#i’m finally watching gotham

[gregmarriage]

i heavily relate to oswald cobblepot, bc i too walk like a penguin, and am rather sensitive about it, and wanna kill people who make fun of it

[detectiveliz]

Sorry for vanishing

Im 21 now

Here’s a blinky

Ok bye

[lesbianpervinca]

Ed is my spoiled princess and Oswald gets punted to outer space 💖

my beautiful princess oswald cobblepot. And my bitch wife edward nygma

[plainclothesdisaster]

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[jellofish-plant]

Proof of Existence

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Summary: You were used to waiting up for Jason after patrol, but you weren’t expecting Robin to be the one to climb through your window instead. Damian Wayne is determined to prove that Jason was lying about having a girlfriend, and unfortunately, that means invading your apartment at an ungodly hour. Things only escalate when he calls in reinforcements, and by the time Jason actually arrives, he finds you in the middle of a full-blown Wayne family interrogation.

Warnings: Fluff, sleep deprivation, Batfamily chaos, Jason being grumpy but soft

[Masterlist]

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you glanced at the clock. 2:37 AM.

Jason was late. Again.

You weren’t exactly worried he was Red Hood, after all but you hated waiting up for him, exhaustion pulling at your limbs while the city lights flickered outside your window.

You barely had time to close your eyes before you heard a rustling noise near the fire escape. Immediately alert, you tensed, but before you could reach for your phone, the window slid open.

A small, caped figure landed silently in your living room.

You blinked. “You’re not Jason.”

Damian Wayne Robin, Gotham’s tiniest menace straightened up, arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized you with a critical gaze.

“So you are real,” he muttered.

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Excuse me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Todd claims he has a girlfriend. I assumed it was a delusion. But…” He took a step closer, inspecting you like a rare specimen. “You exist.”

“Uh… yeah?” you said slowly, watching as he started pacing around the apartment.

“This is unfortunate,” he muttered to himself.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s almost three in the morning, Damian. Did you break in just to confirm I’m not imaginary?”

“I could have waited for Todd to bring you to the Manor, but that would’ve taken forever.” Damian wandered over to the bookshelf, tilting his head as he scanned the titles. “Hmph. Your taste in literature is acceptable.”

“Oh, thank God, I was really losing sleep over that one,” you deadpanned.

Damian ignored you, already moving to your kitchen. He opened the fridge, scowled, then closed it again. “You don’t eat enough protein.”

You groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Jason is going to kill you when he finds out you’re here.”

“Tt. I doubt it.”

Unfortunately, before you could kick him out, he pulled a communicator from his belt.

“You’re not—”

Too late.

“Drake, come in. I have urgent news,” Damian said, voice completely serious.

There was a brief static crackle before a groggy voice responded. “Damian, it’s late. What could possibly—”

“She’s real.”

Silence.

Then—“No f**ing way.”*

You groaned loudly, covering your face with a pillow.

A few minutes later, your front door actually opened, this time with a key Tim Drake, still in his Red Robin suit but looking like he regretted every decision that led him here.

“Oh my God,” Tim breathed, staring at you like he’d just seen a ghost. “Jason actually has a girlfriend.”

“Why does everyone think I’m fake?” you demanded.

Tim grinned. “Because Jason refuses to let us meet you. Honestly, I thought you were just an excuse for him to leave family dinners early.”

Damian huffed. “As if Todd would be clever enough for that.”

You sighed. “Okay. Great. Mystery solved. You guys can leave now—”

Knock knock.

Oh, come on.

The door opened again, and in strolled none other than Dick Grayson—Nightwing himself—looking far too excited for this hour.

“Ohhhh, this is fantastic,” he said, beaming as he took in the scene. “We finally have proof! Jason’s not making it up!”

“I hate all of you,” you grumbled, pulling Jason’s discarded hoodie over your head as if that could make them all disappear.

“Are you being held against your will?” Dick asked, only half-joking.

“No, but I will commit a crime if you don’t let me sleep.”

Before Dick could respond, the window slammed open again.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jason stood on the fire escape, mask half-off, hair a mess, and murder in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Jason,” Tim greeted casually. “Nice place.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “Are you—why—” He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “It is three in the goddamn morning.”

“Yes, I noticed,” you said dryly.

Jason turned to you, taking in the way you looked tired, wrapped in his hoodie, blanket half-falling off the couch. His jaw tightened. “Baby, why are you still up?”

You gestured vaguely to the three idiots in your apartment. “Ask them.”

Jason’s glare could’ve set the building on fire. “What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Confirming she’s real,” Damian said simply.

Jason groaned. “Are you kidding me? You—” He pointed at Damian. “Go home. You—” Now at Tim. “Stop enabling this. And you—” Dick raised his hands before Jason could finish.

“Relax, Jaybird,” Dick said, smirking. “We’re just excited to meet the girl you’ve been hiding.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

“Are you two really dating?” a new voice cut through.

Stephanie Brown Batgirl was standing by the window now, her blonde hair messy from a night’s patrol. She crossed her arms, raising a brow at you. “I’m sorry, but I had to see for myself. I really thought it was just some weird ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m just here for the popcorn,” Duke Thomas The Signal grinned from the doorway, joining the chaos with his own brand of enthusiasm.

Jason stood frozen, arms crossed, looking like he was about to explode. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Dick teased, leaning in and nudging Jason. “You can’t hide her anymore.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “I swear to God…”

“Jason, relax,” you said, trying to calm him down, but your voice still laced with amusement. “Your family’s just a little... excited.”

Jason turned to you, his expression softening just a little. “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t expect them to turn up like this, but…” He shot his family one last glare before pulling you closer. “I think I need some alone time with my girlfriend now.”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“You know what, fine,” Tim sighed, pushing himself off the wall. “We’ve gotten the proof we need. No more interruptions. You two have a good night.”

“You guys are the worst,” you muttered, laughing as Jason huffed beside you.

And when they finally filed out, leaving you alone with Jason, you sank back into his arms, letting the chaos of the Batfamily fade into the background.

Jason chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Well, at least they like you.”

You smirked. “Yeah, I think I’ve officially been inducted into the Batfamily now.”

Jason snorted. “They’ll never leave us alone again, will they?”

“Not unless we’re really convincing at family dinners,” you teased.

Jason sighed, but there was a fond look in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll make a run for it next time.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

[rosemaryhoney27]

Joker Hates Teenagers

The cold metal chair creaked as Danny shifted, his hands bound behind him with an overcomplicated array of ropes, chains, and something that looked suspiciously like a slinky. He let out a slow sigh, blinking lazily at the man pacing before him.

"And so, my dear ghostly guest, you see, it's all about the punchline! The grand finale! The fireworks! The city, watching in horror as I—"

Danny yawned.

Joker stopped mid-monologue, his grin faltering. "Oh, come on! Not even a little bit of fear? A smidgen of existential dread? This is some of my best material!"

Danny glanced around the dimly lit warehouse. "Look, no offense, but I've been kidnapped, like, thirty-six times. This is barely cracking the top twenty."

The Joker huffed. "You kids these days, so desensitized! Back in my day, a death trap meant something! But nooo, here you are, not even flinching at the idea of being broadcast live as I—"

"—as you dramatically kill me, Gotham gasps, Batman arrives last minute, yadda yadda. Seriously, man, get some new material." Danny wiggled his fingers, already phasing through the ropes. "You know, I could just leave."

"What? No, you can't just leave! That ruins the whole—"

Danny stood up, letting the ropes and chains clatter to the floor. "Welp. Good talk, but I think I'm gonna bounce. 0 out of 10, would not recommend this kidnapping."

The Joker blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Then he lunged, pulling a gun from his coat. "Oh no you don’t, kiddo!"

Danny turned intangible, the bullet harmlessly passing through him. With a lazy wave, he floated towards the ceiling. "Later, clown." And then, he was gone.

Not a minute later, the skylight shattered, and Batman, Nightwing, and Robin dropped down into the warehouse in full dramatic flair.

Joker groaned. "Oh, now you show up? Perfect timing, Batsy! Your little ghost already made me the laughingstock of my own kidnapping!"

Batman’s eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"

Joker threw his hands in the air. "He left! Just phased right through the ropes! Didn’t even pretend to be scared! Do you have any idea how insulting that is?!"

Robin exchanged a glance with Nightwing. "Wait. He escaped before we even got here?"

Nightwing chuckled. "I kinda like this kid."

Batman scowled, already pulling out his communicator. "Phantom. Report."

On the other end, Danny’s voice crackled through. "Oh hey, Bats! No worries, I’m grabbing a burger. Want me to bring you one?"

There was a long pause. Then Batman sighed. "Just get back here."

Joker threw up his hands. "I hate teenagers."

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Okay you can’t tell me that Vlad doesn’t have an organ somewhere in his mansion. Upon learning of this, Danny would teach himself how to play the Haunted Mansion theme on the organ and play it at 2am.

Vlad Masters is away on business in Gotham, and the Fentons are coincidentally there for a symposium on ecto-activity. So it’s perfect! Except he goes to the wrong house, er mansion.

Honestly, Danny thought it was one of Vlad’s many mansions. Scaring the old man is his favorite activity after all. There’s a higher amount of ectoplasm here, so it has to be Vlad’s place right?

When Bruce comes out (on one of his few nights off) and sees his carbon copy playing the organ, all thoughts fly out of his head. Danny finally looks up and also blue screens. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity until Danny’s cell phone rings (the ghostbusters theme??) and he panics. He jumps up and makes a break for the other door rushing through apologies “SorryWronghousegottagobye!” And runs out of the room. “Wait! Who are you?”Bruce exclaims as he rushes after him. They’re on the second story in one of the rooms he rarely uses. How did he know where the organ was? No matter. He’ll catch the kid on the stairs.

Except the kid is already almost at the bottom. How did he get down so effortlessly? The kid practically floated down the stairs.

Bruce gets to the foyer just in time to see the kid realize the door was dead-bolted in multiple spots. He won’t be able to undo them all before Bruce catches up to him.

He slows down and stands behind a pillar, assessing his next move. He needs to be careful here. This is a child after all, no need to spook him any more than he already has. He needs to slowly approach, and ask his questions.

But then the kid does the unexpected. After looking around frantically, he takes a deep breath. Two rings form around his middle and travel up and down his body. His black hair turns ghostly white. He looks back, almost directly at Bruce. His eyes widen as if he realizes he’s being watched. He whispers, barely loud enough to hear, “I’m so sorry, please don’t follow me.” Then, he backs through the locked door and vanishes.

[zhelin-thames]

The Joker was ranting again, his shrill laughter echoing off the walls of the Justice League’s holding cells. Danny Fenton—or as they knew him, the Ghost King—leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a scowl etched on his face. The tension in the room was palpable, the League standing by in case the infamous clown decided to get creative. But Danny wasn’t worried. He’d dealt with worse.

