to peer at him.

The green glint of the bird thing’s eyes reflected off of Hood’s helmet. Then it blinked and in that moment dozens of abstracted cyan eyes blinked into existence around Hood.

Hood reached out to poke at one with the muzzle of his gun. It went right through the ‘eye’. “What the fuck…?”

The bird thing trilled back at Hood.

Tim tapped his comm to open the all channels line. “Um, so, we have… an eldritch bird creature that has been exposed to cuddle pollen. It’s is already cuddling Nightwing and… yep, yeah, now it has Red Hood. Don’t shoot it, Hood! It’s friendly!”

“It’s a fucking menace!”

“A bird?” Robin’s voice piped up.

“Don’t get too excited, baby bat, eldritch bird. It’s the size of an SUV and has too many arms. And eyes. Sorta eyes? And yep, there goes Hood, absorbed by the fluff. Oh great, it’s looking at me now.”

“Avoid the entity, Red Robin,” Batman said across the comms, tone clipped and worried.

“Sorta hard to do, big B. It has a lot of legs right now and all eyes on me. There so many eyes.”

“Avoid the entity!” Batman barked again.

Yeah, like that was going to go well.

-

“Father! Make this creature unhand me at once!” Robin shouted.

“Calm the fuck down, it’s not hurting us,” Red Hood grumbled. “Not that it’s letting us go…”

“Actually pretty comfortable,” Red Robin said in a voice tinged with the edges of sleep. Bruce couldn’t even see a part of Red Robin in the mess of feathers.

Bruce just sighed and pinched his nose. “Boys.”

“Did you just ‘boys’ us?” Nightwing asked, though he sounded like he was enjoying the whole circumstance.

“Yes. Black Bat isn’t involved in this at all,” Bruce said. “So, boys.”

Black Bat’s soft laugh over the line was mostly drowned out by the warble that the bird entity made. Bruce absently started comparing the creature to the types of birds that roosted in Gotham as the surprisingly long neck unfolded and reached out towards him.

He regarded the bird entity steadily.

It warbled again, tilted its head, and then started preening the ears of the cowl.

Bruce sighed heavily.

“Likes you.” Cass’ lyrical words came over the line. Bruce knew that tone. She was taking pictures for blackmail.

(And everyone said girls were easier.)

“I really don’t think it’s going to let us go, B. It might not even be able to with the cuddle pollen,” Nightwing said. Bruce could see the blue tips of the boots now but nothing else.

Bruce hummed. “Gotham doesn’t have the facilities to humanely keep such a creature.”

Robin hit the ground in a crouch and started forward. “Father—”

The bird entity reached out again for Robin with one of its too many limbs. Robin parried with his sheathed blade. The coo that the entity made in response was heart wrenching. Almost instantly Robin deflated at the sound.

He crossed his arms and looked away with a huff. “Fine.”

With a much happier sound, Robin was grabbed carefully around the waist and placed on the bird entity’s back, right behind its next.

“Get off,” Red Robin grumbled from wherever he was in the mass of plumage. Some shifting along the back feathers followed the sleepy words. Then a yawn. “The Cave is the only choice.”

“You can’t be serious,” Red Hood said.

(Bruce thought Red Hood might be clasped firmly under a wing.)

Red Robin yawned again. “Large, secure, safe for us…”

“Yeah, and how the fuck do we get this thing to the Cave?” Red Hood snapped back.

After a considering silence, Black Bat pipped up with that same mischievous lilt. “Idea.”

[aizawaondrugs]

Okay, it's a really popular trope that Danny gets rid of Jason's pit madness by cleansing the nasty ecto in him BUT!

Neverborn babies are created by two ghosts mixing their ecto together. (or maybe this is just fanon? idk, it's a crossover anyway🙌)

So I raise y'all:

Jason isn't contaminated by the pits and his ecto isn't nasty because of them. He's just really fucking traumatized and the Pit Rage part of him is literally his fucked up emotional state marinating in his ecto. There's actually no Pit Rage, he's just super fucking emotional and super fucking traumatized and mentally unstable, though he's working on that.

Danny? Poor, Danny "I want to help!" Fenton? Should've taken him to Frostbite but managed to mix his ecto into Jason's to try and cleanse the "contamination" out of it instead. Like an idiot.

Jason? He's... ghost pregnant and weirdly okay with it. He likes kids, there are no actual pregnancy symptoms to fuck up his mood. He's actually much happier now that he has something to look forward to! Frostbite said that taking care of his mental and emotional health will take care of the Pit Rage so that's also covered. Danny is sleeping on his couch. He has his own place but Jason thinks he deserves to sleep on the couch and he can and will enforce it.

Danny? Total and utter panic. He's a dad! Again if Ellie counts! What the fuck he doesn't know anything about kids or normal people things! Will the kid be full ghost because he had unknowing ghost sex with the hot revenant? Or maybe a halfa because they're both at least half alive? Is there a precedent for this?! Clockwork? CLOCKWORK HELP HIM!

Jazz? Sooooooo angry at her stupid fucking little brother. Of all the irresponsible, dumb shit he could've done this wasn't something she ever imagined! He truly outdone himself. All he needed to do was take the revenant to the Far Frozen to be treated! And what did Danny do? HE KNOCKED HIM UP! For someone so smart her little brother truly is fucking stupid!

Ellie? She's very excited! Danny and her might've mutually agreed to be cousins/siblings but that didn't mean he wasn't a better father to her than Vlad. It never was a high bar to clear but still. Baby sibling!

The Fentons? Oblivious. But when they find out? Ancients help them all.

The rest of the batfam? Also oblivious but something just isn't right with Jason. They will find out what. And when they do? Complete and utter chaos. Alfred is mildly disappointed, Bruce shut down because grandbaby and the rest are menaces. Duke is offering his services as superpowered babysitter for the superpowered baby lol

Frostbite? Shaking his head. He knew the Great One was impulsive in his youth, never really having time to truly think through his actions in those early days but he thought Danny grew out of it. Apparently, he didn't. Volunteered to be Jason's primary doctor.

(Vlad? In ghost prison lol)

[profoundathletecowboybanana]

AU where dick and Jason get hit by a spell or whatever that de-ages them to like 9 and 11 years while out on patrol and Tim and Damian find them and are obviously like “o shit.”

They try and bring them back but Dick (the little fucking menace) will NOT sit still enough for them to grab him. If Tim and Damian thought he was flexible and untouchable as an adult they were not prepared for him as a child. He is small and fast and goddamn SLIPPERY.

Jason is watching this and fucking laughing at them. The little shit. Damian switches tactics and tries to wrangle him, but the kid’s ally smarts have him smacking a garbage lid straight into Damian’s face and running away before he can grab him.

Eventually, bribed with cool motorcycles and the promise of junk food, Dick and Jason go willingly back to the manor.

Unfortunately this does not make things any easier

Tim: oh my god I am so not equipped to be an eldest brother what the fuck- DICK PLEASE GET DOWN BRUCE IS GONNA HAVE MY ASS

Damian: Stop it you absolute baboons! This is humiliating- HEY STOP STEALING MY SHIT JASON

Alfred would help but he’s simply far too busy polishing silver. They will figure it out probably

The two little demons (Damian has officially lost his claim to the tittle) tire themselves out and dick makes his way back to his room to play some video games while Jason gets distracted by a pretty hardback of Oliver Twist. Fortunately, right as they end up crashing, Bruce gets home

Tim: heyyyyyyyy Bruce. So you know how we all make mistakes?

Bruce: what did you do

But Bruce can’t even be mad because they’re his BABIES and look how cute they are when they’re sleeping, Alfred, look!!

He sends Tim and Damian to go investigate who did this and how to reverse it with the promise that he’ll join them later (after taking far too many pictures and ordering an absolutely insane amount clothes, toys, and books for the boys. He also makes sure to get the bubblegum toothpaste that Jason likes because the mint kind is too harsh on his little taste buds

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hiiii

So I was thinking about drakes spoiled brat (as I do. Quite a bit) and while scrolling through the DSB tag on tumblr I found those posts talking about epilogs and how that would look. And honestly-just imagine being a normal civilian at the end of this story and all you know is that Timothy "trash" drake is abruptly adopted by the Wayne's and suddenly is very very chill??? Like lol that would confuse the shit outta so many people LMAO

Timothy: I'm a cisgender heterosexual rich Christian white man. And I am better than all of you who are not all of those things. And even if you do check all the boxes, you still aren't me and therefore will never compare.

*the next day*

Tim: I'm uhh gender? Shit next question. Sexuality? Uhhh boys. And girls? Yes. Christian? Shit- fuck- no I'm an atheist...I'm rich and white I wasn't gaslighting myself about those two. So technically it cancels out. Anyways. Uh. Shit man idk I'm running on fumes rn ive been awake 51 hours straight...don't tell Bruce.

The general public: *slow blink* ...who are you and where is Timothy.

The bats: *low key getting some amusement over Tim fumbling*

Anyways. Idk if this is coherent lol I'm just bein silly. I love your fic so much and it's inspired me for some ideas of my own so thanks. You're a very talented author <333

Oh don't worry about coherency hon its brainrot and I just so happen to be a native speaker- and thank you for the praise <33

I will say that Timothy isn't your "classic" wolf on wallstreet guy-

Gotham rich people are a whole new breed because yeah there are social expectations and what not, but once you reach a certian class its mostly "fuck all as long as the investors are happy"

The public perception of Timothy is like a guy who you WANT to feel bad for, and can easily go "yeah that explains a bit of his behavior-" but your still making it REALLY hard to take your side

Most of his "Scandals" have come from him verbally assaulting people, underage drinking/drugs use, and just doing stuff that was not PR approved. To some hes a fucking menace, to others he's as entertaining as those two birkin boyfriends.

Yes he's an asshole, but he's also a kid who lost his parents pretty horribly (wink wink for future lore) and instead of being free as a young nepo baby should be, he's tied down to Gotham, keeping his parents company alive and dealing with all sorts of shit behind closed doors.

