#sometimes Tims got him matched I will admit

[desperatecheesecubes]

Bart exudes more ‘just a little guy’ energy than just about any other hero

[alyakthedorklord]

I’m having dramatic thoughts about Damian being born to Fem!Bruce ok I’m having THOUGHTS

(TW for alluding to Damian’s conception being nonconsensual)

Okay so set the stage of our Drama- Fem!Bruce (or just AFAB idc) is out on patrol or something and League Parent (Either Talia as in canon, or Ra’s if we’re feeling the creepy old man tonight) drops Damian off with “Hey, watch our son that you birthed and then I stole and let you think was dead for ten years, there’s some infighting in the league.”

(If we’re using Ra’s as dad then Talia is absolutely trying to kill Damian for the position of heir)

Bryce is, understandably, shocked. Her other children? Even more so. Because what do you mean you had a biological child? How did we not know about this?!

Damian isn’t old enough to be pre-robin unless he was cryogenically frozen. Did Bryce really hide a whole fucking pregnancy from them?

Dick is screaming, Jason shows up because he has to see this shit for himself, Bryce is standing in silence, staring at the results of every single test she can think of to confirm that yes, this is her son, this is her Damian, all the info matches up…

Tim tries to speak up, but Jason just turns on him, asking if he’s ready to be replaced too. Bryce didn’t even have to go looking this time!

Tim looks him dead in the eye and points out the birthdate(and death date) on file for Damian Wayne.

It’s exactly eight days before Jason was taken in.

How did Dick and Jason not know about this?

Because they weren’t there.

In the short period of time when Dick was striking out on his own, and before Bryce picked up Jason, League Baby Daddy of your choosing shows up and takes advantage. A simple greeting, a spiked drink, a blurry night, and a pregnancy test later…

Bruce is, as always, in any universe, is terrible at communication. But honestly she can be excused in this case. How exactly do you tell your wayward son ward that, after chasing him off because he was “being reckless” and “putting himself in danger,” you’ve gone and gotten taken advantage of, trusted someone that you had absolutely ZERO business trusting, and now you’re pregnant with an Al Ghul baby? And you’ve decided to keep it? That this isn’t you replacing him or demanding he return, because you understand his need for space, but also you desperately want him back with you because you’re scared but you can never admit it?

How do you do that in a text? Because Dick is not answering the phone.

You don’t. Thats a conversation you have face to face. So the messages Bryce leaves are all “there are some changes and i’d like to talk to you” “there may be a new member of the family soon” “please answer me chum”

Dick doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, Gotham crime is being weird because “hey robins gone! Dynamic duo is out!” And Bryce is being careful because of her belly and sometimes she has to take breaks and hormones are bullying her and nothing is going her way right now.

And them she goes into labor too soon.

And something goes wrong (League Baby Daddy happens) and she’s told her baby is dead, and now she’s lost two children.

She recovers, and goes back out onto the streets, taking her rage and pain out on the criminals that got a little too bold with her in a hospital bed…

And then there’s a street rat jacking the tires off the Batmobile.

The fucking audacity. The guts. The challenge in his bright blue eyes, the sneer on his lips, the shaggy black hair. Skin just a bit darker than hers, not quite an Al Ghul’s deep olive but somewhere in the middle.

Is this what her Damian would have looked like? Is this what her son would have grown up to be?

Maybe its the hormones, maybe she’s projecting. She knows its a bad idea, but Bryce takes the kid home. Alfred gives her a knowing and slightly disapproving look, but accepts the new child with open arms, because there’s worse things. Jason fits in easily, and soon enough, Batman has a Robin again, and Bryce is smiling again, and begins to heal from the pain of losing Damian.

But Dick? Dick is PISSED.

Upon seeing news of a new Robin/Wayne, he finally looks though his messages, and comes to the wrong conclusion that Bryce was looking for a kid to replace him this whole time. She might have tried to get his input, but had eventually made a decision like this without him. And so he’s back, and he’s angry, and Bryce gets defensive because Jason is a good kid and she can’t use her dead baby to win an argument, not when the wound is so fresh.

So life continues. Jason dies, comes back, is angry because he listened in on a few arguments and now ALSO thinks Bryce actively hunted him down to be Robin, and now she’s done the same with Tim.

Bryce keeps quiet, because how is she supposed to explain after all these years? Jason is right to be angry. She let her emotions get the better of her and dragged a sweet boy into her life. The loss of all three if her children was her own fault, because she put him into the line of fire. There’s no excuse for that.

So years pass. Tempers settle somewhat, Bryce holds her grief close to her chest because she can’t do that to her children, but… then Damian is back. And it all explodes.

The story comes out in bits and pieces. Tim figures out a timeline based on the rest of the info in the file, and Bryce and Alfred slowly fill it in.

And like- they’re all still angry, and it is justified, because what the fuck, Bryce. But also…

Dick is horrified. He had been so angry, so so angry, reading those messages that he now knows, with this new information, were a cry for help. Bryce had been desperate and scared and wanted nothing more than to just talk to him after their fight, and when he had come back after something like this had happened he had immediately started another fight.

Jason isn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t been taken in to be a replacement soldier, he had been taken in to be a replacement son. What is he supposed to do with that? Knowing that Bryce had seen him at his worst, and taken him in and shoved down her grief to help him?

Tim is wondering if every time Bryce backed away with an unreadable expression, it hadn’t been keeping herself emotionally distant, it was grief for the sons she had lost.

Steph is realizing that Bruce wasn’t lying, when Steph had to give her own baby up and Bryce had hugged her and said “I understand.”

Damian is sitting in a corner wondering what the ever-loving FUCK is going on. Why is everyone crying this is pathetic. Father take him home he prefers the threat of imminent death.

[chaotic-starlight24]

I see you have requested hc requests for a pair of outsiders characters. Dally and Darry please?

Thanks so much for the request :D Dally and Darry it is!

Warnings: Spoilers, Angst towards the end

When Dally first showed up in Tulsa as a scraggly little 13 ¾ year old, Mr. Curtis told Mrs. Curtis and Darry to look out for him. So Darry tried his best to take him under his wing. Dally actually warmed up to him though it took a while. He saw him as an older brother of his own. But he never admitted that out loud since that almost always ended badly for the “older brother” of the situation.

They drifted from each other for some time though because Darry thought Dallas was becoming a bad influence on his brothers. Mainly the time when Dally fell back into the hood he was in New York. So Darry would try his best to keep Pony and Soda away from him (much to Soda’s sadness). After a couple arguments with Dally, Darry told Mrs. Curtis about his concerns. And she changed his point of view on Dally and just about every hood on the east side. It made him realize that Dally was a scared kid who had to toughen up or die. So Darry started to go a little easier on him.

Darry is actually one of the few Dally trusts. They butt heads from time to time but they also know they can lean on each other if really needed. 

Dally tries his best to help out Darry from time to time. The problem is that Dally isn’t exactly the most responsible person. Like he’ll offer to let Pony tag along with him and Johnny so Darry can get some time to do whatever, but that does mean Pony may or may not know how to gamble. Dally’s trying his best, guys.

Darry is one of the few to have heard about Dally’s siblings back in New York. Dallas hasn’t gone into a bunch of detail but most of the gang doesn’t even know Dally had a family. So for example, one afternoon Dally was just hanging out while Darry was sorting through Pony’s report cards and Dally just kinda laughed to himself, “You know, you remind me a lot of Henry.” “Who?” “Oh, nobody… He was my brother, he uh, he tried his best to get us all through schoolin’. But I neva cared much for it.”

One night while the gang was all hanging out, Dally overheard Darry talking to Two-Bit about Paul. Darry just says something like, “I miss him sometimes, but he’s not the same person anymore. I’ve heard some of the nasty stuff he’s said about me and my bro-“ That’s all it took for Dally to go storming out of the house to find Tim and his gang. Paul left his party to discover his brand new wheels missing from his car. Darry woke up in the morning to discover some real nice tires on him and Soda’s car. Dally was honestly ready to just steal Paul’s car altogether but Tim convinced him otherwise.

Before Dally really became a part of the gang, Darry wanted to help him out to find somebody who just matched his vibes. He knew Tim from random parties and from Two-Bit so he was just like “Maybe they’ll get along!”. So he took Dally for a walk and told him about this guy he thinks Dally will like and Dallas was just like “One second.” and pickpocketed a guy who walked by. That guy immediately turned around and started cursing him out and causing a fight to break out between them. Darry just stood there because “Aw crap, that’s Tim!” Darry very much believed he just gave Dally his first enemy. But after fighting they complemented each other’s fighting style and started talking. Darry left them to it and walked off.

Someone in Tim’s gang taught Dally how to drive. Darry heard Dally was learning and was like “Ok! How about you show me what you know!” Dally took hold of that wheel and Darry mentally noted to never drive with him again. Dally has since gotten a bit better but also hasn’t exactly made major improvement.

Darry tried to pick him up before Dally got similar in height to him. Dally immediately started squirming and cursing like an angry chihuahua.

Dally followed Darry and Two-Bit around a lot when he first became a part of the gang. Sure he really connected with Johnny, but it took him a bit. Steve, Soda, and Johnny were a trio that had grown up together and same with Darry and Two-Bit. So Dally was kinda the weird middle ground between them both friend and age wise. Darry and Two were always welcome to have him around but Dally still tried to keep up that cool guy persona. So on the days Darry didn’t have practice, him and Two-Bit would be walking around, chatting and laughing together. Then Dallas would be trailing a couple feet behind them, hands stuffed in his leather jacket just kinda walking along with them.