“You think you’re so scary, huh?” Danny muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. The Joker’s grin faltered for a split second before he burst into laughter again, clearly unfazed—or pretending to be. Danny rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. You’re just loud and messy. Real fear doesn’t need a laugh track.”

The room went silent. Superman shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Danny and the Joker. Batman’s eyes narrowed, taking in the Ghost King’s uncharacteristic venom.

It wasn’t that Danny was usually chatty during these encounters, but his utter disdain for the Joker—his unwillingness to engage in anything more than curt dismissal—was becoming a pattern. Everyone noticed it, and no one dared ask. The Joker, for his part, didn’t push further. Something in Danny’s glowing green eyes made even him hesitate.

But when Jonathan Crane—the Scarecrow—was brought in a few weeks later, the mood shifted entirely.

Crane was quiet as he was escorted into a separate cell, his lanky frame hunched but his eyes sharp, calculating. The League had just wrapped up an exhausting mission to stop one of his fear toxin rampages, and they were still on edge. Crane didn’t bother with his usual monologues, which was unusual enough to make everyone uneasy.

Except Danny.

As soon as Danny saw Crane, he snorted. Loudly. The kind of derisive snort that made Wonder Woman glance his way in confusion. “This guy?” Danny said, pointing at Crane with his thumb. “Seriously?”

Crane’s head tilted ever so slightly, his curiosity piqued. “The Ghost King,” he said, his voice low and rasping. “A being of great power and…fear. How delightful.”

“Don’t,” Danny interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, I’ve heard it before. And honestly? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Crane blinked, caught off guard. “Embarrassing myself?”

Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I get it. You’re all about fear. Big bad Scarecrow, master of terror, blah blah blah. But do you even know what fear is? Real fear? Because from where I’m standing, you’re just a guy with some glorified bug spray.”

The room went dead silent. Flash stifled a laugh. Batman’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering between Danny and Crane. The Scarecrow, however, didn’t seem angry. If anything, he looked…intrigued.

“And what,” Crane asked slowly, “would you consider real fear, Your Highness?”

Danny’s eyes glowed brighter, his voice dropping an octave. “Real fear is the kind that makes your soul ache. It’s the kind of fear that lingers in the dark corners of your mind, whispering that you’re not enough, that you’ll never be enough. It’s watching everything you love slip away and knowing you can’t stop it. It’s the void staring back at you and realizing it doesn’t care.”

He leaned forward, his face inches from the glass separating them. “Your little toxins? They’re cheap tricks. Flashy illusions. A waste of potential. You could actually do something with all your knowledge, but instead, you play Halloween in Gotham like some knockoff horror movie villain.”

Crane didn’t reply immediately. For once, he seemed at a loss for words. The others stared at Danny, half-impressed, half-confused. Even Batman’s ever-stoic expression had a flicker of something resembling surprise.

Finally, Crane chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted. “But fear, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps one day, you’ll see the artistry in my work.”

Danny scoffed again, turning to leave. “Don’t hold your breath, Doc. You’d pass out before you made anything actually scary.”

As Danny walked away, Superman stepped up beside him, lowering his voice. “You’ve faced worse, haven’t you?”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve been worse. That guy? He’s just a waste of scary.”

Superman frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Danny smirked, his eyes gleaming. “Stick around, Big Blue. Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

[nikovraskol]

crack baby ; three

wc ; 3745 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?

tw ; brief mention of death, cursing, neglect

prologue, one, two, three, tbc..

Sometimes it feels like there is someone puppeteering you into the worst scenarios possible.

It started when finally, after days of contacting every single landlord in Gotham and Bludhaven, one kind old man reached back. The house he was willing to rent you wasn’t half bad either, certainly no Wayne Manor but a small apartment about a convenience store would suffice.

After regressing, you were stuck in a loop of tears and anger and whatever strange, uncomfortable feeling you got whenever you were reminded of your weird interaction with Dick.

But finally, light at the end of the rainbow! You could cry (of joy this time), but you’ve no time for tears. Not when you’re faced with a big, overpowering problem. Leaving the Manor.

Now, in the past, you could just get up and leave, however after your run-in with Damian and Dick, you’re apprehensive to leave your room. What if you’re ambushed again? By Tim? Or Jason? Or heaven forbid, Dick again? Terrifying! You don’t have time to dilly dally, not when Mr. Kim is waiting in your future home.

So, you’re very on edge, looking around every corner with apprehension, bracing yourself for anything and everything. When you finally reach the door, unharmed, you let out a deep sigh, only to hear a voice behind you.

“Master (Name).”

What now? You whip your head around, a sense of deja vu hitting you, oh, it’s just Alfred. You let out a sigh, glad it’s not Dick with his strange shenanigans. “Alfred, is everything alright?” You smile, out of everyone, Alfred is the one you love most, the one who cradled you close in those agonizingly lonely nights, when you’d call out for your mother, for your father, for anyone.

He was there.

“You’re heading out?” He asks, assessing you with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. A few days ago, Dick had informed him that you were acting strange, you had run away from your older brother. His mind raced, the implications of what that might mean has been weighing on the butler’s mind for days. It was uncharacteristic of you, up until about a week ago you would jump for joy if any of your family would glance at you.

But after that day, that day where you had skipped breakfast .. What changed? Why are you suddenly so uninterested in your family? It’s unnatural. Your whole life had always been dedicated to them, you’d do anything to be apart of them, to be seen. So why? When you finally had the chance to be centre stage, were you walking away? Something about your demeanour was off and he didn’t like it.

“Yes, I’ve–” You pause, should you tell Alfred? I’m going to move out and never speak to anyone from this house again! No, you’ll wait until you’ve secured a place before letting him know. You’re not prepared for that conversation. “I’m going to– for a walk.” The lie is stale on your tongue, you’ve never lied to Alfred, not besides petty ones to get out of trouble. But this feels different, a heavy knot tying in your shoulders as you watch the butler’s confused expression.

“Is that so? Because a few days ago, Master Dick–” You were out the door before he could finish his damn sentence. You are not in the mood to discuss Dick right now! It’s going to ruin your chipper mood.

The click of the door had Alfred’s eyes narrowing, his eyes trained on where you once stood. He believed that the small push he gave Bruce would be enough, but it’s just driving you further away. How troublesome, he doesn’t want for you to end up hurt.

“Wow! This is a really great place? And I get the first month free?” You are convinced whatever deity sent you back in time is responsible for the saint before you. The small, chubby old man who speaks to you in such a paternal voice it makes you want to cry.

“Of course, it’s no problem, I just need to speak to your guardian to agree on your emancipation, plus they’ll need to sign some consent forms.”

“What?” You blink dumbly, your heart momentarily stopping before the damn organ speeds up so quickly it could power a small village, you try to convey your thoughts but all you can manage is a few dumb noises. “Are– Are you sure?”

“Apologies, since you’re only sixteen – you must have a guardian’s consent, this is a legal rental after all,” he smiles apologetically, before adding, “if you want to live somewhere without your parent’s consent, it’ll have to be illegally – which can be dangerous, ‘specially for a youngling such as yourself.”

Oh, right. You’re sixteen. The fact slipped your mind once more, you’re so foolish. So damn foolish, nothing will ever be so easy, nothing in your life will ever be handed to you like this. “Right, I’ll– let you know.” You smile, your eyes scanning over the small apartment once more. It reminds you of the place you stayed with your mother, the small space encapsulating those memories you hold dear so perfectly that if you light a few ciggerattes and close your eyes, you'll go back in time.

“I’ll keep this off-sale for you, please let me know as soon as possible.” Mr. Kim, so nicely adds, his small face – wrinkled with age, softening at your disheartened expression. You so desperately want to beg for him to rethink, to make an exception, but you don't want to get him in trouble, not since he’s been so kind.

And so, with a heavy heart, you walk out, walking with effort since your feet don’t want to leave. Don’t want to leave a future that could be, that should’ve been. Ugh, how disgustingly sentimental.

You don’t feel like returning to the Manor, not yet. The air outside is nice, it’s nice to breathe in a taste of something other than the suffocating walls around you, even if it’s just some dingy back alley. It’s nice to see what could’ve been, that is until a large hand clamps down on your shoulder.

Oh, great. So the one time you leave the Manor you die again. Maybe you’ll regress to when you’re eleven next, you muse.

“What the hell are you doing around here?” You recognise that voice and immediately you don’t want to turn around. What is he doing out? During the day? You thought vigilantes only patrol during the lunar hours, so why? Your heart squeezes in your throat, desperate to claw its way out, to escape your pitiful body.

After a tense moment of silence, you turn around, there he stands. Red Hood, your older brother. Well, older brother is a stretch, you’ve never really interacted with him – much like the rest of your family. You were brought in when he was still Robin, but he died shortly after. A small, vengeful part of you blamed him for your neglect. That was until Bruce brought in Tim, and you watched bitterly how Tim was embraced immediately, he didn’t have to fight for any attention, he was accepted by everyone and you were forced to swallow the thought that it wasn't Jason's fault -- but your own.

When Jason was somehow brought back, you selfishly hoped you would be able to bond with him, that he’d be the one to look back at you, to get to your level and hold you close.

No such thing happened, the only time you saw him was when he was walking through the Manor to the Batcave, and even then, he gave you a bone-chilling glare. You didn’t think of him so optimistically after that. Now, with his hand clutching your shoulder, his expression covered by his menacing red helmet..

You’re ready to be shot 5 times again.

“I asked you a question.” He says, his hand tightening on your shoulder, you snap out of your stupor immediately, your fear morphing into frustration. You shove his hand off of you with more effort than you’re comfortable with, and even then you’re sure he’s the one who dropped his hand to not embarrass you any further.

“I’m allowed to go outside.” You huff, your nerves practically fighting against the restraints of your skin, a cold, overbearing feeling rushing over you. This was..– Everything was wrong, this is not how this is supposed to go, not at all.

“You were talking to Mr. Kim, why?” He asks bluntly, your heart stops beating for a moment, the only thing you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your brain trying to block this all out, trying to block out everything. “Actually, nevermind, I think I know why.”

You want to cry, why was this happening? You were so happy, so content. Why do you bump into them every time you leave your room, can’t you have one good day? Will you need to become a hermit? Will that get them off your back?

“I can drive you back to the Manor–”

“No, I’m fine.” You cut him off, your voice not masking any of your fear, it has Jason blinking under his mask. Why were you so on edge? What’s going on with you?

“I insist– Gotham isn’t safe for you to just be–..” He watches the downright terrified expression on your face before sighing and signalling for you to go, his stomach churns in an unfamiliar way as you scurry away.

Why were you so nervous? Could it be that you're scared of him?

That’s understandable, you’re not a vigilante, you’re just some average kid. But when he saw you walking alone, he detests himself for the way his heart swelled with happiness. In his Robin days, he loved watching the normalcy of your life, the way you would live free of any strings to the ghastly occupation he had.