Of course hard to feel pity for a rich asshat so there are absolutely a decent percentage of people who roll their eyes whenever someone brings up "Timothy Drake" and everyone has a story of someone with a shit experience

BUT he gets adopted by the Wayne brood and is suddenly- half decent?? Most people would just accept of "Good- everyones favorite himbo gets a new kid, a bit of a fixer upper but lord knows he needed it"

Anyways heres MY ramblings in turn- will definently explore more of Tim and Timothys relationships in Gotham in the future so this is due to fluxuate but as of rn this is generally the perspective <33

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

Part 13: This Heart is Haunted

18+Only, mature content, angst, reader is being stalked, mention of physical & emotional abuse, biker MC, unprotected sex, sex with someone other than reader, exes are everywhere, mention of battling cancer, home invasion, tarot reading, spiritual guidance, mention of a gun, mention of taking someone's life, hurt & comfort. wc: 8.6k

Masterlist Playlist

Summary: Reader and Eddie are very much in love as the world piles on again. Both of their exes are in town, and Craig leaves a disturbing calling card to let reader know he is watching. Steve is properly introduced to Charlene in more ways than one, Astrid tries to protect Steve in the best way she knows how, and we get a peek into what Wayne "Uncle" Munson is thinking

--------

"Wendy let me in, I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims And strap your hands across my engines."

Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen

I'm on Fire Part 13: This Heart is Haunted

--------

John Gregson sent you a generous down payment for his commissioned painting, and most of it went right to the art store with you to by a roll of canvas, new paints, and brushes. Eddie went with you, and insisted on driving your car, but not before he had to adjust the driver’s seat all the way back so that he wasn’t eating his knees. He found a paint-by-numbers color pack of a dragon for Oliver, and crept up behind you, pretending to be someone else.

“Excuse me, miss? You are so fine,” he whispered in the sketchbook aisle. “Are you single, by chance?”

You checked to each side of you, feigning to look for him. “There’s this one guy I fuck from time to time, but it’s not serious.”

“Oh, is that right?” Eddie tickled your ribs, and then picked you up off your feet, munching down on the side of your neck with his teeth. “You better take it back.”

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” you wiggled free with a laugh that seemed to echo off of the store walls, shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

Eddie wouldn’t let you carry anything on the way out to the car, and you did not miss some of the feminism that left your body in that moment as he held one of the bags in his teeth. The canvas roll was almost too long for the back seat, and you had a moment of panic, but then Eddie figured it out, clapping for himself after and taking a small bow.

The big, scary biker with the tattooed hands and the War Machine insignia kindly reminded you to fasten your seat belt, just as he clicked on his own and slipped his sunglasses on.

“I don’t know, Munson,” you grinned into the sun as he backed out of the parking space. “You’ve been such a help today, there might be some roadhead on the menu.”

He slammed the brakes and snapped his head to look at you, his hair flying, making you get the giggles. “See, now you’ll have to forget I said anything. I want it to be a surprise.”

He continued backing out, checking over his shoulder. “Surprise roadhead could kill a man, baby. You gotta give me some warning.”

So far, it had been the most chill day since before you’d been fired. You were sinking into the routine of “normal” couples, doing mundane chores together, holding hands in public, being sickeningly, adoringly head over heels for each other. And it felt really good. So good, in fact, you could almost forget for a second about all of the shit that had gone wrong, and could possibly go wrong.

Much earlier that morning as you lay curled up naked next to him in bed with your leg over him and your head on his chest, listening to a song by Mother Love Bone pour out softly from the stereo in Eddie’s apartment, he asked what you were thinking.

You’d been quiet for a while, zoning out, touching your fingertips to his as he spread them out to meet yours across the menacing bat tattoo on his chest.

“It’s silly,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder with the side of your mouth. The morning was warm with a soft breeze blowing one of the long, blue curtains out into the room, and above the sound of the music came the rumble of motorcycles rolling into the compound, and electric drill firing in the garage across the way.

“Still,” he rested his head on yours. “I want to hear it. I want to know what goes on in that quirky brain of yours.”

As comfortable as you were with Eddie at that point, you were shy about admitting some of your deep-seated insecurities.  What if you spoke them out loud and they came true? What if you started to let him know what went on in your “quirky”, anxiety riddled brain, and it scared him off?

You decided to take a chance, burying your face a bit more in the indentation of his armpit.  “In the past, whenever I've felt genuine happiness, or everything seemed to be going really well, that’s always when everything would go to shit.  So, I have this fear that—”

“---that you’re going to lose me?” Eddie interrupted softly, sliding his fingers down to intertwine with yours.  

“Well, yeah,” you admitted.  “Exactly that.  Losing you, or something happening to Katie or Steve’s family.  Anyone I care about.”

“The same shit happens to me in my head,” he promised.  “It almost won’t let me enjoy whatever good thing is happening because I’m already thinking about how it could get fucked up. I’m always anticipating the next bad thing.”

“We are a sad pair,” you snorted a laugh. 

“Hey, really though, listen to me,” he squeezed you tighter. “You’re not going to lose me, baby, fuck that.  As long as we tell each other what is going on and we don’t have any secrets, no one can fuck with us.  I won’t let anyone fuck with us.”

You propped up on your forearm to meet his eyes; they were bright brown and earnest.  You swept his bangs to the side with your fingertips. “Well, that’s good to know because I don’t think I’d survive this level of heartbreak.”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” Eddie searched your face, running his knuckle down your cheek.  “And if you break mine, I’ll probably sulk around for the rest of my life, just a shell of a man, playing songs on the street corner for loose change.”

You chuckled and scooted closer to kiss his mouth.  “What are the deal breakers for you in a relationship? Something you could never forgive?”

He squinted curiously at you.  “Are you trying to walk that line, sweetheart?”

“No,” you bit your lip through a smile, but then dropped your head back to the warm skin of his shoulder.  “My deal breaker is cheating. I can forgive a lot of things, but never that.”

Eddie took a big inhale, thinking about this, but then he swallowed hard. “Just the thought of another man touching you, past or present, makes me see red, baby.”

There was a tension in the air as Eddie considered the crushing weight of said betrayal, and you bit at a piece of skin on your thumb, thinking about the complex inner workings of Eddie Munson.

To break the heavy silence, you started crawling on top of him, kissing his neck, working your core against his stiff morning wood.  Eddie held your face and sucked at your bottom lip, running his tongue along the soft skin there, while you pressed the slick of your slit on his cock, arousal already evident.

“Would you really kill someone for me, baby?” You breathed, reminded of how he said he would kill or die for you.

“Without question,” he hissed at your wetness, reaching down to line the tip of his cock up with your entrance.

You sank down quickly, needing all of him with fluttering urgency.  “When I think of someone, I will let you know,” you hushed.  He cursed into your mouth and spanked your ass as you rode him, knowing that this was the only cock you would have inside of you for the rest of your life, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.  

Back in the sunny parking lot outside of the art supply store, Eddie continued on behind the wheel, pausing for a group of people as they strolled into he store, hand on your leg, squeezing your knee as he waited. He angled the car down in front of a clothing store, on his way to exit onto the street, and had to wait for a couple more people to cross.

You weren’t paying attention, too absorbed at the time pawing through the bag of goodies in your lap, fingering the new pastels and linseed oil with glee. But Eddie’s fingers dug into your leg and gripped there in a way that made you glance over at him.

Waiting at the crosswalk, Eddie’s skin drained of color as he watched the people pass in front of the car. You followed his attention: there was an older woman, perhaps 50, two younger girls maybe ages 7 or 8, a pretty blonde girl around 30, and a woman who could have been a supermodel with long, auburn hair, a short denim skirt, and a dragon tattoo on her thigh.

Your attention rose to Eddie and his nostrils flared, blinking a few times, teeth grinding.

For whatever reason, the tension made you nervous. “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong? Do you know them?”

Eddie swallowed, patting your leg a few times, forcing a smile that did not reach his eyes. “It’s nothing sweetheart. I just remembered something I had to do later on, that’s all.”

Not even a full day had passed since you’d both agreed to never to keep anything from each other, and there he was, lying already. He knew that you could tell he was withholding something, which made it even worse. His hope at the time was, if he ignored it, maybe it would go away.

Somehow, Melanie coming into town had almost slipped his mind, until he saw her there with his very own eyes walking with Chrissy, her mom, and her twin daughters. She looked different, but also exactly the same. The difference was that he no longer found her attractive; she might as well of had rotting flesh rolling off her bones for how repulsed he was to see her there in the street. He wasn’t afraid to tell you, he just didn’t want it to be real, he wanted to ignore her until she left town, and you could live in the bliss of never being able to put a face to her.

First of all, Eddie was a horrible liar. It was not hard for you to put the pieces together and realize that he did know one of the women in that group, if not all of them. But, you took one last look at his profile, told him you loved him, and decided to let it go. For now.

----------

A few days earlier, after the incident with Inky, Steve rolled up to the house at dawn to find Robin waiting up at the kitchen table. She was having a cigarette with her coffee, and Robin never smoked. He watched her bite into her thumbnail, chew it off, and then spit it on the floor as he stepped into the room.

“What’s up?” Steve shut the sliding door behind him and locked it. “Where’s Oliver?”

Robin put her finger to her lips to ask him to ask him to keep it down. She saw how he was favoring his freshly bandaged hand, but chose not to ask questions. “Katie is asleep,” she flicked the end of her cig over the ashtray. “Oliver spent the night with Wayne.”

Cautiously, Steve clapped down into the seat across from her, wallet chain hitting first, motioning for her to slide the pack of bargain basement knockoff cigarettes over. He had his own lighter, but she shot the box of matches over to him as well. Striking the match to light his smoke, Steve bucked his chin at the manila envelope she had next to her. “What’s in there?”

Robin brushed her hair off of her face and hunched forward. “Oh it’s just a little something. Might cheer you up.”

She pushed the envelope toward him with the pads of her fingers, both sets of eyes on it as it traveled across the faux wood surface. Now Steve knew exactly what it was when he saw the label on the front but even then, he was riddled with confusion.

“How did you--?”

A part of Steve knew, even though there’s no way he could’ve had any idea where Robin went that night or what she’d said to Tina to get her to sign her rights to Oliver away. Or the gun she’d pointed loaded and proud, letting them know there were only two ways the night could end, and both involved her walking away with those signatures. The saddest part was how quickly Tina had agreed to take the money in exchange for Oliver; there hadn’t even been a glimmer of internal struggle. Robin told herself it was for the best though, and once Oliver was old enough to ask questions, he would never know about that night, or how quickly he’d been given up.