When Dally died that was the first time in a while since Darry has felt pure rage. Everything in him wanted to throw everything he had at the cops, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good. Instead he had to see Dallas lying cold on the ground. And not in a peaceful way or anything. It tore Darry apart inside to see this kid like this. This kid he has looked out for since he came to Tulsa. This kid his brother had brought into the gang. This kid who followed him and his best friend around for the first couple months. This kid who dealt with so much pain and hurt yet hid it away from his surface, keeping up with his persona. His persona that so desperately wanted to be older than he actually was, the version who could take all that has hit him. And now Darry watches as they drag a white sheet over the body and haul him away. 

[nicomoon69]

need to hear your berkon headcanons I've been starving for months and you always have the best takes

hsgdhdhg ur too sweet omgg!! ask and you shall receive:

- Kon yaps a lot of ‘secret’ I nformation (industry insiders or stuff he can hear) to Bernard and helps him build ‘conspiracy theories’. you will often find them telling one telling the other some crazy information who then gives their detailed thoughts on everything the other said

- they have like a lot of those stupid corny matching shirts from when they go out thrifting together (ex: ‘she’s my sweet potato’ ‘I yam’, the heart locker ones with ‘I love my bf/gf’ but its a random person they don’t know)

- Bernard does Kon’s piercings (he has high school bathroom piercing experience) and Kon has drawn a few ideas for Bernard’s tattoos (only once did Bernard get what Kon drew exactly tattooed on him which was a little sun on his hip (and to sneak in a little timberkon there’s a little moon Tim drew on his other hip))

- they are banned from game nights because they kept trying to cheat (Kon using TTK when they were playing jenga was the final straw)

- they’re emo4emo (don’t let the blond hair or the spiky leather jacket fool you) and at some point their band shirts got mixed so they will never know what belongs to who

- they can never decide on whether they’re clingy or hate pda so sometimes they’ll literally be folded into the other, you turn away for a few seconds and when you look back they’ll be at opposite ends of the room

- Bernard doesn’t like to admit it but one of his main love languages is receiving gifts so Kon will always bring Bern little things from when he’s away because he knows Bernard likes it but doesn’t know how/want to ask for it

- Bernard in turn always prepared very nice meals for when Kon’s over and after meeting the Kents also adding at least one dish he learnt from Martha. they’re very loves to cook x loves to eat

- they quit going on dates after two or three and mostly just chill at Bernard’s apartment, sometimes not speaking more than a few words to each other and just enjoying that they’re in each other’s company

- they’re those people who will look at each other have some sort of silent communication and then burst out laughing for the next few minutes

- they troll people on twitter. a lot. (something something they made robin x superboy rp accounts)

- they keep breaking the few things that Bernard has in his appartement by accident because they become 100x clumsier in each other’s presence

[kiradrabbles]

Ouuggh uuu if you want maybe headcanons (if you do them ofc) w the Marble Hornets fellas (oh just Tim if I want :3) w a afab s/o who's a volleyball player?

Have u seen their uniforms???

Ouugh sorry this took a while....... i got halfway through and my phone crashed and i lost some motivation q-q

In any case, why yes nonny i have seen the uniforms, and i do take headcanon requests!

Without further adieu...

Tim, Brian and Alex with an AFAB S/O who plays volleyball!

Mild NSFW warning!! No graphic sex but a few suggestive things said (and the worlds shittiest pickup line)

Tim:

His awkward ass!!! I see a lot of people portray Tim as this cool confidant man, but especially pre-MH I think he was a little awkward. Not quite shy, just.. awkward, as he spent a lot of his childhood in the psych ward. So that would carry over to this.

He wouldn’t stare so visibly, but he’d make it obvious he had to try not to, averting his eyes and shuffling on his feet.

I think sometimes he’d steal looks when he thinks you aren’t looking. He’d glance over, and let out a little sigh and lean back in his chair just a little bit, and you know he’s just admiring you.

how did he get so lucky?

he isn’t a huge fan of sports himself, but he’ll try his best to support you!! He’ll turn up to every game he can, make sure to sit or stand in the front row, and cheer so loud everyone looks at him and he’ll sit back down in embarrassment.

Tim is a physical touch fiend, considering he didn’t get it a lot as a child, so he loves hugs, and will probably be touching you somehow often.

the problem is, when he hugs you in uniform, he is suddenly very acutely aware of how.. much he can see of you right now, and gets all red, and won’t tell you why.

you could probably force it out of him though :3

Brian:

This mf is into it and does not hide it!!

Brians pretty much a smug asshole in canon (lovingly) so he’ll be all smug and show you off to pretty much everyone. Will not hold back on the PDA either. Will probably slap your ass in public and act confused why you’re mad at him. (Only if he knows you don’t mind ofc).

i wouldn’t put it past him to run up to you as soon as you get in the game and quite literally pick you up and kiss you and spin you around, like some scene in a shitty movie.

most ATROCIOUS pickup lines ‼️

“Hey girl, are you an overpass? Because I’d hit that” “BRIAN I JUST SAT DOWN-“

He’s canonically a nursing student, so I’ve always imagined he takes pretty good care of himself, eat well, stay fit, workout often. So you two would match!

he’d be happy to train with you, one of his love languages is quality time, and he’d get to stare at his girl in short shorts and a top anyway, so who is he to complain?

plus, you’d both be all sweaty after, and he could invite you into the shower with him.

I’m sure you can imagine what ensues.

Alex:

He was intimidated at first. I mean, look at him, he’s a twinky theatre kid, and you’re.. muscular and not afraid to show it off, clearly. I mean you could probably pick him up and throw him around, or wrap your legs around his head, or- Not that he’s thinking about that (that he would admit).

he’d stare, but unlike Bri he does NOT own it.

he won’t admit it, but he will stare at you so much. sometimes unintentionally. He thinks he’s being subtle (he is not). I mean, how is it his fault that you’re really pretty and the shorts are so short.

it’s so easy to fluster him, even if he would rather die than admit it.

tsundere ass!!! /silly

Sit on his lap all sweaty after a game and he will turn the most red you've ever seen him and stutter like all hell. he isn't blushing red though, he doesn't know what you're talking about, he just forgot the sunscreen.

Your biggest fan!!!

He'll film your games (and you KNOW mf would get the best angles even if it meant pushing other onlookers out the way). Perks of a film maker bf...

He does want you to crush his head between your thighs i'm so sorry....

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Please opeasepleas tarry hcs I’m starving

I don't know how good these are because I'm kinda struggling with writers block rn, but I tried!

Tarry headcanons:

Tim has a thing for Darry’s arms. Like, a major thing. He’d never admit it and he tries to play it cool, but if he sees Darry in a muscle shirt he WILL miss certain details of the conversation that he usually wouldn't. 

When they got together it was quiet, quick, and very committed very early on. Neither of them like playing games and part of the reason they first grew feelings for each other was because the other was someone outside their respective gangs they could consistently rely on

Tim has a specific laugh only Darry can draw out of him. It’s about as childlike as he ever sounds and no one but Darry has ever heard it. Tim kind of loathes that ANYONE can make him feel like Darry does sometimes when they’re alone together because he never really GOT to be a kid so it’s weird for him to discover his more immature side, even though he kind of draws the same thing out of Darry

There’s a mutual understanding that they both have a lot of responsibilities and that their siblings and their gangs have to come first, so they don’t see each other very often and they’re both as okay with it as they can be

They’re actually very good about keeping their relationship on the down low (but Sylvia clocked them immediately and hasn’t stopped teasing Tim ever since. He keeps threatening to stab her and she just laughs and threatens to tattle to his boyfriend. Tim shuts up after that.)

Speaking of boyfriends, Tim HATES the word, it feels too juvenile to him so Darry calls him his ‘lady friend’ instead and Tim threatens to dump him and they end up fighting but it ends up being a fight like the one in wolverine and deadpool (iykyk)

Sometimes Darry will rant about Ponyboy and Tim just has to sit there and pretend like Darry isn’t describing himself

Sometimes Tim will rant about Curly and Darry just has to sit there and pretend like Tim isn’t describing himself

Darry is lowkey terrified of Angela and determined that Tim never find out

The Shepards really are all like cats, Ponyboy’s description of them was not wrong at all, and Darry’s always been a cat person so it kind of makes sense they understand each other. Like, Tim will act the most standoffish when he actually wants the most affection, and Darry has to like, approach him like he could go off any minute (he could) but as soon as Tim settles and leans into Darry he is NOT moving even though ‘this changes nothing and they still aren’t cuddling he was just cold’

Tim HATES the cold and Darry runs warm so they’re kind of a match made in heaven

Tim does random acts of service for Darry but they’re all kind of violent in nature, he’ll rob a grocery store at knifepoint to get Darry’s favourite chocolate kinda thing, if we’re going with the cat metaphor it’s like when a cat brings it’s people a dead bird as a gift, it’s a little off in execution but the thought is there

Tim has a gap in his bottom teeth but it only shows when he genuinely smiles which doesn’t happen very often, but Darry thinks it’s the cutest thing. Since no on in their right mind has ever once thought of Tim Shepard as cute, that was the day Darry realised he’d either finally gone insane or he had actually fallen in capital L love with the hood. He decided to interpret it as the latter

[starry-907]

hello ava/avm fandom i bring you stick figure designs and headcanons (fed somewhat by other folks headcanons, i'll admit)

the text beneath each stick figure is typed out under the cut, if you have any trouble reading it against the bg (esp for the cg, i'm realizing the outline colors aren't the most legible in text)

Green (14), he/him

- perfectionist

- has perfect pitch and will remind you he has perfect pitch when applicable

- will use his eldest sibling privilege for personal gain

- hates silence

- has a few different pairs of headphones

Blue (14), she/her

- had longer hair before avm season 3, it got burned by the lava and had to be cut short