He was scared to get closer, scared to shatter that illusion you had.

The fear amplified when he came back to life, he was relieved to see that you were still unaffiliated with Batman, but fuck, he was too cowardly to reach out, that day when you looked at him with gladness, he was hit with a paralysing fear of you getting too close, of you getting hurt. He replays the crushed expression that dawned your face like a damn broken stereo.

So when he saw you sulking about a few moments ago, he saw his chance to reach out, to get a taste of your normalcy, he took it, however selfish it may be.

“Whatever.” He grits, climbing up the roof to tail you, he’s content with watching from afar, for now.

The whole way back to the Manor felt like a fever dream, you can’t brush these oddities off as coincidences, why the hell did Red Hood approach you. Was he trying to pull a Damian? Was that a simple reminder of how pathetic you are? Why did he do that?!

Why was everyone acting so strangely?

The Manor offered you no comfort, it’s looming walls did nothing but remind you of your own shortcomings, you were afraid, you were perplexed but above all you were furious. Why now? When you’ve finally accepted your position in this family, why are they all turning their heads. Well damn them! You’re sick of this whole stupid charade, you won’t be that small child anymore, a child who knew only loneliness. You’re going to become your own person outside of the surname which has held you back for so long.

“We need to talk.” A voice calls out as you reach your room, what now? You’re sick of these damn conversations. You just want to move out, why is it so damn hard?

Oh, it’s Bruce again. Your lips press into a thin line as he stands before you, you can hear the soft humming running through the Manor walls. When you were younger, that sound brought you so much comfort, yet now it’s different. Like a warning.

“Talk? About what?” You try to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. You’re distinctly aware of the way his brows furrow at your pitiful expression. Oh hell, you hope this won’t be another walk down the Manor where you awkwardly fumble in silence.

You don’t say anything as he leads you away from your room, a sullen quilt draped over the Manor, a strange foreboding sense that something’s going to happen. Something bad. You’re utterly perplexed as your father guides you to a part of the Manor you’re somewhat familiar with.

As a child, you used to lurk around the corners of these very walls, watching your family, itching to reach out and join in but fearing ruining the delicate painting they created. Fearing rejection, the cold glares and sneers as they pushed you away. So you trailed silently, waiting, hoping that someone would look back, smile at you and maybe hold out their hand. But it only ever happened in your dreams, a pale illusion of a reality that should've been true.

“Where did you go?” He asks, his eyes boring onto you with such intensity you can distinctly feel the way your blood begins furiously to pump through your veins, why did he care? “Alfred said you went out.”

“I just wanted some fresh air.” You’re not sure why you’re lying, it’d be easier to tell Bruce that you went to go see a house, the consent forms are folded in your pocket, waiting for his signature. It’d be so simple, so easy. Just a dip of pen on paper and you’ll be out.

So why do you feel such dread? A dread unlike anything you’ve ever felt. When you were in that alley, bleeding out helplessly, even then this oppressive feeling, which tightens your ribcage, forcing your organs into a tight space until you couldn’t breathe, until you couldn’t comprehend if it was your heart pounding so heavily or your lungs, wasn't as scary.

“You’re only sixteen, you need to let someone know where you’re going.” His voice is so unbelievably despotic that it made your very core tremble with anxiety, with a looming sense of doom.

“It’s never been a problem before.” You mumble, your voice a lot quieter than you would’ve liked, your vocal chords burning with each word passing through it, your nerves invading each of your senses, as if warning you to stay quiet.

Bruce says nothing, and the moment the air grows stale you wish you could take your words back. You can see the way his brows crease, the way he looks at you as though you’re some sort of criminal and not his own flesh and blood, the soft humming in the walls has disappeared, left behind in your area of the Manor. Though it’s odd, when you would lurk around the Manor as a youthling, there was always some sort of background noise in this area, where everyone hung out. The silence unnerved you, another thing that’s changed, another thing you couldn’t have predicted.

“If you’re going out, make sure to let me know.” He sighs, his expression softening as he looks down at you with what you interpret as belittlement, a burning hot rage boils in your stomach, and once more, you’re hit with the knowledge this isn’t how things are supposed to go, Bruce isn’t supposed to care that you go out without telling anyone, he’s not supposed to care about you.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do!’ you want to say, you want to scream, to ask what rights he has to treat you like a child? How dare he? It makes your very being tremble with frustration, your hands clenching with barely contained anger.

But you don’t. Why? Is it the natural response from your mind? The fear of disappointing him? The fear that if you speak up, you’ll be kicked out and left to rot? Or perhaps it’s the fear of confrontation you gained through his negligence, the weakness he moulded. But still, you’re not sixteen anymore, not really. Mentally, you’re twenty-one, you’ve been through each stage of your life, and maybe, sure, the day you died, you were content for them to walk all over you in exchange for a single glance at your direction.

But you’ve died and come back (in time)! You shouldn’t let them walk all over you anymore, shouldn’t be content as an afterthought. So– you open your mouth and–

“What’s going on?” Another voice speaks out, great, because this is exactly what you needed, another clown to join the circus. Oh.

Is this a joke? Is the person responsible for your misfortune giggling at your despair, is it amusing to see you suffer?

Damian, Dick, Jason and now Tim.

Why is Tim walking up to you? Why is he looking at you? A rush of dread, a sensation you’ve grown familiar with in the past few days, washes over you. You’ve never had his eyes on you, never for so long. It’s unnerving. You thought the calculating look in Bruce and Damian’s eyes was scary, but the way Tim looks at you now? His eyes zeroed in on you? It has your insides melting into liquid, the urge to cover your face, to hide in the corner and bury your face in your knees is overwhelming.

You don’t want his eyes on you, you decide. Years of clawing at your own shortcomings, of desperately trying to appeal to him, to have him look back – you would do anything at that time for him to look at you the way he is now.

But now? You don’t like it, he wears a neutral expression, but the look in his eyes makes you feel vulnerable, like he’s picking you apart one by one, each twitch, each mannerism.

“It’s about what we talked about.” Bruce says, his tone completely natural, like he’s discussing the weather, you don’t know the specifics but you have a nagging feeling that you know what he’s speaking of.

“Ah. Really? You’re still on that?” Tim tuts, his head tilting ever so slightly as he studies you. Just as you’re about to ask what the fuck does he mean by that, he turns his attention to Bruce. “I told you, they can’t do anything without your consent, they’re 16.”

How dare they? How dare they talk as though you’re not here? This is disgusting, what loathsome, egotistical dickheads! Your hands itch, the anxiety in you speeding all over your body like a livewire, mixing with your anger to create an overwhelming feeling of terror.

What was the point of Bruce bringing you here? To mock you? Show you how great they have it? What you’ve been missing out on? Well, screw him. You need to get away before you lash out, you’re better than that. Better than this.

The pair watches as you walk away, your whole body tense. For a moment, there’s a prolonged silence which is broken by Tim. “Did we do something wrong?” He asks, genuinely confused by your little display.

When he came back from a particularly tough mission, the last thing he was expecting was everybody collectively freaking out. Bruce, Damian, even Dick were all tense, looking around each corner – searching for something, someone. 

It was weird for a multitude of reasons, firstly – Dick was supposed to be gone by now, his stay at the Manor was for a few days only. Why is he here? And secondly, nothing particularly stressful was happening in Gotham, so what was with the gloom and doom?

When Bruce sighed, telling him about your plans to move out, well, to say Tim was confused was an understatement. That did not deserve such a reaction, but then he really thought about it, and, if this is how they react to you threatening to leave..

If you were to actually step out that door, to alienate away from them, to discard your last name. His head begins to throb at the implications, he’s acutely aware of how selfish it is for him to wish to keep you around, to keep you in this Manor all to keep himself happy.

But then the thought that, really, he’s doing this for you! If you thought it was so easy to just get up and leave, that at sixteen you’d just be able to pack up and go. Well, with that stupidity, you wouldn’t survive outside, in Gotham no less. He was able to placate Bruce’s stressing, thankfully, because the man looked three minutes away from a heart attack.

You wouldn’t be able to go without Bruce’s permission, so long as they had that – you’d stay with them. But that’s what led him to seeking you out now, if you had ideas about leaving that meant you were unhappy.

He was hoping to talk to you, to ask if you wanted to hang out – that’s what you want, right? When he thinks of you, his mind conjures up the slightly annoying, slightly endearing child that you were. He’ll hang out with you, destroy those silly notions and everything will go back to how it was.

So why did you stomp off? That’s not how you’re supposed to act. That’s not how you are.

“I don’t think so.” Bruce replies to his earlier question, his eyes still trained on the spot in which you were. How could you walk off?

Why were you so off during that conversation? He couldn’t…– This belies everything Alfred had told him about you, it's left Bruce conflicted. He had hoped that by bringing you here, he could ask which room you liked best. But you walked off, why? Why do you deny his affection? He was worried when he heard you left, a small, vulnerable part of him was afraid that you wouldn’t come back, that you had left for good, slipped through his fingers before he could hold you close.

So, when he saw you walk in – oh, he was elated. He just wanted to convey his worries, but you seemed to have gotten the wrong idea. He really doesn’t want that, you don't need anymore reasons to leave.

He doesn’t want the terrified expression on your face, he wants that dazzled look you used to carry around, he wants you – not this restless part of you, but the real you.

He'll get it back, he's sure he will.

ugh i hate the misunderstanding trope i say as i write the misunderstanding trope

tag list (open, ask to be added) ;

@estreiiuh @beyondblissxoxo @jjsmeowthie @vanessa-boo @delias-stuff @d3nnji @wizzerreblogs s @lilyalone @strawbrysapphic @regulus-things s @iimichie @buckturd @eloriis @wassupbroski55555 @eyeless-kun @anakilusmos @peehall @bigeyedbaby @chaeugwi @snailpebbles @fandomly-obsessed @kitkatkitmeow @the-holy-pigeon @sheep-from-rad @mei-simp

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Worst Nightmare: Ra’s al Ghul’s Matchmaking Skills

It started with a mission.

Tim hadn’t expected to be sent after a new ghost anomaly, much less one that was human-shaped and strangely familiar. But when he found himself face-to-face with Danny—a teenager who radiated Lazarus energy like it was his second skin—things got weird. Fast.

Cue the League of Assassins bursting onto the scene, followed by a dramatic entrance from none other than Ra’s al Ghul himself.

And that’s when Tim learned the big, world-shattering truth: Danny was Ra’s al Ghul’s son. Not adopted. Biological.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tim stood, slack-jawed, watching Ra’s beam with the kind of pride usually reserved for conquering cities. Danny, standing awkwardly next to him, scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so, uh… surprise?” Danny offered.

Ra’s spread his arms wide. “Timothy! This is a joyous day. My son, Daniel, has found you at last.”

Tim blinked. “Found me?”

Danny shuffled nervously. “Uh, yeah. You’re kind of… important to the family now.”