Now, they really were broke, even more than before, and without any safety net to fall back on. But, no one would ever show up and try to take their son away again without facing legal ramifications, and Robin might’ve also let her know that she wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in her throat if she ever tried to get sneaky. “If you take Oliver, Steve and I will have nothing to lose. You know what they say about not wanting to fuck with someone who has nothing to lose.”

Steve peeked inside, exhaling a long, hot breath. After sucking on his lip for a few seconds, he raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re telling me you got her to sign these and you got them notarized?”

“Katie,” Robin squinted and took another drag. The sleeve of her flannel fell down to expose the vine of an ivy tattoo on her forearm.

“She’s a notary? No shit?” he said the last part under his breath, chuckling a bit to himself.

Katie’s old job status as a notary public was a small detail that Robin had been fascinated to discover. Meeting up at a seedy motel in the middle of the night in her pajamas did not put Katie in a particularly compliant mood, but she offered her official services without too much of a fight. In fact, she had to admit later how much it had turned her on to find her girlfriend holding two people at gunpoint like that. It made her feel like she was in an episode of 21 Jump Street.

Steve rubbed one eye with the palm of his hand. The other hand, the one Astrid had cleaned and put a fresh bandage on for good measure, had just been used as a deadly weapon and pummeled a guy to the brink of death just the day before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat because no one threatened his family and got away with it. “Jesus, fuck, Rob. You know I love you, right?”

“Oh, you better,” she snorted a laugh, and then, softly,“I’d do anything for Ollie. And you. You know this,” and then she smashed the cigarette out in the ashtray. She couldn’t look him in the eye for fear the floodgates would open.

A sob hitched in his chest and he had to clear his throat. He really was on some real emotional bullshit lately and he made a fist with his good hand and banged it on the table, trying to collect himself. “Ditto.”

Robin got up and stretched her arms back with a yawn. “I’m going back to bed for an hour. You at the shop this afternoon?”

“Until late, yeah,” Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of the envelope. “I’m working on that chest piece for Thor.” Thor was one of the other Coffin Kings, a huge, beastly blonde dude with a long, braided beard.

Robin braced her hands on the back of the chair. “You thought anymore about going to Scott’s wedding this weekend?”

“Scott, you mean Daphne’s Scott?” Steve shook his head. “I haven’t thought about it at all, actually. There’s no way I’m going to that.”

Steve had only met Scott once at one of their barbecues, and Daphne knew Robin because her daughter and Oliver were the same age, but the last place Steve wanted to be stuck at was a wedding for two people he barely knew, or any wedding at all for that matter.

“You sure?” Robin craned her neck. “There’s going to be an open bar at the reception.”

“Nah, I got a thing on Saturday,” Steve waved his hand. “Take Katie, why don’t you?”

“I’ll think about it,” Robin worked her neck from side to side. “What do you have on Saturday?”

For some reason, a voice inside of Steve whispered that he should keep his plans vague. “Body guard gig,” he offered in a bored tone. He didn’t have to ask to know that Robin must’ve had to have paid off Tina somehow, and now they’d need some extra cash more than ever. What he wanted to do was change the subject. “Any word from Susie or Dustin?”

“Now that you mention it,” Robin scratched her cheek. “She’s due any day now and no, I haven’t heard a word. I should’ve checked in, I’ve just been out of my mind lately.”

“Dustin knows we’re in the thick of it,” Steve assured her. “We’re the first ones on the call list when she does go into labor, but I’ll give him a ring this afternoon to say hey.” He yawned, blinking his tired eyes a few times. “Should I take Ollie to the shop with me?”

“No, after Wayne drops him off, I got him,” Robin stole a curious look at Steve, knowing full well that there was something he wasn’t telling her. She was too exhausted in that moment to ask any questions as she turned to head down the hall. “Take a shower, dingus. You look like death warmed over.”

-----------

Wayne always kept his shotgun up high in a locked closet whenever the kid came to stay, but when he returned from dropping Ollie off with his parents, he stood there at the open closet looking around for a minute. He fingered through the flannels and old jackets, skidding the wire hangers along the wooden dowel, until he found the frayed denim edge he was looking for. He yanked back the line of clothes so he could pull the article of clothing out and take a look at it.

It was his original denim with the sleeves cut off, known as a cut, or Kutte, with the Coffin Kings MC insignia on the back. The matching insignia among club members were all “cut” from the same cloth. He held it up and wiped his hand down it a few times, as if to dust it off, looking over the worn and road weary patches, including the one with his nickname “Uncle” over the pocket, because he’d been an honorary uncle to so many, including Steve and Astrid.

He took it over to the mirror on the back wall of his bedroom, set the hanger on the chair and pulled the denim on over his white tee, adjusting the collar, working his shoulders through. Chemo had taken a lot of his size, and so it hung a bit loose, but the shoulder muscles were still there, and he flexed his hands, knowing they could still deftly maneuver a blade or a gun, just like the old days.

Sticking out of the side of the mirror was was a black and white photo that had been bent in half and wrinkled over time. A photo of a much younger Wayne, Astrid’s mother Evelyn with her jet black hair over her shoulder in a braid, and Steve and Eddie as little kids; not much older than Oliver. The boys wanted to be a part of the life so bad, even then, that Evie made them their own vests, complete with Munson and Harrington patches and the Coffin Kings skull on the back. Evie had her hand on Wayne’s chest in the photo, gazing up at him, and Wayne’s arm was around her shoulders, but his eyes were on Steve, his mouth open about to say something. Steve was making a face, his mouth in a grimace to expose two missing front teeth, both of his arms up, flexing to pretend he had muscles. Eddie was more stoic, his expression set without emotion as he stared into the camera, hands in fists at his sides, feet braced wide. Off to the side was young Astrid. She was a few years older than the boys, but still a baby. Wayne remembered she didn’t want to be in the photo, but Steve started acting out to get her to come over, and there she was, face slightly blurred as she tried to move away, but a smile on her face nonetheless.

Wayne met his eyes in the mirror; windows to a soul that was familiar but set in a face he no longer recognized. He thought about his panhead motorcycle collecting dust at the storage unit across town. He thought about how badly he wanted to protect Oliver from the horrors of this world, from the MC life. The boy liked to paint and draw and bake things, and Wayne didn’t understand that either, but he didn’t see the lust for danger in his eyes like he had with Steve and Eddie; Steve, especially. Like he wanted to turn the world on its head and dump it out to see how it worked. Maybe he had the love of a good mom for that, the kind of mom that stuck around. He thought about all of the things this disease had already taken from him, but it wouldn’t take this. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

-----------

You’d stayed at Eddie’s for the past two nights in a row, and even though he would have you there with him every night if he had his way, you needed to set up your art room and take advantage of one of your afternoon off to work on John’s commission before you went back to the Hammer. You needed to stretch and frame the large canvas first, a meticulous process that took place in the garage, and then put up painters plastic around the art room so you wouldn’t flick paint around on the walls of the rental.

Eddie had brought you to work and picked you up the night before, and he took you home that next day in the tow truck so he could head to a job after. He popped in at the diner on the way to grab two coffee’s to go in tall white, Styrofoam cups. The older, married waitress there named Donna had a crush on both him and Wayne, and always gave him free stuff, for which they tipped handsomely. He came out of the diner holding the two cups up, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Things with Donna and I are getting serious, just so you know,” Eddie climbed up into the cab and passed your coffee to you, and then leaned over for a kiss once he was behind the wheel. “Black with two sugars for my lady.”

“Well, I don’t blame her one bit,” you clicked your tongue, leaning over to smell the fresh brew through the mouth opening in the lid and feel the steam on your skin, snuggling down into one of Eddie’s hooded sweatshirts. “Now I need to find an older, married boyfriend, and we’ll be even.”

What was meant to be a joke hit a little different because of the whole John Gregson situation, but Eddie snorted a chuckle as he put his cup in the holder on the dash. “You’re gonna turn me into a homicidal maniac if you’re not careful, sweetheart.”

As he got back on the main road toward your place, a glimmer caught your eye. The guitar pic on the ball chain hanging from the rear view mirror had always been there, but now there was a little, silver worry ring on the chain too, hanging flush with the red pick. It was the worry ring you usually wore on your thumb that you’d thought you had lost weeks ago. You reached up to take a better look and make sure.

“Baby, what is my ring doing here?”

Eddie took a wide turn, sucking his cheek, realizing he was properly caught red handed. “You left it on the nightstand that first time you came over,” he answered.

Your mouth fell open to goad him. “Why didn’t you tell me you found it?”

Eddie’s eyes found the ring in question where it swayed with the movement of he vehicle. “I don’t know, I think I meant to, but then I kinda liked having it in here with me. Whenever I look at it, I think about you. Something stupid like that.”

Your heart rushed, sending waves of heat through your veins. You were staring at his profile now, unable to look away, absolutely, wholly filled to the brim with love for this man.

“You really got it bad for me, don’t cha Munson?”

He offered a small nod and a shrug, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

--------------

It was almost 9am by the time Eddie dropped you off at the duplex. Katie was already at the school, and your orange tabby cat Charlie was in a mood, so you sat on the couch with him for a bit while you finished your coffee. Although Charlie loved affection, he was normally such a chill dude, but that morning he didn’t want to leave your side even after you put his favorite gravy bits breakfast in his food dish. You had been gone for a couple nights in a row, but you always came by during the day to check on him, so it wasn’t as if he’ been abandoned. It was almost as if he was trying to tell you something.

You stroked his ears back and kissed the top of his head. “Tell me, my boy, what’s on your mind?” But he only meowed, nuzzling closer, massaging his claws into your leg.

You ate some granola and dropped your bag on the floor at the end of your bed without turning the light on, heading straight into the bathroom for a much needed shower. You let the water get as hot as you could handle it, noticing the bruises on your hips for the first time from the way Eddie man-handled you during sex. You smiled against the stream of water at the memory.

