#he's trying his best it's not his fault gotham in literally cursed

[notbreadman]

i know it's a meme that batman fans will give you a ten page essay on why they love batman when asked while superman fans will just say something like "because he's kind :)" but i can do both. i will absolutely give you a ten page essay on why i love superman and think he's so important and although i can do the same for batman, all my thoughts can essentially be dumbed down to "because he's kind :)" as well

the core of batman's character is that he is kind. that he loves (and believes in) his city and humanity so much. superman and batman are really two sides of the same coin (ha) in the sense that the only real difference between the two is that superman grew up in a loving environment and lives in a pretty decent city while batman watched his parents die in front of him and lives in the Actually Worst City Ever

batman is in no way perfect. he is very flawed and i think it's a disservice to not acknowledge those flaws, but at his core, he is just trying to do the right thing. because he is kind. because he cares. because he loves humanity much like superman loves humanity.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 2

First

Interdimensional travel? Awful. Don’t try it at home. It’s a lot like how one would imagine getting sucked up a straw: you get squished and pulled until you come out the other side a goopy mess.

Speaking of goopy messes: Tim keeled over and threw up.

He ignored the yelling right next to him because, honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the moment. The bright light of this world -- apparently it was daytime here, ew -- hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses and he really didn’t want to move from where he had curled up in what seemed to be grass.

But, eventually, he did. He pushed himself up onto his knees and squinted over at her.

Ladybug had detransformed at some point and was now wearing an old t-shirt and some sweats… and she was apparently fighting off a baby. Damian kicked, screamed, and wiggled in her hold as she tried her hardest to trap him in the blanket again.

“... how are you losing to a baby?”

She sent a glare at him and then mumbled a curse as a tiny fist connected with her face and Damian wriggled away from her.

“Let me think about that, Red. What could go wrong if I, a meta used to fighting other metas, tried to use force against a human child?”

Okay, yeah. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t tried anything.

Oddly enough, when Tim walked over and replaced Marinette, Damian started behaving immediately.

He frowned, tipping his head to the side confusedly. He picked up his younger brother and stood up. “Why’d he start freaking out?”

She did the exact opposite of standing up, opting to spread out in the grass and glare at the sky. “I don’t know. He just started freaking out when I tried to put the watch around his neck.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.”

He took the time to look around properly for once. They were in a park but it must have been a weekday because there was hardly anyone around. The only people that had paid them any mind were a group of teenagers -- probably ditching, he thought -- that were staring at them with wide eyes.

Tim glanced at a street sign to make sure the common language was English before sending them a glare. “It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

The teenagers quickly looked down at their phones. Tim knew better than to believe that they were actually paying attention, they had the same posture that a lot of lookouts did, but whatever. No one would believe them, anyways.

He gave her a few more minutes before he adjusted his hold on Damian and offered a hand up.

Ladybug took it with a faint smile and he pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their discarded suitcase and they started walking aimlessly.

“Okay, we’re here… but we still need a cover.”

“Um… you’re the one that’s good at hacking, right?”

He nodded. Damian reached a hand out of the blanket and began touching his hair. He was too busy wondering what to do to really mind.

“Great. How about… we’re the kid’s siblings?”

“We can pass as his parents. I mean, it’d be a teen pregnancy but it wouldn’t be bad,” said Tim. “We still had him at eighteen-ish.”

She shook her head. “He’s darker than both of us, it wouldn’t make sense. Maybe I had him with some… darker guy and now you’re my boyfriend? No, that feels racist for some reason. I’m his half-sister, our parents died, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Tim frowned. “Why am I always the boyfriend? He’s my brother.”

“Well, frankly, you look nothing like him. He and I, at least, have similar noses.”

He scowled. It made sense but it still annoyed him. “Fine. I’m your husband, though. I want to have at least some rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Guess that’s good for tax benefits, too. Better get me a cute ring.”

“Okay, but the diamond is going to be fake.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Cheskae,” Damian said, yanking Tim’s hair like the little shit he was.

“See, he agrees,” Ladybug said with a victorious grin.

~

They went up to a hotel (Red Robin had tried to talk her into a five-star one but she managed to bring it down to a two-star when showing him the cost) and tried to reserve a room.

“May I have a name for the reservation?” The nice lady at the front counter said, smiling at them.

Red Robin glanced up from where he was awkwardly bouncing with the baby in his arms to shoot her A Look. It was unfortunate that she had no clue what the look meant. She considered the question for a moment before eventually saying:

“Dupain-Cheng.”

Red Robin relaxed a little so she was pretty sure she had gotten it right.

She hesitantly took the baby from him -- the kid had apparently forgotten about his earlier freakout because he was just as weirdly still as he had been back in Gotham -- so he could pay.

The moment they got into the hotel room she fell back in the bed. The baby squirmed a little on her stomach to get comfortable before joining her in her laziness.

Red Robin sighed and sat next to them, resting his head in his hands. “Okay. We’re going to need supplies for him. Do you want to do a supply run or should I?”

She shrugged a little, much to the baby’s dismay. Have you ever had a baby babble angrily at you? It’s very cute.

“You’re so helpful. Thanks, Ladybug.”

“No problem,” she said as if she couldn’t hear the blatant sarcasm in his tone. Then she pushed herself up to squint at him, the baby sliding down to her lap smoothly. “Wait, are we still going to be using codenames?”

He frowned. “Obviously.”

“... for fifteen years?”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, so when we take the kid back we’re going to explain to him that, on top of all the adjustment of moving to a different dimension, he needs to now use a different name for you, and messing up isn’t an option. Also, I feel like people are going to question two random people called ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Ladybug’ at some point.”

Red Robin frowned, clearly thinking hard, and then nodded slightly. He removed his glasses and looked at her with an awkward smile. “This is Damian, I’m Tim.”

She raised her eyebrows because he was looking at her expectantly and she really didn’t know what he wanted from her. “Uh… am I supposed to know you?”

“I mean… kinda?”

She squinted at him for a while before shrugging. “That one guy? Timothy --.”

“Yep!”

“-- Chalamet?”

He looked oddly hurt now. “You think I look like Timothy Chalamet?”

“I mean you both have the same sickly Victorian boy look about you.”

“... for the sake of our fake marriage I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I’m Tim Drake.” She still didn’t show any hint of recognition (probably because she didn’t recognize him) so he groaned and motioned to Damian. “This is Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Waynetech?”

“There you go,” he said.

She grinned at him. “It’s not my fault you made me guess.”

He huffed a little. “Alright, fine, then who are you, then?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“... who’s that?”

“A nobody. Like secret identities should be,” she said, giving him a smug look.

He rolled his eyes. “I feel like this is going to be a long fifteen years.”

“Shouldn’t have dragged me into your mess, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She returned it. So did the baby.

~

It was decided that Marinette should be the one to go on a supply run since Tim needed to start making identities for them.

… it would be a lot easier if there wasn’t a baby crawling all over him. She’d better get a crib while she was out because he didn’t know if he could deal with a baby smashing the keys for much longer.

“Dami -- no, stop, I -- I swear to god -- you’re a baby okay I can literally just drop you and you would -- please stop --,” Tim cut off his irritated rambling when Damian nearly got them on a good few government watchlists by smashing the keys at the wrong time.

Fed up, he grabbed the kid and set him on the ground. It’ll probably be fine. He only needed to do a few quick things, anyways.

He was shocked to find that there was a version of him in this world. The idea of a Tim who didn’t do vigilante-work was foreign to him. He had apparently stayed with his parents and was now working towards a business degree. This dimension’s Tim wasn’t nearly as famous as he was and the three of them had landed in Texas so it was unlikely that he would be recognized but he would prefer not using the name if he didn’t have to. Just to be safe.

Damian didn’t exist, as far as he could tell, but Bruce Wayne did and he was still famous so it wouldn’t be a good idea to use his last name either.

There was a version of Marinette, too, but she was currently in France helping her parents run their bakery. Very little chance of her getting recognized.

So, he decided to use her last name for all of them. Quick and easy. He’d have to tell her that he changed her birthplace to New Jersey when she got back to the hotel but he doubted she’d have much of a problem with that.

… oh. His phone was ringing. Apparently he could tell her now.

He picked up and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder as he worked at finding them a few social security numbers to… ‘borrow’.

“Yeah?”

“How big is the baby?”

Tim blinked a few times. “... baby sized?”

“No. Like… what size diaper do you think he would use?”

He scoffed. “Do I look like I would know the diaper sizes?”

“Do I look like I do? Just… how old do you think he is?”

Tim looked over the edge of the bed to where Damian was currently shaking Kaalki like she was a maraca. Kaalki, for her part, only looked vaguely annoyed as she bounced around in his tiny baby fists.

“I dunno. Like… a year-ish? Just buy one of everything we can see what fits.”

“Fucking hell I forgot you were rich. You said a year? I’m using that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay -- OH SHIT DAMIAN NO!”

He tumbled out of bed and raced over to Damian before he could stick his finger in a socket. He didn’t really know if that was enough to get shocked but this was not the way to find out.

Damian was apparently very annoyed about him foiling his attempt at dying because he squirmed around in his grip and yelled incomprehensibly. Tim ignored the baby fists trying to knock his teeth out -- his teeth had faced far worse before -- and scooted across the ground to his phone.

“-- to god, Tim, what happened if you don’t answer I will run over there --.”

“It’s fine. Just get… you know the things that cover electrical sockets? Make sure to get some of those,” he said, tipping his head back to rest against the bed so he could kind of relax despite the ball of anger in his arms.

Marinette groaned. “Fuck, you can’t just scare me like that.”

“Yeah, you were the one that suffered the most during that.”

She scoffed but he swore he could hear a tiny laugh hidden under her mumbled ‘shut up’.

He smiled a little.

She didn’t hang up, probably expecting to ask him something else soon, so he listened in idly as he tried to calm Damian down enough to start working again.

She mumbled to herself while she looked for things. Some of the speech was normal but most of it was pretty much as incomprehensible as Damian’s babbling (admittedly, it probably didn’t help that he was only half paying attention).

“... tty trai… now?... oh... alright… oh, great, does she work here?” She murmured to herself. Then, louder: “Hey, lady --!”

“We’re in Texas,” he reminded her. “People are expected to be more polite down here.”

He was too late. Someone started yelling on Marinette’s end and, if the tiny sigh of annoyance was anything to go off of, it wasn’t her.

The yelling lasted approximately five minutes before someone intervened.

He heard her speak in rapid Spanish to the employee and, to his surprise, he could actually understand every word of them talking shit about the lady who had screamed at her. He didn’t know what to think of this outside of pulling the phone away from his mouth so he could try and roll an r. He was delighted to find that he had gained that ability as well. He continued rolling his tongue.

Damian stopped his squirming and gave Tim a confused look… and then he started to giggle. He twisted around in Tim’s lap and started trying to mimic the sound.

He tried to hide his smile as the two of them kept making r sounds at each other. He didn’t think he’d succeeded at keeping his face relatively neutral, but he didn’t really mind.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 7

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Chill~

Wrote it all in an hour and 20 minutes just about? Not bad, not bad at all.

Ao3

First< Previous

----------

“Why! Why does it have to be so cold!” Marinette pulls on her coat tighter.

“Why did you come if you’re just going to complain?” Damian scowls, looking over the list they were given.

“Dick asked me to,” Marinette shivers, “Besides I need to get out and see the city, you said you would show me,”

“I only agreed to this because Dick insisted I apologize for trying to kill you,”

“You were trying to kill me?”

“... No?”

“Damian,”

“Fine,” He pulls off the sweater he was wearing, the one she had made him, “My bad, now keep warm,”

“My bad is not an apology,” Marinette chides pulling the sweater on, “If you didn’t like the sweater you could have just said so,”

“That's not-” Damina turn to see her smirk, tutting then turning back around, “You're incorrigible,”

“Your apology is accepted,” Marinette giggles skipping slightly to catch up, she takes note of how he shivers as a gust of wind blows through, “Hey you're cold now right? I have an idea,”

“I’m not cold,” Damian snaps, picking up the pace, “Unlike you, I have more discipline than that,”

“Oh please, you grew up in the desert right?” Damian glares at her, “What? You think I didn’t know anything? Maman not as good at hiding things as she thinks she is,”

“Be careful where you say that,” He warns, they walk for a little while more the temperature dropping. Marinette continues to keep an incredulous eye on Damian. After ten minutes he sighs, “What's your idea?”

“It involves me getting on your back,”

“Not a chance,” Damian tuts, “You could stab me in the back,”

“Literally or figuratively?” Another glare but Marinette just smiles under it, “Fine then, I’ll just take this sweater off and we can both freeze,”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Damian snatches it off her, “I’ll just wear it,”

And so he does. They walk for a while longer Marinette simultaneously congratulating and cursing herself for picking such a warm fabric for Damian's sweater as she shivers in the cold Gotham winds. Her teeth are chattering and they are still a long way off from their destination. Marinette starts to slow down, ever since she had become ladybug her tolerance to the cold was lowering, like how Adrien's eyesight at night kept improving; although she probably got the short end of the stick for that one. Her thoughts are interrupted by a long suffered sigh from Damian.

“Fine, we’ll do your plan,”

“Really?!”

“If we actually want to get there today, yes,”

 ---

 “This was your plan!” Damian shouts as they run down the street.

“It’s a great plan!’ Marinette clings to his back.

“Everyones staring,” Damian scowls, the sweater just big enough to stretch over both of them locking Marinette against his back.

“Then run faster!”

“Maybe if you stopped strangling me I would!”

“Oh please, stop being dramatic,”

“Why don't you start running and we’ll see whos being dramatic!”

“I could probably get there before you!”

“Yeah right, you-”

“Wait! Wait! Go back!” Marinette tugs, Damian lets out a choked sound stopping as he brings his hands up to remove hers.

“What,” He is unable to get her off with the sweater around them both.

“Pet store,” Marinette shimmies down, managing to get out with some difficulty, “Look how cute- wait,”

“Where are you going!” Damian calls as she storms into the pet store, he trails reluctantly behind her. Marinette walks right up to the desk slamming her hand down.

“Excuse me are you in charge of this store?”

“I’m the manager, yes,” The man raises an eyebrow looking up from his newspaper.

“Are you aware that the enclosure out there is filthy?” 

“Animals get dirty,”

“It’s a health code violation,” Marinette scolds, “You're going to make the animals sick,”

“Tt, she’s right,” Damian looks around the store, the rest of the cages in even worse condition, “Just what sort of business do you think you're running? These are live animals, you can’t even see into the fish tank at this point,”

“I’ve followed company policy,” The manger huffs, going back to the newspaper adding a mocking, “So if you want to take it up with anyone take it up with them,”

“Oh I will,” Damian hisses, before going to the other end of the store intently tapping at his phone.

“Ha, have fun getting bounced around the phones for the next ten hours,” The manager barks, Marinette rolls her eyes turning back to him.

“Look it may not be required by your employer but try to have some compassion these are living creatures, they look miserable,”

“Well then, why don’t you buy them if they look so miserable,”

“That's not the root of the problem and you know it,” Marinette reasons with the unreasonable, “You’ll just replace them with more animals, this place isn’t fit for that,”

She could just feel the negative energy coming from the place, a place of suffering for those who had no way out. Her magic had perked the animals up a bit but that wouldn't solve the problems at hand. Not that any of this seemed to get through to the manager as Marinette kept arguing. She brought up her phone and articles to help support her argument. Only finding to her disdain that the pet store franchise itself had a long history of animal abuse, that this was the norm, not an exception. They just threw money at any lawsuit that came their way and bribing inspectors.

“Why are you even working here if you hate-”

“Excuse me,” A new customer walks up, Damian close behind, “Could I look-”

“Do whatever you like!” The manager snaps, “Can’t you see I’m busy here?!”

“Do you treat all your customers like this? No wonder your not getting any business if the facilities alone didn’t scare people off,” Marinette finally snaps. Damian, dare she say looks impressed, which probably isn’t a good sign.

“You’re insulting me now?”

“I’ve been insulting you the past hour, nice of you to catch on,”

From there it devolves into a full argument. They rage while Damian and the other customer poke around the store, talking to each other. Damian keeps on making calls and Marinette wishes he would stop and come help back her up, he seemed just as disgusted with this place as she was. But whenever she sends a look his way Damian just brushes her off going back to his call.

The argument escalates. Marinette's magic lashing out, subconsciously sending the animals into a frenzy. Barks and howls ring out mixed with cat yowls and whatever noise the other animals can manage.

“Quiet down you!” The manager roars, winding up to hit a puppy yapping at him, Marinette moves just a fraction of a second too slow.

“How dare you,” Damian catches the fist, twisting the arm in a painful unnatural position, “You’re fired,”

“You can’t fire me!” He struggles in Damian's grip, who in turn looks completely unfazed by the effort.

“Actually I can,” Damina flips his screen around to show a contract, “I just brought the company,”

“You what?!” Both Marinette and the manager shout at the same time.

“Yes well, it was easy enough to get in touch with the president of the company, when I put in my offer he laughed me off,” Damian shrugs letting the shell shocked man go, “So I called in one of our best lawyers,”

Damian nods to the other customer, who nods back.

“She built a case for us compiling evidence from this store, thank you for full access by the way,” Damian looks smugly at the manager gaping like a fish, “Other lawyers were in charge of inspecting other stores and researching past allegations, and I had some working internationally look at the branches in other countries, the results were not flattering,”

Damian's glare turns cold and piercing. Marinette had been on the receiving end of that glare and would like to think she handled it better than this guy was.

“Couple that all with the declarations I recorded from you arguing with Marinette,” Damina inclines his head to her, Marinette nods kind of dumbly, “And we had quite the case to shut the business down, you can guarantee the Wayne influence and lawyers would prevent this all from being swept under the rug,”

“Wayne?!”

“Yes, and as you can imagine after we sent through the case file the owner wasn't laughing me off the phone, he agreed to my price,” The man was sweating buckets now as Damian advanced looming over him, “The contracts aren't finalized or signed yet but you can guarantee by the end of the week I will own this place,”

Damian leans over him as the manager tries to sink into the floor.

“So. You. Are. Fired.”

 ---

 “So are you going to teach me the glare that makes grown men pee their pants and run for their lives or do I have to figure it out myself?” Marinette teases, picking through the stocks in the back.

“You wouldn't be able to pull it off,” Damian shoots back, taking the bag she hands him, “An emergency demand was put out for new workers, they’ll be here soon to do this,”

“Oh no you don’t you little rich boy,” Marinette laughs at the face he makes, “You don’t just get to roll through here, throw some money at it and expect your job to be done, you took this company on so show a little responsibility,”

“I am taking responsibility,” Damian scowls, “I fully plan on improving this place,”

“What? By hiring someone to take over with the vague demands of ‘make it better’?” Damian sour look is all the answer she needs, “No way, this is your own responsibility and no one else's, so you need to take a long hard look at what's wrong and figure out how to fix it,”

“If I recall this all is partly your fault,” Damian stacks another bag where she told him too.