Tim’s brain short-circuited.

———

The Heir Situation

Because here’s the kicker: Ra’s had been trying to get Tim to join the League for years. He saw Tim as a potential heir. But now, with Danny in the picture, Ra’s had an even better idea.

“Through Daniel,” Ra’s explained, practically glowing, “I can finally bring you into the family as I always intended.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not marrying into the League of Assassins.”

Danny choked. “Wait, what?!”

Ra’s nodded sagely. “I see you are both shy about it. No matter! Destiny has a way of unfolding as it should.”

Tim and Danny exchanged horrified glances.

———

Danny and Tim’s Relationship

Despite the chaos, Danny and Tim clicked. Danny was chaotic but genuine, a refreshing contrast to the constant stress of Gotham. And Tim? Tim was the most grounded person Danny had ever met.

“You know, you don’t have to listen to Ra’s,” Tim pointed out after one particularly tense League encounter.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, but if I don’t humor him, he gets pouty.”

Tim snorted. “Ra’s al Ghul? Pouty?”

“You have no idea.”

———

The Batfamily’s Reaction

When Tim brought Danny back to Gotham, the batfam had questions.

Bruce: “He’s… Ra’s’ son?”

Tim: “Yep.”

Jason: “And you’re… what, his fiancé now?”

Tim: screaming internally

Danny: “I’M RIGHT HERE.”

Damian, eyes wide: “Uncle?”

Danny grinned. “Hey, kiddo.”

Damian, flustered: “I—no. This cannot be.”

———

Ra’s Is Thrilled

Back in Nanda Parbat, Ra’s couldn’t be happier. Every time Tim showed up, Ra’s looked like Christmas came early.

Ra’s: “Timothy, you and Daniel are a perfect match.”

Tim: “In what universe?”

Danny: “Technically, several.”

———

Danny Was Happy.

That was the problem.

Tim might hate making Ra’s happy, but… Danny was different.

Danny liked being part of the League. He liked the structure, the weird family dynamic. He liked the purpose. And he was thriving.

Tim couldn’t ruin that.

Tim didn’t want to make Ra’s happy—he’d rather swallow glass—but he did want to make Danny happy.

And if that meant putting up with Ra’s al Ghul’s matchmaking schemes, well…

Tim gritted his teeth and endured.

———

Tim’s Inner Monologue:

“Being with Danny isn’t the issue. The issue is that it makes Ra’s happy. And I refuse to let that man win.”

Danny: smirking “You’re fighting a losing battle.”

Tim: “Shut up.”

Danny: “Love you too.”

[tetzoro]

HELP ME HELP YOU — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. dick grayson !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : poison ivy has been flying under the radar and weaponizing her pollen to fellow criminals. it’s a shame you and dick find out the hard way.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader. dub-con bc of sex pollen (they’ve both been pining for each other tho), dry humping, slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex, oral (f + m receiving, 69, face sitting), cum eating, multiple orgasms, missionary, mating press, cowgirl, pet names (baby, pretty), praise, creampies, mentions of breeding, light impact play (slaps your thigh once), begging, mentions of sweat and saliva, slight overstimulation, almost pure smut tbh it’s just filth — WC : 6.1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : mind the tags !! i’ve been wanting to write a sex pollen fic for so long i’m so excited i finally did it ! enjoy !!

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

another drizzly night in gotham, filled with blaring police sirens and a heavy dose of crime. patrol was going as planned for the most part. apprehending a few criminals here and there, but nothing major. to dick, it was a semi-quiet night. one that left him reflecting on his life or rather, his recent choices.

truth be told, he had missed gotham. even though it wasn’t in a much better state when he had left, a large part of him knew he belonged here. bludhaven had been a good experience for him to try and break away, start his own thing. but when it came down to it, he missed it here. missed the people here, some more than others.

dick eventually got a tip from tim, stating that there were a couple of criminals causing a scene a few blocks down the road. he made it there quickly, only to run into you.

normally, it wasn’t a rare sight to see you out on patrol at the same time as him, but lately, it’s been harder to be around you. he knew he was developing feelings for you, no, he already had feelings for you. but it was all so confusing. the two of you had been friends for so long, since you were teenagers.

but then he left and you stayed. even though he’s been back for about a month, it still feels like he doesnt get to see enough of you. and when he’s finally around you, he just doesn’t know how to act anymore. 

“and here i thought you’d never show up, nightwing.” you tease, getting ready to apprehend the criminals that were trying to make their next move. he easily side stepped to get into a closer range to them, ready to bring them down with you. but truthfully, a large part of his focus wasn’t on them at all.

“you know i can never resist.” he smirks. the two of you start fighting off the criminals, landing quick, steady punches. 

“resist showing off, you mean.” you scoff, swinging your fist around, lodging it in one of the criminals' sides.

“ouch,” dick takes out one of his batons, twirling it around in his hand before using it against one of the enemies. “and here i was going to help you out of the goodness of my heart, my mistake.”

the two of you move in sync, your fighting styles mimicking each other as you attempt to take down the criminals. even though it’s been awhile, the two of you mesh well together just like old times.

“why don’t you sit back and watch how it’s done, boy wonder.” you drop down, palm hitting the pavement as you dodge an incoming attack. you use the momentum to sweep your feet under the apprehender, knocking him on his back. 

“i must’ve struck a nerve for you to use that nickname on me.” he smirked, trying to see how far he can crawl under your skin. the criminals were still trying to fight you both, but it was a cakewalk for him. he’d rather just stand around and tease you all night if he could.

“you’re always on my nerves.” you huff, pushing a villain off of you, watching them hobble backwards before you ready for another attack.

“gotta get your attention somehow, don’t i?” he hit one of the criminals in the gut, trying to swiftly take him down.

before you can retort, you hear something clink to the floor near dick before gas starts to surround it. you both pause, attention shifting on the strange device. the criminals use the momentary lapse to their advantage.

“that’ll keep them busy for awhile.” one of the criminals snicker as they make their escape. you take a step towards them but dick holds you back, his hand gripping onto you.

something felt like it was crawling up his spine, a heat that grew more the longer he touched you. 

“what are you doing?” you question him, ripping your arm from his hold. but then he realized, not touching you sent spikes of pain throughout his body, yearning for some sort of relief that he didn’t know how to get.

he tries to shake it off to focus on the task at hand, pressing against his ear piece, trying to contact tim.

“nightwing.” tim greets as he presses the button. dick crouches down to look at the device the criminals threw, your eyes tracking his movements with curiosity. “report?”

“looks like the criminals threw a toxin at us, i’m not sure what it is but it let out a puff of gas when it hit the ground. judging by the design of it i’d say,” dick pauses, eyes widening as he flips it over in the palm of his hand. a small, green plant painted onto the side of the device. “ivy.”

“alright, report back to the batcave. there’s been rumors that she’s been weaponizing her special pollen so we will have an antidote ready. did anyone else get hit? or are you alone?” tim replies, typing away on his keyboard.

dick looks over at you, holding your gaze for a moment. his mouth feels dry, words lodged in his throat as his body shivers. he tells tim he’s with you.

“dick, whatever you do, do not give into any urges, okay? christ, i didn’t know she’d be out on patrol too, she wasn’t even scheduled.” the frustration in his voice is tinged with anxiety and panic, knowing fully well the extent of getting hit by ivy’s pollen. “both of you get back here immediately. signing off.”

“affirmative.” dick nods, letting tim break the line for now. his eyes hadn’t left yours and he watched as you back up towards the wall behind you. he mirrors your movements, his thoughts growing hazier by the second. his more primal urges start to fight logic, a new battle unfolding in his mind.

he holds onto the wall, planting his back firmly against it as his hands form a fist. the sensation is back again, prickling under his skin like an itch he can’t scratch. it’s driving him mad, sweat starting to coat his body. everything was hot, searing. any self control he had was quickly slipping through his fingers, his heart racing out of his chest.��

even looking at you seems to make it worse, so he keeps his head against the wall, looking up at the dark sky as he tries to find the strength to move. he needs a plan, something to grasp and ground him to reality before he throws caution to the wind and takes you right here in this alleyway.

so he decides he just… won’t give in. that’s it, he’ll stay on this side of the wall while you stay on the other and then you go back to the cave and get the antidote. perfect.

“dickie.” or well, it would’ve been. his attention reluctantly goes over to you as you use his nickname, eyes burning trying to keep them on your face. but the way your voice sounded, the lilt of desperation packed into it had him curious. his eyes trail down your body, watching the way your chest heaves up and down, your thighs clenching together.

“yeah?” he swallows, eyes averting to the ground, his fingers curling deeper into his fist until he’s sure his nails are about to break the skin. 

“it hurts.” you all but whimper and his resolve cracks in half. it was always his dream to be your hero, to be someone you look up to and respect. being your knight in shining armor and eventually wooing you over one day. with the way your voice sounded, he needed to save you, do anything to make you feel better. seeing you in pain like this clawed at his heart, leaving his chest wide open. “please, i don’t know what to do.”

he’s never seen you look so helpless. you’ve always had an air of confidence about you whenever you put on your suit. you took being a hero seriously, one of the many things he admired about you. but this? he’s never seen you like this. and it stirred something within him.

he swallows thickly, trying to grab control of his thoughts once again, gripping onto logic even though the pollen was directly challenging it. one by one, another decent thought slips out of his hold and is instantly replaced with one that was much more improper. the kind of thoughts he’s tried his best to repress, especially when it comes to you.

“i know.” he says, tim’s word of caution fleeting from his mind. pressing himself off against the wall, he bounds over to you, finding himself directly in front of you, his palm pressed against the wall by your head. you gasp and it takes every last bit of him to not devour your sweet sounds. “fuck, we have to get back to the cave.”

your eyes flutter shut as his words breathe across your face, the raspy tone from his voice luring you in. 

“please.” you say again, the words barely above a whisper.

the rubber band snaps and the tension breaks, your bodies surging towards each other, clicking into place as your lips finally collide. the pollen saturating every nerve in your body, an overwhelming tsunami threatening to consume you and take him down with you.

but he wasn’t faring any better. his hands were shaking with need, his movements clumsy, not because they weren’t practiced, but because he had never needed anything more in his life.

he kisses you with a bruising force he usually reserves for when he fights, unable to hold himself back as the pollen dances throughout his veins chanting more, more, more.

visions invade his mind, betraying all the walls he’s so carefully put in place over the years. the amount of times he’s dreamed of having you, the amount of times he’s fisted his cock to the thought of you, was all coming to a burning point. if he didn’t have you now, it felt like his body would disintegrate. 

a groan rips from his throat, rumbling against your lips as he tries to devour you. his hands roam all over your body, almost kneading against every part of you to get a proper feel. but it wasn’t enough.