- netherwart is her samefood

- loves tending her farms, finds it very calming

- sometimes still gets pain from the lava

- very good cook, loves to experiment

Yellow (13), she/her

- loves the staff, thinks its so cool

- has trouble getting to sleep sometimes

- squinted a lot before getting glasses

- sometimes a bit too smart for her own good (see: the command block ep, the lucky block ep)

- wants to combine redstone with outernet elevtronics

Red (12), he/him

- can see ghosts after getting possessed by Herobrine

- got another bandana from yellow team

- physically the strongest of the cg (after second)

- can communicate with animals (both inside minecraft and outside it)

- will try to pet any animal

Purple (14), they/them

- will engage in psychological warefare if you play board games with them

- has accidentally flown into a window before, still hasn't lived it down

- cried when they got their bracelet from the cg

- very polite to adults they don't know

- green and blue made them apologize to their village post avm season 3

Vic~~tim~~ (22), they/she

- voice is often quiet, when they get loud thats when you know they're mad

- covers their creator mark, it's on their wrist

- terribly nearsighted

- doesn't tell people her full name (for good reason, at least in her eyes)

- tries to maintain a put-together look for her company

Chosen (21), they/he

- tends to burn clothes on accident when flying, has kinda given up on keeping it from happening much

- will try to eat most anything once

- not much of a talker

- farsighted, but doesn't realize they need glasses

- neutral towards Alan

Dark (16), he/they

- doesn't have the code anymore, still a menace

- focuses more on if he could than if he should when making things

- has contacts that they made themself

- will sleep in the most uncomfy-looking positions

- can tolerate any level of spice no problem

Second (12), they/them

- usually eepy

- nearsighten, doesn't mind having glasses cuz they get to match Alan

- anxious when seperated from their friends

- nitpicks animation errors in movies

- still learning how to use their powers

[cr1mson5returns]

Another fic idea I've been kind of tossing around...

I meant it when I said I really just stopped reading comics after the Red Robin solo series got cancelled.

Tim spends a little longer in Iraq than he thought he would, and honestly these assassins are getting on his last goddamn nerve.

Owens is 100% intent on annoying the shit out of Tim and makes it super obvious. The man is a few inches taller than him and makes it so well known by ruffling Tim's hair and calling him "Shortcake" and just guffawing every time Tim gives him a nasty look. Pru is standoffish at first (nursing a broken nose) but eventually starts matching Tim's energy in her own way. She throws a bag of snacks at him and threatens to gut him if he doesn't eat, smacks him when he glares at her.

But Z is probably the most annoying of them all because he's legitimately trying to parent Tim and you're not my fucking dad, God, leave me alone. Z of course is not taking orders from a literal teenager and just kind of sits in Tim's general vicinity until he wears the kid down and gets him to at least tolerate his presence, if not warm up to him. One night, after a particularly difficult nightmare, Tim wakes up in a cold sweat breathing hard and finds Z sitting in an armchair by the window, where it's easier to see him in the moonlight. He waits a minute before asking Tim if anything ever makes it better, and is that.....concern? Tim sniffs (he's not crying, thank you) and admits that nothing really helps, that he used to take something to help him sleep but he doesn't anymore. Z stands up to leave and gestures to the bedside table. "It's not prescription, but it helps me sometimes."

When the man walks out, Tim looks at the bedside table and sees a small gelcap pill next to a glass of water. Part of him whirs with all the different concoctions of poisons that could be in that pill, but a bigger part of him thinks "fuck it, whatever" and downs it with a few gulps of water.

Tim has the best sleep of his life and wakes up the next afternoon well-rested and a little less cranky. He doesn't say anything to anyone, and nobody questions why he slept so late, but Z does ask him if he'd like breakfast food or dinner food with a gentle smile.

When the Widower attacks, Tim comes to after passing out from the initial shock and thinks - "Fuck this, I did not come all this way just to bleed to death in the desert." It's painful to stagger around trying to apply pressure to wounds and tearing his cape into tourniquets, and even more so dragging limp and barely-alive bodies into the car, and by the time he gets back to Baghdad he's lost so much blood and doesn't have the strength to get anyone up to the executive suite at Wayne Tower. He feels a little less terrible about it when he realizes that the League of Assassins has arrived, and he puts his head back and closes his eyes. What a terrible fucking day.

It takes work to save their lives. It's not easy but the League employs some truly skilled medical personnel, and Ra's trusts them to at least make sure Tim survives. Z, Pru, and Owens are able to get up and try to make their way around after a bit, and they all find themselves congregating outside the room where Tim is recovering. It's quiet for a moment while they all just look at each other with that feeling that only comes when you're 98% certain you'll never see each other again. At last, Owens speaks up. "You think we'll get in trouble if we go in there?"

Tim is not kept in a medically induced coma, but he is on very regular doses of very strong sedatives and painkillers. He's mostly unconscious the entire time, save for surfacing a little bit about thirty minutes before the next dose is due. He can hear the three assassins in the room, talking around him, and he desperately wants to interject in the conversation (because they're plotting to restrict his caffeine intake and come on, guys, I saved your lives, let me have this one thing) but it comes out as jumbled nonsense. He's almost aware that he's being sedated, but he's on the good drugs so the thought slips away about as quickly as it appears.

The assassin team is pretty worried that Ra's might decide to abandon this whole pursuit and just kill Tim in spite of earlier plans. They've just made the decision to mutiny and fight their way out of the Cradle when they're asked to help with applying some restraints. The doctors are weaning Tim off the sedatives but definitely don't want to risk what happens when he wakes up a little more lucid than he is now. So the trio breathes a collective sigh of relief and does as they're told, and when Tim does finally wake up for real he looks down at the restraints, up at the trio, and croaks, "I'm not a psych patient."

Owens can't help himself. "Not yet!" He's earned the glare. (Gotta razz the kid a little, they all almost died out there.)

Somehow Tim gets the trio on board with his plans and when the League bases go down, they fight their way out through the Council of Spiders and go back to Gotham City as a group. Halfway there, Tim realizes - oh, shit, there's nowhere in the world that the trio can go where Ra's al Ghul won't have them hunted down and killed. He sits back in his seat on the plane with a sigh. There's so much responsibility happening right now.

When all's said and done and Bruce Wayne's legacy is intact, and Tim is a little less fucking edgy all the time, he quietly procures a house in a nice neighborhood and shows up at the safehouse where the trio are hiding out one day like, "Get up, we're moving in." And they all exchange looks but they follow him, because what else are they going to do? And the house is cute, not a mansion by any means but a fixed-up little historic home in a neighborhood mostly full of old folks and families. Tim's already put basics in there as far as furniture goes, tells the others he doesn't care what they put up on the walls "as long as you don't have any guns in sight, we're going to have people over sometimes, Jesus." But Z knows it's fond.

Other heroes are very....skittish about Tim's housemates. Kind of wondering why he trusts these people not to just kill him in his sleep. But Z does sort of corner Tim in the kitchen one day and tell him, "You don't have to do this, you know. Not everything that happens is your fault."

Tim shrugs, affecting carelessness. "I'm just helping." His hand shakes a little lifting his mug to his mouth for a sip.

[fowlblue]

oc question things!

14, 16, 41 for literally any one of the lot (or all!)

And A or G for all as well?

Hell yeah let’s do this-

(thought it might be fun to have them answer some of these, lol)

14). What animal do their fear most?

Valentine: “…I don’t really care for horses. They look like they know too much.”

Tim: “Spiders. I’m not a fan of… anything about them, really. The whole ‘skittering’ thing, their webs… gross.”

Jon: “I don’t like mice. Or roaches. Those kinds of things. Usually they don’t make it all the way up the Needle, though, so I’m good.”

Butler: “Trolls. Next question.”

16). What makes their stomach turn?

Valentine: “…Brakes. The sound of brakes squealing. Let’s go with that.”

Tim: “Cooking… meat, I guess? Sometimes I can’t even be in the kitchen while Butler is working- it brings up bad memories. Especially if it burns.”

Jon: “Blood on my suit. Or in my hair. That shit’s nasty.”

Butler: “…I feel like I’ve seen too many people die to give that a fair answer, but the ‘look’ of the dead is something one never forgets. Especially when you have died once, yourself.”

41). How do they feel about children?

Valentine: “Not for me- but I don’t, like, hate them? They’re noisy. They’re funny, sometimes. That’s about it.”

Tim: “I love my own children dearly, of course- more than words can say. But others’ children make me feel… awkward, I suppose? I don’t really know what to do with them, and the looks on their faces when they first see mine don’t feel very good. If their own parents are present to keep an eye on them, it’s fine- minding the twins is enough of a handful for me.”

Jon: “Kids are fun- they got the funniest fuckin’ sense of humor. The world hasn’t gotten to em’ yet. Sometimes I wish I had some, but I’d be a pretty shit parent, I think.”

Butler: “I hardly think Artemis could be considered a normal child, but having helped raise two of them, children are perfectly fine. I don’t think I would know what to do with a child born to a normal life, however. What kind of mischief would that even entail? I’m too used to…” *gestures vaguely at Fowl Manor* “-all of this.”

A). Why are you excited about this character?

I love all my bastard men so much- I don’t really have a set reason as to why, I just do. They’re so fun to play mix-n-match with, situations-wise, and I love that I’ve given some of them a slightly stronger presence in the fandom! Also, I just. Love that people love Valentine, lol- it makes me really happy

G). What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

Valentine- It is very hard for me to word the specific kind of violent/volatile nature Valentine has. I really don’t want to project this idea that he’s a guy who just loves beating up and harming random people, because he doesn’t. He just has very little qualms about killing people in his way, and gets violent specifically with enemies that have managed to piss him off. But it’s still annoying to write.