“If I recall I didn’t tell you to buy an entire pet store franchise,” Not that she didn’t approve, “But fine, I’ll help you out if you want,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You didn’t have to,” Damian huffs and looks away, Marinette smiles and picks up a bag of food, “First things first, the food is horrible quality, it’s all filler with little nutritional value,”

“I’ll order new stock right away,” Damian takes out his phone, Marinette snatches it from him.

“Hold on now,” Damian gives her that little put off look she finds adorable, “You have to look at all the problems first then make a plan of action or you're just running around like a headless chicken,”

“Your point?”

“The staff are also underpaid, it’s not enough to live off and certainly not enough to motivate a good work ethic,” Marinette hands back the phone, Damian pockets it, “So before you go around firing everyone that's ever worked here why don’t you try changing the bones of the company then picking out the bad seeds?”

“Alright,” Damian concedes, “... You have a point,”

“Was that tough to admit?”

“The only excruciating part of it is your smugness,”

“Why hello kettle,” Damina gives her a light glare but she just laughs it off.

“All these changes are going to be expensive,” Damian frowns looking through the statistics the lawyers had sent them, “The company was already falling into debt,”

“It needs a hook,” Marinette hums, “Something new and unique that no other chain has…. I got it!!”

She brushes past him, going for her sketchbook and starting the brainstorming process.

“Would you like to share your epiphany?” Damian asks after about five minutes of watching her sketch. “An exclusive pet clothesline!”

“Oh boy,”

 ---

 “See I was right wasn't I?” Marinette finishes fixing the outfit onto Titus.

“I was under the impression you were going to make something vapid and ridiculous,” Damian deflects, looking at the raincoat Marinette had made for Titus, it fit him perfectly and worked well with his fur color as well, “This is at least useful,”

“Wow, that might be a bigger compliment than ‘it’s well made’ or is it?” Marinette cocks her head to the side, “Should I start a ‘Damian's compliments’ tier list?”

“Do not,” Damian calls Titus back to him, taking off the raincoat, “This should at least partly help make up for the new expenses,”

“What changes should we make first?” Marinette follows Damian inside, already sketching new designs into her book.

“There's no point in launching the pet clothes until the company goes through its rebrand, and that will take some time anyway,” They settle in a study they had commandeered to work together in, a sewing machine up near the window, “By the way whats your design fee?"

“Hm… make me a co-owner and we’ll forget about the design fee,” Marinette smiles as Damian doesn't immediately look disgusted by the prospect, “Besides If I recall this is partly my fault,”

“Fine co-owner,” Damian rolls his eyes at her, “I guess we’ll be drafting a new contract,”

“Make sure our shares are 50/50,”

“80/20,”

“Awe you’d let me have 80%”

Damian gives her a withering glare with no heat.

“50/50,” Marinette holds out her hand, “Equal,”

“... Equal,” Damian takes her hand, “You better design a lot of clothes,”

“Already on it,” Marinette holds up her new sketchbook, dedicated to just this, “Plus I’ll be part of the planning so let me in on it,”

“I was-” Damian cuts off glaring towards the door, Marinette follows his eye to see Dick and Adrien caught like deer in headlights looking at them with phones held up.

“Adrien!” Marinette starts towards them getting overtaken by Damian as they both start sprinting.

“Delete it or I destroy your phone!” He threatens, chasing them down the hall.

“Already backed it up to several computers!” Dick calls back, disappearing around the corner, the three yells disappearing into the distance. Marinette chuckles to herself, going back to finish up her designs.

--------

No tag list :P

[consumeconstantly]

Summer Photography (aka the thirst trap)

Summary: Marinette is forced to take pictures for Gabriel in order to pay for her summer graduation trip with her best friends from lycee. Adrien, her primary model, wants to avoid the summer heat and pulls in one very attractive bad-boy motorcycle man to be his replacement.

_______________________________________________________

July in Gotham comes with an almost rancid kind of heat.

The kind of heat that is impossible to banish unless the air conditioning is set to 65 degrees and there’s a dehumidifier in the room. The kind of heat that makes babies cry with discomfort and adults curse whenever they have to take a foot outside. The only age population that enjoys it are the teens. More precisely, the teens are more fans of being on summer vacation, rather than the sticky warmth, but they find ways to work with the heat, rather than against it. Some teens gather on apartment rooftops, taking in the rare, smoggy breeze with pleasure. Others frequent their local swimming pool, an ice cream parlor or convenience store. If they get really desperate, they take shelter in the library.

Should a teen be forced out onto the muggy sidewalks full of sweaty bodies, they drift towards parks or areas of ‘city beautification’ and find a tree to rest their weary bodies under. 

Of course, there are always exceptions to these norms. 

“Marinette,” Adrien groans, sweat on his brow. “Can we please do this not during peak heat?”

“No,” Marinette says. “Your father insisted on having pictures of a male model at precisely two in the afternoon, and it took me months to convince him to let us come on this trip, so we’re not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”

“It’s not like he can do anything now. We’re literally an ocean away.”

“Suck it up, sunshine,” Marinette swats her hand at a lazy fly, not bothering to look up from changing the lens on her camera. “Maybe I’d let you get away with a substitution. Gabriel didn’t specify that the person in the pictures had to be you, but we don’t know anyone in Gotham, and everyone we’ve come across so far isn’t exactly the friendly sort.”

Adrien flicks the collar of his t-shirt, desperately trying to generate some sort of a breeze so he doesn’t melt. “This is all Nino’s fault. He and Alya insisted on going to that couple’s show when he could have been out here, taking my place. If Luka were here, he wouldn’t have deserted me like that.”

“We all know of your and Luka’s undying love for one another, but he is busy touring. He’ll meet up with us in New York, though, and you can have your disgustingly sweet love-fest over there. Meanwhile, I’ll be forever alone.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that, Marinette. At least five people in each city we’ve gone to so far have tried to go on dates with you.”

She crinkles her nose and does a test shot, making sure the light setting works out. “Yeah, but they all reeked of desperation and alcohol. Plus, at least two of them were just looking for a person to cheat with.”

“No good,” Marinette says, frowning at the shadows the tree cast. “Gabriel won’t be happy with these kinds of photos. You’re going to have to move out of the shade.”

“No!” Adrien wails. “I refuse! It’s bad enough that you dragged me out here, but to make me go in the sun? You know I burn easily.”

“Yeah, yeah drama queen, but these photos aren’t going to take themselves, and I’m one hundred percent sure that you don’t want to have to do this twice. Which is what we’ll end up having to do if you don’t get your little butt out into the sun so we can take quality shots.”

Adrien whines before a motorcycle revs in the not so far distance. A very Chat Noir smile creeps onto his face. “I don’t think I will. I’ve just found my substitute.”

Marinette follows his gaze, then shrugs. “If you think you can convince him to substitute in, you’re free to go. But remember, it’s Gotham, and if you get jumped, I’m not going to help. It’s too hot for a fight.”

“You underestimate my charm.” Adrien says, already triumphant.

#

True to form, Adrien somehow manages to get motorcycle man over to her. 

“Not sure how Adrien convinced you to do this, but I guess he gets a free pass.” Marinette knows exactly what Adrien’s going to do with his free time. He’s gone on and on about Gotham’s Museum of Vigilantes, and to be quite frank, Marinette doesn’t want to get caught up in another one of Adrien’s rant sessions on the Bat Family. “Anyways, nice to meet you. I’m Marinette, and my awful boss has come of with the wonderfully creative idea of Summer Heat for a photoshoot in the summer.”

She has a bone to pick with Gabriel Agreste. More than one, actually. In fact, she’d say that out of the 206 (well, 207, if she counts the fracture she got in her left pinky toe after that last akuma battle that weirdly, still hasn’t healed) bones in her body, she’d pick a fight with Gabriel over at least 200 of them. The lack of originality is one thing, but she’s not sure how she feels about his blatant attempts to set her up with her son during this trip. Somehow, he still hasn’t grasped the fact that his son doesn’t swing her way despite having hundreds of pictures of being lovey-dovey with Luka all over the internet. In fact, maybe it’s because Adrien and Luka have that many pictures that Gabriel is trying to push for a heterosexual relationship. A lack of vision both for his photo shoots and for his company. Marinette doesn’t understand how she once looked up to this man.

“It’s no problem. I’ve got nothing better to do, anyways.” 

Marinette blinks, then reassesses the man in front of her. Not only does he have a sinfully attractive voice, but his visual appeal isn’t that bad, either. “It’s still nice of you to do this. Should be a pretty quick shoot. Five outfit changes and a few poses in each-- shouldn’t take any longer than an hour, hour and a half.”

She rummages through her bag, fishing out a stack of paper. “You’ll get paid for your time. $250 for the whole shoot, and if you want to keep one of the outfits, feel free.”

If she’s being completely honest, she thinks that Gabriel’s summer collection is a hot mess, and she doesn’t particularly want the burden of bringing back the disgusting articles of clothes back with her in her suitcase. Should motorcycle man not want any of them, she’ll send them back via express mail.

“Don’t need the money, but I’m trying to stay out for as long as I can. Any way you could make the shoot go on longer?”

“You want to stay out in this heat?” Marinette asks in disbelief, taking out a small bag of makeup to apply to his face. She motions for him to sit in the shade of the tree while she sees what she needs to cover up. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Motorcycle man says.

“Like the owner of a custom Harley-Davidson is poor,” Marinette quips. Humming in approval after giving his features once over, she decides that foundation isn’t necessary, only concealer to cover up the dark circles and some old scars.“You have great skin.”

During their summer trip, Marinette has become makeup artist, photographer, public relations manager, and trip advisor. It’s a taxing job, but well worth the reward, which is an all-expense-paid graduation trip with her friends from lycee. Well, Nino and Alya had to pay, but between Nino’s part time DJ gigs and Alya’s ad revenue on the Ladyblog, it wasn’t hard for them to raise enough for the two month long, seven city, four country trip. 

“One of my siblings is insistent that we do our best to minimize the scarring. Don’t know what his deal is, it’s not like our faces are sellable commodities.”

“That’s where you’re wrong-- you’re pretty good looking and could easily go into modelling or acting if you wanted. So props to whoever your sibling is. And thank your genetics too.”

Motorcycle man snorts. “Not cut out for that lifestyle. I like more… adrenaline inducing jobs.”

Marinette almost-- almost laughs. The placement of the scars on his face do imply that he’s gotten in at least one or two knife fights before, and there’s a thin line on his neck that definitely looks like it hurt. Motorcycle man has definitely been in trouble before, but he’s also good enough to get himself out of it. She’s not going to bother asking what his job is. She doesn’t want to be an accessory to any of his crimes. “Action movies, then?” 

“Oh sweetheart, I make action movies look like a kid’s fist fight.”

“Wow, we have a bad boy on our hands, ladies and gentleman.” She finishes applying highlighter and sits back to admire her work. His jaw can cut glass. “Okay, Motorcycle Man, it’s time to take pictures. If you’re good, maybe I’ll draw the shoot out-- I’m not a fan of this humidity.”

Summer is better than winter, if only because she’s acquired a weird habit to almost hibernate when the temperature gets too cold. It’s easy for Marinette to shrug off the heat most days, even when her friends complain constantly.

“The name’s Jason.”

“I think I’ll stick with Motorcycle Man. Alliteration, you know? Now, one hand in your pocket, the other at your collar. Left leg out a little, like you’re ready to take a step-- perfect. Walk forwards a little, yeah, just like that.”

Jason is Adonis personified. The perfect package of cocky, arrogant, and bad boy. It doesn’t hurt that he’s well muscled either-- even Adrien doesn’t have thighs like that, and he spends hours as Chat Noir jumping from rooftop to rooftop. 

“You’re a natural,” Marinette praises. “Have you ever modeled before?”

“Not like this, but I’ve got my fair share of pictures on the internet.”

She’s going to regret asking this. But curiosity killed the cat, not the ladybug. “If not for modelling, then what for?”

“Oh, you know. This and that. A few odd jobs here and there.”

And if that doesn’t make Jason sound more like a criminal, she doesn’t know what will. Marinette decides that she definitely won’t bring up a day job, let alone a night job. 

“All right, next outfit.” She pushes a muscle tank top and light, ripped jeans into his hands.  “You can change in the public restroom, and if anything doesn’t fit, just let me know.”

He takes the outfit, but pauses at one of the other outfits she has in her bag. “Is that… leather and fur? For a shoot with the theme of summer heat?”

“I don’t call the shots, I’m just the poor lackey who has to make them look good. Trust me, if I were in charge of design, the only outfit that might still be in the bag is the one you’re holding right now.” Gabriel is definitely losing his touch. But hey, doing this weird intern summer program for him isn’t the worst thing she’s had to do in her life. It’s good to learn from other people’s mistakes, rather than making them herself. 

“Don’t worry. Crappy fashion isn’t going to scare me away. Have you seen some of Gotham’s villains?”

At that, she couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’re talking Gotham villains? How about Paris?”

“Paris is some weird alternate dimension. It doesn’t count,” Jason protests. 

“I could say the same for Gotham. Really, why are there so many Robins? Can’t they come up with another name?”

“I almost wish I could argue with that.”

He comes out of the stall, and Marinette feels the summer heat. Jason, Motorcycle Man is ripped. Yeah, his thighs are probably some of the thickest she’s seen, but his biceps are to die for. She’s half tempted to ask for his workout regime, but she’s sure that somewhere he’ll casually throw in ‘beating up random people on the street’ or ‘punching people who piss him off.’ Those are just the kind of vibes that Jason gives off. 

“The arm holes are kinda tight.”

“I’m sure they are,” Marinette breathes, chest tight. Jason’s eyes smoulder. He knows exactly what he’s doing as he places an arm on the door frame and flexes. She thinks she can die happy, now.

They wrap up the shoot quickly. All of the clothes are promptly packaged up except for the tanktop and jeans.  

@jasonette-july-2k20

____________________________________________________________

For the other jasonette prompts i’ve written for so far, i think i’ll probably continue them eventually, so lmk if you want to be added to the tag list for that. pretty surprised these are getting such a good reception thank you guys for that ;)

[moonlitceleste]

No Time to Die (Villain!Mari)

A/N: This is a songfic based on No Time to Die by Billie Eilish. I literally listened to this every day of the month and another six hours on repeat while writing this. It’s a miracle I’m not sick of it yet, but it’s a very timeless song. I seriously recommend listening to it to set the mood!

I should've known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed Is just the blood you owe

Marinette hadn’t meant to become a villain. Some might consider her an antihero, but her methods were much too ruthless for that. She wasn’t always like this—wasn’t always vicious and cruel. But her life was a tragedy, and there was no hope of ever making it out unsullied. She had seen too much, gone through too much for someone her age. All life ever did was take, take, take, and screw her over time and time again.

There was once a time where things were simpler, when she would have preached justice and righteousness above all. Those times were long gone.

It was her own sense of selflessness that led to her downfall. Marinette was once thought too pure to be corrupted, but power could corrupt anyone. Not even she could contest against the forces of the universe.

Perhaps what transpired had only unleashed something that was in her all along—a dark side she could no longer control. A thirst for justice, more merciless and ruthless than anything she had felt before. But it was the price she had to pay in order to keep balance within the world. When it was time to do what had to be done, the darkness inside her took over. It made her a villain.

Maybe what she just found out was inevitable, then. Marinette knew she shouldn’t have let her guard down, but a naïve part told her maybe things would be different. Maybe he would be different. She guessed she was wrong about that.

She wanted to feel anger at the injustice, at the fact that someone she once trusted had deceived her yet again—and she did. But it was overshadowed by agony, because maybe she deserved it. Maybe this was karma for all the blood she had spilled. The universe must maintain balance, after all.

Marinette gave one last lingering glance at the picture in her hands before placing it in her purse.

She left the apartment alone.

We were a pair But I saw you there Too much to bear You were my life But life is far away from fair

“Tim!”

Marinette shrieked as the black-haired boy chased her around her apartment, weaving around the moving boxes she had never bothered to throw out. Her eyes flitted around, trying to decide the best course of action. There! She swerved right, hoping to throw him off, but she had taken too long to decide.

The air left her lungs as a body tackled her. “Oof!” she exclaimed, unprepared for the force. Gravity took over and her body fell forward, but a pair of arms caught her from behind. Tim set her upright before wrapping his arms around her waist like a hug, trapping her body against his.

“Give me the phone.”

She panted, trying to catch her breath before responding. Her chest heaved from running for so long. Normally she would have been able to hold out for longer, but the business she attended to the day before was especially taxing. 

“No,” Marinette said, laughing breathlessly.

She resisted the urge to turn around and look at him, which would have been difficult anyways considering their height difference.

“I guess I’ll just have to take it from you then.”

She had a grand total of one second to register his words before he attacked. His fingers jabbed at her sides, prompting shrieks and laughter.

“St-stop it,” she gasped.

Tim smirked, an expression that wasn’t common on his face but beautiful nonetheless.

“Not until you surrender.”

His tickle assault continued for as long as Marinette could hold out (which wasn’t long).

“I yield!” she squawked, wanting the sensation to end as soon as possible.

“Do you?” he asked.

Marinette’s breath hitched as she suddenly realized how close he was.

His dark hair brushed her forehead, and she could count every lash framing his steel blue eyes. His normally porcelain skin was tinted a rosy hue, cheeks flushed from exhaustion. Or maybe from their proximity.

She knew they weren’t just friends—she wasn’t stupid, and neither was he. But they were both content with their relationship, and neither bothered to do anything about it.

Except that now, in the moment, Marinette wanted more. Apparently Tim agreed, with the way he was looking at her. There was a hungry glint in his eyes, which flickered down to her lips before gazing at her once more. A beat was all they needed to come to a silent agreement.

Marinette closed her eyes, tilting her head upwards from her position on the floor. Warm breath fanned across her face moments before soft lips brushed against hers. She melted into the kiss, feeling his heartbeat thud against her chest, smelling his cologne mixed with sweat. It was languid and sweet, and Marinette smiled against his lips. It just felt right.

The kiss ended abruptly, however, as Tim pulled away. She frowned in confusion and sat up, ready to ask what was wrong before catching sight of the phone in his hand.

“You cheater!” Marinette gasped. She straightened and lunged for her phone, but he simply held it out of reach before clicking the “delete” button.

“Gotcha,” he replied smugly.