“have to feel you, please- need you closer.” he manages to choke out, his plump lips swollen with your passion, his dark blue eyes blown all the way out into a dark, stormy abyss. with a small nod of your head, he’s pushing you against the wall, slipping his thigh between your legs. he grinds against your hips, seeking out any sort of relief while also trying to provide you some.

the kiss is hardly graceful — teeth clashing against each other, trying to consume the other. there’s no fight for dominance, no careful hesitance, just pure unabridged desperation. he feels you reach for your mask, already trying to take off anything that serves as a barrier between you and him.

“f-fuck, wait, keep your mask on. we can’t-“ he didn’t finish the sentence as you rolled your hips against him instead, body jerking in his hold. somehow the gravity of the situation rings in his head for a moment. “shit, wait, we should talk about this, right?”

“we’re just helping each other out,” you gasp, kissing along his jaw. your fingers dig into his biceps, voice straining as you try to keep yourself together for a moment. “it hurts so much, i can’t stand it. help me and i’ll help you.”

“can’t say no to that logic.” he picks you up, pressing you against the wall as he presses his aching cock to your core. the relief it brought had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, gripping onto you tighter as his body reacts in a way it’s never done before.

he grinds against your clothed cunt, the fabric of your suits making it easier to hurriedly slide against each other. he wishes he could feel how tightly you’d wrap around him instead of this but he needed release now, and this was the quickest way to get it.

and you’re just as bad as him, bucking your hips against him to gain any sort of friction, your hands pawing all over his body.

“please-“ you whine in his ear, “stop teasing me, let me feel you.” your body felt on fire, something crackling just beneath the surface. the friction you were getting wasn’t enough, giving you pleasure but you also craved more.

“c-can’t.” he gasps, moving his hips faster as he feels a high coming on. “m’close.”

it was all building up deep within him, pleasure fighting pain and hurtling him towards the unknown. but he knew it would help, god, he knew anything with you would save him somehow.

his aching cock was still pressed up against the tight suit he had on, throbbing and pulsing as if it was trying to make its great escape. but the sound of your moan brought him back to the moment, the sweet mewl tumbling out of your lips as you reach your high. it sends him over the edge, cumming in his suit, hips stuttering against yours.

after a moment to catch your breath, you look at each other. the pain and fire are still as strong as ever, in fact, it might even be worse now. he needs to be inside you, feeling your warm walls hold onto him as he releases load after load deep within you.

“we need to-.” he pauses, breath hitching as you start rubbing against him again. the words die in his throat, no longer thinking of the batcave and the antidote. 

“i need more, please we can’t stop here.” you whine, looking up at him. whatever you were doing felt so good, feeding into the unstoppable desire that ignited in him. 

“we need to find somewhere to go.” he decides, holding onto you tightly.

“there’s a safehouse close by.” you suggest and suddenly it was like a veil was lifted. the fog cleared, and all he could see was you. your unfocused eyes, the way you pawed at him, he knew exactly what to do.

“i know the one, let’s go.” he grabs your hand, practically running down the street with you dragging behind him. but you manage to keep up with him. he’s relieved that no one is really out here, even though the night life was never tame in gotham, he considered it a small blessing that the streets were somewhat quiet tonight.

the safehouse was nestled in between a slew of apartments. he easily grabbed the key from under the mat and shoved the door open, the hinges yelling in protest. he all but pushes you inside, slamming the door shut and sealing you both in.

your body hits the door as soon as he closes it, his brute strength easily manhandling you into any position he wants. you were more than ready for it, wrapping your legs around his waist as your heels dig into his perfect ass, pulling him closer.

he groans as you roll your hips against his, trying to get closer to his straining cock. depravity takes over as you're practically humping against each other, shimming out of your suits. some part of you had to still be touching him —  your lips, your hands, anything.

finally, you’re both freed of your restricting clothing, ripping it down just enough so he could gain better access to you, barely caring that he was shredding your hero suit. but it didn’t seem like you minded either as your nails raked against his chest.

“you ready for me?” he fists his aching cock, throbbing and glistening with his cum. the tip was so red, you wondered if he was in any pain — or if it matched the same one you felt in between your thighs. 

“hurry, need you to-” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence. 

dick slipped into you with one rough shove, filling you all the way up in one delicious motion. you gasp, throwing your head back into the door at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off of the wooden panel.

“sorry, baby.” his arm slips around your waist, his palm spreading along your back for support. “s’okay, you’re okay, yeah?”

he doesn’t move for a moment to try to let you adjust, his body practically screaming at him for waiting. but he felt so weak for you, couldn’t help but start rocking his hips. it didn’t take long for his urges to take over. 

his hands pushed down onto your waist, steadying himself so he could get deeper. the only thought that crossed his mind was how good you felt, how well you took him — and it only made him more determined to make you fall apart just like you were making him.

why had he waited so long to make a move? he could’ve done this sooner, years ago. it pissed him off, frustrated he’s gone so long without knowing how good your cunt felt wrapped around his cock. the anger only intensifies his thrusts, the door rattling behind you in protest.

“s-slow down!” you cry out, not really thinking of what you were saying. the last thing you wanted was for him to slow down, but everything felt so fast, so overwhelming that your brain couldn’t keep up with it.

“that’s not what you really want.” he grunts out, lips latching onto your neck. he needed to leave little marks on you. a reminder for him that this is really happening, that this is real. he’s finally fucking you. “you’re so tight, you feel so good f’me.”

“all for you, only for you.” you start to babble, drunk off the sensation he‘s feeding you. your legs wrap tighter around his waist, driving him deeper than he already was. his pace stutters for a second, his release already sneaking up on him. “ah- m’already close!”

“me too, baby.” he breathes, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard it. “please let me cum inside, need to fill you up and breed this pretty pussy.”

you clench around his words, nodding your head profusely, body tightening as electricity shoots through your body as you cum around his cock. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues to thrust into you, desperately chasing his own release.

“yes, yes, need it, please!” you moan, practically milking his cock. once you give him the okay, he drives as deep as he can and lets out a broken moan as he fills you up.

“shit.” he grunts out, his breathing far out of his control. he lowers you down, letting you land on your feet. but you can hardly stand, his grip tight on your elbows to keep you upright. the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, trying to process what just happened, what’s currently happening. intense need swarms his mind again and pain spreads throughout his body with every passing second he isn’t inside of you.

instinctively, you drop to your knees, your hand lightly grasping around his slick base. dick lets out a hiss of pleasure, tossing his head back as he feels the slight essence of reprieve. 

“need you in my mouth,” you look up at him, slowly pumping his cock. he twitches in your hand with interest, the sex pollen still sending his body into overdrive. he doesn’t even feel overstimulation, all he feels is lust and the overwhelming need to wreck you.

“go ahead, baby.” you wrap your lips around his cock, hollowing out your cheeks as you get right to work. his eyes roll back and he needs to grip onto the back of your head for support — otherwise he’d fall backwards. “damn, knew you’d be good at this, always running your sweet little mouth whenever you’re around me. feels like heaven.”

you hum in approval, the sensation tickling his tip. you take him in deeper, your hands grabbing onto his ass for support.

“fuck, baby.” he mutters under his breath. normally, you probably wouldn’t have heard it, but the pollen heightened all of your senses when it came to him. his voice sounded so raspy, so desperate, it had you squeezing your thighs together. “please don’t tease me right now or i’ll fuck you against the wall again.”

so you don’t, swallowing his whole length, your pretty eyes filling up with tears as you look up at him. he feels like he’s going to pass out — his head is fuzzy, his thighs are trembling, you have him under your spell and a primitive part of him is screaming at him to fix it.

“i’m gonna cum.” he moans, gripping your hair. he almost lets himself, but it wouldn’t feel fair. he needed you to cum with him. the two of you were in this together. he pushes you off of him, regret already swarming his body as the pollen viciously attacks him again.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, wiping the spit that was pooling in the corner of your mouth. he picked you up, bringing you over to the couch.

“i have to taste you.” he tosses you on the couch, “so you’re gonna sit on my face.”

the way he said it doesn’t leave any room for argument so for once, you listen to him. watching as he sits next to you on the couch. your bodies pivot so he’s laying down instead of you, an eager smile on his face. 

you climb on top of him, going to move your hips over his eagerly awaiting mouth. but he’s impatient, the need to taste you on his tongue is too great. hastily grabbing your hips, he pulls you down on his face. you yelp in surprise, nails digging into his abs to ground yourself. he doesn’t waste a second, diving into the delicious meal you’ve presented him.

even without you touching him, he started to feel his own relief by swirling his tongue around your clit. his hips thrust in the air, unable to control himself. your moans and small gasps of pleasure fuel him to keep going, not planning on stopping until he’s gotten his fill.

he groans into your cunt as you start to take his leaking cock in your warm hands, focusing on his tip. you lean over his body as he holds you firmly in place so you can pull him back in your mouth, engulfing him in an instant.

his hips involuntary jerks up, pushing himself deeper and eliciting a gag from you. he would feel bad but with the way you gushed around his tongue told him otherwise.

“god, you taste incredible.” he mumbles, making sure he’s not missing a drop. but honestly, it’s too much. your slick mixed with his cum has his mind spiraling — the taste settling on his tongue, nestling deep into his senses.

it was all a haze, trying to devour every drop of you, gripping onto your thighs so tightly that if he was thinking more clearly, he might feel bad. but the way your tongue wraps around his cock, your throat enveloping it all the way down, leaves him with very little coherent thoughts.

but he couldn’t stop lapping at your cunt, every tremble, every moan, every taste of you has him wanting more and he knew that this wouldn’t be enough — it might never be enough. you’ve created an insatiable beast that only craves your touch.

“dick, i’m gonna cum-.” you take a gulp of air, using your hand to furiously pump his cock, fingers dancing around his tip as you usher out your words. a flare of pride spikes up with him and shoots throughout his body, his hand getting away from him as he encouragingly slaps against your thigh.

“please, baby. come all over my face.” he knows he sounds wrecked but he doesn’t care. he gets back to work, suckling on your clit more intently than before. your mewls vibrate along his length and he can’t help but thrust into your mouth a little, overly excited at the prospect of you releasing all over him. 

he helps you ride his face, guiding your movements by his grip on your thighs. with a cry of his name, you cum again, gushing all over him. at this point, he could die a happy man, cleaning you up as your thighs shake in his palms.

he’s not sure if it was your skilled mouth, your messy cunt, or the fact he managed to pull that strong of an orgasm from you — but he came in your hand that was still rubbing at his tip.

“f-fuuuuuck.” he moans out, hips jerking in your hold. after a few minutes, he feels you slide off of his face, pivoting yourself and sitting on the couch, head hanging off the back of it.

it had to be over, right? all of the pollen should be out of your systems. he sat up and mirrored your movements, looking over at you to see how you were faring. and you were already looking over at him, half lidded eyes as you were catching your breath. your skin was glistening in sweat, much like his own.

the itch creeped up his neck, sending chills over his body. it definitely wasn’t done and the agony of not touching you anymore was starting to get to his head. he lunges over to you, pinning you on the couch as he lines up his cock once again.