Tim- Tim… my guy… you have a good heart, I know it, the peace you want and the life and safety you want for your family is all great things… please word the things you say better.

Jon- Honestly, I can’t think of anything?? Like he’s such an asshole but… that’s his whole thing. Jon is a cartoonishly evil businessman, down to the T. If I was mad about that, it’d be like getting mad at The Riddler for riddling or something.

Butler- Butler is so stoic and stubborn about admitting literally anything the Fowls/Butlers/Artemis does is fucked up, or that the whole dynamic thing is fucked up, or any of that. Please my man, recognize that your life and childhood have had a massive thread of “that’s fucked up, actually”… and maybe have a good cry about it. You need one.

[avayarising]

– @fantastic-nonsense

@lynzine germane to a conversation we were having recently.

The options for Martha very closely match what I was thinking, particularly the idea that she kind of goes stealth after her marriage. Though I also wondered whether it might have to do with a falling-out with Jacob.

(Alfred is so Anglican it hurts, and accepts Episcopalian as the nearest equivalent. He might at least initially be more comfortable going to a different church from his employers though. I imagine the Waynes going to the big grand one and Alfred going to a smaller Episcopalian church elsewhere in Gotham.)

I love the idea that the Batfam as a whole is a multifaith family. All of the above for Bruce is good, and personally I rather like the thought that he starts out a vague and indifferent Episcopalian but after he connects/reconnects with Kate he begins to take more of an interest in his Jewish heritage and finds all sorts of ideas he resonates with.

Plus:

Vaguely Catholic-heritage Dick: his parents had their own thing going on, in the caravan a kind of Orthodox/Catholic hybrid but attending whatever the nearby church was on any given week, and he was baptised Catholic because that’s what the religion was in the area they were in at the time. He doesn’t practice and if you ask him what his faith is he’ll laugh it off, but deep down he grieves because he doesn’t remember or never knew a lot of the details of his parents’ faith and culture and all he has of it now are remnants.

Quaker Babs: Her dad’s a Methodist, but after she was shot she got a lot of help, therapy, and practical support from an organisation run by the Society of Friends.

Extremely Catholic Jason: before Bruce, he grew up with the Italian (or possibly Hispanic) flavour of Catholicism that’s local to the Crime Alley area, but he only really started taking it seriously a while after he came back from the dead and returned to Gotham, as a way of coming to terms with what happened to him, helping him to heal and giving himself a path forward.

Jewish Tim: both his parents were Jewish, but not particularly religious ones, and the boarding schools Tim went to didn’t particularly cater for Jews either. So he is rather estranged from his heritage. They never got round to arranging his Bar Mitzvah before his mother died and his father got put in a coma, and by the time he woke up Tim didn’t want to bring it up. But there’s a part of him that would like to be more observant, would like it to mean more to him, though he’s hesitant to admit it. (Maybe at some point he’ll bring it up with Aunt Kate.)

Culturally Christian but unchurched Steph: none of her family has had much to do with any faith for a long time, and she enjoys the secular versions of the holidays and leaves it at that. You can’t exactly see what the Batfam has seen and not believe in the existence of powerful spiritual entities, but she doesn’t think there’s much point in actually trying to worship anything.

Doing her own thing Cass: she wasn’t brought up to any faith, obviously, but she likes the idea of spirituality, and after she joins the family she sometimes likes to accompany other members of the family to their celebrations or places of worship, and sometimes explores on her own.

Pentecostalist Duke: Not just because Pentecostalist churches are traditionally Black, but I also can imagine that Duke’s mother Elaine, fleeing a powerful immortal entity, might turn (or return) to a church with a focus on the power of the Holy Spirit and an emphasis on fighting the spirits of evil, in hopes of God’s protection. Perhaps she met her husband there. Does Duke feel God failed his parents?

Questioning Damian: Damian was brought up in a cult that probably originally derived from a heretical Islamic sect. He has rejected that cult but feels guilty about the fact that there were practices of prayer and worship that he valued and still misses. He will probably develop his own spirituality in secret, despite wanting a community, because he has a fear of religion being used to control him. It would be nice to think that he would eventually find comfort in a more mainstream Islam.

If that seems an unlikely proportion of people engaged with a religious faith, remember that in their world there is a lot more empirical evidence of otherworldly goings-on, and I’d expect people in general to be a lot more religious because of that.

Bruce Wayne: any religion you want, really

So for Reasons, I had to figure out Bruce Wayne’s religious affiliations or lack thereof. The resulting tangle was impressive, and mostly left me going, “Comics authors sure fail to think through the implications of their backstory decisions a lot!” I meant to do a full fancy post with a dozen citations. I have misplaced all of those citations and the hour has come, so I’m going to wing it and tell you what I’ve got with no evidence whatsoever. Anyone who wants to throw them on in replies (either “here’s the issue where” or “here’s a good clearinghouse article”) is obviously welcome.

1) The Waynes (historically) are definitely Episcopalian, both by the general religious affiliations of their location/race/class and the crosses in most depictions of his parents’ graves.

2) Frank Miller made him Catholic. But Frank Miller makes a lot of people Catholic. Most people who make him Catholic do so via his mother, and let Thomas Wayne stay Episcopalian.

3) Kate Kane is Jewish. Kate Kane, his cousin via his mother’s brother, is practicing Jewish with Jewish parents and had a Bat Mitzvah and everything. Kate Kane is almost definitely Jewish via a family tree that makes Bruce Wayne matrilineally Jewish, and the nature of that inheritance is he doesn’t have to claim it if he doesn’t want to, but yeah, he is as Jewish as he says he is. Even if he wakes up tomorrow feeling Jewish and has never said it before in his life.

4) Bruce Wayne claimed in a 2018 comic to have ditched faith when his parents died, so he can also be as atheist as you want him to be.

5) Bruce Wayne did the whole world-tour weeks-of-silent-meditation thing, so if you want him to have latched onto Zen philosophy, it’s entirely��defensible; it doesn’t require belief in any new gods and the principle of Right Action is very large in his life whether or not he formally subscribes to it.

—

None of these things have to conflict except possibly “which one he subscribes to at this exact moment,” and even then several of them can stack. The stickiest possible point is his mother’s faith, and this is the very easy path that makes all of these things true, courtesy of my nerdy Canadian first reader, Maribou:

In Montreal in particular, and many other cities in general, there are both large Catholic and large Jewish populations, which were crammed close together by societal prejudice for a long time and which had multiple wealthy and powerful families of their own even under that stress, such as the Bronfmans. There were a lot of intermarriages, and a common result was children being encouraged to choose a religious path after a thorough education in their parents’ options. (Basically, “It’s time to schedule either your Confirmation or your Bat Mitzvah, which venue should we book?”)

So a Bronfman woman and a Kane man could easily have married and had a bunch of kids including Martha Kane and Jacob Kane. Martha may (or may not!) have picked a Confirmation. Jacob definitely picked a Bar Mitzvah. All of these things can be true.

When I was discussing this with a Jewish person, she said she knew of a relative of exactly Martha Wayne’s (original) generation who was practicing Jewish until her marriage to a Protestant and then just… never talked about it again. If she practiced, she practiced privately. It disappeared utterly from her public life. That was a not-uncommon occurrence in that era.

The odds are that Bruce was raised moderately-disinterested Episcopalian, by the matching crosses. But he is arguably an Episcopally baptized, matrilineally Jewish atheist who subscribes to Zen and has inherited a bone-deep taste for Catholic passion plays. All of these things can be true without even cancelling each other out.

In the words of Frank Miller (who I agree with for once), “He’s kind of like a diamond. You can throw him against the wall and you can pound him with a hammer, but you can’t break him. Every interpretation seems to work. […] You can do it badly, but you can’t really do it wrong.”

[chibinightowl]

Sequel to this (aka, the ficlet where Jason meets Caroline at a bar)

Jason ended up talking to Caroline for the better part of two hours. Beneath that mousy exterior was a razor sharp wit and a dry sense of humor that matched his own. He laughed more with her than he had in months. It was great. It was glorious. It was...

"Oh crap," Caroline said after glancing at her wristwatch, a functional piece with a dark tan leather band and nary a smart feature to be seen. "I didn't realize it had gotten so late. I need to get going. I've got work in the morning."

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight."

Damn. He had to get going too. Tim's place wasn't far but he still had to swing by his apartment to get his case file and the data stick he'd stored the video surveillance on.

It was gutting that he had to cut the night short.

"Well, I guess I'd better leave too," Jason said, gesturing again for the bartender, this time with some cash in hand to indicate he was closing out his tab. "Can't have you see me turn into a pumpkin."

Caroline laughed, which made the corners of her eyes crinkle up cutely. "Oh, I don't know. You seem more like the Flynn Rider type."

"A charming thief with an over-inflated ego?"

"More like the charming rogue with a heart of gold under his burnished exterior." She ducked her head shyly. "Sorry, that was kinda cheesy."

"No, this is cheesy." Jason took her hand, noting the calluses on her palm that could only come from hard work. It was yet another unusual feature in the mental catalog he'd started. Raising Caroline's hands to his lips, he brushed a kiss along her knuckles.

Color flared to life along her cheeks and she laughed again. "You're right, that is cheesy." She squeezed his fingers lightly. "But it's also cute," she admitted.

"I can pull off cute sometimes."

The bartender arrived and Jason handed over two folded twenties, enough to cover both their beers and a tip. "For both of us," he said. "No change."

"I can pay for myself, you know." Caroline sounded a little indignant as she hopped off the stool. Her breasts jiggled, rising and falling like a wave.