“Hey,” Marinette pouted. “I liked that picture.”

The photo was one she had taken of Tim while he was unaware, which led to him chasing her around in an effort to get her to delete it.

“You owe me another one.”

He simply sighed and motioned her to come closer, taking his phone out at the same time. Marinette smoothed her hair out as he wrapped an arm around the back of her neck. She smiled at the camera before noticing Tim’s neutral expression.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Smile!”

He gave an awkward grimace, and Marinette poked him in the side until he rolled his eyes and gave a real smile to the camera.

After the selfie was snapped, they both looked at the results. Tim seemed surprised at the outcome, and Marinette had to admit they looked good together. Their previous tussle was obvious from their flushed faces, but it made the picture all the more charming. For a stressed young CEO and a secret villain, they looked happy.

She felt a gaze burning into her and turned to see Tim looking at her with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face.

“What?” she asked, confused.

His face morphed as a devious glint appeared in his eyes. Faster than a snake, he darted forward and placed a kiss onto the tip of her nose.

Marinette gaped like a fish, caught off-guard. She barely registered the flash of a camera; when she did, however, she snapped to attention.

“Hey! Gimme that!” she said indignantly.

Tim started to run, phone in hand, and Marinette followed, giggling at the boy’s antics all the way.

Giggled. It wasn’t something she thought she’d ever do again, but things changed after she met Tim Drake. She changed. After she met him, it was easier to control the darkness that took over her soul. It made her a little more human.

Moments of safety and happiness were always fleeting for her—even more so after the incident. But with Tim, things were different. Marinette felt normal around him. She felt loved. But little did she know those moments would soon come to an end.

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else

Love hurts. That was something Marinette knew better than anything, because she had always been the type to give her love away without receiving any in return—but that didn’t stop her from continuing to do it.

She was the problem. That’s what she’d been told all her life. Even when she was right, she was wrong. Especially when she was right. Anything that went south was her fault, because Marinette had to be perfect even though all she did was mess up.

Maybe the fact that everything in her life went wrong was a sign that she just wasn’t meant to be happy. She would never be good enough.

That was always obvious to everyone else.

That I'd fallen for a lie? You were never on my side Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

It was an accident.

Marinette had been scoping out her next target when she realized she had left something important behind at her apartment. She cursed her forgetfulness, which cropped up at the worst of times. Missions seemed to be the only thing she could succeed at nowadays, and there was no room for error. Checking her watch, she saw that there was still enough time to rush to her apartment and back.

She got there in record time, moving silently and swiftly, about to go through the window when a small detail caught her eye. Her front door was slightly ajar. When she had first moved in, she had to figure out a way to finesse the faulty door and get it to close correctly. Warning bells sounded in her head—someone had broken in. Or maybe she had forgotten to close the door correctly in a simple slip of the mind, but that was unlikely. No matter how off her game, Marinette wouldn’t have made this mistake. It was a reflex that couldn’t be broken.

She proceeded with caution, eyes narrowed. However tragic, the incident did provide her with the benefit of enhanced powers. Whoever was in there didn’t stand a chance. She could feel the darkness start to creep in, taking control.

The bluish glow of a light illuminated the inside of her apartment, and her limbs tensed in preparation. Movement in the corner of her vision made her snap her head to attention. There was a figure leaving her room, and the person was toying with something in their hands.

It was nearly pitch-black, but her enhanced senses bypassed any inhibitors. The culprit was wearing a black and red costume with strange chest straps and an emblem—one of Gotham’s vigilantes, then.

That meant they were onto her. She knew it would happen eventually; she was good, but Batman was better. Perhaps if she attempted to prove her innocence she could at least delay her inevitable capture. She dealt with magic, anyways—one more ancient than any other form. The traces left were hard to find by an experienced magic user and impossible to find by a non-user.

She was turned away from the window, about to return to her previous location as proof of her innocence and spin an alibi. But as she did so, the vigilante’s voice stopped her in her tracks. He was speaking quietly into his comm, but she could hear it. She could recognize it too. It sounded almost like—

“Tim,” the voice on the other end of the system said. “Are you almost done?”

It clicked, and horror flooded her Marinette’s body. It snuffed out the darkness, pushing the rage to the corners of her mind. It can’t be him, she thought. Because if it was him, it meant that she was wrong. She trusted him, and she was wrong.

“No names on comms, Dick,” the hero responded.

Any doubt Marinette had that it wasn’t Tim disappeared. A pit opened in her stomach, and the feeling of white-hot rage and betrayal blazed in her mind. Every inch in her body was screaming at her to get out, but she stayed. She needed to know.

“I checked her room, but I couldn’t find anything incriminating yet.”

“What about the bug?”

“Nothing. It didn’t pick anything up.”

A pause.

“That’s weird. Do you think she knows?”

“That I’m Red Robin? No. She wouldn’t have let me get this close if she did.”

Static sounded on the other side of the line before Dick responded one last time.

“Keep searching. If you can’t find anything else on her, we’ll have to take a more… direct approach.”

“Roger that.”

Tim pressed a button on his comms and resumed whatever he was doing, but Marinette had heard enough. She wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. She wanted to jump into the room and ask him if it was all a lie. Voices screamed at each other in her head, trying to get her to do something. Marinette drowned them all out. She steeled herself, turning her back to the window. Taking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and fell into the emptiness.

I let it burn You're no longer my concern Faces from my past return Another lesson yet to learn

Marinette unpacked the boxes she had teleported from her apartment, face carefully blank. The day after she had found out Tim was Red Robin was spent packing her things. Normally they would have already been ready to go; all she would have to do was enact one of her contingency plans. After all, Marinette was prepared for everything. But she wasn’t prepared for this.

The warehouse was one of her most secure, but it was cold and empty, the only warmth emanating from the gas fireplace. The fire flickered, and she could feel her resolve flicker with it. After a few moments, she placed her purse on her lap and gently pulled out the picture of her and Tim.

It was only taken a few weeks ago, but a lot of things could change in a few weeks. Her happy expression was foreign now, and Marinette closed her eyes as she gripped the picture tighter.

After a few moments of hearing the crackling fire, she opened her eyes and studied Tim’s face, carving it into memory.

Then she let it go and let it burn.

That I'd fallen for a lie You were never on my side Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

Marinette had dreams of him often. She hated them, because they gave her hope when hope was what hurt her in the first place.

In those dreams, he told her that he had always loved her. That he had made a mistake in deceiving her, and he wanted her back. Needed her back. He entertained her delusions, and she believed him. At least, until she woke up and cold reality struck.

She really was a fool.

No time to die No time to die

She didn’t think she’d ever see him again.

She didn’t know if she wanted to see him again.

But here they were, facing off. Hero versus villain.

Tim had shown up on one of her missions, somewhere off the coast of a random country. She couldn’t remember at this point. The darkness had consumed her completely, wrath twisting her face into one that was unrecognizable.

“You don’t have to do this.” The placating words sparked her temper.

“Neither did you,” she replied bitterly. They both knew what she really meant.

She charged forward, and Tim parried with his bo-staff, gritting his teeth at the force only to stumble backward when she ducked around and behind him. She sent a kick to the back of his knees—a dirty move, but she never played fair anyways.

Bracing his staff on the ground before him, he used the momentum just in time to flip himself over and avoid falling on his face.

Marinette surveyed emotionlessly as he panted from exhaustion. She could easily take him out right then, but she didn’t want to waste her energy. She had already done what was needed, and her target’s blood would take absolutely forever to get out of her suit.

It seemed as if Tim noticed, and his disbelief at her cruelty seeped through when he asked “How could you?”

She laughed derisively. “How could I?”

The vigilante at least felt some remorse from the way his eyes flashed. Up until this point she had been cold and detached, but he could hear a hint of desperation seep into her words. He knew what she was really asking: if what they had was real. If he had ever loved her, or if it was all a lie. He hesitated before opening his mouth.

“A mission is a mission.”

If he blinked he might have missed it. For a brief second she recoiled, visibly struck before schooling her expression into one of neutrality. Her back straightened, and she fell back into the person he couldn’t recognize. The darkness around her pulsed, and he shifted his weight into a defensive stance, preparing for another attack. But he wasn’t ready for what she had in store.

The darkness expanded, and Tim’s vision grew hazy. He could dimly register his body swaying before it hit the ground. As he faded in and out of consciousness, Marinette stepped into his field of vision. She looked the same since he had last seen her, but her eyes were shadowed and unforgiving. The same lips he used to kiss mouthed the words “a mission is a mission” before everything faded into black.

Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

She didn’t think it would end like this.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was just another normal mission; nothing dangerous—or at least, more dangerous than usual. Hunt down her target, extract information, do away with them as painfully as possibly, and leave.

But after her interaction with Tim, her work had gotten more sloppy. Rather than the icy rage that had become her new normal, her movements were fueled by anguish. Recklessness trumped logic, like she had lost control. And although she was off her game, she wouldn’t let something so trivial become a hindrance.

Until it did.

Marinette was ambushed. She leapt into action as quickly as her reflexes allowed; her movements were slightly delayed, but it was so imperceptible it shouldn't have made a difference.

Except for the fact that her attackers somehow knew her. Knew how she moved, knew exactly what her weaknesses were.

She took down two of the three opponents, leaving the best for last. But with every punch she threw they knew exactly where to block. Her adversary seemed to sense her frustration and laughed behind their infuriating black mask. Marinette snarled, lunging for the figure only to stumble over thin air.

“I thought you were supposed to be better than this.”

She got up and drew in deep breaths, sweat coating her forehead and exhaustion making her weary. She slowly walked in a circle, eyes darting around the shadows in the room.

“You beat one of the Bats, did you not?”

The darkness around her flickered, and that’s when the opponent struck.

Marinette felt the impact, but didn’t realize anything had happened until she moved her hand to see it covered in red. The liquid was warm and sticky, and the puddle beneath her was growing bigger by the second. Blood? She moved her hand closer to her face in an attempt to see it more clearly, but her vision blurred. The room swayed, and she heard an oof as her body hit the floor. It had come from herself.

She knew she had to do something, but she couldn’t move. It was like she was paralyzed. Marinette reached out only to have her arm fall lazily into the pool of red, limbs weak and movements sluggish.

Scarlet seeped into her gloves, and her body burned but was so numb at the same time. She felt so sleepy. Sleep, she thought, the word repeating in her mind like a mantra. A nap sounds good. Right before her eyes closed, pain erupted in her side. Her body jolted, and a cross between a gurgle and cough left her mouth. She tilted her head up to frown at whoever had kicked her only to see the black-hooded figure.

She couldn’t tell from the mask obscuring their face but was sure they had just given her a wicked smile. The person tutted. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Marinette let out a soft noise of defiance. Her protest only seemed to amuse them—them? she was pretty sure it was a woman—judging by the small chuckle they let out. They leaned down, and she felt cold hands caress her face, sending shivers down her spine.

The masked face lowered to her level, and a final message left their lips.

“You can thank Red Robin for his assistance.”

There was a yank, and a strange burning sensation coursed through Marinette’s body. She heard the clatter of an object and spotted a metallic glint before the figure stood up. Panic bloomed in her stomach as they walked away, her breathing getting more shallow by the moment.

She pushed aside the pain, choosing to ignore it in favor of turning over those parting words.

You can thank Red Robin for his assistance.

Red Robin. Marinette wanted to laugh at the irony. Stabbed in the back indeed.

Moments before Tim ran into the room, she took her last breath.

-

Notes:

I left the details of “the incident” purposefully vague so you guys could think of your own turning point for her. Personally, what I imagine is that after Hawkmoth’s defeat, Marinette tried to take the magical punishments in his place. She also combined both Miraculous and tried to unbind the kwamis so they couldn’t be abused again, but there were consequences. The power “corrupted” her and made more violent. She’s still a hero, technically, but rather than saving people she punishes (kills) them for wrongdoings which is why she’s considered a villain.

In case you’re confused about the ending, here’s what happened: I dressed the ambushers in League of Assassins-esque clothing; I actually wrote it with Talia in mind but decided to leave the person unidentified. Essentially, Marinette lost focus when her opponent mentioned her fight with Tim and got stabbed in the back. The person tells her to “thank Red Robin for his assistance.” Marinette interprets this as another betrayal; basically, she thinks Tim willingly helped them kill her by providing them with information on her. This isn’t the case since they actually stole the information from him, but Marinette doesn’t know that. Whether or not the opponent actually meant for her to think she was betrayed is up for interpretation.

I was actually debating between a few endings—I’ll put them here just for funsies. The more angst the better :D

Marinette dies a while after the apartment incident and never actually talks to/meets Tim again

Someone randomly kills her (no mention of “betrayal”)

Tim accidentally kills her

A clone of Tim kills her

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad

[internalsealpanic]

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it. 

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.  

word count:  5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal. 

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting.  You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral, 

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step. 

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once. 

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license. 

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back. 

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young. 

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place. 

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA! 

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you. 

Fucking hilarious. 

Just fanfuckingtastic. 

You’d see about that. 

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief. 

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones. 

You were going to get him back. 

You will. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend. 

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.  

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused. 

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head. 

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked. 

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win. 

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook. 

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted.  he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him. 

“Are you even literate?” He joked. 

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught. 

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

 You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high. 

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you. 

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”. 

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead. 

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty. 

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably. 

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.   

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that  your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand. 

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to. 

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering  and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard. 

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged. 

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter. 

“Fine,” 

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard. 

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope. 

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing. 

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it. 

Jason owed you big time. 

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup. 

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug. 

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug. 

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it. 

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets. 

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.  

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much? 

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration. 

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked. 

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you. 

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared. 

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open. 

You were going to be sick. 

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a  bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months. 

Now,  you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss. 

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile. 

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if  you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much. 

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you. 

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts. 

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry. 

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person. 

Focus. 

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further. 

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything. 

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue. 

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun. 

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt  Jason. 

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms. 

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.  

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence. 

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty. 

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen. 

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened. 

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft. 

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker. 

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness.  Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb. 

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours. 

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing. 

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface. 

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics. 

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest. 

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl. 

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder.  You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them.  Seriously fuck them. 

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin. 

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-  

You woke up on the damp earth. 

Everything ached. 

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish. 

Your mind even more so. 

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes. 

Your senses returned to you one by one. 

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness. 

Your fingers felt cold and numb. 

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses. 

That wasn’t right. 

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago. 

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint. 

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically. 

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone. 

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you. 

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back. 

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself. 

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought. 

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing. 

 Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable. 

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

  He was dead. 

  He died. 

  He was in Ethiopia. 

  He was trying to save his mom. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Where is Bruce? 

  Where is he? 

  Why is it so dark? 

  Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in. 

  That’s when the smell of earth hit him. 

  Jason pressed his hands every which way. 

  He was literally boxed in. 

  Was he in a coffin?

  He tried to scream. 

  His mouth was wired shut. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god.

  Oh god. 

  He was going to die.  

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

The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments. 

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back. 

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist: 

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

[anothertimdrakestan]

Heat Waves (TimKon)

Words: 3k

Hi! I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve been working on this for way too long and definitely have a pt2 planned out if you guys like part one! I hope you’ll take the time to read this because I spent way too long on it and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

for the like 0.1% of my audience that this overlaps with, yes, i too am utterly obsessed with Heat Waves for DNF and have been listening to this song on repeat for three days straight waiting for chapter 8. But, i figured why not let that amazing piece of absolute art inspire a Timkon fic cuz they have the same dynamic as DNF in my eyes! All credits go to tbhyourelame on ao3!

if you don’t know what heat waves is that’s fine this is just a regular fic but I highly recommend you checkout the amazing song here 

It was as hot as death itself in Kansas. Not to mention a farm with no AC was just about the worst place Conner could be forced to “vacation” at. But Ma and Pa had been begging to have him over and the month of June just seemed to overlap, so there Kon was, sweating buckets in the middle of nowhere. 

It felt so cold in Gotham. Though, the temperature was comfortable- the most comfortable it had been all year- but Tim always felt colder, lonelier, when Conner wasn’t by his side. The two of them were a duo, fitting together like a puzzle piece, the absolute best of friends and best of heroes. But now, he was using his mandatory away-from-the-tower weeks up while Conner was in Kansas, it was some sort of mandate that Bruce’s kids come home occasionally and instead of suffering weekends in Gotham Tim opted to just grind out a few weeks at the manor, even if it meant dealing with Damian’s unrelenting murder attempts. But it wasn’t all bad, Tim got to patrol with Bruce again, hang out with Jason occasionally, and even see Dick from time to time. “Family” bonding at it’s finest. 

“Hello?” Tim’s voice was quiet, Kon constantly felt himself turning the volume button up on his phone just to hear a decibel more of his best friend’s comforting tone. 

“Hey Timbers how was your day?” Conner felt himself relaxing to the light sound of Tim breathing, he was laying on the floor, spread like a starfish so that no sticky part of his body could touch and create more sweat. 

“Nothing much, no patrol tonight- I guess you remembered,” Tim’s voice was filling his ears. I remember everything you tell me. “Yeah, yeah I did,” Conner quickly replied. “Any boring farm chores today?” Conner heard the familiar rustling, he could hear Tim stand up, he’d memorized the sound of Tim taking him off speaker and resting the phone in between his shoulder and ear. He could hear Tim’s hair, that he knew he was probably growing out, brush the mic. I always liked his hair longer. 

“Kon?” Tim snapped him back into the stiflingly hot room. “Oh sorry, it’s really hot here, kinda makes me zone out. Um, I’m alright I got to hangout with the cows today which was cool- they don’t like the heat either but Ma says it’ll be over soon,” Conner rambled, all too focused on Tim’s breath in his ear. 

“Sorry for making you zone out, I guess nothing interesting is happening here,” Tim sighed, Conner shook his head, rolling over on the floor, leaning down into the mic of his phone. 

“Nothing about you bores me Tim,” 

Tim didn’t reply. Conner mentally cursed himself, he was really too tired, too hot and bothered to be this flirtatious with Tim, who was a complete wild card when it came to Conner. 

And then he answered, Tim’s voice was higher pitched, the way it ascended when he was blushing- he was blushing. “Well that’s not true, I’m very boring. When I’m doing cases or training or-” Conner couldn’t take it. 

“Nothing about you could bore me Tim. I’m down to be with you whenever, doing whatever, you know that,” he felt his tone soften, loving the way Tim’s breath hitched with every compliment.

“Be with me?” Tim shot back playfully, Conner could practically hear the smirk toying on the smaller boy’s lips. 