“god, i need to have you.” he breathes, searching your eyes to see if you feel as messed up as he does.

“you’ve got me.” you mewl before looking up and adding, “you’ve always had me.”

“really?” disbelief coats his words, somehow managing to pause his motions even though his body is screaming at him. the fire inside of him is licking at the tightly wound coil within him, but somehow he’s able to push it down — even if it’s just for a moment. but he needs to hear this, needs to hear you.

“i’ve-” you start squirming under him, no doubt feeling that same fire he did. he almost felt a little bad by delaying your gratification but god, he really needs this. he can’t tell if the tears forming in your eyes are from the pollen or from the emotion that’s been building up after all these years.  “i’ve always loved you dick.”

his hormones fly out of control, his hold tightening against you. every nerve in his body tells him to move but he’s somehow frozen, transfixed on your confession. 

“i love you so much.” he manages to choke out, desire boiling in his gut once again, fueled by the sweet words he’s been dying to hear from you. it was too much, the overwhelming itch consuming him once again as “fuck, ‘m sorry, need to-.”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, instead he’s plunging into your warm, welcoming walls. fitting together like a puzzle piece that was always destined to connect. the pollen swirls with the love shared between you two and he can’t help but ruthlessly drive into you, relishing in your sharp cries of pleasure.  

his cock slips out of you, exasperated groans both leaving your lips and into each others mouth. he reluctantly pulls apart from you, shoving himself back where he belongs before he resumes his pace.

“dick, more-.”

something shatters within him. he couldn’t say it was self control — that had long been gone. but something else deep within him broke by your hands and yet, he could already feel you mending it back up.

there’s no way to tell the passage of time, but none of that mattered to him anyway. all he could do was revel in the warmth of your soft, silken walls. his eyes scan over your face, taking in your blissed out state no doubt mirroring his own.

it had him wanting — craving more. like a man starved who had his first bite, who wouldn’t be sated until he had his fill.

dick’s movements were even faster now that his body could hardly keep up. his cock slipped out of you again, and he let out a strangled sob.

everything was just so wet, both of your bodies coated in a mixture of sweat, spit and cum. he felt your slick coat his thighs, your saliva mark his neck — every inch of his skin is completely covered by your essence.

he drives himself back into you, humping against you as he chases another release. everything was burning up the longer he staved off. at this point, he needed to keep filling you up. you made it so easy for him too, greedily sucking him back in every thrust, squeezing around him so tightly his head was spinning.

driven by pure instinct, he pushes your thighs against your chest, pushing himself deeper into you. 

“wanna take my time with you s’badly.” he rasps out, hands pushing against your legs. “but you just feel s’good i can’t stop.”

his mouth hung open as unsteady breaths left his lungs, trying to gulp up any air he could. but he’d much rather breathe in the sight below him, watching you sprawled out for him, sucking him into your pretty cunt has his mind short circuiting.

“you take me so well, you’re so good to me.” he babbles, eyes squeezed shut for a moment to soak it all in. “you were made f’me.”

his head falls forward and he feels a bead of sweat drop down the side of his face. your trained eye watched it fall, before you lean up and lick it clean off of him. he gasps in surprise, lips chasing yours once again.  

at this point, you really couldn’t call it kissing. your lips were pressed against each other but neither of you could move them properly. just unsteady breaths and moans keeping the two of you connected as pleasure overrides your senses.

arousal pours like gasoline beneath his abdomen, your pleas serving as a match to ignite his body into flames. the pollen warps his mind, drunk on your taste and only craving more of it. 

but he needed you to cum first. he was still trying his best to help you, to relieve you of any pain. he doesn’t know how long it’ll take but he needs you to at least cum as much as he does. 

“oh god, oh, it’s never, fuck, felt like this before, so good-“ you moan out, arching your back up so he can get deeper. 

“i know baby, i know.” he keeps going, harder than he had before. “you’re so, so good to me.”

it was all too much for you, clinging onto him as he relentlessly thrusts into you. he watches as your body freezes in his grasp, bliss saturating all your features, before you forcefully come around his cock.

he wasn’t much further behind, gripping the back of the couch and pushing his hips flush against yours as he fills you up once again. 

the pollen was still tingling in his system, he could feel it. but he felt so drowsy, and he knew you were too. he presses his forehead against yours as your legs fall helplessly by his sides.

“you okay?” he can hardly recognize his own voice.

“mhm, you?” you ask, your eyes fluttering shut for a second. he sees your face constrict with pain and he knows you feel what he feels. it’s not over yet.

“can you handle another round?” he asks, gently caressing your cheek, wiping off what was either sweat or tears. it took so much not to jump you, but the desire was starting to lessen and becoming easier to control, but that didn’t change the fact he was still so damn weak around you. one more round would soothe it all, he can feel it.

“can you?” you laugh breathlessly, always trying to challenge him. a lazy smirk takes up his face as he adjusts you, sitting back against the couch and pulling you up into his lap. his fingers rub little circles along your hips before he digs his fingers in.

“since you’re so confident, why don’t you show me how it’s done.” he meant to sound cocky, but his voice came out twisted with need and desperation.

“with pleasure.” you grab a hold of his still hard cock, lining it up with your sopping entrance, cum from the previous rounds dripping down your thigh. he can’t help but swipe some on his finger, playing with the slightly sticky substance.

you slide down on his cock, moaning the entire way down. all he can do is look up at you, unconsciously sliding the two coated fingers in your open mouth.

you swirl your tongue around them, sucking them clean as well as you were sucking him off earlier. he moans, head hitting the back of the couch as you start rolling your hips.

“you’re so pretty — fuck — i mean, just look at you.” he slurs, eyes glued to where you were connected. his fingers leave your mouth, sliding down your body. “you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, using it as leverage to grind yourself more in his lap, his neatly trimmed pubic hair brushing along your swollen clit.

he slumps back a bit, letting you take control and take what you need. mesmerized by the way your tits jiggle with each movement, he wraps his tongue around your nipple before giving it a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

he was lazy with his movements, swirling his tongue around the perked bud and nuzzling his face against it. the more he touches them, the more he needs to. 

your hips drag along his, bodies pressed together as it feels like lead fills your bones. but you can’t stop moving against him.

“want you to be mine.” he moans against your tits, thrusting up into you more as he feels himself getting close. all he needs to hear is your confirmation that you’ll finally be his. “say you’ll be mine.” 

“m’yours!” your cry out at the increase of pace, fingers digging into his hair as he leaves his mark all over your breasts. “i’m all yours.”

with one final groan, his hips jerk up a few times, releasing another load into your already overflowing cunt. the grip on your hips loosen as his forehead lands on your shoulder, wincing as you keep going to chase your release. overstimulation was starting to creep up on him as the pollen started to clear out of his system. but he didn’t care, he’d keep going as long as you need him to.

“c’mon baby.” he slurs, leaving open mouthed kisses along your collarbone before looking up at you like you summon the sun every morning, beaconing it with your radiant, blissed out smile. “you’re doing s’good for me, give me another one c’mon.”

“cant, i’m trying but i need more.” you move your hips a little faster with a whine of his name tumbling from your lips.

“i’m right here, fuck baby, let go f’me. you’ll feel so much better i promise.” his fingers slip in between your bodies, thumb pressing firmly against your clit as you keep riding him. it sends you over the edge, gripping onto his shoulders and tossing your head back. he’s never seen a more ethereal view and if he could’ve, he would’ve cum all over again at the sight alone.

he doesn’t move his thumb as you ride out your high, squirming around in his lap as pleasure courses throughout your body. he lets go after you start twitching in his grasp, showing you mercy for the first time tonight.

you collapse into a heap on his chest, your heart racing as you try to catch your breath. he feels you curl into him, exhaustion starting to take you. he’s still nestled inside of you, with no desire to move. 

he blinks a few times, starting to take in his surroundings. you guys definitely messed up the couch. anyone who passes through this safehouse will see the traces you two left behind for weeks to come. the thought makes him smirk a little bit.

his phone buzzes and somewhere deep in his fucked out mind he realizes he should check. he’s still technically on patrol. with one arm still securing tucked around you, he uses the other to grab his phone.

everything is a little blurry, the fog still clouding his mind, his eyes drooping as he tries to read it. your soft snores start to fill his ears as he opens the text from tim, reading the line over and over a few times in hopes of processing it better. but then he gets it — clear as day. it was from tim.

“let me guess. you stopped at a safehouse.”

another text.

“have fun explaining this one to bruce.”

taglist : @the-tenth-shadow @petriquors @boogiebooboo @lucifersidepiece @oikawabi-sabi @collin-thegreat ᰔ

[jaythes1mp]

The Incident

Before the incident, you were no one special. 

Growing up, your family belonged to the middle class, your mother a waitress and your father a construction worker. You were an only child, raised by your grandmother from a very young age, as your parents were young and unfit to care for you. Choosing to spend their time working and partying with their friends rather than looking after their baby.

You hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges in your area, so you resulted in making a basic wage by working dual jobs. Saving up just enough money for some scrappy apartment on the outskirts of Gotham.

One afternoon, just before you were able to clock out of another grooly ten-hour shift, six masked women had smashed through the front windows, raiding the store.

The back room was dimly lit, with only a couple dusty desk lamps shedding any kind of light. You were shoved to the ground and forced to sit amongst the other victims while the women gathered whatever they came for. One of them, presumably the leader, began to count the people they had captured, when she stopped and took notice of you. It was the luck of the draw, really. 

You were terrified, practically trembling as the barrel was shoved up against your temple, the hard shove against your front being the only warning to move. 

You don’t remember much after that. Seeing four of the infamous masked fighters coming to rescue your fellow workers and subdue the other robbers. You, however, weren’t as lucky.

Just as the blunt edge of Robin’s katana was slammed into the side of the woman’s weapon, a shot rang out, echoing throughout the walls. 

The weapon was knocked to the ground by the force, completely out of her reach, and she was wrestled to the ground by the vigilantes.

You’re not sure why you fell, but everything suddenly felt warm.

As the room around you grew dizzy, your head spinning from the impact, the world around you felt like it was slowly fading, blurring and darkening at the edges of your vision. The ground was growing sticky beneath you at a rapid rate, turning dark as the deep red liquid began to seep and pour out around you like a spreading fire.

You remember all four of the vigilantes rushing towards you, their faces twisted into panicked masks unlike anything you had ever seen, not even the one time when you had broken your arm as a child. They were more worried than your father would have been at the thought of you dead. 

Oh... I’m dying.

You wanted to chuckle at how absurd it was. You were barely twenty four, and here you were, lying on the cold, dirty floor of a back room, shot through the chest. 

Fuck, my chest hurts.

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, watching as the last few moments of your life were spent looking at the frantic and worried faces of Gotham's heros.