They hadn't attracted him before. Still didn't for that matter. His thoughts from before hadn't changed much either, but now he had answers. Caroline was in the nursing program at Gotham University and was in the midst of her hospital rotations. She was supposed to graduate in the spring and wanted to work at one of Gotham's overly-busy and always understaffed emergency rooms.

She had goals. She was smart. She wanted to save lives and help people.

And that more than anything was what made her so attractive in Jason's eyes.

"I know," he said, gently taking her elbow to guide her toward the door. "But maybe I want to be the gentleman for once rather than the rouge."

"Then what does that make me?" Caroline asked, pulling open the bar door before Jason had the chance. "The damsel in distress?" She grinned, bright and cheeky as she stayed put until he stepped outside first.

"Nah." Jason took her hand again, wanting to feel her touch one more time. "You're the princess who's going to save the day."

Caroline snorted, which returned the blush to her cheeks again. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. You're trying to be nice and I'm such a dork and..."

She was so damned cute it made Jason wish he didn't have to meet Tim and that she didn't have a hospital rotation in six hours. That they could just go back inside and close the bar down, then maybe take things back to her place where he'd treat her like a princess and make her scream his name.

Instead, he kissed the back of her hand again. "Want to do this again sometime?"

"Do what?" A glint appeared in Caroline's eyes as she composed herself. "Have a drink together or watch me act like an idiot in front of a really handsome guy?"

"As long as that guy is me, why not both?"

For some reason, those words sobered her. Her gaze grew heavy, assessing and weighing him against some still unknown standard. Slowly, a crooked smile grew on her lips and she nodded slowly.

"Sure, why not?"

[bluebellhairpin]

Not Jealous

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

A/N: So I worked on this instead of like, five other things that people want but hey - gal’s gotta have her vices. - Nemo

Summary: Even after years of fancy gatherings, Bruce wants nothing more than to give in to his introvert nature and run away from them. You however, have taught him that after sticking it out, they might not be so bad. 

Warnings: Flirting. Bruce get’s jealous but not really ‘cause Batman doesn’t get jealous. Reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as uh ‘wife’ multiple times. 

Listening to: ‘Can’t Take My Eye’s Off You’ by Frankie Valli - ‘Pardon the way that I stare, there's nothin' else to compare... You're just too good to be true.’ 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist  

Gala’s were something that Bruce never really liked. 

As Bruce Wayne - the billionaire, playboy, golden child, Prince of Gotham - he couldn’t get to enough of them. 

As Batman - the brooding, ‘I work alone but not really’, Protector of Gotham - he avoided them at all costs. 

But as himself - the friend, father, husband, Bruce - his thoughts on such events could only be described as apathetic. 

Over the years he grew a very nice façade to hide how he truly felt. After the entrance of his wife, and then each child that followed, it became easier to fake, and he did have to admit they became a little more enjoyable with proper company anyway. 

Of course, the first time he saw she who would be his wife at one of these events, she was hanging off the arm of some blond, tanned, rich member of high society. From his knowledge and meetings with her on the streets she wasn’t exactly supposed to be enjoying it as much as she looked like she was. 

Turns out she was one great faker too. 

Over the course of the past seventeen-ish years, Bruce got to know the various ways you dealt with these gala’s. 

While he was tempted with the recluse lifestyle everyday, you managed to get him out of the house when it was needed. Even if it was a big house, he still needed to get out of it sometimes. 

With the outings you used to force him on, he was able to learn a thing or two from you. You weren’t born into wealth like he was, and you never had it until you married him, but you took to it like a fish to water. Well, the avoiding attention part anyway. In fact, when it came to going to gala’s with you, he was surprised at how little attention you drew when you didn’t want it. 

The first time you went as a couple, and then again as a married couple, were the worst as far as being left alone went, and he did expect it. Newspapers craved that sort of thing. 

After that, when it was just him and you, the most you were asked of was the journey between the car and the front door thanks to the press and media - once inside you could sulk away to a corner or table, get up for a dance or two, loiter at the bar and then go home without anymore than a half dozen people approaching. Those were very good nights for Bruce, mainly because on those nights he’d rather be anywhere else. 

As if he didn’t feel that way about them anyway. 

But lately your trick of not gaining attention at the gala’s wasn’t working anymore. It wasn’t that people were noticing him again, no it was because they were noticing you. 

Namely someone kept noticing you. 

“You both have never looked more alike.” 

Tim slid into a set opposite Bruce and Damian. Bruce had a crystal tumbler filled with ginger ale pressed to his lips, unmoving as his eyes locked onto where you stood across the room. Damian was in the exact same position, whether knowingly or not, and was sending a glare towards the man who was looking far too happy about talking to you. 

“We are kind of literally related, Tim.” Bruce mumbled, sipping his drink before setting it down and leaning back in his seat.

“He’s too close.” Damian whispered.

“I know.” 

“She could get uncomfortable soon.”

“I know.”

“If it bothers you so much then either of you could go over there and whisk her away.” Tim said, shaking his head a little. “Bruce could pull out his charisma, or the gremlin could pretend to ask for a dance with his mother all cute and mother-son-like.”

Damian switched his glare over to Tim.

“Why don’t you go and fix it since you’re so smart?”

“‘Cause it’s not bothering me as much as it is you.” Tim laughed. Bruce looked between his two sons, then up to where you and the man were talking. “She can handle herself. Plus he’s way below her league anyway, if she doesn’t know that then something’s wrong.” 

“You don’t think Ummi’s being mind controlled right now, do you?” Damian asked, sitting straighter and squinting a little. “We should go home and -”

Bruce stood, patting Damian’s shoulder as he pushed his chair back in, and then strode over to your side. 

As usual, you noticed his approach with barely having to look, and reached out an arm as he pressed his side to yours. His arm wound it’s way around your waist, and he offered his free hand to the man whose conversation he probably just ruined. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.” he said, lips tight in one of the best and believable fake smiles he’s put on in his entire life. 

“Henry Syrus.” The man said, stepping to match Bruce’s fake pleasantries with his own, “I was just having the most wonderful conversation with your darling wife about the art pieces here. 

“Next time you should compare novelty keychains.” Bruce’s voice was light, but you could tell there was a little something underneath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take her away for a dance before the night dies down too much.” 

So without another word, Bruce swept you away and onto the dancefloor with the hoard of other swaying couples. 

“You need to practice that.” 

“Practice what?” he asked, looking down at you as his fingers intertwined with yours. 

“The ‘I’m taking my wife away from someone who makes me feel like they’re making her feel weird’ thing you just pulled.” you said, a small smile twitching onto your features from your lips up to your eyes - your first genuine smile of the night - and Bruce was proud to think it was because of him. 

“I did that?” he mused, feigning thought for a moment, “I don’t think I did.” 

“Well you weren’t jealous. Everyone - including you! - says Bruce Wayne does not get jealous.” Bruce spun you away, and then back closer to him again. Closer than before. 

“I don’t need to get jealous, I know you can’t resist me.” he mumbled against your ear, then pressed a kiss to your cheekbone before leaning back some again. “That’s why you keep sticking around.”

“I thought I stuck around because you’re filthy rich and never at home, so that I have the place to do as I please.” 

“Okay, okay,” he said, chuckling, “Now you’re really teasing me.” 

“I’m just getting started.” you said, a sly glint in your eye that made his arm around you tighten. 

“Oh? Dare I ask what else you have in store?” he replied, preparing to meet whatever you came up with. You hummed at him, surveying the room and fellow dancers before looking back up at him again.

“I’m gonna take you home, pull you into our bedroom, and take you out of this monkey suit -”

“- it’s a tux, not a suit -”

“- I’m going to take you out of this tuxedo,” you corrected, tugging on his tie as he smiled down at you, “And then we’re gonna sleep for twelve. Whole. Hours.” He groaned. 

“You love me so much. You know exactly what to say. You treat me so well.” 

“I know.” you said, smiling up at him. He couldn’t help but press his lips to yours in something a little longer than a peck, and you hummed again. “Now you’re making Henry jealous with all the faces you’re making.” 

“How can you tell, you can’t see him?” he asked. Looking over, he was able to see that, yes, the man you were with before wasn’t looking incredibly happy at the moment. 

“I’m a mother of at least five children, Bruce. And I have to deal with you. I can tell when someone’s glaring at my back.” 

“I do glare a lot.” He grimaced. “I should’ve known better.” 

“Underestimate me again and you’ll pay for it.”

“And if I do then you can name your price, my dear.”

[butwhyduh]

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

[megsmulti]

Chenford + you should break up with him

Thank you for the prompt anon!! This takes place after 4x17.

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Tim and Lucy were walking and talking in the hallway after parking the shop back in the garage of the district. It's been a couple of days since Chris sang the song that haunted Lucy forever at the DA's office. Tim wanted to know how that went since he wasn't there and he missed her, even though he wasn't going to admit that out loud, especially to Lucy.

"I was standing there with Tamara and the intern when out of nowhere, Chris just starts singing that stupid song and-" Lucy relayed as she was stating to Tim the exact details of the events that occurred.

Tim furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait. What stupid song?"

"That song I sang in the barrel on the day I got kidnapped." He widened his eyes. "Dream a Little Dream."

"What?" Tim asked, stopping their stroll momentarily. He could not believe what he was hearing. The DOD, as it was dubbed, traumatized Lucy, and when people exploit that in any kind of way, it pisses him off.

"Yeah. He claimed that he had it stuck in his head."

There was a brief bout of silence before Tim resumed the conversation. "Can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," Lucy replied. Even though she didn't need it, she will always listen to Tim. Sometimes, he had very insightful words that not even she thought of.