Charlie was sitting on the sink with his tail curled around his feet when you opened the shower curtain, staring you down. “Close your eyes,” you told the cat as you clutched in the air for the green bath towel that was hooked over the metal dowel.

At least, you thought it was hanging there, but now you were grabbing at air because it was on the floor. You wiped water from your eyes and snapped another look at Charlie before you bent down to pick it up. “Did you do this?”

You were mumbling to yourself, wrapping the towel around your body and stepped out onto the mat. You remembered closing the bathroom door, but now it was open and you imagined that Charlie had pushed it open with his brute strength. You paused to put some moisturizer on your face, and then turned to open the door the rest of the way and face the bed, and that was when you realized there was something terribly wrong.

The bed was made; everything neatly tucked, comforter folded back at an angle, as an invitation. Had it been that way before you went into the shower? You wouldn’t know because you hadn’t turned the light on to look. The pile of clean laundry you’d thrown on the messy bed just the day before were nowhere to be found. You weren’t freaking out yet, not when you knew that Katie went into turbo cleaning fits when she was stressed, and there had been a lot going on with Robin lately. But it wasn’t like her to come into your space while you were gone and mess with your things.

A fear began to bubble inside of you as you clutched the towel tighter around your body, senses heightened as you inched over to check down the hall and in the closet. You were starting to feel so afraid that your hands got cold as shock began to set in preemptively.

With trembling fingers, you took hold of the wood knob and pulled open the top drawer of your dresser, only to jump back, covering your mouth to try and trap the scream that erupted.

Your underwear and socks were neatly folded into color coded rows. You yanked out the drawer under that and the next, only to find the same symmetry of tediously folded clothing. The second drawer fell all the way out and crashed to the carpet. In a frenzy, you dove forward and started scooping all of the clothing out of the drawers, yanking them all to the floor, making them a mess, throwing them around the room, tears running hot down your cheeks. You didn’t stop until the bottom drawer was empty; the drawer that had a few pieces of lingerie and silky pajama sets, all of it had been sorted and folded in the exact same way.

You covered your nose and mouth with your hands and sat down on the bed, taking sharp inhales, adrenaline preparing you for some kind of fight, flight, or fawn: whichever would keep you from eminent danger. There was and ocean in your ears.

You did not do this.

Katie would not do this.

The only person in the world who would ever do this

was your maniacal, neat freak ex fiance Craig.

Now you could hear a footstep creak on the wood planks in the hall just outside your bedroom and from behind you on the bed, Charlie hissed.

------------

Eddie didn’t have to take the long way back by your street with the old Chrysler on the back of the tow, but he did anyway, just because he liked being in your vicinity. Much like the “old days” when he would ride by your work, back when he thought you wouldn’t give him the time of day.

As he turned onto the street, he could see the front of your duplex on the corner, but his smile faded when he saw the front door was open. Not open just a crack, but open all the way, exposing the interior or the house, and you didn’t have a screen door, so he wouldn’t imagine you’d leave it that way on purpose. What if your cat got loose? He took a sharper turn than he should have to line the truck and pull along the opposite side of the street to park it, doing his best not to crush your neighbors garbage can, all the while keeping his eyes on the entrance, thinking maybe you’d appear and there would be some explanation.

He paused before crossing the street as a guy in a hunter green utility vehicle inched its way to the stop sign. The driver stared Eddie down as he went at a crawl, and Eddie was taken aback to be aggressively eyeballed by a stranger, but he returned the heated glare, bucking his chin. “Fuck’s your problem, man?” Eddied shouted, shrugging his hands in the air. The guy gave an open mouth smile, and made a motion of dragging his fingers across his throat, just before he stomped on the gas and flew through the stop sign, taking a right. Normally, Eddie would’ve taken more notice of the details of the license plate and whatnot, but his attention quickly returned to your open door, taking long strides to the opposite sidewalk.

Eddie looked around before he stepped inside, hand on the hilt of his knife. “Baby? Are you in here?” He asked it softly so it wouldn’t scare you. “It’s Eddie. Your door is wide open.”

His ears followed the sound of things being tossed around, and something heavy hitting the ground with a wooden crack. But then you screamed and his heart tightened as he bolted down the hall.

“Baby?” He entered your bedroom to find all of your dressers drawers open, and two on the ground, clothes scattered everywhere. You jumped when you saw him, scrambling back with a shriek, clutching a towel to the front of your body so that you wouldn’t be exposed.

You were afraid of him, or whoever you thought he was. Cheeks wet with tears, eyes wild like a feral animal caught in a trap. You backed all the way to the wall with your hand out, palm up, before you realized who it was.

“Eddie?” Relief flooded through you, and you dropped the towel, stark naked, to run into his arms, a sob choking in your throat. The feel of his denim and cool of his belt bucket against your skin helped to soothe your nerves, taking a deep inhale of the woodsy spice scent of his aftershave.

Eddie’s mind was reeling as he held you tight; one hand cupped behind your neck and the other at your back rubbing in slow circles. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me.”

You blinked hard, wishing he’d never had to see you like this, wishing you’d never have to tell him about Craig and why you were so afraid of him. You had no proof that your ex had actually been in your house, but also---you had all the proof you needed. This kind of sick fuck head game was right up Craig’s alley. But how had he found you? How would you ever get rid of him now? You didn’t want Eddie to have to get involved with this mess. Sure, Eddie was tough, but Craig was certifiable, and you were well aware that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you in his life.

You buried your face in Eddie’s chest and wrapped your arms as tight as possible, wishing you could both run away and disappear and not have to deal with any of this.

“Talk to me, baby,” Eddie said in a lower octave than normal, his blood boiling. “Who did this to you?”

-----------

That afternoon on Friday, Steve went to meet the woman he’d be doing security for the next day. He gave a low whistle as he rolled up to the main gates, “holy shit,” he mumbled, pinching a smoke between his lips, lighting it while his bike idled and he pushed the buzzer to announce himself. He combed his fingers through his hair as he rode in over a blood stain that was embedded in the cement, shooting a look to the 10 car garage, wondering what kind of beauties were in there and hoping he’d get to drive one.

“Be careful,” Astrid had warned a few nights ago when he stayed at her place. She shuffled her Tarot deck and did a quick reading for him. She tapped her finger on one of the cards. “I don’t like the look of this. I think someone with a dark heart has their evil eye on you.” Without looking up at him, she continued. “I need to do a protection spell before you go.”

“Does that protection spell include you riding my face?” Steve scooted his chair forward, lunging to kiss her temple, but she shrugged him off, trying to concentrate.

Her eyes were sweeping over the cards she’d just pulled for him with a tense bundle of lines between her thick, dark eyebrows. “I’m serious Steve. It’s someone with power who wants to own you, and I think the offer will be very tempting. Think Satan in a Sunday hat.”

She pulled two more cards. Her eyes flicked from Steve to the table several times. “Are you going to some kind of formal event this weekend?”

Steve winced. “Not if I can help it, why?”

This gift that Astrid had was much deeper than deciphering the magic in a deck; she had always been able to see beyond the veil of the known world. It was her gift that kept her lonely, and more often than not, she saw it as a curse.

She sat back in her seat to look the cards over again for an unnerving amount of time. Her intuition was foggy, and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what would go wrong yet, but there were multiple threats on the horizon and her gut told her it was time to circle the wagons.

Steve’s tongue flicked out to lick the corner of his mouth. “Don’t leave me hangin’ here, darlin’. Do I get kidnapped by a bunch of circus clowns, or what?”

Her eyes locked onto his, letting him know she was serious. “Watch your back this weekend, Stevie.”

He took her hand. “Don’t I always, sweetheart?”

He thought about Astrid’s words as he wound the bike around to park at the front door, exhaling smoke as he flicked the cigarette to the side. He slid his sunglasses up on top of his head, taking in the expanse of the entryway, heavy boots plodding up the steps. At his wrist on a thin leather band was the tiny charm and gemstone Astrid had made him wear after she dowsed him in sage smoke and said a bunch of words he didn’t understand.

Charlene greeted him in nothing but the tiniest of bikinis, a straw sun hat, and a blue and red kimono, and Steve couldn’t help but adjust himself in his jeans at the way her breasts were almost spilling out of the tiny yellow top.

She offered him a drink out by the pool under one of the umbrellas, and Steve accepted a beer.

“I should thank you again for bailing me out,” Steve took a drink, glad that his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses because he couldn’t’ take them off her heaving rack; the way the sweat trickled down her tan cleavage. A pool boy in tight, cut off jean shorts was cleaning debris from the surface of the crystal clear pool with a net at the end of a long handle.

“Anytime,” Charlene was so very charming when she wanted to be. “A friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine.”

Steve took a generous gulp and put his forearms on the table. “Yeah? You know my buddy Eddie?”

Charlene flipped her blonde hair off of her shoulder. “Has he never mentioned me? We go way back.”

“Never,” Steve said without hesitation, making Charlene frown. “Not that I remember anyway. But Eddie and I don’t talk as much anymore. We’ve been too fucking busy.”

That seemed to lighten her expression, but the thought did occur to Steve to wonder how Eddie got word to her that he was in jail? He was pretty sure he didn’t even know about what happened until the next day. But, fuck it. Who cares how she found out? He just wanted to get this bodyguard gig over with and get his cash.

They agreed on a price for an evening of Steve’s services, and then Charlene led him inside to guide him up the big, lavish staircase to a guest bedroom where she had a gray and white suit waiting for him. She unzipped the black Armani sleeve it was in and Steve gulped. His mind immediately raced thinking about how much he could pawn it for on Sunday if she let him keep it.

“My cousin is getting married tomorrow,” she perched at the end of the floral bedspread, watching him pick the suit up to admire it. “I guessed at your size, but I can have a tailor meet us here before we leave if it needs fixing.”

Sure, Steve had been a bouncer forever, and had worked as an extra bodyguard a few times for visiting celebrities, but a personal bodyguard and escort for a woman like Charlene? Never. He wasn’t even sure why she needed protection for a wedding; looking down at the suit, he felt more like a gigolo than hired muscle.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s perfect,” and then he eyeballed the wedding photo on the vanity of a much younger Charlene with some other dude. “Where is your husband these days? Why can’t he take you?”