You weren’t sure why they were so devastated. They had all seen death before, first hand. You shouldn't have been any different. There was nothing special about you. You were just an average, worthless citizen, no friends, a shitty job, and an even shittier apartment.

Your hand moved to the hole in your chest, a pained scream ripping through your lips, your eyes squeezed shut.

Then it all went black.

Or.. at least it should have.

Instead, you woke up. 

Gasping frantically for air, you looked around, your heart racing. The looks of the worried teens around you were inconsequential.

Your hands flew to your chest, clawing at the covered skin, looking for the bullet wound that had once been there. It's gone…

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, a relieved sigh following right after.

Then, you finally looked up to meet the eyes of your tenth grade literature teacher.

After the incident, you had found yourself flung back nine years into the past. However, this time, things were different from how you remember them to be.

Now, a cocky, billionaire’s son was claiming to be your best friend, your neighbours, who you vaguely remember having been old, crabby couples, were now completely different. Your old friends were nowhere to be found, And the ever prevalent vigilantes in Gotham seemed almost obsessed with you.

This is a slightly over-detailed synopsis.

I created this idea while I was working on chapter three for Here, Kitty.

If you’d like me to make this drabble into full chapters, then please reblog, comment, or message me. If it gets no interaction then I will understand that it was a shit concept and drop it. If not, then I have a lot of ideas for how the plot will spiral, and a potential twist-ending.

IF anyone was interested in it, then it would include both the BatFamily and SuperFamily, as yanderes.

Thank you for reading through all of this, lovely readers💚 Feel free to send in any suggestions or questions!!

[pedrasacorn]

Pairings: Jason x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, head injury

Summary: self indulgent,

“Hood—” your broken voice cuts through his adrenaline rush, echoing through the dark, damp alleyway.

He holsters his guns quickly, “Hey hey hey—hey sweetheart. Look at me.” He brushes the blood stained hair away from your eyes, “There she is…I gotchu sweet thing.” His voice feels so distant, morphed by the modulator in his helmet into something you don’t recognize.

Your eyes start to wander to the mess of blood. He blocks your sight with his body, “No…You of all people, don’t need to see that,” He cups your cheek, tilting your face up, “That’s not for you okay? You keep those eyes on me.”

He removes his gloves. Although his bare hands are clean, the blood is always there.

His fingertips barely touch your cheek, just enough to ground you.

The red of his helmet warps as tears blur your vision. He quickly swipes them away. “That scumbag is not worth your tears.”

His eyes follow your tears as they mix with the blood on your face. Not your blood. He grimaces.

God nothing bad should ever get the chance to touch you. Yet here he was with his palm cradling your face. He, is a hypocrite.

“I’m taking you to my safe house, s’that okay?”

Your throat feels too raw to speak. So you nod.

The world around you tilts, before strong arms wrap around your shoulders, “Easy there sweets, I gotcha.”

He scoops you up. This man who you’ve seen toss full grown men like rag dolls—still surprises you because you weigh nothing. You feel like you weigh nothing, but you’re not holding yourself. Wait he weighs…you to him weigh…you weigh to him like…which one of you weighs nothing?

“Jay I don’ feel good.” You croak.

“Shh I know sweetheart, I know. Almost home.”

You barely register being set down on the bathroom counter.

He unclips his helmet, and tosses it to the floor. Something stirs within when his green eyes meet yours.

“I saw it,” Your voice trembles as unshed tears choke you, “the blood.”

His brows are furrowed with concern, his full bottom lip is almost a pout. Angels above he has never looked softer. It helps sooth every bit of reluctance now that you can see his face again.

Your eyes feel heavy.

His thumb brushes over your brow, “Open those eyes f’me. Please…” You squint at him as he brings a small flashlight to your eye line.

You knew this one, you’d watched asmr videos of it.

“Concoction.”

He huffs through his nose, a smile lilting his mouth, pulling at the scar above his lip. “Concussion sweetness. Follow the light.”

You do so halfheartedly, not much of an overachiever right now. “S’con-cuntion?” Your tongue feels heavy, clumsy in your mouth.

“Yeah…s’okay though I’ve had plenty of my own. You’re staying here tonight.”

The cotton filling your brain makes your nod feel weightless.

A warm washcloth is brought your cheek, you lean into it happily letting it melt the bite of the cold alley still clinging to your skin. God you can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this.

“You with me pretty girl?” He croons, as he wipes the dried blood from your brow, and cheeks.

You nod, almost dazed.

Tears blur your vision, but he doesn’t try to stop you from crying, just patiently wipes them away with the cloth.

Contently closing your eyes you whisper, “Your hands are soft.”

He is careful not to wear his heart anywhere near his sleeve, and somehow you’ve coaxed him into wearing it on his face. “You’re soft.” He murmurs.

The blood is finally gone.

He sets you down on his bed, keeping you propped up on the bedpost, “Don’t lay down yet.” He coaxes.

You focus on the coolness of the wood, until the bed dips next to you.

“I’m gonna help you get dressed, in the least mortifying way for you possible. I’m so sorry but also…” his eyes rake over you, “I’m not letting you catch the disease that killed the dinosaurs.”

Touché. Who knows what Gotham has cooked up in her petri dish.

“S’okay, m’clothes feel gross.”

He nods curtly before oh so gently lifting your sweater over your head, quickly swapping it for his tshirt.

It smells good—like spring—but you wish he’d given you one off his back. It’d smell like him.

You hold up the shirt to keep it out of contact with your pants. As careful as diffusing a bomb he unbuttons them. “Lift your hips f’me.” He holds you steady, one hand on your hip as the other tugs them down your legs. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as you lean your body weight against him.

“Ya good like this? I have pants they’re just…large.”

You let the shirt back down, it thankfully falls past your hips. “M’okay.”

You’re weightless again as he lifts you, gently laying you on the mass of pillows.

“Oh hallelujah.” You sigh.

Something brushes your nose, you pry your eyes open to be met with his.

“Swallow these.” You wash the pills down with the bottle of water he presses against your lips.

“You’re gonna hate me for the next 24 hours.” He gently brushes the hair out of your eyes with his thumb.

“S’okay ’cause I love you even when I hate you.”

He huffs amusedly. It’s not the same love he feels for you, it can’t be.

“Yeah…I love ya too.”

———

A/n: I stayed up way too late so the concussion yapping is just me trying to figure out what I’m trying to say

[ahqkas]

♯ARTSY HANDS AND MINDS ( how would the batboys react to you making your own merch of their alter ego ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason — separated, fluff, established relationship, not edited, cursing, bases on this req.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

WHEN BRUCE UNLOCKED AND PUSHED the front door of your apartment open, the familiar scent of one of your candles immediately greeted him with warmth and the familiarity of home. he was finally home, with you. it had been a long night, after all, a long night of patrols and late emergency meetings at wayne enterprises. all he wanted was a quiet evening with you, a thing that finally came to him.

the sound of soft humming came from somewhere in the apartment, probably from your living room, much to bruce’s detective skills. he couldn’t help but let a gentle smile grace his face upon the sound as he hung his coat. you always seemed to brighten even the darkest of his days.

but as he rounded the corner to the living space, his smile froze.

there you were, the love of his life, sitting cross-legged on the old, beaten couch ( which bruce insisted on replacing but you didn’t let that happen, something about an emotional bond ) with a black hoodie spread across your lap. a large symbol graced its chest area. the bat-symbol, he realized. smalls jars of fabric paint surrounded your sitting form, and you were holding a delicate brush, adding details to your own craftwork.

bruce was caught of guard.

“bruce!” you gasped his name out when he came into the clear sight, startled. you even nearly dipped the brush in the wrong direction which would mess up with the project you were currently working on. a flush of warmth creeped up your neck. “you’re home early. i thought you’d be at the office for a while.” not that you minded.

“i finished up early,” he hummed and gestured towards the hoodie in your lap. the sight of the symbol, his symbol, stirred something deep within him. “what’s that?”

“oh, this?” your hands awkwardly hovered over the clothing. “it’s nothing, really. just a little project i’m working on.”

your man raised one eyebrow at your dismissal. “that’s quite detailed for ‘nothing’, sweetheart.”

you gave in after a second of thinking, saying to yourself it definitely wasn’t for the petname or the gentle command in his tone. “fine. you caught me. i’m making my own batman hoodie. but before you say anything, let me explain.”

“i’m listening.”

“well, i’ve been a fan of batman for a while now,” you began, eyes watching his face for every kind of a reaction. “not like one of those die-hard fans who camp outside at night trying to take pics of him or anything. just . . . i admire what he does for gotham. he’s a symbol of hope, you know. it’s nice to have someone who actually fights for the city.”

bruce felt a lump form in the back of his throat. you admired both bruce wayne, the gotham’s billionaire darling, and batman, a side of him that came out when the sun went down.

“and,” you continued, “i wanted a hoodie with the bat-symbol because it looks cool, but the official ones are ugly. they’re all this stiff fabric that itches with weirdly placed logos. i wanted something more casual. so, i thought, why not just make one myself?”

his heart skipped a beat once you finished your mini rant, the muscle tightening against the bones of his ribs. you had no idea you were speaking to batman himself, yet your admiration was pure and genuine. it reminded him why he wore the cowl in the first place — to protect people like you, who believed in a better gotham.

“well,” he said after a moment of just looking at you with that special look in the depths of his gaze. “if batman knew how much effort you put into this, he’d flattered.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE LINGERING ACHE IN HIS MUSCLES FROM THE ROOFTOP CHASE he had barely managed to win stained his sore body as he returned from a long night of patrol back home to you. his footsteps were silent, practiced from the countless times he’s done this, when he unlocked the front door to the apartment he shared with you. the lights were still on, spilling the warm light from the living room into the hall.

dick smiled to himself. you always waited up for him, no matter how late he came home from “work”, and it never failed to warm his heart.

to find someone who would do such thing as cut their sleep schedule for him was basically rare, but he managed to.

you were sitting cross-legged on the beloved couch dick himself chose, completely absorbed in your task. the couch has lived its fair share already, but it was well loved and had so many good memories, so you kept it. your boyfriend watched from the doorway as your brows created that adorable little v between them, furrowing in concentration. meanwhile, your hands worked carefully with blue and black yarn. your fingers clutched the unmistakable nightwing plush; complete with the signature blue symbol across its little chest.

you don’t actually know about nightwing. well, you know about his existence, about how the vigilante keeps blüdhaven’s streets safe from criminal activities, and you knew about the package beneath the tight spandex of his suit. what you didn’t know was nightwing’s true identity. you didn’t know how he always made sure to come back home to you, and you totally didn’t know that ass belonged to you.

“uhh . . .” he was caught of guard for a second here. “what are you doing?”

jumping slightly at the sound of his voice, you clutched the half-finished plush close to your chest as if protecting it from his praying eyes. “dick!” your face flushed with embarrassment. “you’re home early.”

he arched an eyebrow at your behavior, his gaze averting towards the digital clock of the tv before it shifted back to you. “it’s almost two in the morning. sooo . . . are you going to explain why you’re making a mini nightwing doll this late at night?”