"You should break up with him." Lucy raised her eyebrows. Who does he think he is? she thought as she was still processing what he said.

"Excuse me?" Lucy fired back. "Since when do you tell me who I can and can't date?"

"Since he traumatized you even more by singing that god damn song!" Tim exclaimed, matching Lucy's tone. "He knew that that day was terrible for you, yet he still did it anyway!"

"You may be right, but it could've been a mistake." Lucy tiled her anger down a little bit. "He saw the footage too!"

"Maybe so, but you and I both know that he also might've had an ulterior motive."

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you have it out for Chris or something? You barely know him."

"No, I don't have it out for him." He may be jealous of him because he's dating Lucy, but he doesn't wish death upon the guy unless Chris takes things further, then Tim makes no promises. "I care about you, Lucy, more than you could ever know, and I hate it when people take advantage of that day or of you in general."

Tim wasn't usually one to bare his soul to anybody, but Lucy was the only exception. Well, maybe Angela in certain instances too. Point is that he doesn't do it often and when he does, he's saying everything with his entire chest.

"You do?" Lucy was dumbstruck by Tim's revelation. The feeling was mutual for her too, but hearing him say that for the first time melted her heart.

"Yeah. I thought you would've known that by now," Tim said, stating the obvious.

"Well, thank you for the advice. While what Chris did was wrong, I may not actually love him like I thought I did." Lucy spouted a truth of her own and if Tim was being honest, he wasn't surprised by that statement in the slightest.

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's kind of boring. I don't like that in a relationship."

Tim chuckled, which prompted Lucy to follow suit. Their radios interrupted them before either one of them had a chance to speak and that led to a collective groan.

Lucy was scared to tell Tim about her day at the DA's office at first because she knew damn well that he would march on in there and beat the living daylights out of Chris, even though he may have deserved it at the time. But, admitting that her feelings for her boyfriend have started diminishing to someone she really cares about felt good and she knew that Tim wouldn't judge her on anything she has to say whether he agrees with it or not.

[houdinicorbini]

Hi, i hope you’re fine! Nightmare was just so adorable, my heart literally melt. I love your blog<3.Hmm but whatever! If you´re comfortable with this, could you write abt ardyn having an argument with his s/o, and accidentally hurting their feelings by being too defensive? Like, angst/fluff yk. Take your tim, no pressure c:🤍.

I’m really glad you liked it! I’m really glad to find someone else who really liked this character as well! I actually have a few things of Ardyn in my drafts that I need to continue with soon.

Now this has some of the topics of last one, like him dealing with nightmares so I'm going to be kind of playing off that

Also, I want to put a disclaimer in here. It's best to not push someone when they are going through a tough time. What I am doing is only fiction and sometimes some people accidently cross lines trying to heal their own anxiety than the person who is hurting. Not saying this makes them a bad person, they just don't realize what they're doing.

Tw: Arguing, yelling, injured reader and angst

Today just seemed like another normal day with Ardyn. It was still early afternoon, the two of you were cuddled up on the couch, just relaxing. You were watching tv at a low volume while Ardyn was reading a book.

Snuggling up to up to your lover more, you rested your head on his arm while watching a random show that was on. Ardyn changed positions so you were laying on his and your head was resting on his chest, his arm protectively wrapped around your waist. All while he was still reading.

He is usually lovey dovey like this, but something just felt off about it today. The tightening of his arm kind of gave that away too, like he was subconsciously trying to tell you to stay.

You had noticed that Ardyn has been a bit tense since the both of you got out of bed this morning. After being in a relationship so long, you tend to notice the little signs he gives off when something is wrong.

You also took note of how he wasn't really talking that much. Just simple answers and short responses. You had an idea that maybe he didn't sleep that well because Ardyn really only acts like this when he didn't have a goodnights sleep.

Thinking about how to bring it up, you figured you'd ask a simple question. Maybe try and lead into asking the main question. You didn't want to back him into a corner though, so you knew the question to ask to get things started.

"Did you sleep well last night?" breaking the silence, you look up at your darling, who has his face buried in a book. For a second you could feel him tense up at the question.

Placing his thumb between so he could close the book without losing his spot, Ardyn gazed down at you before answering. "Of course, my love. Difficult to have bad rest with you at my side." He flashed you with a sweet smile, but it didn't seem to quite match his eyes.

His tone sounded off to you as well, like it was laced with tiredness, but he was doing his best to mask it.

Ardyn saw the look in your eyes and noticed a hint of worry in them. There were times where he didn't like how you could read him. He didn't like how that mask he tried so hard to keep up was starting to slip.

"You look very tired, and you haven't been acting like yourself since we got out of bed this morning, are you sure?" You saw a shift in his emotion, surprise maybe? It was only for a second before he insisted he was alight.

"Dear, I can assure that I am fine, there's no need to keep worrying about me." Ardyn was trying his best to reassure you that he was fine even though you could see right through his disguise.

You didn't believe him, but you knew trying to press for an answer was not the solution. You didn't want to make things worse by trying to force him to talk.

On the inside, a part of Ardyn wanted to tell you what was wrong. That he had such a terrible nightmare about losing you. Something he fears a lot more than he admits.

He's afraid that one day you'll just be gone, and there won't be anything he can do to fix that.

Ardyn didn't know whether to be happy or upset that you've known him long enough to see when he isn't doing well, but it didn't really matter since he didn't plan on opening up.

Little did he know, you had other plans to try and slowly break through that iron wall of his. You were persistent in trying to make him happy!

"I guess it must be me who's tired then." You played it off with a chuckle as you tried to get up, much to Ardyn's dismay.

"Darling," Ardyn began, wanting to tighten his hold on you so you wouldn't leave him, "where are you going?" He asked. His eyes were obviously giving away the fact that he did not want you to go.

"Oh, I was just going to go into the kitchen!" You quickly answered, but that look he was giving you made you want to reconsider.

Letting out a sigh, Ardyn released you from his iron grip before returning to his book. "Do hurry back, I find it easier to concentrate with you by my side."

Once you've gotten up, you smile and give him a quick peck on the cheek before heading into the kitchen. You didn't see it, but there was a genuine smile on Ardyn's face, just for a second though.

Your plan was to make some sweets for Ardyn to enjoy. Something to help get him out of his shell, even if it was something as small as food. Making sure you had all the ingredients you needed, you began getting out all the dishes you'd be using.

Meanwhile Ardyn was on the couch trying to fight falling asleep, especially while you were not there with him. Though, he was quickly losing that battle.

This continued on until he heard a loud crash come from the kitchen. His book that was once laying on his chest during his sleep battle was tossed on the floor when he raced towards where he heard the commotion come from.

Ardyn's heart dropped when he saw you on the ground, clutching your foot while there was glass bowl that didn't appear to be broken. It seemed to have taken the bag of sugar down with it.

'W-Wait! I'm fine! Really!" You quickly tried to assure him, but that was drowned out as he rushed over to you. Getting to your level, he investigated the spot on your foot where he assumed you dropped the bowl on. Looking down, you noticed how fast a bruise began to form.

"Can't you be more careful!?" The sudden yelling made you both jump and forced your head to look back up.

You noticed how Ardyn had mix of worry and anger. How were you to know that he was angrier at himself. Confused, you try to calm him down.

"It's only a bruise, I'm fi-"

"And what if it was more than that!? What if I was gone and you were seriously injured!?" With each question, Ardyn's voice raised more and more.

"I just wanted to help! You never open up so I thought maybe I could try something else!" You felt like you were being back into a corner so you couldn't but shout back.

"And hurting yourself was the path you decided to choose!?"

"It's not like I purposely meant to get hurt! Do you think I try to mess up!?" You could tears start to well up, from both the fighting and the pain the was actually getting worse.

"Maybe if you didn't do it so often, I wouldn't need to assume!" Ardyn finally processed what he said when he saw the look on your face. The regret that started to sink in when he saw the tears in your eyes.

"Darlin-"

"Do you really see me as a screw up?" The cracking of your voice broke his heart. "My love, please forgive me, I don't think of you like that at all, I would never." How he wishes he could take that back.

"Please, let me carry you to bed, I don-"

"I can get up myself." Still feeling a bit hurt from his comment, you tried your best to stand up, but Ardyn quickly noticed how you winced when you took just one step.

Ardyn knew you could do it, but it pained him watching you try and walk to your shared bedroom, not when he could help. Though he knew he had no right to say anything after that fight.

You hobbling over and nearly falling is what made Ardyn change his mind. He caught you midfall and brought you to the giant bed the two of you shared. You only huffed and crossed you arms in response.

Once you were settled in bed, your mood changed when you saw the emotions being displayed on Ardyn's face. As if he was doing everything in his power to keep himself from breaking down.

"Ardyn, please tell me what's wrong." You wanted to help him so bad, if only he would let you.

It was then when he couldn't hold it any longer. Seeing a tear roll down his cheek made your heart hurt for him. Seeing as how he was knelt down next to the bed, you acted quickly and used your hand to wipe away the tear.

Patting the spot next to you, Ardyn quickly took the hint and laid down next to you, but you had him reposition himself, so his head was now in your lap.

"What's on your mind?" You ask in a soft voice, taking your hand so you can run it through his hair in a soothing manner.

You could feel his tears falling onto your thighs as he finally opened up to you.

"You read me so well, you knew I wasn't doing well, that I hadn't slept well." He really didn't want you to see him like this, but he felt comforted by your actions.

Ardyn began telling you about his nightmare, how violent it was, how he lost you. He then explained he barely slept at all last night because of it.

He explained everything all while you just listened and continued to run your fingers through his locks of hair. Reassuring him that you're not going anywhere.