“Did I stutter?” Conner heard a loud noise, a thump. Tim’s voice was high pitched again, “Sorry- uh I dropped my phone,” Conner felt himself growing warmer, if at all physically possible. “No problem. So, what are you doing tomorrow with Bruce?” Conner didn’t like pushing Tim too far, hell, he barely knew how he felt half the time. Tim’s voice brightened, “Oh! We’re gonna go to this old ice cream shop I adored as a kid! It’s been too long since I’ve been there, you remember me talking about it?” 

Conner didn’t need a second to answer, “Sub 30, you always get the one with the espresso poured over it,” he couldn’t lie, ice cream sounded absolutely heavenly at the moment. Tim’s voice flooded through the heat, “Right as always- I swear they programmed some sort of photographic memory inside of you,” Tim teased, Conner answered honestly, “I just listen when you tell me things”. The night went on, Tim quickly had to go, believe it or not he did sleep when given the opportunity. “Try not to die of heat exhaustion, drink lots of water throughout the day, not all at once,” Conner smiled, “will do, goodnight Timmy,” Tim answered mid yawn, “night Kon”.

And then he was alone. Alone with the heat, with his thoughts, the latter far more dangerous. He’s my best friend, of course I remember everything. Conner found himself staring at the ceiling, Ma had painted constellations on the walls and ceilings of the room, something funny about alien genes liking the stars. Conner used to be able to find every pattern, name every star, but the only shape he could trace was Tim. There were his eyes, they were pools of deep blue, they sparkled when he laughed but could glare bullets when he tried. If he stared hard enough Kon could find his hair, it’s always soft and smells delicious, layers falling effortlessly- cascading to frame his face. Then there were his lips, Conner found himself constantly mesmerized with the way Tim bit his bottom lip when thinking, the way they scrunched together when he said something funny, how they constricted when he bit the inside of his cheek just enough to hide the emotion he was so scared of portraying. They were perfect. 

He let the heat take his mind, flowing with the stars as he thought dangerous thoughts about his best friend. His thoughts danced around Tim’s waist, flowing carefully around his chest, wrapping Kon in every layer of Tim’s personality, every smile, laugh, tear, scowl, it was Tim. Kon’s Tim. 

And there, on the floor, he drifted to an uncomfortable, sweaty sleep.

~

Tim was scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Gotham was surprisingly boring. He once found the city bustling and distinctly alive but now it only left him cold, cold and bored. 

“Ice cream as good as you remember?” Bruce’s voice lifted him from his device. “Yup! Can’t believe you let me have espresso at like 10, you basically started my addiction.” Tim threw on a smile, glancing down at the half eaten dessert. “Yeah, can’t say I was the best father but, I tried,” Bruce’s shoulders shook lightly, but the laughter didn’t make it to his eyes. Did you really try? Truly? Tim dove back into the creamy sweet, admiring the bitterness the espresso brought the flavor. His phone buzzed.

K: Did you get the ice cream?

T: yeah, you remembered?

K: You literally told me last night

T: have i been off your mind since? 

K: No.

Conner always did this, every time Tim thought he’d throw him off guard with something funny or flirtatious just to have a little fun Kon took it and ran with it. And I’m always the one who ends up blushing. Tim thought, shaking his head. It was really his fault he let Conner get him riled up. They were best friends, flirting or dealing out little sexual quips were natural, and often pretty funny. 

“Earth to Tim? I’ve got a meeting you wanna head back while I head to the office?” Tim glanced over at Bruce who was now standing up in front of him. “Yeah, I can work on cases back at the manor, you gonna head to the office?” stretching his arms he stood up, noticing Bruce had put on his business face- the one stone cold and dry that only brought back the worst memories. “Yes.” His response was gruff, Tim suppressed the shudder that tried to dance down his spine. “Uh yeah, I’ll head back, have a nice day B,” he smiled, hoping it made it to his eyes. 

~

“You can’t keep calling me while I’m on patrol, it’s not safe,” Tim chastised Conner loosely, appreciating the company as his patrol with Damian was always deathly silent. “C’mon, you’re used to having me in your ear,” Tim gulped, glancing around for Damian who was three buildings over, deeply uninterested. “Kon, oh my god, I’m gonna mute you,” Tim whispered, revelling in the chuckle that stirred in Conner’s chest. It was deep, and warm, so distinctly warm Tim felt the heat budding in his chest. 

“So, patrol with the demon? He hasn’t cut your grapple line yet?” Conner’s tone was low and silky smooth. Coughing to clear his throat Tim replied, “nope, he’s most horrific when Bruce is here, when he’s not the punk couldn’t care less whether I live or die,” 

“I care,”

“I know Kon,” If only you knew how much I appreciated it. 

“Asshole, can you hear me? I said we’ve got a gang robbery on second? You coming genius?” Damian’s disgusted tone flooded over his comm, and Tim quickly turned his attention to the bat-brat who was already grappling towards the alarms and shouts. Conner’s whisper asked, “can he hear me?” and Tim replied, “no, you’re on a separate channel, Dami can only hear me when I unmute. Just be quiet while I take out these thugs,”

“Why? Because my voice distracts you?” Conner’s tone shifted into dangerously flirtatious. 

“No, cuz you’re annoying as shit,” Tim smirked, running across the top of a building, letting Damian call the signals so he didn’t get all upset. 

“Do I make you uncomfortable Tim? Do I make you forget just exactly what you’re doing, whether you want to use your batarang or bo staff? Do I make you, warm? Because it’s so warm here, so hot, god I’m just so hot I-”

“Shut. Up.” Tim struck the gun out of a scared looking man. Rolling his eyes at the man in his ear.

“Why? Are you too focused? We’ve taken out much harder criminals all while talking. Aren’t we just talking right now?” Kon’s voice was ringing in his head like never before. 

“I’m trying to focus but it’s no good when you’re in my ear.”

“And what if I wasn’t in your ear? You remember? When we work side by side, so close- are you an affectionate person Tim?” Tim could feel the heat dripping off of Conner’s voice, but he was taken aback by Conner’s new line of thought.

“Wha- what? Am I affectionate? I don’t know. Sometimes?” Tim almost missed a hit, huffing as Damian blocked what would’ve been a hard blow on him. “Start paying attention Drake,” Damian’s tone was acidic. But he was drawn back into his com as Conner’s voice flooded his ears again.

“Would you be affectionate with me?”

“Yes” Tim’s breathless reply was instant, his brain not giving him a chance to think.

“Good, I like that. You know I’m very affectionate too? I like getting to hold the people I care about close, feeling their warmth. You know I’m very warm right now?”

“I- I know Kon, I bet, are you doing alright? Drinking water?” Tim shook out the thought of Conner lazing out in his room, sweaty, lips parted as he pushed out warm breath- Stop. Focus. Your job is to defend these people. Damian’s doing a good job, You just have to round up the civilians. Tim forced himself back into the real world, taking on one of the gang members with ease, tying him up swiftly before moving on to the next.

“I heard that, I can hear it every time you take out one of those men. This is easy isn’t it? I can’t be that distracting to you. You’re too good.”

“You always do this,” Tim felt his cheeks heating up, his steps felt forced, like he had to remind himself to breathe. Tim carefully rounded up civilians, escorting them to safety as Conner started again in his ear. 

“Always do what Tim? Tell you how much I appreciate you? How much I miss you? Do you not think you deserve to be missed? To be loved?”

“Conner” Tim’s tone was harsher than he wanted it to be. But nonetheless Conner continued. 

“Why not? Why the hell not? You’re amazing Tim.”

Tim scoffed, playing it off as a cough to the people in front of him.

“What do you need to hear Tim? That you’re amazing? Brilliant?-”

“Oh my god Kon-” Tim interrupted, but Conner wasn’t done.

“Talented? Impressive? [his tone deepended] - Attractive?” 

“I’m gonna hang up,” Tim was breathing so hard he was practically hyperventilating. The compliments were all that consumed his thoughts, swirling around his brain, packing it full of deep, dangerously flammable thoughts. 

And Conner was ready to let it burn.

“You need to be kissed Tim,” Conner murmurs, throat raw, “so hard that you can’t remember your name- maybe then you’ll understand what I mean.”

The batarang in Tim’s hand clattered to the floor. Damian’s head whipped to him as Tim struggled to regain function. 

“I’m muting you, see you in a bit,” was all Tim could choke out before he ripped the earpiece out, unable to let it sit, burning into his skull. You’re almost done here, cool down, finish up. Tim told himself as he manually reminded himself to breathe. You’ve got this. 

~

Conner knew Tim ended the call. But he didn’t have the energy to stop the endless beeping from the disconnected phone. 

He was laying on the floor of his room, limbs spread out as he clawed for anything that could cool him down, but all he could feel was heat as he stared up at the stars.

He had to admit, he’d pushed Tim further than ever before. But it felt too right to stop, too good. He couldn’t stop replaying the way Tim’s breath hitched after every word, desperately grasping for the feeling budding up in his chest. It was too addictive to not let the words he’d spent too long crafting pour from his lips into Tim’s heart. 

Kon didn’t know how long he laid there, dazed in the heat, just trying to relive word after perfect word. 

Until his phone rang.

“Tim?” his voice was ragged and raw.

Tim’s was high pitched and tight. “Conner what the hell was that? Was that funny to you? Saying all those things- flirting with me while I’m trying to do my job?” 

“Flirting?” Conner mused, staring at the stars with a tattered smirk on his face.

“Don’t act dumb, I don’t know what kind of sick joke it was saying all that while I’m on patrol but I’m glad you think you’re funny,” Tim’s voice was cold. But not the cooling tone, it was sharp, like the way the freeze of ice can feel so painfully hot when applied too harshly. 

“I would’ve said it to you no matter what you were doing,” Conner whispered, resting his phone on his chest, wincing at the sticky noise it made as he tried to adjust it’s positioning. 

“So that was just all for you? To let you listen as you screwed with my brain?” Tim retorted. 

Conner was done dancing around the truth, all forms of control eluding his mind. “Yes,”

“That’s cruel Kon, can you imagine if I did that with you? Told you how you needed to be kissed while you’re out with Jon or something?” Tim sounded exasperated, but at the end of each quip Kon could hear the deep breaths he was taking. Does- Does he like this?

Tim continued. “Don’t answer that. Shut up, I know what you’re gonna say. ‘Oh Tim it’s not the same,’ just- just get out of my head!”

Conner sat up. He was floating. Floating in the middle of his room, the phone on his chest tumbling to the floor as he scrambled to grab it again, feeling his feet touch the ground as he held the phone as close to his lips as he could.

“What do you mean Tim? How am I in your head?” Do you feel the same way I do right now?

“You- you just know me. So well, and when you say stuff like that- when you’re in my ear saying those things your voice, it’s like fire, it burns.” Tim sounded desperate, his voice painfully strained. 

Conner’s head was spinning, “I burn you?” he matched Tim’s desperate tone.

“You melt me.” 

Conner’s head slammed against the roof of his room, as he tried to regain control of his senses he heard Tim murmur, “does that make sense?”

“More than you know Timbers, more than you know,” Conner could hear Tim let out a sigh, the kind that told him all would be okay. 

As Conner took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come Tim spoke first. “It’s so late Kon, I’ve been up to long, I think I need to go to bed,” Tim’s tone was soft again, the cooling, comforting tone that Kon was scared he’d never hear again. 

"Yeah, I- uh, have chores in the morning anyways.” Conner answered, hoping to give Tim some peace of mind.

“Okay, sounds good. Goodnight Conner,” Tim said quietly, his tone thoughtful and slow, finally letting the sleep crowd his mind. 

“Goodnight Tim, talk to you tomorrow?” Conner let too much hope sink into those last few words. 

“Yes, night now,” Tim answered easily, quickly hanging up the call, letting Conner sink down back into the carpet of his floor. 

“Tomorrow,” Conner whispered to himself, feeling the intense heat start to creep back in as he drifted into a sweaty sleep.

~

“Tomorrow,” Tim whispered to himself, trying to swallow the nerves he didn’t know Conner could draw out of him. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

-

-

-

not my usual fic but I really hope you enjoyed! 

taglist: @vintageroses10 @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @foenixphire @how--are--you @psych0crybaby @romance-is-tragic @birdy-bat-writes @subtleappreciation @officiallydarkgeek also kita cuz i love u and wanted to try writing timkon more in your style hehehe @river-bottom-nightmare 

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Jason’s Room — Jason Todd x Reader (+ Dick Grayson)

SUMMARY: “Yeah?”You hear music; it’s loud, deafening probably, but you don’t have to worry about waking up your partner.Dick is out patrolling, and the bed is now cold. You try and warm yourself up in the duvet. Still doesn’t help, but there’s a rush that slowly burning up your body.No one talks, but you’ve seen the caller ID; enough to make you worry after checking the time, see if it was an emergency. But Jason seems to be frozen.“Jay, I saw it was you. Everything alright?”

WORD COUNT: 2140.

TW: Angsty, toxic relationship implied. Some cheating can be read, but is not acted on. Jason Todd is not portrayed as a good person on this one.

A/N: I have no excuse for writing this, other than really wanting to, which I think it’s a good step, seeing as I’ve abandoned writing for my own pleasure completely. So yeah, just have this.

LYRICS COMPLETELY TAKEN FROM “Marvin’s Room”, by Drake.

Bitches in my old phone

I should call one and go home

I've been in this club too long

 He’s really so fucking drunk. He shouldn’t be allowed to go out on nights like that, but he still does.

(Maybe clinging to the idea that someone will call him up and say “hey, don’t go, I know you’re bad, let’s talk?”.

 He’s stupid, really stupid. Stupid enough to-)

 No, he’s already drinking up another shot, from that lined up column of alcohol in front of him. Jason’s pretty sure he’s at a new club, but he can’t say for sure: nothing is familiar and yet everything echoes in him for a reason: faces, blurred-out expressions of joy and a world going too fast around him; music beating too hard in his chest, making his heart almost leap out of it; laughter that he’s not sure that’s coming out of him really, even as he feels his smile growing, a charismatic and cocky attitude coming out of him.

He could have anyone he wanted; Jason knows he doesn’t have the suave attitude of the family, and yet “the bad boy” always attracts a certain crowd of girls he feels like he could go in for that night.

Jason knows he could, but doesn’t. His hand moves up and down this gorgeous girl at her side, a bronzed goddess, but his eyes move to check up his phone: no new messages or calls.

It’s obsessive really. It must have been the third time he’s done that since his last shot, but… It’s infuriating to know he’s not needed.

 (He is; there’s always that stupid booty call, the fucking vigilante stuff he feels less and less like going in for – it now means something different, something that wrecks him up inside – or the casual reaching out he’s not really interested in deepening.

Just not by that one person he hasn’t heard anything from in the last weeks.

And you said you’d call by now (“in a week or so”), and yet--)

  The woman that I would try

Is happy with a good guy

But I've been drinkin' so much

That I'ma call her anyway, and say

 “Yeah?”

You hear music; it’s loud, deafening probably, but you don’t have to worry about waking up your partner.

Dick is out patrolling, and the bed is now cold. You try and warm yourself up in the duvet. Still doesn’t help, but there’s a rush that slowly burning up your body.

No one talks, but you’ve seen the caller ID; enough to make you worry after checking the time,  see if it was an emergency... But Jason seems to be frozen.

“Jay, I saw it was you. Everything alright?”

“Fuck, I-Fuck, no, I’m-Agh, I’ave to get out of ‘ere… Excuse YOU!” He drags out the vocals; tone is sleazy, lazy, and you would recognize that anyone, of course.

“Are you drunk? Jason?”

You feel incredibly naked, even with your thick pajamas out; you’ve lived this out too many times, and you can almost see him climb your bed.

It’s been a long time since he’s done that, but it’s something you will always remember: the creaking of the wood, springs of the bed, rustling of sheets as he tossed sheets here and there all night.

(The stupid “I love you’s”, the lazy and very drunken make-outs, while groping each other).

“Jason, are you okay or not?”

I know you still think about the times we had

I say fuck that nigga that you think you found

And since you picked up, I know he's not around, oh oh

I'm just sayin' you could do better

 Cause even if those VERY BLURRY nights that you can’t almost remember were nice, there were also the others; those which kind of made you hold onto Dick tighter in bed, at dawn when he sneaked in, cold skin, occasionally bruised. He felt so precious and delicate under the first rays of sun, as his dreams started to die under his eyelids, barely any movement in his body save the soft breathing out of his mouth. Too precious, and too yours.

You loved him entirely and completely. He made you feel so happy you wanted to cry at times; there was nothing lacking, not the sex, not the affection.

 But Jason doesn’t think the same.

What about the rush, what about the times you’ve had?

“Why you pick up?” I know he’s not there, he implies, but doesn’t say. She knows too. “It’s late. Thought you were now reformed; no phone after 2AM or something like that, right?”

“Some of us have jobs. Unfortunately, I don’t have a fortune to fall back on”.

“Ouch.”

It’s very easy to just talk. They laugh, and she gets up on bed; Jason can picture her, duvet up to her chin, propping up her pillow (the best he’s had), to talk better, while still charging the phone. He hears the rustling on her side, meaning she’s staring at the side he used to sleep in. She always loved to sleep tucked into his chest.

“You still haven’t answered.”

“Right back at ya’. Are you okay?”

A really difficult question for a drunken and very honest man at 3AM in the morning.

If he was a better man, he would wish her a goodnight and hang up; no more talking, no more suggesting, no more playing with fire. If he was a better man, he probably wouldn’t be drunk-texting girls to “cheer him up” after this call, and he would just go home, sleep it off, and go at it again another night.

But he really is not, and it’s too late to go back now. That’s at least what he tells himself, what he tries to entitle himself into: he feels too much, he’s had it bad the last couple of weeks without you. So, he is owed that.

And that is his mistake, for no one is entitled to anything over anyone, no matter their own personal suffering.

“I guess.” Vague; but enough to let her get out, not dig in. Which is really a trap when he knows of your good nature, but he tells himself that it’s your choice (your fault!) for asking about it.

“That’s… Comforting, I guess. Friend calling at 3AM, probably lost and unaware of where he is right now, fucking drunk and in a completely safe neighborhood, I’m sure…”. There’s a sigh. He hates hearing you sigh; it’s always cause you’re so tired of him, he knows, he knows. And he hates himself for it, makes him feel so useless. “Just send me your location, I’ll guide you home.”

‘But aren’t you on Blüdhaven?’, he naïvely wants to ask, just to almost punch himself right after. She means the safe house or whatever place is near, that she might have still saved as her favorite or most usual locations at Gotham.

Tell me, have you heard that lately?