“first of all, it’s not a doll. it’s a plushie.”

“of course, my bad. plushie.”

“and second,” you started to defend your actions more confidently when you noticed the slightest of smirk gracing his face. he looked tired, the strands of his bangs slightly damp with sweat and his eyes nearly dropping down with how the exhaustion pressed on him. yet he still managed to be all cheeky. “it’s not like i’m obsessed or something. i just — the fan-made ones were too expensive, and honestly none of them were cute enough, so i decided to make my own.”

dick stepped closer to your sitting form, fidgeting with his hands to hide his racing heart. “you’re a nightwing fan?”

you shrugged and started picking at a stray thread on the plushie. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s cool, and he’s probably the least terrifying out of all the vigilantes in both gotham and blüdhaven. plus,” you paused in the little rant he’d coaxed out of you. “i think he’s kinda hot.”

a loud cough interrupted you the moment those last words slipped past your lips. dick’s ears took on a pink hint, along with a more pronounced smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. the tired look in his eyes was suddenly long gone, too. “you’re a think he’s hot, baby?”

“yeah. it’s not like he’ll know i said that, though.”

oh, you had no idea.

“it’s not perfect,” you shaked the plush in your hands to make a point, “but i wanted it to look right. and i know it’s probably silly, but it makes me feel safe, in a weird way. like, if i ever needed help, he’d show up, you know?”

dick wanted to tell you the truth then and there — that nightwing would show up for you, every single time, because you were his main priority. nothing else mattered but your safety. but he couldn’t. not yet.

his fingers brushed yours instead, tracing the fabric of the yarn with a gentle touch. “i think it’s perfect. and if nightwing ever saw it, i’m sure he would be flattered.”

“yeah, right,” you laughed, actually laughed, and rolled your eyes in that way he adored. “like he’d care about some random plushie.”

he didn’t argue, though a part of him was already planning on leaving a little thank you! note the next time he patrolled near your apartment. for now, he could settle for leaning against your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON HAD BEEN IN A RUSH TO GET HOME. the heels of his boots crunched on the gravel beneath him before he shrugged his leather jacket and unlocked the front door to your apartment. tonight’s patrol had been rough — more bullets than he’d planned for and a few bruises he would have to hide later. all he wanted now was to crash on the couch with you, maybe with a shitty movie and some pizza if you hadn’t eaten yet.

he took a step inside, already feeling the tension and ache erasing from his muscles as the familiar warmth of the living space wrapped around him like a blanket. he was finally home.

but when he crossed the threshold into the living room, jason froze right on the spot.

there you were, curled up on the couch, wearing a black hoodie that looked far too big on your frame with a hand-painted crimson symbol on the chest. not just any symbol though — it was his symbol. the red hood insignia stood out vividly against the dark fabric of the hoodie. he couldn’t miss it even if he was blind.

and that wasn’t all. on the coffee table in front of you was a small knitted plushie. its tiny body was simple, but the details were on spot: a small red helmet and a matching chest symbol that mirrored the one on your own chest.

you weren’t supposed to know about red hood. to certain amount of course. jason couldn’t shield you from the outside no matter how much he would like to, but he could shield you from one of his many personalities — the red hood. you weren’t supposed to know about him being red hood. so, he hoped it was still the truth.

“hey, you’re home!” you must’ve heard him come in because you looked up at him with that sheepish smile he grew to cherish, all while holding up the plush up for inspection.

“yeah . . .” he trained off, scratching the nape of his neck. jason didn’t like lying to you any more than he had to, so making up some shitty excuse about where he was and what was he doing was pretty much pointless. instead, he turned the attention to the creations of your work. the hoodie and plushie. “what’s–uh–what’s this?”

you glanced down at yourself like you’d forgotten what you were wearing. “oh, it’s a red hood merch. well, kind of,” brushing a stray hair off the hoodie, you smiled up at him more confidently. “i made these.”

jason’s brows shot up. “you made them?”

“yeah! the official looked ugly—like who designed that stuff? and the fan-made ones were either way too expensive or just not what i was looking for. so, i figured, why not do it myself? and he’s kind of my favorite vigilante.”

he felt his heart skip a beat. your favorite?

what the fuck. “red hood is your favorite.”

it definitely didn’t sound like a question, it was spoken in way it sounded like a statement, but you answered him with a reason anyway. “mhm. he’s a badass. a little scary, sure, but in a good way. like, you know he’s got a soft spot somewhere under all the armor. i caught him feeding the stray cat on our fire escape the other day. it was cute.”

well, he wasn’t exactly careful with the cat, but he didn’t expect the meowing and hissing would catch your attention. stubborn stray.

jason blinked, more caught of guard than feeling the edge of panic. he should panic, you were practically close to discovering your careless boyfriend was red hood. he was at a loss of words. “cute” wasn’t exactly how he’d describe himself — or his alter ego — but he wasn’t about to argue with you. instead, his fingers moved to trace the oversized sleeves of your hoodie, calloused fingertips brushing under the fabric to intertwine your fingers in one.

you didn’t know the truth, and maybe you never would, but as long as you felt safe and protected in his arms, he was okay with it. you were holding a piece of him he’d never given to you, and yet you loved him the same.

[zweetpea]

Yandere batfam one shot/imagine thing

I'll probably make a part 2

You met Bruce while you were working as a waitress for a gala. It was a second job to pay rent. Maybe he brought Selina or some other girl or maybe he came alone.

Either way you two end up in a room together and end up sleeping together. Just as you’re pulling on your clothes he asks to see you again. He even offers you a check (let’s say it’s for 500k). You take the money promising to see him again but you don’t for about a year.

After a year of him searching every corner of Gotham he finally finds you. And surprise surprise you have a three month old baby girl.

He goes up to you and begs you to let him be in the baby’s life. After a few weeks of bribes (and him secretly stalking you) you finally make a deal with him. If he works from home he can take care of the baby during the day.

So you brought your baby to the Wayne Manor. You expected maybe a servant or maybe Bruce to answer the door. You were not expecting a young man to open the door. He had short shaggy black hair with an undercut and a K-pop hair style. He stared at you with his piercing blue eyes-

“Tim drake! That’s who you are! I used to love watching your let’s plays! I love your sense of humor!” Tim was surprised. Being the middle child (especially the middle boy) he often feels left behind by his siblings, so having someone notice his accomplishments for once felt nice.

“Drake. What are you looking-” a short boy came up behind the gamer. He had a darker complexion and slicked back black hair with piercing green eyes. You smiled at him and he straight up slammed the door in your and your baby’s face. Your eyes grew wide and your face fell into a scowl.

You heard shuffling from behind the door and when if opened you saw Tim holding the kid by the scruff of his collar as one would do with a misbehaving animal. “Sorry about that Miss.” Tim smiled at you. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m going to be late for work. Here give her to Bruce. Her name is Echo.” You give the baby to Tim. “Oh there you go. Support her head now.” You threw the bag in the small rude kids face. “Everything she needs is in there. I’ve left instructions inside for how to take care of her. If she doesn’t eat that much try tickling her tummy. I’ve labeled the extra bottles of her food so if she’s really hungry give her some and if it’s not enough call me I’ll get here as soon as I can. I don’t want her drinking any of that store bought crap. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tim smiled.

“Good.” You ruffled his hair. Then you turned to the younger boy. “Be good to my baby ya hear? Or else I’ll milk papa Bruce for every penny I can.” You ruffled his hair too. You then kissed your baby and went back to your car.

Tim shut the door and immediately Echo started crying. Bruce and Alfred came running at the noise.

“No… I missed her.” Bruce said. He looked at his three youngest kids. “Hey sweetheart.” Bruce tried to grab Echo. But Tim held her close. Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Father why did that rude lady drop off a baby.” Damian scowled.

“She’s not rude. She’s your future Step Mother.” Bruce smiled at the thought of your and his wedding. “Now Tim, give my baby here. She’s crying.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” Bruce seemed flabbergasted.

“She trusted me to hold her child. This is my baby sister.”

“Drake! Give father the baby. She’s being loud.” Damian covered his ears. Echo looked over at him and made a grabby hand gesture at him.

“It looks like she wants Master Damian’s attention.” Alfred pointed out.

“but-” Tim was cut off as Damian took the baby.

Echo’s cries grew quiet as her youngest older sibling held her. While Tim’s obsession with You and Echo became apparent almost immediately, giving him the praise his own family and the Media refused to, Damian’s was slow. It started with someone (echo) actually liking him. After all he went from being showered in attention under Talia’s thumb to being practically ignored at Wayne Manor.

Dick was by far the kindest to Damian, being a mentor to the young boy. But he could still bite back at Damian’s snark. Barbara and Stephanie took none of his crap, to the point where they barely spoke to him. Cass and Duke held no qualms about fighting with a kid. Jason was like a cool big brother and while he wasn’t at the manor often he always made most of his time there focused on the kid. Tim and Damian had a very strained relationship. And while Bruce loves Damian there’s always a bit of strain, and guilt on Bruce’s part. If he’d stayed with Talia maybe Damian wouldn’t have to grow up in a cesspool of Violence and mental agony.

“Back to your old ways of not wearing protection father?” Damian smirked.

“Damian… give me my Daughter.” Bruce said gently but firmly.

“Its nice to know you fought for her more than you fought for me. Though to be fair to you Ummi did shove us together.” He snarked as he held the baby who’d fallen asleep. Bruce went to grab her but Damian stepped back. “Ah ta ta. You wouldn’t want to disturb her right?” Damian smirked.

Over the next few hours Damian was mainly the one taking care of Echo if only to stop her from crying.

And at the end of the day when you finally got off work to pick up your sweet baby you were surprised to see Bruce, Damian, and Tim all playing with her in the living room. (What was more surprising was that her attention was mainly focused on the brat from this morning Damian.) She cooed as she saw you and you rushed to pick her up and gather her things into her bag.

Damian glared at you as you took Echo from his borderline iron clad grip. Who were you to take his sister, his blood sister mind you, away form him? (Her mother but we're not going to get into that right now.)

"Sweetness how about you just slow down. I'll have Alfred prepare you a drink. Which kind of tea do you like more Earl Gray or Jasmine." Bruce smiled and twiddled a piece of your hair in his hand.

You smacked his hand away. "No thank you. My baby and I need to get home." You said and quickly hurried out of there.

"Father you can't let her leave!" Damian said.

"Yeah! Don't you want that nice lady to be your wife?" Tim agreed.

"I was talking about Echo." Damian deadpanned.

Bruce ruffled both their heads. "Patience boys. Have a little faith in your old man." He smiled as you walked away. Before the month was out he'd have you and echo safely tucked away in his arms in the deepest recesses of Wayne Manor.

[deadsetobsessions]

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*