Charlene stretched back so that she was spread out on the bed, the nipple of one breast poking out from under the thin material. Her body was toned and supple and not at all what he expected a woman in her mid 40’s to look like. “My husband leaves town a lot for work. He doesn’t ask what I do, and I don’t ask what he does.”

“Fair enough,” Steve flicked his tongue over his gold tooth, watching the way she arched her back, exposing herself to him, making him palm his erection through his denim.

“For instance,” Charlene reached behind her neck to undo the tie for her bikini top, pulling it down, letting him see the expensive titties in all their glory. “He left yesterday and won’t be home until next week.”

So, of course Steve fucked her. He came between her tits and gave her a pearl necklace made of his cum, liking the way it dripped down her throat. He fucked her ass because she begged him to, using only spit for lube, her face pressed into the mattress, until she came, and then Steve milked a few more bursts of cum onto her backside with a grunt.

He liked getting paid and getting laid at the same time. He felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for a perfect situation like this to fall into his lap.

---------

Eddie paced at the doorway, flexing his hands into fists, “so this Craig fucker came here to what? Terrorize you? Try and get you back? I will put a bullet in his skull.”

You gave Eddie the cliff notes version of your relationship with Craig while you got dressed. How you thought he was fun and charming at first, but once you moved in with him, things got scary. He wouldn’t let you talk to your friends or go anywhere without him. When you first got the courage to leave, he broke into the house you were staying at in the middle of the night and put a knife to your throat. He’d been honorably discharged from the military and used his connections in the police force to bypass the protection order you filed on him. He was emotionally and physically abusive and stalked you for two years before you were able to make it to Hawkins without much more than the clothes on your back, and Eddie was reeling with how bad he wanted to get his hands on this guy. It made him want to start going up and down every street looking for him, which was not totally out of the question.

He had to go outside on the back patio for a smoke and you followed him. You sat down in one of the camp chairs on the concrete slab facing a patch of lawn that was maintained by the owner of the duplex, but Eddie stayed on his feet. You watched the muscles in his jaw flex as he frowned into his cigarette, his thoughts going to dark and dangerous places.

From what you told him about what the guy looked like and the description of his car, that was the dude who had stared Eddie down earlier. He didn’t want to alarm you anymore than you already were by telling you that he saw him, that the fucker had probably been in your house while you were taking a shower. He couldn’t have you staying at the duplex anymore until he could make sure that creep was long gone, and by long gone, he meant he was ready to put him in the dirt. If anyone could find him, Eddie could. He had family of the Kings who worked at police dispatch, and he had eyes all over town, from other tow truck drivers to every member of several MC’s. If this guy thought he was so sneaky, Eddie could do him one better.

Eddie was in a bad mood, cracking his knuckles, thinking about how much he would enjoy hurting this guy, when he heard a sniffle and realized you were crying.

“Hey, hey,” he snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray Katie had there for the smoking she did when she was buzzed, and got down on his knees in front of you. He wiped a single tear off your cheek with his thumb, holding your jaw with gentle force so you would look at him. “This guy, he’s not gonna get near you again, alright? You’re gonna stay with me until I know you’re safe.” He cupped his hand around your neck and pulled your forehead to his. “Hey, I love you. You trust me when I say I’ll protect you, right?”

“It’s not that,” your eyes went to the Munson’s Garage patch on the front of his light blue work shirt. You kept your forehead pressed to his because you couldn’t look him in the eye. “Craig is dangerous, baby. I mean, he’s really crazy. I don’t want you getting hurt or---”

Eddie sat back on his heels, tilting his head to meet you eyes. “And you don’t think I’m crazy? Baby. I know you get the fluffy side of Eddie but I can do dangerous and crazy with the best of them. Okay? That’s all I’ve ever done. No one is going to fuck with my girl.”

His chocolate eyes searched you, needing to know that you believed you were safe.

You gnawed at your lip, eyes dewy and bloodshot. “I just wish this wasn’t happening,” you dropped your head again, mouth jerking down with impending sobs. “I wish we could run away.”

“Sorry baby but, fuck that,” Eddie stood. “You had to run from this guy once, he’s not gonna get the satisfaction of scaring you off this time. You’ve got me now.”

He squatted again, motioning for you to give him your hand and then he held it tight, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “And Steve and Robin and Wayne, and the whole Coffin Kings MC, baby. I want you to trust me. This fucker will be sorry he ever stepped foot in Hawkins.”

You slotted your hands on either side of his neck at his jawline, pulling him in, and the salt of your tears mingled in the kiss, your mouth opening wide to take him deeper. Unexpected moans of desperation escaped both of you, hands greedy for purchase on each other’s parts. You made it back inside the house just in time for Eddie to dive his hand down the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, fucking two fingers up inside you, stifling your cry of pleasure with his mouth.

You scrambled to undo his jeans, pushing them down his hips. “I need you so bad, baby. Fuck me.”

There was no time to make it to the bedroom, you broke the kiss only long enough to bend over the kitchen island, shorts down, arching your ass up. Eddie swiped his cock along your glistening core only once before burying it inside of you groaning at the sensation. “Holy fuck, I love you,” Eddie murmured, proceeding to fuck his entire length inside, pulling your slit apart with his thumbs so that he could watch himself enter you.

You bucked back against him, meeting his urgency, biting your lip through hungry whimpers. Eddie shoveled his hand around the front of your throat and pulled you back, choking you with soft pressure while he other hand braced at your hip and he fucked you hard. He preferred to look at you when he was about to cum, but the two of you were frantic, and he was already close. Clinging to the counter, the wet slapping sounds of Eddie stretching you out were about to throw you over the edge. His hand moved from your throat to your mouth, dipping inside for you to suck them.

Eddie’s hips locked onto you as he came, and the sensation made your walls flutter, gripping him in a way that extended his orgasm, cursing, both of you crying out, able to forget about the worries of the world if only for those precious moments as you rode the high.

---------

At a decent chain Motel by a truck stop near the highway, Craig Ludlow paid for a week in advance and sat in the dark puffing a cigar by the window with the curtain tightly closed. An episode of The Twilight Zone was on the TV, and it was the only light but for the golden glow from the bathroom in the hall. On the table next to him was a razor blade on a mirror with white powder residue, a shot glass empty of its Jim Beam, and a handgun.

There had been an ugly landscape painting on the opposite wall, but he took it down to make room for his work. There was a big cork board there now, a place for all of the information he had on you and your little biker friends. Steve’s mugshot was up there, along with one of Eddie from 10 years earlier. Information on Wayne, Katie, the Velvet Hammer, every person or place you’d touched since you’d been to town. Somehow you’d slipped through his fingertips, and oh god, how he had missed you. Being a part of your life and knowing what you were up to was a part of who he was now, and he’d been feeling lost without it.

He planned use his connections to get in with Chief Hopper and make sure your new biker boyfriend had the law down his throat around every turn. Why was it so much to ask for you to let him love you? Your house was a mess, your bed not even made. Nothing in your drawers had been folded. It was obvious that you needed him and missed him and just didn’t know how to ask. You had always been such a prideful, silly goose.

A girl named Shari was working the night shift at the motel when she noticed, not for the first time, how odd the guy who checked into room 11 was. Shari happened to be the old lady of a Coffin Kings member named Jester, and she would tell him all about it, including the make and color of the SUV he drove, over the phone when he called to check up on her that evening. Coincidentally, War Machine had just let everyone know to keep an eye out for a creep of the same description who was stalking his girl. Jester headed over to make sure Shari was okay and waited in the shadows near the truck stop on his chopper, watching the lights from the TV flicker in room 11, keeping an eye on this guy so he could follow if he took off. Keeping him in his crosshairs to see if he should take care of this guy himself before he passed the word on to Eddie.

PART 14

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[hllywdwhre]

Hoax

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: You debate leaving your identity as Batgirl behind for a certain villain that has caught your eye.

Warnings: None; let me know if I missed any

Word Count: 641

Notes: Credit to @slut4thebroken for the ‘baby bat’ nickname 🫶🏻 it’s now a favorite trope of mine with Crane

Based on the song ‘hoax’ by Taylor Swift.

My only one

My kingdom come undone

My broken drum

You have beaten my heart

Morals. You couldn’t let yours lapse. Your morals are what caused you to start working with Bruce in the first place, yet every time he called you “Baby Bat”, you felt your heart flutter in a way you knew you shouldn’t.

He was terrorizing the city with a plan to unleash a deadly amount of fear into the streets. It would cause Gotham to fall into something beyond anarchy and the cure would never be ready in enough time for you to stop it. It was terrorism, there was nothing else to describe it.

Yet, here you sat, with him standing in front of you, a look that was equal parts teasing and knowing on his face.

“You can’t ask me to stop being Batgirl, I can’t do it.” Your voice shook as you sat on his bed next to him.

“So your morals stop you from giving up Batgirl, but not from fucking and falling for the Scarecrow?” He asked, the familiar taunting emphasis on his alter ego’s name. The look on his face matched the taunting tone.

“There has to be a middle ground somewhere…” you began, voice desperate, “I won’t help Br- Batman when it comes to Scarecrow’s plots, but I won’t help you with them, either. I stay on the sidelines and only aid him in taking down others,” you offered, trying to come up with something that allowed you to keep Batgirl and Jonathan.

“You know that can’t be done. I work with others and they’re going to work with me,” he pointed out.

You let silence fill the air for your response, and for once, he didn’t fill the air with a know-it-all or sarcastic reply. He allowed your silence to sit.

Weeks later and you were sitting by someone’s side, watching as the city went into chaos.

“And your kingdom crumbles…” Jonathan said in a low voice that was distorted by the mask he wore.

The words sent a pang through your heart, but you ignored it.

“It was going to crumble anyways,” you replied with an equally distorted voice.

“Let’s move,” he told you, grabbing your hand and standing.

You stood up and followed him through one of the many tall buildings that filled Gotham, finding your horses in the lobby of the building, and moving to guide them outside before a third party made their presence known to the two of you.

“I thought it was you… I didn’t want to believe it,” Bruce said, causing you and Jonathan to whip around and look at where he was perched on one of the desks.

“Don’t,” Jonathan warned, his voice even more menacing while it was distorted.