I'm just sayin' you could do better

And I'll start hatin' only if you make me

 “So, why you pick up?”, he asks again, just enough sober. His stomach is in knots from the alcohol (and not waiting for your answer, just hearing your voice and talking to you). He’s on a taxi, and the yellow lights on him are making him sleepy. “I answered.”

It’s 4.38AM. Sending a cab there was easy enough once you had his location and Jason swore he wasn’t moving anymore. Bless technology, you think to yourself now a bit irritated for wanting to sleep and not being able to. Your lids are heavy, and the sheets too soft.

“Obviously cause’ I’m an idiot who forgot to silence their phone.” It’s a half-joke. If you had done just like Dick had suggested, you would not be having that conversation. You change sides in your bed, now looking outside, to the window; Jason’s sigh is audible. You almost feel a heavy and ghostly arm bracing you from behind. “If the info is correct, you should be arriving home soon. Wanna hang up?”

“I miss you.”

A beat.

Breath knocked out of your lungs and silence only interrupted by your dramatic mouth breathing. You literally forgot to breathe; that’s how being with Jason used to make you feel.

As exciting and exhilarating every night out or in with him was, it was not good for you. The nights that were good, but the bad ones, really made your feel like shit. And if someone loves you, they will never hurt you. You know, you so know, how bad he’s had it: but that’s not an excuse for his shitty behavior, his stupid harmful jokes or the way he made you feel.

“Jason, it’s been a long week, I know.”

“No, I know, I know-I’m not-I’m not trying to-“. A sigh. His sighs always broke you: too tired, too broken. Jason always had a way with words, but you managed to sometimes kill that off too. “I don’t want to start out anything. I just want to say sorry. I wanted to, but I know-fuck, I really KNOW-“

“Don’t scream, please.” Firm. Cold.

He’s losing you.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m an ass.” He laughs; it’s self-deprecating and you hate it, but you really don’t have the energy right now. “I…”. Nothing comes out. There’s a long silence. Inhale, exhale (“Jason, just breathe, please”): “I love you. Probably more than I would ever admit to do, and you mean so much to me, but I fucked up big time. And I know, I know-” He emphasizes, without elevating his tone. “-I know you’re so happy with him, fuck! It’s disgusting. It’s fucking bizarre to see you two together.” Poison that he spits, that’s eating him out; acid destroying everything inside, every little nerve of sanity still inside. “And yet, I can’t stop-I really think I don’t want to stop thinking on whatever we had, on the kiss we shared-“

“Jay, that was not-“

“No, I know. I know, but we shared it, and it brought me memories, and you closed off! Fuck, I had you to myself, we were-fuck.”

He curses out for a bit. You let him vent, sighing and putting your hand over your eyes, as if to stop everything from happening. No more 3AM calls.

Had it been pretty shitty of you to get with his “brother”? Maybe, but it wasn’t on purpose or with a malicious intent. It really had been pure coincidence that you had hit if off on one of the galas where Jason stood you up, with a considerable hangover and too sick to move anywhere. That, with the argument you had been having more and more often… Jason wasn’t sure you were even going to show up, but there they had met, and he regrets it every day.

 (But sometimes…

 Sometimes they look so perfect that he thinks they might just have been destined to happen, one way or another. If it was not in a gala, maybe a rescue, maybe a touch on the street, a crush, a rude Gothamite exchange of words as you clashed onto each other.

 Whatever. It just happened and now you two were together.)

 “Jason, I was never… “Only yours” to have.”

“On that we can agree. We never really settled, and I didn’t ever treat you nice.”

Not like she wanted; he knew. They were just… Casual friends who fucked every two weeks, who occasionally kissed and got jealous over the other receiving attention from the opposite sex (sometimes same sex). Despite what everyone else thinks, he is quickly to see others social intentions; her whispers on his skin, the brightness on her eyes whenever they would do it with such intimacy, the cuddling… No, he knew, of course he did, that she wanted more.

Jason just wasn’t ready for it. He might never be, but it’s not your fault; never was, never will. And he might just have lost forever the one thing he wanted.

But that’s the thing: everyone wants the chocolate scoop. But what they might need for a change is something they’ve never tried before.

“I don’t know what you’re babbling on about ice cream, Jay. I really…”. She’s tired, he knows. From him, from Dick and his waiting (she never really liked him going on rounds); from just having to bear with all the weight of the world on her naked and frail shoulders. “It’s not the time for this conversation. Can we… Talk another time?”

A beat.

Inhale, exhale.

“Yeah.”. Tired, so tired. Lids closing off,. “I’m here anyways, so I’ll hang up…”. Silence; insufferable silence. He closes his eyes for a second. “Have a goodnight.”

“You too, Jason.”

He’s not there, but he will be soon. He hopes for that, at least; everything will be easier.

[divinespill]

dark magic in those deep brown eyes

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma, Diedre Vance, Nina Damfino

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Read on Ao3 here.

—

“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me bring the girls along,” Edward sighs.

“I don’t believe even Query and Echo could rein in your stupid decisions.” Jonathan replies coldly.

“I see, so this is my fault now!”

“You’re the one who got us locked in the fucking closet,” Jonathan snaps.

“What else was I supposed to do? It was this or Arkham,” Edward replies, wrinkling his nose. “You really should be thanking me. I don’t know how I managed to fit us both in here, what with your ridiculous limbs.”

“How sweet of you,” Jonathan says dryly. He doesn’t argue the fact though, most likely because he does in fact take up most of the space thanks to his height, arms crossed lest they hit the cold piping that runs along the back wall.

“You’d think the Gotham Museum of Antiquities would have bigger storage rooms, given their grandiosity in everything else,” Edward muses. “Alas.”

Edward had teamed up with the Scarecrow to take over the museum for logical reasons; the doctor wanted to test a new strain of his toxin, and Edward wanted the new emerald on display that had been unveiled last week. Jonathan had scoffed at him for that, of course. Anyhow, it had all been going quite smoothly until Batman showed up to ruin their fun as he was wont to do. With no time to get to the ground floor and unwilling to risk a broken leg by jumping out the window, Edward had made the split second decision to grab Jonathan and pull them both into a storage closet, flinging a smoke bomb—green, obviously—through the window he refused to jump out of for good measure, hoping the police and the caped crusader would assume they’d made their escape.

And in fact it had worked, as they waited with bated breath until the sounds of gruff voices and heavy boots faded away. It was quite brilliant, really. Perfect improvisation.

…Except for the fact that the closet was apparently able to lock on its own.

When Edward had been sure that the coast was clear he’d gone to turn the doorknob, casually at first, then more and more frantically as the reality of the situation dawned on him.

Jonathan had snapped at him to hurry up and let him out, and Edward had shot right back that if Jonathan wanted to try, he was welcome to.

Jonathan did so, and when he failed to produce results either a great deal of arguing ensued, continuing all the way to the present.

“Look, let me call the girls and we’ll be out of here before you know it.” Edward digs into his pocket for his phone, dialing up Query but unable to resist rolling his eyes at Jonathan, who huffs.

“Childish,” Jonathan grumbles.

“Oh, whatever.”

“Boss?” Query’s voice is a welcome sound. “I was about to call you. You’re late for poker. Heist went wrong?”

Ah, in his emotional duress Edward had nearly forgotten about their weekly game night. “Indeed, I'm afraid we might have to postpone. Our favorite vigliante showed up and we had to improvise. He thinks we’re halfway across the city by now.”

“I’m going to take a guess and say that they’re wrong about that.”

“Correct. We are in a closet.”

There’s a pause. Edward thinks he hears a snicker in the background, a distinctly Echo noise. He’ll have to have a word with her later about proper respect. He pays them too much to be laughed at.

“Sorry, what?” Query asks.

“We’re locked in a storage closet in the museum,” Edward repeats. “Second floor, left wing. So, if you would be so kind as to come assist us in getting out of said closet, it would be appreciated. Do not ask how it happened.”

Murmuring on the other end of the line. “Alright, but it might be a minute.”

Edward can feel dread creeping up his spine. “Query, exactly how long is a minute?”

“Well, several minutes.” Query pauses, the way she does when delivering news she knows Edward won’t be happy to hear. “Probably… twenty.”

Edward makes a noise somewhere between a cough and a frustrated whine. “You can’t get here any faster?”

“Going off what you said, Bat’s on the prowl, boss,” Query says, and Edward can practically hear her shrug of what can I do? “We gotta take the long way round if you don’t want to be stuck there for days while we sit around behind bars.”

“Fine.” Edward pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just make it as quick as you can.”

“You got it.”

He hangs up, cursing under his breath. Jonathan raises a brow. “Trouble?”

“They’re taking a detour,” Edward says snippily. “We’ll have to coexist a while longer yet.”

“Coño,” Jonathan hisses.

“Oh, now that's just vulgar,” Edward complains. “Where’s you learn that? You’re Colombian.” He’s still unused to hearing Jonathan’s Spanish—he pitches his voice differently than when he speaks English, and it’s more attractive than Edward will ever admit aloud.

“Colombian-Ecuadorian,” Jonathan corrects, “but if you must know, I picked it up during a brief and awful stay in Miami.”

“What on Earth were you doing in Miami?” Edward is thoroughly taken aback.

“Had a new formula and wanted to see how it interacted with heat,” Jonathan explains. “Gotham isn’t very conductive for that, and Batman was on my tail that month anyway, so I took a… vacation, you could call it.”

“Ah, a nice relaxation vacation of terrorizing the good Cubans of Florida. And picking up their slang, it seems.”

Jonathan sighs.

They lapse into silence for the first time since discovering they were trapped. In this proximity Edward is hyper aware of every movement the other makes, every time the rhythm of his breathing changes. He’s worked with Jonathan before, sometimes successfully and sometimes not, but this is new. It’s not odd for them to argue, but the circumstances have set them both on edge, forced them closer—literally. Though being crammed in this closet isn’t ideal, Edward finds that despite the snark and cold attitude the man exudes, he isn’t at all opposed to Jonathan’s presence. It’s rather nice to have someone match him wit for wit.

At this point the quiet has grown uncomfortable, so Edward does what he does best: he talks.

“I should be collecting my winnings from Query and Echo right now,” he says wistfully. Jonathan raises an eyebrow, and though it was likely unintentional Edward jumps at the opportunity to elaborate. “It’s game night. Poker, blackjack, the whole nine yards. They can hold their own against me, but of course I stay one step ahead at all times.”

“Should’ve known you gamble,” Jonathan remarks.

“On occasion.” Edward shrugs. “Most people are hopeless at it, though, so I’m rather selective.” He tilts his head. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take that chance.”

Jonathan steps forward. “I think you’d find that I am not so easily defeated.”

He’s close enough now that Edward has to tilt his head up to meet his eyes, barely visible in the darkness. Still, he can see how they burn, intense and almost—but only almost—warm.

Edward shifts slightly and manages to knock over a broom, startling him enough that he unconsciously moves toward Jonathan, which means he is now pressed up against him. He realizes quite suddenly that they’ve never touched before. He swallows, able to feel every slow breath that Jonathan takes. He’s awfully thin, his ribs practically protrude, and Edward sort of wants to run his hands across them—

Jonathan makes a choked sound, and Edward is yanked back into reality with the revelation that he has, in fact, begun to trail his hands up Jonathan’s sides.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to actually do that. “Um,” he says intelligently, removing his fingers from where they were brushing against the itchy burlap of Jonathan’s costume. He doesn’t get far, however, before Jonathan’s own hands come up to encircle his wrists, holding them in place.

Edward shivers.

“How long did those ladies of yours say they’d be?” Jonathan asks, tone level as always but laced with something darker.

“Oh, about ten more minutes or so,” Edward hums thoughtfully.

In unison, they look at the storage closet door.

They look back at each other.

—

Diedre Vance is having a thoroughly interesting night.

She’d been worried when Edward hadn’t shown up for game night, but for the first few minutes she’d simply assumed he was held up by some sort of complication. It was a known fact that working with Scarecrow came with quite the risk. After a while, though, she and Nina had both realized that something more was going on.

Edward’s call had confirmed that, so here she is, parking the car and stepping out with a crowbar and a length of rope slung over her shoulder. Nina follows behind, shotgun in hand, because one can never be too prepared. There are guards all over the place, probably from paranoia that the Riddler and the Scarecrow will return to finish the job, but it’s easy enough to sneak past the fools and they only have to knock out two. Diedre and Nina have barely broken a sweat by the time they start scaling the museum wall.

Hoisting herself up into the spacious room on the second floor, Diedre looks around for the closet her unfortunate boss is trapped in. She catches sight of it to the left, barely visible in the darkness, and she notes with some alarm that it clearly wasn’t built to fit even one person comfortably, and certainly not two.

She wonders if either of them are still alive, or if she’ll open the door to find two corpses choked to death by their own egos.

“Boss?” She calls out.

“Query!” Comes the muffled reply. “There you are. Now get us out of here.”

Diedre passes the rope off to Nina so that she can tie it around the windowsill for an easier descent. Turning back to the door, she grips the crowbar in both hands.

“I’m breaking this shit,” she warns Edward and Jonathan. Adjusting her stance, she brings the crowbar down on the doorknob and hears the satisfying crunch of a cylinder breaking. Her boss and the Scarecrow come tumbling out, suspiciously sweaty and unkempt.

“Well,” Edward pants, trying to be discreet about buttoning his shirt back up and failing extraordinarily, “that was an illuminating experience.”

“About damn time,” Jonathan grumbles, though the gruffness is somewhat negated by the way his hair is mussed in a way that could only have resulted from it being pulled on.

“Sorry for the wait, boss,” Nina says, having finished with the rope, and Diedre notices how her shoulders shake with the effort of holding back laughter.

Jonathan at least has the decency to nod in their direction. “Query. Echo.” It’s likely the most thanks they’ll get tonight, Diedre thinks bemusedly.

“Hi Doctor Crane,” she and Nina reply together. Edward is already clambering down from the window, and Diedre knows he only moves that awkwardly and quickly when he’s flustered.

The rope holds for all of them, thankfully, and once they’re safely on the ground again Jonathan immediately begins walking in the opposite direction of Diedre’s car.

“Are you really going to walk all the way back?” Edward asks incredulously. Diedre’s head whips around to look at him, quite shocked. Is he… offering the Scarecrow a ride? Her boss is many things, but being generous is not one of them. If there was any doubt of what happened in that storage closet, it’s gone now. Nina must have come to the same conclusion, if the elbow digging into Diedre’s side and the snicker by her ear is any indication.

Jonathan stops, turning back to look at the trio and shrugging. “Why not?”

Edward scoffs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s freezing out.”

“And?”

Edward frowns. “Don’t be stubborn. Get in the car.”

Jonathan runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Have a good night, Edward.” He stalks off quickly before Edward can protest.

Diedre glances between his retreating form and her boss, who is standing still as she’s ever seen him. He blinks, coming back to himself with a visible jolt.

“Have a good night,” he mutters. “Really. As if he… means that.” He gestures at Diedre and Nina. “Alright, let’s go. I was promised poker and I intend to collect.”

Diedre tosses her keys in the air and catches them, then acquiesces. No use in getting the Riddler any more riled up, especially not if she wants a chance at winning the betting pool tonight.

Edward sniffs as he slides into the passenger seat, Jonathan’s words clearly still affecting him. “See if I work with that man again. Of all the infuriating, self-righteous…”

Diedre catches Nina’s eye through the rear-view mirror and mouths the word idiots, affectionate and exasperated as always.

[incoherentbabblings]

First Date (9/9)

Tim has one more test to pass before Bruce will allow him out as Robin. Like Dick and Jason before him, he has to avoid being caught by Batman for one night. He has already failed once, and is determined to succeed this time. Determination which might not count for much when Stephanie Brown is on the run from the mob. Her mother kidnapped as a way to threaten her father, Stephanie manages to escape and run into Tim. Unable to leave Stephanie alone when she is in need, Tim decides to try and multi-task. All he has to do is rescue Stephanie’s mother, take down the mob, avoid Batman, and get Stephanie to agree to a proper date all in one night. Absolute anarchy ensues  Ao3 link here!

Tim hadn’t felt so close to crying since his mom’s death and dad’s coma.  He sat, silent and despondent, staring at his knees, trying very hard to not start blubbering.

Batman, as always, was a stone pillar next to him.  Saying nothing, making no noise, not even breathing for all Tim knew.  He was brooding as much as Tim was.

He had failed the test.  Again.  But more than that, he had endangered a mother and daughter, and allowed a man to have been killed.

Head blown off.  What a way to go.

Dick had warned him once, that not stepping in front of a bullet was not the same as firing the gun. Dick spoke as if he knew from first-hand experience.  Tim couldn’t hold himself responsible for every injury and death that occurred, it would drive him insane with guilt, but still, Tim wondered what would have happened if he had done what he was supposed to.

Stephanie wouldn’t have gotten shot and fallen off the bridge for one thing.

All that was bad enough, but when Bruce said that he had found Tim just before he had run into Stephanie, Tim began to choke on his tears.  He hadn’t even managed an hour.  He had failed in every possible way.

He coughed in a lame attempt to cover up his unsteady breathing and to force air down his constricted throat.  Batman finally took pity on him and spoke quietly once more.  Thanking every god in every possible form, he didn’t sound angry.

“We’ll get back to the cave, Alfred will give you the once over, then I want you to go home.  We’ll talk properly next weekend.  Your father will be expecting you home soon.  I’ll find Arthur Brown this week without you in the cave.”

Nope.  The disappointed tone was worse.  What Bruce was saying was reasonable, but Tim really didn’t want to sit around waiting to hear that Robin was a dead pipe dream.

“What time?”  Tim asked.  Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Tim interrupted before he could reply.  His nerves were getting to him.  “I’ll come around at three.  Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Bruce pressed his lips together and said nothing.  Tim took that as a fine.

He managed to hold it together for Alfred to give him the metaphorical thumbs up.  Changing into clean clothes, Tim waited whilst Bruce was checked and promptly sent straight to bed to rest.  Tim rummaged through his bag, eating food he’d purchased at the corner store, and turned his phone back on.  There were no messages from either Ives nor his father, so Tim guessed his lie had been a success.  Alfred offered to drive Tim to his car in town, ready for Tim to drive back again to his father’s, and pretend he’d had a nice evening with Ives.

Sometimes lying to his father was easy.  This was not going to be one of those times.  Standing in the car park, Alfred placed a gentle hand on Tim’s shoulder, sympathetically – practically – saying goodbye and sorry.  Tim smiled and shrugged it off.  He got in his car and watched as Alfred left.  The weather was still awful, grey and wet and chiller than it had been yesterday.  It seemed to match his mood.

Head falling forward, Tim banged his temple against the steering wheel of the car, cursing himself for several hard years work, effort and dreams gone down the drain.