"I'm sorry." He said with a tear-stained face. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I would ne-"

"Shh, I know, I know. You were just tired and had many things going through that head of yours. Just please know you can talk to me when something happens."

Ardyn slowly nodded his head before letting out a content sigh, he felt incredibly loved by you and your dedication to show it. He made a mental note to repay your love tenfold later, when he had more energy.

'Do you want to try and get some rest? I promise that I'll still be by your side when you wake." You just wanted to see him well rested, but you weren't going to force him to sleep if he didn't want to. He wasn't a toddler.

"I think if I have you right here like this, I'll have pleasant dreams."

You smiled softly down at him before leaning down to place a soft and loving kiss on his cheek.

"Rest well, my love."

-------

That was a lot longer than what I had expected! But I hope you enjoyed it! I apologize if anything seems rushed or seems out of character for Ardyn! Let me know if you enjoyed it at all and thanks for the request!

[ragingbookdragon]

These Words You Should Always Remember: To You, My Heart I Surrender

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 4.6 Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence, Angst

Author's Note: This wasn't supposed to be 4K words y'all. I swear. But y'all better love me for it. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

There were the occasional sounds of fists meeting faces and shins hitting sides echoing in her ears, but she paid them no mind, eyes trained on the screen before her. She was content to let her brother and oldest friend beat the ever-living shit out of each other if it meant they’d eventually put their feelings aside and make up. Of course, it was a long-shot pipe dream and one not so easily reached—she could hope though.

Over the sound of the continual fighting came footsteps, followed by, “Aunt (Y/N). How’s it hangin’?”

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at her second nephew. “Jason,” she greeted warmly, and he bent down beside her, letting her press a kiss to his temple. “What are you doing here so late? I thought you and Roy were going to Panama City tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

He shrugged. “Plane leaves in the morning. Figured I’d hang around here for the night to say a couple ‘see you laters’.” Jason’s eyes followed the screen. “Is that the human trafficking ring out of Saint Petersburg?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) answered, turning to click at the mouse. “Some lawyers from the courts around here got caught in a hotel room with a few of the girls.”

Someone new appeared in her peripheral, two people actually, Tim and Dick. “Didn’t they arrest everybody in the hotel room?” Tim asked, propping his chin on her shoulder.

She reached up and scratched his scalp the way he liked. “They did. The girls were sent to a secure facility for treatment and the lawyers have unsurprisingly lawyered up. None of them are talking.” (Y/N) clicked on the screen, opening a tab that led to an interrogation room. “Gordon’s not having any luck. Whoever’s running this operation is obviously terrifying enough that none of these guys are cracking. Even with the threat of getting sent to prison for life.”

“Want some help?” Dick offered and she shook her head.

“Nah. We adults have it.” (Y/N) looked at them and smiled. “You guys go do what young people do. Hang out with your friends, drink, party, be young.”

“I feel like you’re saying that to the wrong trio,” Tim said. “None of us drink except Jason and even then, none of us party.”

She shook her head again, this time in shame. “God, you people need to live.”

Jason happened to glance over her head, and he frowned. “Speaking of needing to live…you might wanna stop Bruce and GM from killing one another.”

(Y/N) turned in the direction of her friend and brother and sighed. “Am I a terrible person for considering letting them punch each other unconscious?”

“Nope!” came unified response and she chuckled, rising from her seat.

“Thought so,” she said, walking over to where Bruce and Ghost-Maker were about to go at it again.

She stepped in between them, gracefully dodging a throw punch and a kicked-out leg, shoving both of them back in return. “Hey, enough.”

“Move.” Bruce commanded and she glared at him.

“I said, enough.” Her head turned to Ghost-Maker. “We all know this little sparring match has gone a bit farther than just training.”

“No one’s getting hurt, (Y/N).” Ghost-Maker said, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe not right now, but someone will get hurt and we don’t need that.” She pointed to the opposite ends of the room. “Separate and cool off. Both of you.”

Seeing that she wasn’t going to budge, Bruce let out a puff of air and turned, striding into the showers, leaving her and the other man on the mats. (Y/N) sighed quietly, rubbing her temples, and griped, “I swear you both make it so difficult to be around.”

“Only because he lets his emotions get in the way.”

(Y/N) looked up at him, watching as he wiped the sweat from his face. She caught his hand. “You busted your knuckles.”

“I’ll be fine.” He started to pull away and she tightened her grip.

“Don’t even start with me, Ghost.” She tugged him to the med bay and shoved him towards a seat. “Sit.” He obeyed, though she could tell he was probably making a face at her, and she busied herself with finding the antiseptic and some wraps.

Turning back around, she perched herself on the desk and placed his hand in her lap, gently wiping the blood and dirt away from the wounds; then she set the rag aside and wrapped his knuckles with the fresh gauze, carefully, as if he were made of glass.

When she was finished, she couldn’t help but do the childish thing she’d come up with all those years ago during their training; (Y/N) softly rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles, blowing quietly, then she murmured, “There. All healed.”

A rare smile came over his lips, though she could tell it was more of a sneer than one. “You’re still doing that?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and shoved his hand off her legs. “Yes. How do you think I managed to heal all the wounds me and the family have gotten over the years?”

“Hmm, stitches and alcohol.”

“Smart-ass,” she grunted, rising to her feet. “You hungry?”

Ghost-Maker stood from his seat. “No. I have to get back to The Haunt.”

“Hot date waiting?” (Y/N) cracked, elbowing him in the side and he snorted.

“No. I need to read up on the information Icon’s run through since I’ve been gone.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, gazing at him. “You know I’m doing that right now with our scans, right?”

“Of course, I do. But you’re not Icon.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Great, I’ve been beaten by an AI.”

“An AI that I designed.” Ghost-Maker added, and she glared at him for a moment before chuckling.

“With fear, so I’ve heard.”

He shrugged. “I figured I would give him the one thing I lack.” He looked over at her. “Do you want to come with me?”

She wanted to, but she sighed heavily. “I can’t.” her eyes found the shower room door. “Someone needs to stay behind and talk to him.”

“I’m not surprised you’re staying.”

It was all he said before he disappeared from her sight and (Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek as something aching tugged deep in her chest. She hated how easy it was for her to understand when Ghost-Maker was disappointed in her decisions. How easy it was for him to impact her feelings. It’d been almost two decades since they actually held real conversations and every memory of the time they’d spent together, her, him, and her brother came back to her. Every moment of watching the two boys go head-to-head, and her torn between her family and the man she loved—it’d always been that way…and sometimes she wished she were like Ghost-Maker, unfeeling of love and empathy.

She shook herself from her stupor and walked into the locker room, leaning against the wall of the closed shower door; she could see his feet beneath the door. “Why do you always let yourself get so angry when it comes to Ghost?”

“You know why.” Bruce retorted. “You know how he is.”

“And I know how you are,” (Y/N) countered. “Yet you refuse to admit that on some level he’s got good points.”

He stuck his hand out from the opening of the door. “Towel.” She waited. “Please.”

Handing it over, she said, “You and I both know the longer we do this the darker it gets…the darker we get.”

“I’m not killing people, (Y/N).” Bruce griped as he stepped out of the shower, the towel around his waist. He’d busted his eyebrow and lip.

“I’m not saying you have to, Bruce. I wouldn’t expect you to. All I’m saying is you won’t admit that Ghost is right about things.”

“About what!” He shouted, turning on her. “That I should just start slitting throats up and down the street! That I should give up what we started as children! What (Y/N)!”

She merely stared at him amidst his yelling and then she calmly stated, “That you can’t save everyone.” He didn’t react, just looked at her as she explained, “You are so hellbent on the idea that everyone can have a moral redemption arc, but the truth is that not everyone has one nor does everyone deserve one.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Sometimes I think Ghost was right. Trying to save everyone? Giving up every part of myself to make sure everyone lives? He was right. It eats until there’s nothing left inside you.”

“So what? You’re going to stop saving people?”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bruce.” She gave him a sharp look and said, “I’m going to stop saving the people who don’t deserve saving. And if that means I let someone bad die? I can live with that.” Walking off, she ignored him as he called out for her to stop, leaving him alone.

***

The little hovering tray floated into her peripheral and she blinked, turning to look at it. “Good evening, Miss Wayne. Refreshments?”

She smiled, plucking a champagne glass off along with a few grapes and cheese slices. “Thanks Icon.”

“You’re welcome.” The tray wandered off and she walked over to where he was sitting down, silently reading through the reports.

“Find anything interesting?” she asked, popping a grape in her mouth as she nudged his elbow off the armrest to perch on it herself. His arm unconsciously rested around her waist, fingers brushing the side of her pants.

“Leonidovich is having a party tonight.”

(Y/N) hummed, watching as he clicked through the pictures of the party’s setup. “Big place. Open. Good for plain clothed security to get around in.” she narrowed her gaze. “This is the ball room of the Winter Nebula Hotel. Who’s renting out the penthouse?”

Ghost-Maker smirked. “Our host for the party.”

She nodded. “Then that’s where the real party is going to be tonight.” Glancing at him, she asked. “Any big ballers on the VIP list?”

“Oh, a few internationally wanted arms and drug dealers.” He looked at the screen. “Leonidovich picked up a new shipment of girls earlier. He’s probably going to make a deal with the dealers tonight in exchange for them.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I guess it’s time to put our noses to the grind then.” She shimmied off the seat and started towards the closet. “Have any dresses back here?”

“You’re going inside?” he questioned, almost sounding surprised.

“Well, you can’t go it,” she retorted. “Your wily ways of fucking and flying means that people know your face.”

“Half of it.”