As much as he had mocked you for the way your morals had caused such a…tumultuous beginning to your relationship, he didn’t allow for others to do the same.

“You traded one set of wings for another, and in doing so helped bring the downfall of Gotham,” Bruce said, his eyes behind the Batman mask being trained on you. “From Batgirl to the Sparrow…” he trailed off.

“You always underestimated her,” Jonathan said, stepping slightly in front of you, as if trying to protect you. “Do you understand why it’s now Sparrow?”

Bruce shook his head.

“Because Sparrows are often seen as harmless birds,” Jonathan answered, allowing your hand to rest on his arm as he continued on, “but in many cultures they represent death. That’s what you saw her as when she joined your side. A helper. Not a fighter that could bring more to you. You were afraid to weaponize her, but I saw the other side of her. The one that could be dangerous.”

He saw the side of you Bruce was afraid to weaponize, but he didn’t view it as a weapon. He saw all of you and viewed it as you.

[magnoliasandarson]

hoax

Tim was doing his absolute damnedest to project calmness, but he was losing his mind. Two feet away, munching on some cheesy fries, was the Red Hood—the prodigal son, the dead golden boy, his childhood hero, his Robin. The insane man who once beat him half to death, now the guy who occasionally dropped by the cave with a frankly worrying number of bullet holes. 

He’d been patrolling for an hour or so when he noticed the lack of gunshots, screams, explosions, etc., and tracked Hood to the gargoyle Dick took him to once when he was feeling sentimental. It was strange finding him without his signature explosive bucket on, with a bag of Batburger in his lap.

Tim didn’t know what to say, but he knew he needed to say something. Jason apologized for his actions weeks ago and explained that the pit had taken no dead Robins and turned it into all Robins must die, but there was still a weight between them. A clear line that said do not cross; luckily enough, Tim lived to cross those lines, “Takin’ a day off from murder and mayhem?”

Jason twisted his head to look over, his scowl somehow threatening, even with a fry hanging out of his mouth. He finished chewing, looking menacing the whole time, “Fucks it to ya, bird boy?”

Tim plopped down on the ledge; if Jason was going to shoot him, he would’ve already. He stared out at Gotham, at the empty streets and windows glowing with warmth and light. For once, the city was quiet, “Just making conversation, Hood.”

“What made you think I wanted to talk?” Jason’s tone was harsh, but it was about a five on the Jason-rage-meter, and Tim didn’t get fidgety till a seven. 

Tim kicked his feet out, idly drumming his fingers on the cement ledge, “Maybe I wanted to talk.” And in a weird way, it was true. This was Jason freakin’ Todd; the boy wonder that made Batman laugh. He oddly wanted to know everything. 

Jason sighed like he was accosted by young, costumed teens all the time, and, to be fair, he was. Stephanie had taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours with waffles, and she had only been shot at twice, “Fine, traffic light. Whatcha wanna talk about.”

“Y’know, you wore the suit, too. ‘Least mine has pants.” Tim spoke, then immediately hunched away. Robin was a sore spot for Jason- Tim was stupid to bring it up. 

For some reason, Jason didn’t immediately pull a gun; he just cocked his head and laughed quietly. Tim straightened back up and tried to muster up a glare, but that just made Jason’s little laughs louder, “Ooh- baby bird’s got jokes,” he rolled his shoulders and offered a thing of fries from the bag, “want some fries, Tiny?”

Tim groaned; why did everyone make short jokes about him? He snatched the fries sharply in protest, “You were short too-”

“Yeah, then I took a dip in poison snot,” Jason cut him off, “Ya wanna do that too, short stack?”

Tim immediately jammed some fries in his mouth- he was incurably dumb. He’d managed to bring up Robin and the Lazarus Pit with Jason. He should hang up the cape, “You got any advice? As a former short king?” Honestly, he wished Jason would just shoot him now. There was something wrong with his brain on a fundamental level. He’d been hanging out with Bart and Kon way too much.

Jason tilted his head like he was buffering and inhaled deeply through his nose like he was trying to calm himself through sheer force of will, “Whatcha wanna know?”

Tim chewed his mouthful of potato slowly; he hadn’t thought this far ahead. What did he want to know from Jason? He could ask about crime-lording, but Jason would probably snitch to Dick, and then Bruce would lecture him for at least an hour. Oddly enough, there was only one safe topic he could ask about, and it would still likely result in him leaving with lead in his body that was not there before, “You got any, uhm, Robin-ly advice?” Lightning should strike him down.

Jason didn’t kill him, which was a plus; just lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, which was objectively hilarious, but Tim would die if he laughed, so he just ate another fry, “Robin was a different kid,” he blew out smoke rings like the cool guys in movies, and if Tim wasn’t acutely afraid of lung cancer, he’d be tempted to try, “Dickwing use’ta say, “Robin is magic, you have to be brave for the magic to work.” I used to believe that shit.”

“You don’t anymore?”

Another cool ring of cigarette smoke floated out through the sky, “I stopped believin’ when I dug my way outta my grave.”

Noted. Tim cleared his throat; this was not a conversation he was equipped for, “Oh.”

Jason snorted, “Yeah- oh,” he took another deep drag of his cigarette, making Tim’s chest twinge, “The thing is- Robin will make you believe you can be- make you think you can be a better person.”

“Then why aren’t you better?” The words left his mouth without Tim’s consent, and his whole body tensed to jump, his fingers finding his grapple gun at his waist. 

Jason gave a wry smile and stubbed his spent cigarette on the gargoyle to his right, “Because Robin isn’t magic.”

[laneydays]

ghost boy headcanons

______________

billy showalter

adults and old people LOVE him. take him to meet ur parents, do it

but also hes the type to act way different with ppl his age than adults

kind of a smart mouth.... but in a cool kind of annoying way

twirls his hair a lot LMAO

crosses his arms when he's upset mad sad or annoyed

loves coca cola and root beer

adores dogs, his dog is his best friend

extremely supportive of queer identities even if he isnt queer himself

love language is acts of service

just loves to be helpful

feels bad if people do stuff for him though

griffin stagg

autistic 

is lowkey a menace sometimes

but also a sweetheart

he likes weird unexpected shit for someone his age

incredibly smart but doesn't rlly know that

great at art

doesnt curse a whole bunch but when he does he curses like a sailor and he does it good

doesnt know how to match his clothes for the life of him

wears bandanas to pull his hair back, gets made fun of and called a girl for it

everyone just wants to kiss and hold him like a little kid, he doesn't understand it

doesn't like when people baby him

love language is gift giving, probably picks up random shit to give to you

"here have this rock" "i got a pretty flower for you" "i found a cola bottle cap"

you keep them all

vance hopper

adhd probably 

pinball hyperfixation need i say more

he's actually pretty chill when hes not angry. if u don't bother him he's real quiet

aromatic and asexual. no he wouldn't be a player

but also is open to meeting someone, whether its platonic or romantic (remember aroace people can still date)

tries to act tough but hes just a big nerd tbh

smoked a cig once. never again, hated it

gets very mad at people when they make fun of his choker, he gets embarrassed 

acts homophobic but he really doesnt care

would probably beat someone up if they made fun of a queer kid

that doesnt stop him from saying "thats gay" as a (joking) insult however

doesn't really have a specific love language, just anything to show you care he appreciates it quietly

not big on physical touch but he doesn't mind it 

collects vinyls

wears a looot of denim

finney blake

also autistic

space special interest

kind of good at drawing

literally wouldn't hurt a fly

his jokes are so unfunny that its funny

sounds like an angel when he laughs and looks like one when he smiles

and its hard to get a smile out of him

carries that little spaceship with him everywhere, freaks out if he can't find it

cant think of anything else for him

doesn't have a specific love language either, just anything to show that u care

bruce yamada

bro is not as good in school as everyone thinks he is

but tries very hard and does his best

really loves history

i feel like this is obvious but he collects baseball cards

flexes them on you every time you come to his house and it gets a little annoying 

is the nice guy of the friend group

probably the corniest person ever

is pretty funny but when he tries to be funny it doesn't work

love language is quality time definitely

also physical touch, just the little things though like touching shoulders or brushing fingers

robin arellano

wears his bandana literally every day and it smells so bad

says its to keep the hair out of his face

bro is gorgeous without it

his wardrobe is 70% sleeveless shirts

a huge showoff and a sucker for praise

laughs at potty jokes every single time

his humor is fake flirting

very protective but he isn't scary at all

fucks up the school lunch like its his last meal

probably complains about it though

can talk to literally anyone and everyone, its really nice

he's.... not great in school but he tries to be nice to the teachers

passes notes in class 24/7 and he gets in trouble so much for it

canon movie fanatic, loves watching them even if they suck

______________

[avalon-of-babylon]

Batman: The Capped Crusader literally introduced my 4 favorite batkids in the same episode and made them all literally adoptable.

Realistically, I know in the next season, Bruce isn't gonna pop down to the orphanage and grab himself a Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Carrie Kelley AND Stephanie Brown (just two of them at the same time would fucking kill him) but also now I want a batman to have to contend with his 4 most feral children. And they are the most feral of them all.

Also before I begin can I just say I fucking love Jason and Carrie being the sameish age. For years, I have been convinced that if Carrie was in a mainstream universe, she should be Jason's age and that the two of them would be so close they'd basically be twins and this right here is so close it almost feels like vindication.

Now for why these 4 are the most feral batkids and why Bruce having to put up will all of them as Robin at the same time would fucking kill the man.

Richard "Dick" Grayson:

The man may be a genuine himbo but he is also the son of circus performers, so for as much light as there is in his soul there is also a gay wolf telling him to do backflips when he's bored, make puns at every opportunity, touch everything and generally be the most adorable menace you've ever met. Also, Discowing definitely counts as feral behavior.

Jason Peter Todd:

In this universe, Jason was probably put into the system after his stepmom ODed so chances are this isn't a steal-the-wheels-off-the-batmobile kinda Jason but could definitely still be a sneaks-out-of-the-house-to-hang-out-with-Catwoman-and-co or is babysat by prostitutes kind of Jason. (I know for a fact that last one literally happened at least once) Even if you take out the violence and crime, you can not convince me that this Jason is not the kind of kid who wouldn't constantly be getting into trouble because he's always trying to prove himself and eventually have a tragic dead at the hands of the Joker that when he's brought back leaves him jaded, angry and the beautiful problem child we all know and thirst after. Also, he's the only member of the family Alfred allows into the kitchen, so jot that down while you're at it.