For the sake of a girl.

Tim felt no resentment at Stephanie.  Not for one moment did he think anything that had happened last night was her fault. No, honestly, Tim knew where the fault lay.

Driving home was slow and painful.  Traffic was bad and the weather was worse.  By the time he got home, he just wanted to crash into bed and not emerge for the next week.  But no, Monday was just around the corner, he had a week of school to get through.  Maybe it would be easier, without training in the evening.  Without anything to work towards.

Plonking up the steps to the front door, and desperate to distract himself from the heartbreak, Tim wondered how he could go about getting in contact with Stephanie.  Opening and closing the front door, Tim somewhat resembled a drowned puppy.

“Tim?”  He heard his father call from the living room.  Steeling himself, Tim took off his shoes, and tried to smile.

“Hey dad.”

His father was bent over the coffee table, assorted papers and what looked like bills in his hand.  Dana was probably working with a client in town. 

“You just back?”

“Yeah.  Sorry, I’m a bit soaked and shattered.  Didn’t get much sleep.”

“You head out at all with Ives?”

“Um, just for a second, picked up some food and stuff.  Played games mostly.”

His father nodded, then looked away, satisfied with Tim’s succinct responses and ready to return to his work. 

“Well go ahead and take a nap if you want.  It’s still early.”

“’Kay.” 

Tim went to go up the stairs, then paused for a moment and turned back.  He sat on the couch next to his father, who blinked owlishly at his son.  They so rarely spoke, but even Jack recognized the solemnness in his son’s posture. 

“Dad…how did you and mom meet?”

Jack was not expecting this question.  He swallowed uncomfortably and put down the papers.

“We met through work.  There’s not really a grand story to tell.”

“But how quick did you know?  That you…liked her.”

Jack frowned, like he knew he wasn’t able to give the answer Tim wanted to hear.  A broken marriage close to divorce before Janet’s death did not make a romantic story.  “Tim… I don’t know.  Honestly, I never really thought about it.  Why?  What’s brought this up?”

Telling half-truths was than flat out lies, so Tim twisted his hands and tried not to burn red from embarrassment.

“When I was out yesterday, I ran into a girl.”

That made Jack interested, he puffed out his chest and leaned back against the sofa, smirking knowingly and ready to needle Tim.

“Oh?  And you think you’re head over heels?”

“After less than a day?  Yeah, a little.”

Jack smiled kindly.  “Everyone’s different Tim.  Just because your mother and I didn’t…”  His discomfort returned, like he wasn’t willing to lay bare his relationship with Janet to Tim.  He broke off abruptly, then smiled once more, but this time it struck Tim as slightly patronising.  “Doesn’t matter.  You’re only sixteen Tim.  Got your whole life ahead of you.”

Tim said nothing, trying not to start crying again.  What he had wanted and planned for his life to be was no longer an option.  A whole life of what?  Taking up the family business?  He felt the corners of his mouth turn down, and he struggled to neutralise his expression.  Jack watched him with some concern.

“I guess so.  Still, you’d like her.  I think.  She’s… pretty sharp.”

“She have a name?”

“Stephanie.”

As he spoke, Tim froze, remembering he had his phone.  Pulling it out, he went to Facebook, and tried a search to see if she would come up.  He found her not too far down, smiling beatifically in a cheesy grin for the camera.  She was sitting at a dining table, probably at her school.  A girl with bright blue hair was sat next to her, resting her head on Stephanie’s shoulder.  The rest of her profile was private.  Jack tilted his head as he looked, musing on whether or not he liked the name or the face.  Abruptly ashamed for some reason, Tim decided to leave before the conversation could get derailed and Jack could give an unsolicited opinion. 

“Anyway,” Tim stood up, leaving behind a wet patch on the sofa from his wet jeans and jacket.  “I’m gonna go nap.  See you later.” 

Glad for the awkward conversation to be over, Jack waved Tim off silently and returned to his work.

Slipping into his room, Tim pulled out his phone once more. Staring at the smiling Stephanie, he hesitated only for a moment, then clicked to send her a friend request.  He threw his phone onto his bed and tugged his shirt off to change into his pyjamas, exhaustion quickly making him feel a bit dead on his feet.  Crawling into bed with wet hair, he sighed sadly.  He truly didn’t want to face the next week.  He buried his face into the pillow, and his chest began to shake with unspilt tears.

An aggressive buzz buzz on his phone pulled him away from despair long enough to activate his home screen.

A notification lit up before his eyes – Stephanie had accepted his request. 

Tim didn’t know he was doing it, but he smiled at his phone, and for a moment the disappointment and crushed dreams vanished.

When one door closes…

***

“Is it okay that we talk out here?”

Bruce, who had opened the front door for Tim, paused, but nodded.  Tim was being cowardly, refusing to go all the way downstairs only to do a walk of shame back up and off the estate.  Best to get it done over and quickly, like ripping off a bandage, but Tim thought it more akin to hacking off a leg. 

Shutting the door firmly behind him, Bruce and Tim sat on the stairs to the entrance of Wayne Manor.  Tim placed his skateboard down in between them, to act as a literal and even metaphorical shield from anything that would come his way during the awful conversation.  The sun was out, for once, and it was warm enough to not need a jacket.  The two sat silent for a moment, watching the gravel path up the hill.  The wind blew gently, disturbing the taller grass.

Tim waited for the anvil to drop.

“Arthur Brown was hidden over in Gotham Village, near the university campus.  He’s back in police custody.  Said he was doing the world a favour, stealing the money from human traffickers, said he did nothing wrong.  His wife and daughter are going to have to testify about what happened to them.  I trust Stephanie won’t reveal who helped her last week?”

“She hasn’t so far, no.”

“Hmph.  You did well Tim, given what you had to work with.”

Tim stared at Bruce from the corner of his eyes, keeping his face turned forward, and expression caught between incredulous and anxious.

“I doubt that.”

“Look, there are two aspects to last week.  The first, the test, you failed miserably.  I told you not to linger at the starting point, which you proceeded to do.  I don’t know if Dick told you that disobeying my advice is a good idea, but it wasn’t.  You were told, you didn’t listen, and it backfired.”

This was what Tim had been expecting.  A shopping list of what he had done wrong.

“That would have been that, except I think meeting Stephanie changed everything.”

Tim slowly turned his head towards Bruce, who was in return not looking at Tim.  The kindlings of hope sparked. 

“You tired to balance the test with looking out for a civilian hunted by the mob.  I understand why you did what you did.  It was all for moot considering you had already failed by that point-”

Ouch.

“But you protected her, saved the mother and made a significant dent on one of Gotham’s mob groups.  Any other night that would have been a success.  But you failed the primary objective.”

Tim took the stillness after Bruce’s speech as his cue to defend himself, but he didn’t grab it.  “I could have activated the beacon you gave me.  She could have been safe with you the entire time.”

“And I still would have failed at the warehouse.  Except there may have been more of them there instead of arrested on the bridge and corner shops.  You came, you won.”

“It was Steph’s idea…  And she took out loads of people along the way.”

“Would she have managed alone?”

“No.  No, she asked me to stay with her.  She couldn’t have done it alone.”

“And neither did I.”

Baffled by what Bruce was saying, Tim tried to catch Bruce’s gaze, but he seemed stubborn to avoid it, as if he wouldn’t get the words out if he looked at Tim.

“I spoke at length with Alfred, Dick and Barbara.  They think you’ve warranted the name.  I suppose Dick’s opinion counts for Robin more than the others.”

“…What did he say?”

Sighing, Bruce planted his hands down behind him, leaning back, face contemplative.

“That Robin wasn’t mine to give, regardless.  Dick had given you his blessing, and that was all that mattered.  I said perhaps, but Tim also wants to work with me, and that part I do need to give my blessing to.”

“And… do…you…?”  Whispered out of fear of what one syllable word was to follow, Tim watched, chest and stomach squirming with anguish, as Bruce blew an angry gust of air out and screwed up his face.

Alfred poked his head out the door then, making Tim jump a mile.  Alfred smiled mischievously.

“Master Tim, I’ve let a young girl through the front gate.  I believe you know her?”

“Wait what the what?”  Tim turned to see Stephanie huffing over the crest of the hill on a bicycle.  Tim and Bruce both stared in utter astonishment as the girl who had been shot twice less than a week ago began to wheel down the slope, apparently quite happy and over her brutal injuries.

“Well then,” muttered Bruce, standing up.  He stared at Stephanie was a sort of fond bemusement.  A distant echo of, “Oh this is a bigger hill than I thought,” drifted over to the manor, and they watched as she whirled over, pink helmet juddering up and down on her head.  She was wearing jeggings with giant sneakers, and an oversized sweater that made her look like she was from the wrong decade.  She belonged in a nineteen eighties teen sitcom, not twenty first century ragged Gotham.

She came to an abrupt stop at the base of the steps, losing control of the bike as it turned sideways sharply.  She stumbled off, catching her foot on the pedals, squealing as the bike fell over onto her.  She caught it, and corrected herself.  Smiling brightly, she took off her helmet.  Her golden hair had gone a bit static, flyaway strands sticking upwards. Bright red cheeks and a breathless joy made Tim’s mood lighter just from watching her.

“Hullo!”  She greeted, glib as always.  She wasn’t looking at any of the three men on the steps, however, she was focused on the massive scale of the stone house looming down. “Nice to meet you Mr. Wayne.  Your house is very big.”

Bruce had put on his Brucie face and laughed fakely.  “Yes, it is big.  Who are you?”

Stephanie started awkwardly, and laughed, finally looking at Bruce, Alfred and Tim.  “Oh.  Sorry.  This is rude.  I’m Stephanie Brown.  I’m hunting for Tim Drake which, hah, found you.”

Tim trotted down the steps and reached for her bike, holding it for her.  “And how’d you do that?”

“Well, I found out where your dad lives, which – long story – was funny ‘cause when I turned up he said you were at Wayne Manor ‘cause you know you just casually hang out at Wayne Manor sometimes, like normal people do, so I asked him to tell me where it was ‘cause I wanted to surprise you!  Are you busy?  I think I’m interrupting something aren’t I?  I can go if you want.  Your dad was looking at me funny.  Did you tell him about me?  Did you tell him you’re madly in love with me?”

Tim blushed, Bruce stared, and Stephanie laughed.

“Seriously though, have I come at a bad time?”

“No!  No, you’re fine.”

She really wasn’t fine, nor was she supposed to just roll up to Wayne Manor with no invitation, but Alfred could have turned her away if he felt there was a need to.

“Oh, good, I just don’t want to be a bo – Hey!  That’s your skateboard?”

Tim looked back at it sitting on the top step.  “Oh. Yeah, that’s it.”

“That’s so cool!  Can you show me how to ride it?  Got time to go to the park?”

Stephanie was interrupted by Bruce, who walked down to be on equal standing with the young couple.  “Stephanie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m just finishing up with Tim.  He runs chores for us every now and then you see.  But we’re pretty much done now.”

Tim reached out and held Stephanie’s wrist, needing the physical contact.  She nodded, completely oblivious to his mood.

“Sure sure.  Sorry both, I know this is a little off the cuff.”

“Quite alright!”  Bruce said, turning away.  He reached across and grabbed Tim’s skateboard, and held it out for him.  More than a little despondent, Tim limply took it.

“Tim, see that you come back around tonight though.  Need to start fitting the suit for the thingy.  Better let your dad know that your workload is going to go up from now on.”

Blinking at the floor, Tim felt the gears grinding in his head as the dots connected and the stars aligned.  He looked upwards at Bruce; Alfred’s nose twitched mischievously at his employer.

“…Sure.  I’ll tell him.”

“Grand.  See you tonight Tim.  Nice to meet you Stephanie.”

“Nice to meet you too!”

Tim stood, jaw against the floor, unable to comprehend what he thought had just been hinted.  Bruce said nothing more and returned inside the manor.

Suit…Work…Evenings…Robin???

“I will buzz you out once you reach the front gate Miss Brown.”

“Thank you Mr…”

“Pennyworth.”

“Pennyworth!  Thank you, Mr Pennyworth!”

Alfred rolled his eyes and closed the front door, leaving Tim and Stephanie alone in the front porch.  Tim wanted to run a mile.  He wanted to jump up and down.  He wanted to swing Stephanie around.  He wanted to ring Dick or Babs and just scream down the other end.

Instead, he turned to Stephanie, and kissed her cheek.

“Can’t believe you tracked me down.”

“I have my ways.” She whispered conspiratorially.  “You know you can look people up from when they register to vote?  Your dad’s a good citizen.”

“Oh… yeah.  He tries.”

She giggled and went to climb back on her bike.

“To the park then?  Then dinner.”

Tim gently bumped her back off.  Saying nothing, he stuffed his board in his backpack and climbed on her pink bike.  He gestured for her to clamber on as well, perched on the bars on the back wheel.  She chuckled, the playfully slapped her helmet on his head and buckled it nice and neat.

“Onwards chauffeur.”

“You know,” he said as they set off.  Getting over the hill was going to be a nightmare, Stephanie would be just as quick walking, but a strike of insanity made him determined to carry the two of them over the hill.  He began to puff with the strain.  “You shouldn’t… have cycled all this way!  Your stitches…”

“Ah, it’s fine!  Fit as a fiddle.  Clean bill of health, mental and physical.  Well kinda, but hey.  I’ll get there.  Mom and me got a court hearing in a few days.  Starting to get on first name basis with those guys, seems like we’re there once a year…  Anyway, you’ve been doing okay this week?  I was worried about you.  After the friend request I hear nothing…”

“Me?  Stephie, I’m not the one who was… sick all over herself, hunted by the mob, shot in the leg, shot in the stomach… thrown off a bridge, betrayed by her father, tasered two people… and knocked out a few others, and of course let’s not forget running over your mother.”

“…Words hurt Timothy.”

“Wow… Timothy.  Full name derision.”

He huffed and pressed on, struggling up the hill.  He was determined to succeed, if only for the fact that he had a sneaking suspicion that Bruce was definitely watching through the front window.  He was Robin now, he would cycle up a hill for goodness sake!   

“Hey come on.  Going home with Batman after… he wasn’t cruel was he?”

“Cruel?  No.  Felt like it at the time...  He’s a big fan of the silent treatment.  But –”

The bike wobbled as it had slowed down to an unbalancing pace.  Tim grunted and stood up to gain more momentum.  Stephanie saw the effort he was putting in and decided to tease him.

“But…?”

“But… it’s…fine.”  Stephanie grinned as he punctuated each word with a cycle of the pedals, watching his cheeks puff in and out with the effort of speaking.  “I…failed…the test… but… I still… got Robin…Wheew!” He stopped as he reached the top, collapsing on the hard seat.  Stephanie tapped the top of the helmet, Tim’s jaw vibrating from the impact.  She clambered off the bike, noticing he wasn’t pressing the breaks.  The hill turned downwards, straight towards the large black gates that Mr Pennyworth had promised to open for them. 

“As you should!  Best guy for the job.”  She moved to the back and rested her hands on the back wheel and frame of the bike.  She rocked it back and forth, Tim raising his heels off the floor to allow her to do so.  “And this is good.  Now you can train me too to help at night.” 

“Wait wh-”

She shoved as hard as she could, sending Tim rocketing down the hill.  He screamed the whole way down, causing her to double over with laughter.  He jolted the bike to the right as she had done, but still flipped completely over, rolling professionally as he was no doubt trained to do.  Stephanie ran down the hill, breathless with joy.  The bike clanged against the fence, which comically began to swing open a moment too late to prevent Tim’s accident. As she approached, she could hear him bitching to himself.

“God what the hell!  Some warning would be you know…welcome”

She crashed into him, kissing him hard on the lips.  Instantly his hands went up, squishing her cheeks.  It was a wet and clumsy kiss, one that made a squelching sucking noise when they separated, but to Tim it was perfect.  Steph pecked his lips once more.

“You have no idea how glad I am you were there last week.”

“Me too.”

She smiled, then reached behind Tim and tugged out his skateboard.

“C’mon, it’s flat from here on out.  You skate and I’ll cycle.  My dad’s going back to prison, my mom is safe, and I am healing nicely.  Now…I want my first date, boy wonder.”

Taking off her helmet from his head, she set off, waving him to follow her. She wanted to move past her parents, wanted to look forward to something better, something more.  That sweet, earnest, handsome boy who was more a hero than any Bat.  Tim was her greatest chance to do more, to be more. 

Snapping the board and wheels down, Tim kicked the ground a few times, then caught up.  The past week of misery fell behind him, and instead of one door being slammed shut in his face, it was like the entire wall had caved in.  So many new possibilities, and all with this mystifyingly bright faced blonde riding next to him.

***

Bruce and Alfred watched on the CCTV monitors as the pair rounded the hill and stumbled through the gate together.  Both men were struck with how young they were. 

Alfred coughed politely.  “Those two may grow to be joint at the hip Master Bruce.”

Bruce said nothing and continued to watch. He frowned momentarily, but not from anger, only from being deep in thought. 

“You think so?”

“I received the impression they are quite smitten with each other.” 

“Let’s see what happens.  If Stephanie truly does want training, to prevent a repeat of last week, maybe we can help her.  Her mother and her are a bigger target than ever.”

“Hmm.  I will inform Miss Gordon.  She seemed quite intrigued by Miss Brown.”

“Sounds good Alfred.  I need to call Dick, see if he can come home tonight.”

Bruce continued to watch until the pair were out of sight of the cameras.  He laughed quietly to himself.  Any plans he had made for Tim becoming Robin were looking increasingly vague. 

Somehow, he didn’t particularly mind.

[scaryscarecrows]

And Their Retribution Shall be Swift and Terrible

AN: White Knight ‘verse. (The next bit comes out this year and I’m VERY EXCITED ABOUT IT, OKAY.)

“--called me Happy Feet! To my face! As he rammed into me at full speed!” Oswald is snarling, fingers flexing dangerously around the stem of his wine glass. “Just because I wasn’t in full control doesn’t mean I missed that.”

Leave it to Oswald to be awake for insults. Jonathan would almost feel pity for Harvey Bullock if he hadn’t brought it on himself.

And, well, Bullock is annoying.

“I’ll have his head--” Oswald tosses back his wine like a shot and pours himself a new glass. “--preserved in formaldehyde and displayed in my house if it’s the last thing I do!”

It shouldn’t be as funny as it is, but Jonathan has to take a hasty swallow of his pumpkin ale to avoid infuriating the little man even more. Thankfully, his barely-contained snicker goes unnoticed.

“Oh, come now, Oswald,” Edward says, voice dripping with disdain. “Batman won’t let you within five feet of him. Unless you want to choke on a handful of pills?”