Carrie Kelley:

My girl was created by the living curse that is Frank Miller that alone makes her feral. But if you don't know my girl Carrie in the Millerverse got saved from a mugger by batman and imitately decided "fuck pants and my drug addict hippie parents it's time to fight crime in green booty short with a fucking slingshot", was almost imitately begrudgingly taken in by batman, probably dropped out of school, fought a Joker who had suicide bomber child-sized android baby dolls and helped lead a literal underground war on crime with a pseudo-cult of batman themed vigilantes called the Sons of Batman formed by former gang members who became obsessed with the guy after he beat up their former leader a no-neck nipple studded punk humanculous who looks even worse than I'm describing. Every iteration of Carrie Kelley is forged from the mold of a girl who almost reached Logan living with wolves levels of feral behavior, she is insane and I love her.

Stephanie Brown:

Her father is literally bargain bin Riddler because he lost his job as a game show host and she got fucking refrigeratored by Black Mask only 2 months into being robin, she deserves to be a little feral. Every iteration of Steph is one with a right to live life to the fullest weither that means giving Bruce shit over his terrible parenting, memeing on c-list villians like kiteman or just hanging around being a menace this girl is feral. Good for her, good for her.

In summary, Batman: The Caped Crusader should end with Bruce's kids literally killing him off with stress, lmao. Also, the setting is perfect for making Dick Discowing, so DC take notes.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

I am convinced that Jason would LOVE doing drag. It's a theatrical art form that welcomes melodrama and costume design, like this shit is right up his alley! I also feel like he'd be someone who would enjoy playing around with his gender performance, like as @vigilantecore and @cleromancy have pointed out in this post he already does seem to play around with it!

As such I think it's fucking criminal that we have so few designs for him dressing fem that aren't just one-off, no connection to his character maid dresses or bunny suits. Like, c'mon, do not let Tim have all the dresses here just cause he's small and twinkish! Let the big muscle man have fun!! So here's a few of mine to help remedy this tragic deficit:

Cerulean Orbs

Minimal makeup, dark colors, and small jewelry everywhere but her EYES

Very elegant and formal and charming and oh-so tragic figure who is also very off-putting and clearly does not have all her screws tightened ("Somebody go get that girl brown contacts immediately, I am begging!")

Is a vampire, hence the aforementioned characteristics and the big fan she keeps to hide her fangs behind

Uses slight of hand tricks to do things like cry red glass rhinestones (claims they're ruby/bloody tears)

Will sometimes pick someone out of the audience to claim is her reincarnated lost love who she must avenge/protect/lure back into her arms

Smoking Gunn:

Voted "Most Menacing Cowgirl" three shows in a row - always happy to play the heel for another Queen

Carries a (fake plastic) sawed off shotgun, usually on a belt so that it hangs between her legs

She's on a quest for revenge against the man who "cut her gun tragically short"

Hair is wild and frazzled and covered in ash as though she has just blown herself up with cartoon dynamite.

Wears a bright red ribbon around her neck with the bow situated directly over the batarang scar

Of course no matter what design you go with I think it is utterly critical that his drag persona has wildly elaborate and melodramatic beef with Brucie Wayne.

He drunkenly pushed her off the Eifel Tower, he left her sister at the altar, he insulted her purse dog's honor, he sniped her bid on ebay for a super rare beanie baby at the last possible second - every time someone asks Jason just makes a new story up on the spot, often echoing real grievances both on purpose and on accident. The stories are always too wacky to be real of course, but also his anger is often too genuine for anyone to be entirely sure he's joking...

Have a fun little snippet from the terminally unfinished fanfic I made the Cerulean Orbs persona for (context is that Jason is there investigating a Riddler plot, unbenounced to any of the other bats except Tim. There were two possible locations to watch and so people split up)

The night so far has honestly been shockingly fun, even with his paranoia going full blast, looking behind curtains, around corners, searching, searching, searching, aaaaand there's another circle forming in the crowd. Shit. This one has formed around someone at the door and been moving inwards picking up participants. Jason pushes his way to the interior, making a few 'pardon mes' along the way and gaining a line of dirty looks. Then he finally reaches the end of the press of bodies and comes face to face with Bruce. Fucking. Wayne. And Jason promptly shoves his foot in his mouth, face pulled into disgust, half turning into his fan on instinct, "Oh god it's you." The crowd GASPS and Jason sees the most wonderful thing happen: Bruce looks confused. Not the false confusion he pulls when he needs to play stupid, but the real deal! That tiny tick of frustration in the corners of his eyes says that he truly, genuinely has no fucking clue who this is or why they don't like him. Bruce pulls out his best 'placating the plebs' voice, "I- I'm sorry Madam, have we met??" Jason decides the gods have smiled upon him this day as he pulls out of his stunned silence, flips his hair back and says, "Well! I'm glad ONE of us could forget!" And marches off, leaving a bewildered and half panicked Bruce behind to fend off the media questions about THAT little bombshell. Tim chirps in his ear to warn him that he just ran into Nightwing and they've got the attack covered. He can sit back and relax for the evening. Over the course of the night no less than fifteen groups of people come up to him asking him to spill the details and he gives every single one of them a new, more ridiculously embarrassing story than the last. He stole her favorite dress and drunkenly fell into the river. He took them out to get 'fucked up' and brought out a single baggy of oregano and acted like it was getting him high. He mistook her for six different women over the course of a single two hour dinner date. He did seven lines of cocaine, forgot she existed, and tried to fight god with a bottle opener. Everyone in that place has to know he's lying through his teeth, but it's just too fun a story to turn down. In fact... each of them starts spreading their own version of the rumors, embellishing as they go, and delighting in the PR hurricane they're creating around this poor man. Tim reconvenes the next day to ask Jason about what went down, and if he’s okay and what not. In the middle of Jason’s lively recounting, Tim receives a text from Dick asking for confirmation that his suspicions are correct and that Cerulean Orbs was Jason and mentioning that he’s having laughing conniption fits over the fact that Bruce can’t even begin to figure it out. There is a video of Bruce losing his mind about it attached.

Anyways, I really like the idea of Jason doing drag and I hope this catches other people's fancy too!

[faytelumos]

Bestie when you have the energy, we need to discuss established bruharvey where Bruce, even if he's like the richest mf in the world, is widely known to be two-face's sugar baby

The funny thing is, they're still enemies in the field? But at home? Bruce tends to Harvey's mild wounds and listens to his complaining abt batman like. Yes honey he is a menace and yes I do know you could've taken him and no I won't leave you for him i promise

And as Batman AND bruce, our boy has to save his ass everytime. Imagine kidnapping Harvey and his kept man husband wipes the floor with you bc you interrupted family night sjsjsjs

Okay, okay, okay, so several thoughts:

Two-Face is a crime lord, and Harvey is smart as hell. Together, they'll make a formidable empire within and outside of Gotham.

With all of the different types of cash flow Two-Face has set up and the grade-A hierarchy he undoubtedly set up to keep things running in his absence, Two-Face is going to be very rich. More than rich enough to have a sugar baby pre-loaded with SpoiledRotten.exe

Is it icky for Bruce to accept gifts from blood money? Probably. Does he love Harvey and ache for the feeling of being taken care of to contrast the constant and obsessive impulse to be in control of a situation?

Yes.

I think you're absolutely right and Bruce and Harvey knows each other much, much better than they know a lot of other people. There's a level of intimacy in their kind of long-lasting relationship (regardless of the nature of that relationship at any given time) that is simply so rare. They're entangled, and it reaches so far back for both of them.

[Idea: Bruce and Harvey are reincarnated together again and again.]

I'm a firm believer that Bruce is a sub because he is constantly holding onto absolutely every string and situation he can find and it is exhausting to live like that. In his best and most relaxed frame of mind he wants someone to take care of him, and I think Two-Face specifically would jump at the chance.

Maybe this is just me projecting or whatever, but I think Two-Face is confused by the way of the world. No situation is ever certain, you can never be sure of an outcome given all of the wild variables of life, and it's scary. He wants things to get done, he needs things to happen, and even when you're following the systems and the rules and the paths that shit is supposed to get better through, nothing! Works! Out!

But Bruce…. Bruce is constant. Bruce is there always, in one way or another. Even when he's so mad, even when Two-Face has fucked up royally, Bruce is still there. And Two-Face isn't sure of a whole lot, but he sure that he wants Bruce to be good and safe.

Two-Face would love to take care of Bruce because even if he messes up (which he won't because Bruce is precious and he's going to take good care of him), Bruce will always give him another chance. Two-Face is just trying to do the best he can and Bruce always knows that and Two-Face wants to pay him back for that faith, for that loyalty, for keeping him sane in this disgusting mess of a world.

So Bruce the Sugar Baby is something that both of them would gravitate towards.

Two-Face and Bruce is borderline domestic; Two-Face is sharp lines and rough edges and hands that hold too hard, but he wants to be soft for Bruce. And it works because Bruce doesn't always know what soft is, and Two-Face is so deliberate and mindful that it feels the same.

But it can be very different when Two-Face and Batman are in the room together.

Batman doesn't want to be taken care of and he can't give up control of a situation. It may seem petty, but Two-Face hates dealing with Bruce with that stupid cowl on his face because he is just the worst.

I don't think Two-Face and Batman get along nearly as well because they're both in their dominant head-spaces. Two-Face is trying to control the situation to protect Harvey, and Batman is trying to control the situation to protect Gotham, and because of the difference of scope of these goals, they butt heads.

However!

When people Bruce loves are in trouble, he goes a little feral. Gotham fades in the background, and he'll do whatever it takes to get his people out.

And Two-Face, I can imagine, is a little tickled by this.

Like, no, he doesn't need Bats' help, thank you very much. He doesn't need to be rescued, he's perfectly capable, he could have gotten out of it himself. But damn does he look good clearing the room. He'll let himself get snatched up (as long as there's no real danger to Harv) to get a nice view of that action.

Yes, Bats, he could have gotten out of those binds at any time. No, he will not be repeating this position later in the privacy of their own home.

---

---

---

[ladytauria]

2 from the hurt/comfort prompts and dickjay pretty please <33

thank you sm <333

picturing this as the sequel to this prompt fill from @this-was-a-terrible-idea (ao3 link if you prefer) but it should stand on its own~

[ the prompt list ]

Jason is not nervous, and screw anyone who suggests otherwise. This is far from his first fancy party and, unfortunately, far from his last, either. It's not even his first fancy party as a Wayne---and before he went and got himself blown up, he'd gotten pretty fucking good at them, at least if you asked him.

Not that he's going to this party as a Wayne. Just... with a Wayne. Even if said Wayne still called himself Grayson.

The point is. Jason knows what he's doing. He knows how to be charming, and just the right amount of roguish to make the high society folks titter instead of clutch their pearls. He knows how to walk, and talk, and eat, and even dance. (Much as he'd wrinkled his nose when Alfred first suggested the lessons.)

It is, he'll admit, a little different going with Dick as like---a date, not because they both just happened to be connected to the same man.

Good different, though.

Means he doesn't have to hide the way he stares, when he gets an eyeful of Dick wrapped in a blue-and-black tux, perfectly tailored to the lines of his body. The display isn't helped, or is helped too much, by the way he's lounging against one of Jason's favorite sportscars. He must've borrowed it (or "borrowed" it) from Bruce.

Dick catches his eye and grins, like the cat who got the canary. Jason whistles obnoxiously, just to pretend he's not half as flustered as he feels.

"Not so bad yourself, handsome," Dick says, dragging his own gaze over Jason's body.

Jason shivers, a blush stinging the back of his neck. "Keep lookin' at me like that, Dickface, an' I don't think we're gonna make it t' the party."

"Well. It'd be a shame to waste all your hard work, little wing," Dick says, and this time, when he looks Jason over, his gaze lingers. He feels warm in the chilly night air, like he's wearing a sweater in summer.

Before he can think of something else to say---or maybe just grab the tie around Dick's neck and haul him up the stairs to Jason's apartment---Dick is opening the door for him, inviting him into the passenger seat of his sports car.

Jason slides in, rather than embarrass himself, or ruin their plans for the evening.

Dick slips gracefully into the driver's seat; reaching out and taking Jason's hand as soon as they're on the road. For once, the drive is absent of 80s power ballads, disco, and musical numbers. Jason is grateful for the peace. It gives him time to compose himself. This is important. He wants to do it right. For Dick.

The drive takes less time than Jason expected, even with Dick---for probably the first time in his fucking life---obeying all traffic laws. Before Jason knows it, Dick's hand is untangling from his as they exit the car. Dick passes the keys along with a smile and an extravagant tip, shoulder brushing Jason's arm when he comes to stand with him.

"You good?" he asks, under his breath.

"Peachy. Just tryin' to remember how I let you convince me to walk into a viper pit."

That gets a laugh from Dick---though he suppresses it quickly. "You can hold my hand, if it makes you feel safer," he offers.

"Baby," Jason says, "I always wanna hold your hand." But this time, he puts his hand on the small of Dick's back, smiling when Dick wraps his arm around Jason's waist in turn.

"Stop, you're going to make me blush," Dick says. Despite the sarcasm, his ears look pinker than usual.

"Well, can't have that," Jason says, and he's grinning now. "I'm the only one who gets to see you blush."

Dick laughs again, and this time, he doesn't bother suppressing it, despite the way it turns a few heads as they walk in the door. Dick ignores them, looking up at Jason instead. "You're a menace," he says, fondly.

"Just don't forget, bringing me here was your idea," Jason reminds.

"Oh, I know," Dick says. He stops them, just before coat check-in, and rises onto his toes. His lips brush the corner of Jason's mouth. "Still think it was one of my best."

There's no stopping the blush that blooms across his cheeks. "Night's still young," he says, proud when it comes out at least mostly even.

Dick looks at him through half-closed eyes, smile still on his face. "I could never regret a night spent with you, Jason."

[ao3feed-superbat]

Echoes of Whispers

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/w8YRhH0 by TA347 Metas have been quite common since about thirty years prior after several retconned worlds. Some of the more common ones being those capable of manipulating objects to a short extent, and a few with fire? Though animalistic traits aren't too rare either. Magic contaminates the world by now, seeping into cracks in pavement and bloodstreams alike. Shining lights dancing in the nights, painting the sky in colors. Or a pond, reflecting more than should be possible. This takes a great deal of attention from those who have gifts from outside of this phenomena, even if they don't mind it much. Though as it happens, turns out abandoned baby birds can and will swarm a bat for a parent. Words: 1303, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Other Characters: Kon-El | Conner Kent, Damian Wayne, Titus | Damian Wayne's Dog, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Tim Drake (DCU), Jonathan Kent, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Lois Lane, Duke Thomas, Tim Drake's Parents Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, The Outlaws & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Wally West Additional Tags: I'm sure this fantasy au won't go off the, -HOLY FUCK OHMYGODTHAT'SNOTGOOD-, anyway, Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Kent Family (DCU), Tim Drake is Red Robin (DCU), Kon-El | Conner Kent is Superboy, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a Menace, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Brucie Wayne, hah playboy persona go brrrr, Damian Wayne father's day ref when he had to bring Brucie in to get donuts and got laughed at, Clark Kent is Superman, Bruce Wayne Knows Clark Kent is Superman, Clark Kent Doesn't Know Bruce Wayne is Batman, Im sure this doesn't actually do- HOLY SHIT, Gala chaos ensues from there as well., Jon Kent knows Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne Knows, By that I mean everything, Named from the idea of bats and mind losing its shit over implications, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, I bet nothing will go wrong if I give the batfamily members wings., at all, It's still modern, Just simply with meta batfam i suppose?, Duke still has his own powers and everything, and im keeping the kents almost the same but clark is now divorced, but like not bitter or anything, Clark Kent & Lois Lane Friendship, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne Share a Brain Cell, Attempt at Humor read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/w8YRhH0

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Echoes of Whispers

by TA347 Metas have been quite common since about thirty years prior after several retconned worlds. Some of the more common ones being those capable of manipulating objects to a short extent, and a few with fire? Though animalistic traits aren't too rare either. Magic contaminates the world by now, seeping into cracks in pavement and bloodstreams alike. Shining lights dancing in the nights, painting the sky in colors. Or a pond, reflecting more than should be possible. This takes a great deal of attention from those who have gifts from outside of this phenomena, even if they don't mind it much. Though as it happens, turns out abandoned baby birds can and will swarm a bat for a parent. Words: 1295, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Other Characters: Kon-El | Conner Kent, Damian Wayne, Titus | Damian Wayne's Dog, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Tim Drake (DCU), Jonathan Kent, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Lois Lane, Duke Thomas, Tim Drake's Parents Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, The Outlaws & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Wally West Additional Tags: I'm sure this fantasy au won't go off the, -HOLY FUCK OHMYGODTHAT'SNOTGOOD-, anyway, Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Kent Family (DCU), Tim Drake is Red Robin (DCU), Kon-El | Conner Kent is Superboy, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a Menace, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Brucie Wayne, hah playboy persona go brrrr, Damian Wayne father's day ref when he had to bring Brucie in to get donuts and got laughed at, Clark Kent is Superman, Bruce Wayne Knows Clark Kent is Superman, Clark Kent Doesn't Know Bruce Wayne is Batman, Im sure this doesn't actually do- HOLY SHIT, Gala chaos ensues from there as well., Jon Kent knows Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne Knows, By that I mean everything, Named from the idea of bats and mind losing its shit over implications, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, I bet nothing will go wrong if I give the batfamily members wings., at all, It's still modern, Just simply with meta batfam i suppose?, Duke still has his own powers and everything, and im keeping the kents almost the same but clark is now divorced, but like not bitter or anything, Clark Kent & Lois Lane Friendship, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne Share a Brain Cell, Attempt at Humor via https://ift.tt/GvtzpyQ

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

it's been over a month, but tonight I make my triumphant return

it's gotham time 😎

if, like me, you have absolutely forgotten what the fuck is going on, catch up on the most recent liveblogs here. and then fuckle the buck up for Gotham 4x13

oh okay Ivy 3 rules actually. Uma Thurman Ivy's personality run through a goth filter. iconic.

oh my god is this a Lucius episode 👀

oooooh my god I spent so long worrying about them aging Ivy's body up to let grown men skeeve on her and I never once considered the horrors of an adult actress sexually menacing sweet baby David Mazouz. I need to go I hate it here

remember how literally like TWO episodes ago I said it was a shame they aged her up because having Ivy play teenage femme fatale on Bruce during his partyboy phase would be dumb and fun why is it THIS

WHO is supplying Oswald and Jerome with all this eye shadow in Arkham

okay so they do still have Ra's' actor on tap... that bitch is coming is back for sure...

Barbara and Sofia should fuck. just to make Jim sad.

"Makenzie you think every woman Jim hooks up with should fuck Barbara" yes I want Jim's life to be awful what about it. plus Barbara definitely has enough strap for all of them.

it must be said that the way Jerome is bullying Oswald doesn't NOT feel homophobic

wow it's a shame that nothing good ever happens to Lucius and he's never been happy because Chris Chalk's smile is BEAUTIFUL

this is so funny Ivy I LOVE you. literally hypnotized an entire building full of cops into trying to kill Him for her ICONIC

genuinely intoxicating how the writers cannot figure out how to write Oswald and Ed NOT completely obsessed with and revolving around each other... who is doing toxic homoeroticism like them... I had crushes on my best friends who bullied me in middle school that were healthier than this

I don't say this lightly but whoever was writing the Arkham segments of this episode was genuinely going through something

Batman being the nightmare of a dying and hallucinating teenage Bruce really works for me honestly

g o d baby Bruce staring into his own soul, seeing who he really is, and declaring that he's "not lucky" for knowing is. hang on I'm getting so emo about Bruce and the fucking. inevitability of tragedy in his life the way Batman is something he can never avoid the way the pain haunts him no matter what he does.

... Sofia and Lee should also have sex because that would make Jim AND the Riddler sad