“Batman can’t be everywhere at once, Edward,” Oswald snips. “You’ll be a fine distraction, with that big mouth of yours.”

“Excuse me--”

Kitty sighs and leans back against him, bottle hanging from her fingers.

“Why do they always do this.”

“I don’t know.” He tries to slide a finger into one of her jean pockets and can’t. “These aren’t pockets.”

“Curse of women’s clothing. Why do you think I steal from you?”

He gives up on the pocket (pocket...humph, to what, a Barbie doll?) and settles for a belt loop. Oswald and Edward are actively bickering now and he’s not the only one laughing; Mary Dahl is hiding her face in Waylon Jones’ massive forearm, ringlets shaking with giggles. To be fair, it’s quite the sight. Oswald’s in a wheelchair, legs thrust out and encased in plaster from ankle to hip. Edward has casts, too; his left arm and leg are useless to him, and he’s reduced to gesturing with his (neon green) crutch.

Is it so wrong to hope this turns into a physical brawl? They’re evenly matched, really. Oswald’s chair is electric.

“Who do you think would win?” he asks Kitty, taking another swallow of his ale. She hums.

“Oswald. He’s used to fighting injured and, well, we’ve seen Eddie run.”

They have seen Edward run. Bless his heart, he is not...athletically inclined.

(He runs like a drunken giraffe.)

“I could probably incite them. A needle here, a jab there…”

“Don’t.”

“As though you wouldn’t be laughing.”

“Still.”

“I could, though. It’d be easy...appeal to Oswald’s pride and Edward’s ego…”

“Jonathan, no.” She twists around to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Just because you can does not mean that you should.”

“The fight of the century,” he continues, grinning. “Special injury edition.”

“You have no shame.”

“None.”

“--that so, Happy Feet.”

“WAH!”

Oh dear. Edward has a pushed few too many buttons, apparently, because Oswald is suddenly rolling towards him, knife in hand. Edward hops away, knocking over chairs as a tragically effective barrier. Kitty snorts and doubles over, forcing Jonathan to readjust his arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Now who has no shame?”

“Cheeky.”

Any (further) potential injuries are forestalled by the arrival of the one person who has been conspicuously missing since Joker boarded the Sanity Train to Betrayal Town: Matthew Hagen*.

Clayface.

As monstrous as poor Waylon has become, Matthew certainly gives him a run for his money. Ten feet tall, with every step he takes making a terrible squelch, it’s understandable that the room goes silent at his arrival.

Well, until Ivy sweeps over to him, predatory smile firmly in place, and purrs, “Matty, darling, you’re late.”

It would figure that the plant would be fond of the clay…

“Where is Joker,” Matthew growls. Well. That’s not something you see every day. Most people are a little more cautious in brushing Ivy off. Strange times.

“Arkham,” Oswald snaps. “But not for long.”

Matthew turns as if to leave and Waylon stands up, tail thrashing behind him and tripping a waitress. Mary dangles off his arm for a second before he notices and sets her on his shoulder.

“You don’t have sole rights to the clown, Hagen,” Waylon warns. “We all got fucked over.”

“You don’t even remember it--”

“That’s not the point--”

“Gentlemen,” Oswald says loudly, as though he wasn’t just about to murder Edward, “not in here. We all have grievances to settle, so why don’t we all sit down and discuss the particulars.”

Hypocrisy or none, everyone settles down and there’s a few minutes of silence while they all enjoy their drinks and get refills. Once the electricity in the air has waned, Matthew leans back in his chair, face breaking into a squiggly grin. Jonathan doesn’t like it.

“Nobody seems to be havin’ any ill effects,” Matthew drawls. Edward snorts.

“Fortunately for Tetch, my brain is unharmed--”

“Not from that.” Everyone’s silent. For once, nobody seems to have any idea what he’s talking about. If this turns out to be Batman… “Didya ever figure out how Joker got to you?”

“Hatter’s chips. The little sneak.”

“Sort of.” Matthew takes a drink (only water for him, alcohol makes him dry and flaky...literally) and grins some more. “But not on you.”

“Clearly on us. Quinn likely--”

“Nope.” Now that his bottle is empty, Matthew holds it up and drips a piece of himself into it. “Just on me.”

It takes a moment for that to make sense, but when it does, oh, boy, does it make sense. A conduit. That they-

God-

He gags, tasting something sour at the back of his mouth. He’s not the only one, either; Harvey Dent is eating Tic-Tacs like his life depends on it and Edward has apparently forgotten his feud with Oswald in favor of asking frantically, “Are my eyes yellow? Tell me quickly, you useless--”

“Never mind you! Andrew! Get Applegate on the phone, now--”

“Ya made us drink clay, ya goddamn buffoon, what do I keep ya around fer--”

“Sorry, sir--”

“--fed me a man, I’ll kill him for that--”

Kitty hands him a Listerine tab from her purse and he takes it gratefully. So what if it was a year ago, that is disgusting, that is not sanitary.

This is Batman’s fault, he decides. He should have taken care of Joker years ago. And once this whole mess is straightened out, Batman and his little helpers will be the next to go.

But first, Joker. And Harley, and Tetch. But to be honest, he’s mostly interested in the interloper, the one who got in way over her head. If she wants to sit with the adults, she needs to learn her place.

Everyone is shouting and demanding that Harvey share his Tic-Tacs (he’s slapped Scarface to the floor already, resulting in Wesker panicking), and he has a headache.

“Enough.” It’s a skill he has, honed first as a student teacher and then as a doctor, that he doesn’t have to raise his voice to make himself heard. “This isn’t getting anything done.”

Predictably, Edward has something to say.

“And I suppose your vote is to flood Arkham with fear gas.”

Bold of him to assume there aren’t booby traps left over from his time there. But he keeps that to himself. Save things for a rainy day and all.

“Not today,” he says mildly, feigning interest in his nails. “We all want a chance to have it out with the one responsible. Petty squabbling isn’t going to help, so we may as well draw straws or some equally mundane thing and see who goes first.”

He’s expecting resistance. But for once, Oswald just sends for paper straws and a pair of scissors.

They get third crack at the clown. Third is acceptable. Plenty of time to plan, with minimal likelihood of him dying beforehand; Edward gets to go first, followed by Harvey. The gathering breaks up shortly after that, with minimal grumbling, and they board the late train home.

“Seeing as nobody mentioned Neo Joker,” Kitty murmurs, arm looped through his in lieu of trying (and likely failing) to reach the loops on the ceiling, “d’you think she’s fair game?”

“First come, first served.”

“Mm.” The train takes a rough turn and they both glance up to check for bat-shaped hitchhikers. None appear. “Good.”

“Tired?”

“I want my toothbrush.” Her and him both. “And then, yeah. I’m ready for bed.”

“May visions of decapitations dance in our heads,” he deadpans. She pokes him in the arm. “Ow.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Tomorrow, they’ll start their search. Gotham isn’t as big as people tend to think. It’s impossible to hide in it. Oh, yes, they’ll track her down, by hook or by crook, and then they’ll see, they’ll just see how loud their little interloper can scream.

THE END

*I’m not sure which Clayface is meant to be the one in this comic, but seeing as it takes a lot from B:TAS, I’m going with that one.

[gaygwenpool]

hello i have some Opinions on these moth boys

(explanations under the cut since i love crying over this dumb d-lister)

Lawful valid - The Batman:  he’s got stealth skills! code breaking skills! karate skills! cocooning skills! coffee making skills!!!! and a terrible posture! Great amount of fluff and a small swarm of clothing moths following him around, what’s there not to love???? He is polite, obedient and loyal to a fault, best follower you can ask for not to mention his Charaxes form is The Cutest and literally friend-shaped. SO VALID!!

Neutral valid - Teen Titans: Sadly we lost the trademark Tacky Color scheme but on the other hand we gained so much fluff and so much beef and he even looks somewhat like a moth so i believe it was worth it :’D  He gets to be in the valid row since he has a lovely spoiled daughter and he tries his best at parenting..okay not his best but he TRIES okay? and his army of giant adorable moths is a big plus. 

Chaotic valid - Charaxes form from Robin etc.: listen liSTEN i could cry about the mess that’s Charaxes for days, dude sold his soul to an Actual devil just so he would be taken seriously (and he still gets called a geek lmao) and that’s just the start of this wild ride!! Don’t let me started on the plotline about his ..offsprings... it was all v fucked up but he still cared deeply about them despite all, he is valid and nothin u say can convince me otherwise! He does look like everything BUT a moth (and charaxes sp. is a fuckin butterfly, vast majority of lepidoptera are moths but of course this idiot picks a butterfly) but i will let it slide cuz he has been through enough. He eats yarn for godsake! and people.. sometimes.. 

Lawful dumbass - ‘classic’ Killer Moth from Batgirl Year One etc.: Dare i say an Iconic Look, Iconic Personality, Iconic Dumbass!!! Spends all his money on moth gijinks, then picks up a random pyro in a bar when crying to this stranger he met for the first time about how hard his life is and then throws up when said pyro is more than he could chew. And that’s just the basic outline, this version is honestly a Gift that just keeps on giving. 

Neutral dumbass - Lego Batman videogames: tbh i was THIS close to putting this boy into the Valid row just by the virtue of him being lego.. (he was out-valid’ed tho) im still so proud of him, he has joined the A-listers ever since the FIRST lego batman game, what an accomplishment! And he doesnt even care that much about crime, give him a bigass lamp and he will be happy! (Ooh lightbulb!) Truly a neutral dumbass who thinks moths are rodents... Oh and he leaves a sparkling trail when he flies! 

Chaotic dumbass - Prime earth!KM from Green Arrow etc.: THE !!! ABSOLUTELY!! BEST!!! BOY!!!!!! (im not biased at all) Sassy young hipster who joined the villain scene not entirely sure what his modus operandi will be AND NOT EVEN HAVING DECIDED ON HIS ALIAS! Sure, the loss of striped tights stings, that hoodie aint really reminiscent of a moth and even frikin Mr. Freeze along with bazillion other characters got a mohawk in his redesign but MY BOY PULLS IT OFF!! even with the heavy gaz tanks he now wears just for the Aesthetic, his gun nowhere in sight.. He gave us such ICONIC lines as “D-lister? I’m hurt I’m at least a C-lister”  and "That’s okay, i’ll just sit there and try not to be too self conscious, thank you very much.”  Honestly please read his short story in the first Legends of tomorrow, i guarantee every panel is a Blessing.

Lawful bastard - Booster Gold: None of the Killer Moths get much respect but this one corrects one of his henchmen that he should address him as KILLER moth only for said henchman immediately call him Moth again :’D His moth-cave is such a bat-cave knock off im surprised he doesnt have a giant moth-tyrannosaur there.. But the thing that landed him in the bastard row was that when he accidentally got street cred for “defeating” Batman (thanks Booster) he upgraded to this uglyass bat-moth suit and ruined Gotham with his Protection scheme that actually worked for once. He deserves some credit for being able to keep that rep though! I am still not sure how he did that, one knocked out Bat does not make the Top Rogue.... 

Neutral bastard - Golden Age!KM: Actually really capable Moth?? I mean he looks ridiculous as fuck swinging on that string of his like a kid in a school play but his plans had their merits and stumped the Caped Crusader a few times! he was actually the first to come up with the “plastic surgery to look as Bruce Wayne” idea, take that Hush! Bonus points for giving us the flashy color palette and the Best vehicle designs. Still, highly cursed because some artists shown him opening his mask like a beak full of teeth. 

Chaotic bastard - Batman Shadow of the bat: Waaay too trigger happy for a loser like Killer Moth should be, he gets kicked out of a squad for being Too bloodthirsty..  Would sell you (and himself) to satan for one cornchip. The costume combines the worst of too realistic and not lookin at all like a moth but admittedly he still looks ridiculous and kept the colors so not the worst there is i guess. 

[asszawas]

MORE FROM ME IF YOU DON'T MIND.

CRACK WARNING : I HAVENT SLEPT FOR TWO DAYS :")

Dick Grayson

Only eats cereal and coffee

He never has a clue of what he's doing . He's literally the most vulnerable bat family member there . If he didn't have so many sugar daddies and a fucking body he would be dead ngl .

His ass is the universal language ( fuck math )

Crushed all stereotypes of mothers being females . He is literally a MANMOM .

He has the attitude of a real estate agent

He always looks his best with wavy hair . no room for debate

Has student loan debt and works off the books to just survive

You can't tell me this man doesn't get a bikini wax with his suit , you just can't .

lean thicc™

Tim and him fought over gas station coffee once . He won ( only because he threatened to sick damian on him )

Tries to be a family man but literally gets tired of everyone's problems within 5 minutes of entering the house.

A diva but with class y'know ?

He has a lot piercings just to piss off bruce

Cries a LOT

Jason todd

Thiccest boi™

Wine aunt ™

Doesn't care what you do

Has the second most sugar daddies ( dick's richard takes the cake )

ACTS TUFF but he is a smol boi

He created the term " chaotic neutral "

He's just a bad bitch .

Only junk food he eats is chic- fil - a , mcdonalds and 7/11

No seriously he could live off of 7/11 slurpees , pizza , and chicken wings for 2 months

He loves wendy's too but considers it healthy AF

Is the only one capable of taking care of the house when alfred isn't there ( he'll make everyone clean their mess , then clean up the mess they made trying to clean it up . While , cursing them out in every language he knows with fucking love and hip hop atlanta playing in the back )

An almagan of bruce Wayne and frank castle but gayer and with longer hair

this kid just wants to lay down with a mimosa and watch white chicks . GIVE HIM THAT

you cannot tell me this man doesn't get mani - pedis . Why do you think can dodge bullets and shoot a fucking ak-47 within 5 minutes ??? BECAUSE HIS NERVES ARE RELAXED AND HIS CUTICLES ARE REMOVED TF

This man is the only one who is willing to go to a spa and it SHOWS

galaxy slurpees

a hood bitch with vsco girl interests ™

TIM DRAKE

A gamer slut

Plays fort nite and minecraft all the time

Ended belle Delphine's career in one twitch live stream .

this kid lives off adderall

Literally mixes caffeine and adderall

Immune to heart disease

Immune to diabetes

Not immune to depression

This kid Is depressed af

He's always cramping during patrol

Bruce has to carry him on his back

Jason's 7/11 buddy

He eats 7/11 and speedway donuts

Correction he loves them

That's the reason why dick took away robin from him

Has no taste in food

Hates pineapple pizza

Hates supreme pizza

Only likes mushroom and regular pizza

Not allowed to order pizza

His room literally is filled with krispy kreme , chic - fil - a , and chinese cartons

This scares the family so much BC there isn't a chic - fil - a in gotham so ??? Where ?? Does ?? He ?? Get ?? It ??

Gay disaster

He has the mental health of a generation z , with the student loan debt depression of a millennial

Dyes his hair random colors .

Gave himself an industrial piercing thinking he could do it BC he apparently is smarter than batman lol

Mental breakdown thingz

But he's so smart tho

Too bad he spends it trolling people on omegle lmao

Used to troll 8chan & 4chan users .

Has a tumblr

Is in the naruto fandom

Has a nike bookbag bc fuckboi thingz

Did I mention he's very sad ?

DAMIAN WAYNE

His Instagram name is "bitch"

An almagan of jason todd , tony stark and fucking skeletor , but SNOTTIER .

Spends his time on twitter and Instagram

Has so many sucking storytimes bro

His YouTube and twitter are literally fucking fantales

HE HAS SO MANY SUBSCRIBERS

He has a Wikipedia page just for them bro

He doesn't really know what he is doing half of the time and its dicks fault

But also bruces and tims

Barbara and alfred don't know what to do

He told bruce he wanted to be a model and sent the man to the fucking er

His son ?? A model ?? On a runway ?? no ?? What ?? Like sis if he or dick weren't on that runaway HOW TF ??

lmao dick was so proud tho , like " YES MY CHILD "

Jason cried , and damian made a storytime off of that

Owns so many Jordan's I stg

Jason got him into them

Then Jon complimented them and that's it . It was approved gotta keep em coming

will skskskskskskslaughter you

Does everything for the gram

Talia doesn't love him anymore

He got too colonized and it was it.

She said you gotta " sskskskssks tf away "

Bruce is so proud of his now westernized child. LIKE YES COLONIZE URSELF AS A FUCK U TO UR MOTHER

BC divorce court y'know ??

He and jon secretly know the choreography to white chicks and its ON POINT .

Radiates crack bitch energy

Chaotic neutral numbero dos

CASSANDRA CAIN

Instagram model.

Carries the family on her shoulder

Carried bruce to the E. R

carried dick to Planned parenthood

Carried Jason to a free clinic

Carried everyone in the family at least once

Loves her family

doesn't do anything wrong

Hates school tho

She flunked but got a modeling career so 🙇

Also great in ballet

Peaceful

Hates boba tea

Duke is scared of her for that reason.

Like ONLY that reason

Fuck the whole " trained assassin thing " , BITCH U DONT LIKE THE BOBA >:(

has no favorite

That's a lie barbara is her favorite

A humble loving caring top

In a family filled of dramatic bottoms

BRUCE WAYNE

A hoe lol

The justice league is his bitch

He drains oliver queen's credit card even though he has a whole fucking networth

He's the reason why that poor man is always losing his company

" OLIVER ITS NOT A BIG DEAL I JUST BOUGHT A GUCCI PLANE , WHY R U SO MAD >:( "

" bruCE IM WORTH 2.5 BILLION BUCKS AND IM STRUGGLING WITH RENT WHAT THE FUCK / DO YOU MEAN / WHY I'M MAD . IM FUCKING L I V I D "

Always tries to punch clark and cries when he realizes he broke a knuckle

He fucking cried in front of the fucking justice league after trying to clock this man with his WRIST .

Clark was a sad boi tho too

Batman is his Dom persona which always ends up being a sub

Swallowed an egg whole once

This man always has tears dripping from his eyez

" BRUCE ARE U CRYING WHAT HAPPENED :((((( "

" the fuck do you. MEAN IM CRYING , MY EYES ARE JUST DRAINING"

Sleep walks

Randomly passes out in places

A fucking football dad and dance mom combined

His kids have inferiority complexes because of his constant need of being a disappointment .

Bat titties ™

Bat booty ™

Jason and him have a compliation on youtube of them just having emotionally breakdowns BC of each other ( always within a ten foot radius )

Jason and bruce be fighting on who's edgier

" THE OUTSIDERS WALKED FOR UR OUTLAWS COULD RUN "

" bitch our teams aren't even remotely alike besides the fact that we both have ' out ' in our names . fuck salt "

He's 6'0 but he says he's 6'2 BC posturing you know

Kate and him had a fucking kick fight one day during a fucking meeting and it stopped time.

He knows who john mulaney is and constantly references him

" UR NOT TAKING ME TO NO SECONDARY LOCATION"

Jason * sobbing * : " I JUST WANT A NORMAL DAD "

He tries

He has gotten kicked out of so many wayne board meetings because of his need to BE DRAMATIC

Constantly gives Alfreds day offs only to regret it five minutes after

an introduction to the fanon batfamily

Are you new to the DC Batfamily fandom? Or perhaps do you need a refresher on our favorite vigilante disasters? Well, look no further! Here is your holy grail list of the traits/characteristics/cliches we as a fandom have collectively decided to embrace instead of the actual source material. 

Just a quick disclaimer (because people get very passionate about how these characters are portrayed) this is a collection of my headcanons popular on the internet. These are (mostly) in no way canon-correct. 

Let’s start out with the man himself:

BRUCE WAYNE

Has too many kids

Has a problem with adopting small dark-haired children with tragic backstories. It’s literally a compulsion. He cannot stop himself. 

Classic Dad

Doesn’t understand “teen lingo”

Will forget your name

Cannot function by himself (as Bruce)

Can make two dishes correctly: cereal and grilled cheese

Will fall asleep in business meetings

Wears either a three-piece designer suit or no shirt and sweatpants

Many headcanon him as gay.

Valid

My personal option is that he’s a disaster bi

DICK GRAYSON

The cutest child ever created

Robin!Dick is just an endless spout of puns and adorableness

Never grew out of sliding down railings/swinging on chandeliers

Fashion icon but not really

Never lives down Discowing

70s/80s/90s/Early 2000s mashup in every outfit

Simply better with finger stripes

Damian’s real dad

Stop erasing his Romani heritage

BARBARA GORDON

Simply the smartest

Computer science queen

Strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man but at the same time puts up with Dick

Barbara says fuck the joker

Holds one of the two collective braincells

Could and should run the entire GCPD

JASON TODD

One day we all decided that Jay likes Shakespeare more than his family

Literature icon

Destined to be chained to Roy Harper forever

Better with the white hair streak

“fuck y’all; did you die??”

Actual zombie

Needs a dog

Of Latinx descent

fucking crowbars, man

CASSANDRA CAIN

Stop excluding her from fanart??

Sign language and disability icon

The best fighter of the bunch

Fashion icon but like actually

A sweetheart that needs to be protected at all costs

Bruce’s favorite child

Of Asian descent

DUKE THOMAS

Literal ray of sunshine

Also needs to be in more fan content

!!!!!!

Owner of the other collective brain cell

Common. Sense.

Confused but excited

“Um, why is there a turkey in the bat- you know what? Never mind.”

Invented the color yellow

TIM DRAKE

Out of every headcanon, Tim’s being a coffee/caffeine addict is somehow almost universally accepted 

Alfred worries about this kid 24/7

Cursed to always be 17

The detective Robin who is always 20 steps ahead

The N52 Red Robin series is a treasure and the injustice done to it is unacceptable

Needs long hair

Fancast is definitively Ryan Potter

Skateboards

“Drake” superhero name is stupid and we should say it

STEPHANIE BROWN

Purple icon

Bring back waffle-obsessed Steph

If she’s not dating Tim she better be dating Cass

Her Robin career was too short 

Steph said Gay Rights

Somehow at the manor 24/7 when she doesn’t live there

Sometimes the bane of Bruce’s existence

Sassy queen

DAMIAN WAYNE

“TT” every other sentence in fanfiction

(I am guilty of this)

Better when Jon’s his best friend

Stop erasing his Arabic background

“Demon Spawn”

Okay but literally when did this start? I see this in every fanfic.

Always carrying a katana (?)

Dick’s actual son

Somehow I feel like this is controversial but I’m not sure why. Not saying these are all “correct,” they’re just common in the fandom :) hope this helps! feel free to add more tropes/cliches. Thanks for reading!!

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!!! MSG ME FOR DETAILS :)

[hexusproductions]

Can you do a scarecrowxreader fic (Maybe masters of fear crane)

I haven’t read Masters Of Fear, but I hope Crane from Scarecrow: Year One is okay...

You cursed under your breath as you tried to hurry. The sun was already beginning to set, Gotham’s skyline bleeding orange with tints of blue.

This was what you got for trying to do a late grocery run.

Sirens began to blare, and you almost dropped the packed paper bag in your arms.

Great! What the hell was going on?!

You looked around in annoyance before resuming your hurried stride, cold wind fluttering through your open coat. The police sirens were becoming louder, the cars they belonged to no doubt nearing closer. You tried to drone them out, not exactly fond of blaring noise, but it was no use. They were so loud that you couldn’t hear yourself think, and you certainly didn’t hearing the sound of someone sprinting down the street until they bowled you over.

“Ow!” A straw hat and your bag of groceries fell near your side, and you turned to see the idiot on top of you, “What do you think you’re-“ You froze, eyes widening in shock and fear. A stitched mouth and burlap stared back at you, straw sticking out at odd angles in the clothing worn on its thin frame.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out as you frantically tried to push the straw creature off of you. It did the same, but with less fear and more hurry, and landed on its backside.

You would have laughed if you weren’t scared stupid.

It looked back over its shoulder before turning back to you, and it reached up and pulled the burlap face off its head.

“(Y/n)…?” The creature was a man, with auburn hair and piercing eyes. You stared, and finally found your voice again as you jumped to your feet.

“Jonathan!?”

Red and blue lights flashed at the end of the street, and Jonathan quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you into an alleyway. Pulled against his chest, you tried hard to fight the colour rising to your cheeks. Jonathan kept his gaze on the opening of the alleyway, waiting in complete silence as the group of police cars sped past your hiding place. You wondered if Jonathan was holding his breath. You certainly were.

When the last car had passed and the lights and sirens had faded, he exhaled and released you.

“My apologies.”

All you could do was stare, no longer scared but very, very confused.

“Jonathan? Is that…really you?”

He looked at you, then looked away and frowned. He didn’t speak.

You didn’t understand. The last time you had seen Jonathan Crane, he had been fired from his job teaching at Gotham University, and now he was standing in an alley dressed like…

“Holy hell, what happened to you?” You exclaimed, looking at the outrageous costume. Jonathan glanced at you before averting his eyes again, retrieving his mask.

“Things have…taken a turn.” You honestly couldn’t read the look on his face. His answer wasn’t exactly specific either. You tilted your head, trying to enter his line of sight.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t help it, but there was a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you that you didn’t want to know.

Jonathan looked around the corner, wary of any brave officers who decided to double back, and the bad feeling was replaced with concern and something you still wanted to deny.

“Jon, do you need some help?”

He stiffened, back still turned to you, and for a moment you thought he was going to tell you off like he used to back at the university. But instead, he slowly turned around to face you, with that same unreadable look on his face as before.

“(Y/n)…you honestly don’t know, do you?”

You stared for a moment, completely bewildered by what he was trying to tell you, before you shook your head. Not in reply, but in firm decision.

“Come on, you can hide at my place.” You took his hand, and his eyes widened slightly.

“I don’t need-“ He tried to protest, but you were already pulling him out of the alley. You paused only long enough to try and salvage some of your groceries, which Jonathan used as an opportunity to retrieve the straw hat laying next to the bag. You led him down the streets, moving quickly across the block and to your apartment. Neither of you exchanged a word until the door was closed and locked behind you.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” Jonathan remarked, finishing the sentence he had tried earlier.

“I am not watching your ass get thrown in the back of a police car.” You replied, and pointed to the sofa, "You sit, and I’ll put these groceries away. I’ll be back in a minute Poe.” You turned and headed for the kitchen. Jonathan took a step towards the sofa, then paused and smiled.

Taking the individual items out of the bag and placing them on the counter, a smile played on the corners of your lips as you put them away. This was…not how you saw your evening going. But…

You glanced up for a moment to Crane as he looked around your apartment.

…It was a nice surprise.

“Did you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” He still hadn’t sat down, “You seem to have accommodated yourself well since last we spoke.”

“Yeah, well,” You laughed nervously as you came back into the living room, “Rent’s cheap, I guess.” Jonathan hummed in agreement, turning to look at you.

You’d forgotten about the silence.

Back then, what seemed like forever now, when you were interning at the university, most of your time in the company of the professor had been in silence. There hadn’t been much time with him specifically, of course, but Jonathan had always been a fan of the coffee machine. And sometimes, if you were lucky, you would get to bring him files or work in his office.

Professor Crane was, by far, the best resource you had had during your time at Gotham University.

“Poe.”

You blinked, “Excuse me?”

“Poe. The nickname you gave me during our time together at the university.” Jonathan was giving you an amused look, and you once again felt colour rush to your face.

“F-Force of habit, I guess.” You stammered, embarrassed by your absentminded slip up, and you tried to change the subject to literally anything else, “So, how have you been? Since you were…you know,”

“Fired?” You jumped at the harshness of his tone. What was disturbing was that while the rest of his face was still relatively calm, his eyes blazed with layers of anger, hatred and misery. And then it was gone, and Jonathan crossed his arms.

“…Jon?” When he once again fell into that sombre silence, you moved towards him, “What’s happened? You’re starting to freak me out.” Jonathan thought for a few minutes, and you waited impatiently for his answer. You had had enough of this. You wanted to know why the police had been after Jonathan, why he had been running, and you wanted to know now.

You waited with your hands on your hips, until Jonathan exhaled.

“You may find that you need to sit down, (y/n).” He told you, and gestured to the sofa. You looked at him in confusion, but slowly stepped over to the piece of furniture and sat down. Jonathan glanced at you, considered it, and then awkwardly sat down as well, across from you.

“Since we last saw each other, when I was fired for my ‘reckless misconduct’, I’ve done some things that I’m not proud of. And…quite a few that I am.” There was a hint of delight in his voice, that was clear. You were concerned again, and that bad feeling was returning.

“What did you do?” You asked quietly, and Jonathan paused.

“I won’t discuss every intricate detail, but you should know that they barely felt a thing. Other than terror.”

You blinked. And then fell off the sofa.

Obviously, you had meant to stand, but the shock had turned it into a graceless, tumbling scramble.

“Shit!” You didn’t swear often, but now seemed appropriate, “Jon, what the hell did you do?” You held your hands to your head, trying to process what you had just heard. Jonathan rose from the sofa, expression falling, but you weren’t afraid. You weren’t even disgusted. You just really wanted to know what kind of mess Crane had gotten himself into. Did he…did he kill someone? Holy shit.

“(Y/n), don’t be angry.” Jonathan’s gaze was warning, but, desperate? Was he actually worried that you might be mad at him?

“I’m not mad.” You replied quickly, and looked at him in amazement, “I’m just…trying to comprehend this recent development.” You had to sit down again, fumbling for the arm of the sofa as you did. Jonathan moved to support you, but stopped midway through the action.

“That’s a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shush.” You could have hit him for that sarcastic remark. Jonathan seemed a little happier for having ebbed your confusion, or for annoying you at least.

“So, you’re…not upset?”

“No. No, I’m not upset.” You replied, sounding uncertain because of your amazement at not being upset, “I should probably be repulsed or something, right?”

“That is the usual response.”

“Great.” You looked at Jonathan with a flat expression, “That just makes us two special snowflakes, huh?” Jonathan shrugged.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing, personally.”

That wasn’t really the point, but okay. Another silence fell over the room, and you looked around awkwardly. Your…former superior, who you saw as a friend, had just admitted to doing some sort of felony. Where could the conversation go after that? The faint smell of straw drifted to you, and you looked around to see that Jon’s strange scarecrow costume had gotten it basically everywhere.

“Jonathan!” You felt a smile creeping up as you gestured around you to his mess, “How did you get straw all over my apartment?” Jonathan looked around the room, and put his arms behind his back.

“Not everywhere.”

“I can’t believe this.” You stood and pretended to scold him, “I graciously invite you into my home, and you go and throw straw everywhere! I can’t believe you.”

“It’s hardly my fault.” Jonathan defended, crossing his arms indignantly, “I didn’t choose to throw it everywhere.” You snorted. The place was a mess anyway. You really should have cleaned. You looked at Jonathan even as your smile continued to try and grow.

“What is with this costume?” You couldn’t help the giggle as you gestured, and Jonathan looked at you matter-of-factually.

“It’s meant to be fearsome.”

“The buckles make it look like a straightjacket.” You raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“No they don’t.”

“Yes they do.”

“I’ll have you know that I designed this costume myself, thank you very much.” Jonathan leant forward a little.

“I can tell.” You copied the movement.

The two of you stared for a moment, then Jonathan smiled and gave a faint chuckle.

“I had almost forgotten how annoyingly witty you could be.”

“I try.” You smiled.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it never was perfect was it? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[societysonlooker]

Ya know, what I love about this is that that's literally canon. Gotham is in comics canon, both cursed and sentient. Sentient in the way the speed force is kinda Sentient, but sentient nonetheless. Gotham is a living entity, and while the batman comics don't really address it that often in regards to Bruce and his family, it is addressed with Dick, Jason, and to an extent, Tim.

Dick has occasionally talked about how no matter what happens, what he does, he keeps getting dragged back to Gotham, and while he's doesnt resent that fact as much as he used to, and... mostly loves his family, he knows there's something wrong with Gotham, at its core.

I'm pretty sure Jason has called the city a drug a few times. And he also quite explicitly talks about how no matter what he does or where he goes, he keeps getting dragged back. When he first appeared as the red hood, it took him nearly ten irl years, getting the fuck away from the bats for a while, and GOING ON A MULTI-UNIVERSAL, TIME TRAVELLING ADVENTURE to chill tf out and stop trying to kill them in preboot, was still in just an uneasy peace with them, but it wasn't trust, and he wouldn't have worked with them on anything less than emergencies. In reboot, it STILL took him getting out of Gotham for a LONG TIME to chill out, but at least he's cool with most his family, and on... kinda speaking terms with Bruce he still loves and respects Alf but let's be real he never stopped that one.

And Tim... listen. Preboot Tim has issues. A LOT of issues. More than Bruce and very much on par with Jason. I'm ignoring reboot for the most part, but let's be real reboot tim for all intents and purposes should be mad fucked up too. Anyway. Preboot. Tim has lost just about everyone he's ever loved, his foster dad is dead, dick thinks he should be sent to fucking arkham for thinking Bruce, gasp, might not actually be dead, as if Jason's not a literal zombie roaming around every day, Jason and damian are still lowkey and highkey trying to kill him, his dad's dead, and he's seriously fucking depressed. And he leaves gotham to search for Bruce. Now, yes, the events of red robin are to a degree an intentional suicide mission, but... he heals. Even as he's still looking for Bruce, he's healing a little bit. When he's shoved off that sky scraper, it really does look like he aost allowed it to happen, then dick saves him. And from that point onward, he fights a little harder for his life. Not just to find Bruce but to make SURE they both get him safely. Kon comes back to life. Bart does too. Cassie leaves that fucking cult, and he finally finds Bruce, if a little worse for wear, and brings him home. Tim returns to gotham a very different person from when he left, and he went through a FUCKTON of fucked up shit along the way, but in the end, he healed. Something he wouldn't have been able to do in gotham.

In gotham, he wouldve gone crazy, or killed himself (well, more likely just gotten himself killed in the feild, the same thing he became Robin to stop Bruce from doing) before that happened. If he'd been sent to arkham? Quite frankly I think he woulda gone cookoo for cocoa puffs and started killing or maiming criminal inmates/rogues the way Jason does at blackgate whenever he gets thrown in there. Which... in retrospect would have been some BEAUTIFUL parallelism between Golden Boy Dick, the traumatized Robin Jason, The Perfect Robin Tim, and the Demon Child Damian (as in, duck turned out ok, but it seems like the other two were cursed from the get go, and how can Dick ever even HOPE to keep damian from falling down the same path? Which... is a take absolutely FILLED with logical fallacy on the basis of Dicks faults as a brother figure putted against him trying his best while ignoring his own trauma but that's a discussion for another day. Or possibly a fanfic. Shrug.)

Point is, Dick and Jason will occationally talk about how gotham is sentient, how it's a drug. All three of them left and got better, and all three of them keep getting dragged back.

The difference between comics and a TV show is that the TV show can show this process a lot faster than 80 years of comics history (er, well, 40 years if we basically count from the 80s forward, which is when dick left the nest, so to speak, and basically everything in the dc continuem regarding gotham actually happened). This happens in comics 9ver a period of years, in a TV show, hours. Jn comics, it's just another piece of lore, an unsettling one, but still just more lore. In tv, it can be be unsettling lore, but also an unsettling theme, a conclusion that viewers come to as they watch, as opposed to just something to learn and keep in mind.

Anyway, gotham is for the most part. An awesome show, and I really fucking love the dc universe. Well. Preboot. Fuck reboot.

What I really love about the show Gotham is that you can feel the city itself in some cursed way is alive, when you see Arkham it feels less like a building and more like a character that lives and breathes and the building itself is hurting people.

Gotham city is cursed, it’s a bad place. In various comics when characters like Harley Quinn or Edward Nygma leave Gotham they don’t suddenly become model citizens but we watch them recover, as if they are addicts. They are coming out of something, reclaiming the people they had been so long ago they can’t remember, the longer people are outside of the city the better off they are. We see it again in the novel version of the 2016 Suicide Squad where Joker’s right hand man Chill thinks to himself that he wishes he could drag Joker out of Gotham, because deep down he knows the second J is out of this place and away from Harley and the Bat he will be okay.

With the show Gotham you feel it, you see it with the characters. You watch Barbara Kean and Edward Nygma throughout season one become villains, the city warps and bends to break them down until they are their worst selves and anytime anybody in the show attempts normalcy or claims a bit of sane happiness it doesn’t last. The city infects those who live in it, the longer they and their families reside the worse off they are.

That’s what I really love about the show in a sort of horror way. With season two seeing Oswald tell Jim and Lee to escape and live a normal life he and his family were robbed of from the start only for Jim to refuse to leave us frustrating, watching Ed become more restless and angry as the series carries on going from Gotham is his home to seeming to realize the city itself is sick, that it makes him and the others sick and desperately wanting to leave....only he refuses to leave because he won’t leave without Oswald, Oswald who like his parents just won’t leave no matter how aware he is of the curse the city holds.

You watch characters find reasons and no reason to stay in this place that hurts them and it feels like even when they do set out to leave for good the city stops them or finds a way to force them to return to never leave again, and there’s something horrifying in that. I think the show Gotham captured that in a way other canons can’t or haven’t, the slowness of it as a prequel setting the city and the characters origins shows us why these people just don’t leave. They can’t.