(Y/N) stuck her head out from the curtain, neck, and shoulders bare. “You’re not going to go in without your mask on. We both know that.” She pulled back in, grunting and shuffling around until she was finished.

Pulling open the curtain, she stepped out in a thigh length white heart-bodice dress, form fitting to her body and off the shoulders. (Y/N) slipped in the black metal teardrop earrings. “Part of me wants to ask why you have female clothing in your closet, but the other part wants to ask why on God’s green earth do you have to buy everything in white.”

Her face pinched. “It’s sterile. At least paint some gray in here somewhere, Jesus.” Ghost-Maker merely chuckled at her complaints and stepped behind her, gently placing something around her neck. “What are you—”

He let the black necklace fall to her chest and gently grabbed her chin, the other plucking a small device from the tray that Icon had next to them. Maneuvering her head to the side, he reached up and stuck it behind her ear, snug and out of sight. “Your hair should cover it,” he said.

“What is ‘it’?” (Y/N) asked.

“Listening device.” Ghost-Maker nodded to the screen, and she looked over, seeing a black box on the screen with a marker that was ticking. He raised his fingers to her ear and snapped; the blue marker etched with the sound, and she couldn’t help but feel impressed.

“Nicely designed, Ghost.” She remarked, glancing back at him. “Get my invitation?”

“It’s printing.” He met her eyes. “You need to be careful.”

(Y/N) knew he was being serious, but she couldn’t help but mess with him a bit. She smirked. “Why, Ghost, are you worried that I can’t handle a bunch of international criminals by myself? Me? That mighty Widow-Maker?”

“I’m not worried about you.” He said, and it hurt a lot more than she expected it too. “But I’d be down a sparring partner if you got yourself killed.”

She blinked at him. “I’m not sure what’s more upsetting—that you only think of me as a sparring partner or that you legitimately think I can’t do this by myself.” (Y/N) tipped her head. “Ghost, I’ve got this.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she turned away, walking to the door. “Where will you be tonight?”

He watched her back. “I’ll be doing what I do best. Surveying until you get into the penthouse.”

“You can’t bust in until I get enough on Leonidovich to have him arrested.”

“I’m not going to arrest him, (Y/N).” She turned, staring at him, but she said nothing, and he cocked a brow. “You’re not going to stop me?”

Her gaze fell to the tile floor, and she shrugged. “I don’t think I can, even if I tried to.” She let out a breath and turned. “Good luck tonight.”

***

To a novice, the party would’ve just been a normal high-class function, but to her knowing eyes, both from her own billionaire life and her vigilantism, this party was crawling with criminals. She’d caught at least seven drug deals go down in the past five minutes since she walked in, and at least nine men went off with escorts.

She inconspicuously grabbed a champagne chute from a waiter’s tray and sipped it lightly, scanning the room for Leonidovich. He was in the corner of the room, sitting next to a few women who (Y/N) recognized from the missing persons in Gotham.

His eyes flashed to hers and she gave him a flirty wink, disappearing to the bar, knowing he was going to take the bait. Sure enough, a hand touched the small of her back and she hummed as his lips brushed her ear. “I wasn’t expecting a goddess like you to come to this party tonight.”

She smiled and leaned back into his chest. “This goddess goes where she pleases.” Tipping her head slightly, she caught his eye. “And where her boss will find the best deals.”

“Deals, hmm?” he hummed. “What kind of deals are you expecting?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Oh, the ones where lots of money is involved…and merchandise.”

He gazed at her for a few moments then murmured in her ear, “The code word for entrance to the penthouse is ‘подземный мир’.”

“I’ll remember.” Leonidovich pulled from her with a smile and disappeared into the crowd. Something made her want to shiver from disgust, but she concealed it, watching and waiting for him to enter the elevator.

When he did, she waited another few minutes before walking over to it; the security stopped her and she cocked a brow, muttering, “подземный мир.”

The two guards looked at each other then stepped aside, letting her into the elevator. Another guard was inside, and she smiled politely as she stepped in, glancing at the little panel as it blinked.

It dinged, signaling their arrival and when the doors opened, she was greeted by an extravagant penthouse. To her surprise, there weren’t many people inside, just Leonidovich and his personal entourage.

“Ah, you’ve come,” he greeted, holding out a hand.

She took it, letting him place a kiss to her knuckles. “I told you, this goddess goes where she pleases and where she’s needed.” Looking around, she murmured, “My boss would prefer our business done alone. Is that possible?”

The guards seemed to turn even frostier but Leonidovich merely chuckled, nodding his head as he let her go and gestured to a side door. “The office is just through those doors. We can draw up a contract.” He turned to his thugs. “Wait here.”

(Y/N) nodded, following him as he led her into the office, noting how he locked the door, and he motioned to a chair in front of the desk. “Please, sit.”

Taking her seat, she crossed a leg over her knee. “You wouldn’t happen to have something to drink, would you?”

“What can I offer you?”

“Vodka.”

He chuckled. “Ah, a woman after my own heart.” He waltzed over to the bar and poured them both glasses, walking back to hand her hers. “Here you are.”

(Y/N) took it and clinked her glass to his. “ваше здоровье.”

They both downed their glasses and for effect, she held her façade. “You speak and drink like a true daughter of Russia.”

She smiled. “I’ve had more than a few drinks with many sons of Russia.” Glancing out the window, she added, “My boss is interested in your inventory. A few of them actually.”

Leonidovich hummed, turning back to wander over to the drink counter. “Tell me about your boss.”

“He’s a multi-billionaire out of Hong-Kong. Made his fortune by building cell towers and selling opium on the side.”

“Opium is a highly sought-after drug.”

“That it is,” (Y/N) agreed. “He’s been branching out into Kolkata, wanting to get into the spice trade.” She gazed into her empty glass, staring at her reflection. “But the men over there want something in return…more than money, if you catch my drift.”

“I do.” He said, matter of factly. “Perhaps I can offer them something better.”

“And what would that be?” almost there. She thought, but she never expected—

“You.”

(Y/N) turned her head just as he swung his arm as hard as he could, the vodka bottle in his grasp. She barely even had time for her eyes to widen when it collided with her temple, shattering into a thousand shards, cutting deep into her skin.

She fell out of her seat and hit the ground, dazed and in a massive amount of pain. Reaching up, she felt the blood pouring from her head and she sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to wipe away the fluid from her eyes so she could see.

Of course, he didn’t give her time because he was pressing his knee into her back, fingers yanking the listening device from behind her ear. Leonidovich glared at it and smashed it between his fingers. “I know who you are working for. I’ve seen this tech before.”

(Y/N) rolled onto her back, throwing out her elbow, which to give her credit, she did catch him in the jaw, but he was quick to respond, punching her across the face. Blood pooled in her mouth, and she spat at him, then his hands were winding around her throat, squeezing tightly. It reminded her of the training in the Amazons where she had to learn to uncoil anacondas from her body.

His grip became tighter and tighter just like the reptiles and she bared her teeth as she tried to suck in air, digging her nails into the flesh of his hands, his wrists, anything she could scratch at. He was heavy enough that she couldn’t flip him and with the dress tight around her thighs, she couldn’t cock her legs up to his shoulders or waist to get any distance between them.

She gasped when he put his knee in her stomach and that was the last bit of air she had to hold in. Her lungs started burning, begging her for air she felt the panic starting to rise in her as she thrashed beneath him, trying to throw him just an inch, but nothing was working.

Dark spots started to ebb out from the corner of her vision and like the phrase had come alive, she saw every moment of her life flash before her eyes. Every wrong decision, every right one. Every goodbye, every hello. Every person she’d ever lost and every one she’d ever saved. Her nephews’ and nieces’ faces darted across her vision followed by Bruce’s and then his.

She didn’t want to die now. Not since he’d come back to see them after so long. She wanted to stay. Wanted to tell him she loved him, even if she knew he would never be able to feel the same. She wanted to live.

Gunshots sounded from the outside, but they were like whispers as her eyelids started to droop shut, brain fogging from the lack of oxygen. Her hands started to go slack as the door was kicked in and as her arms went limp, something damp splattered across her face and the weight of Leonidovich’s body fell away.

(Y/N) sucked in a lungful of air and rolled, with what strength she’d received from the freedom, over onto her side, coughing violently. Her head was swimming with pain and her brain felt like someone had taken a mallet to an overripe melon.

Someone gripped her shoulder and she screeched, flailing on them when they grabbed her wrists. “(Y/N). It’s me.” They pulled her against them, folding her to their chest and placed a hand to the back of her head. “You’re safe.”

Sandalwood and metal oil wafted up her nose and she heard the familiar hum of his suit. “K?” she breathed, terrified to pull away and look at him.

His thumb caressed the back of her head. “It’s me, (Y/N).”

Something broke inside her and she buried her face in his cloak, sobs wracking her body as she clung to him. Words passed her lips, and she wasn’t sure what she was saying but it didn’t matter because all she could think about was how he’d saved her in the nick of time. The man she’d turned her back on at twenty to go home with her brother, had saved her again.

***

When she awoke, she sat up straight in the bed, vaguely unaware of how she’d gotten there in the first place. She started to move when she heard, “I wouldn’t get up if I were you.”

Stilling, she looked over, seeing Ghost-Maker with a book in his hands. Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, one of his favorites. When they used to train together when they were children, they used to lie under the stars, and he’d tell her all about how each chapter in the book had been devoted to a different art of warfare; she loved how passionate he would get when he talked about it.

“What happened?” she asked, fingers twitching against her side where it had started to ache.

“You were found out and almost strangled to death in penthouse suit.” He snapped the book shut. “When the bug went down, I moved in and took care of the criminals in the suite before killing Leonidovich and saving your life.”

(Y/N) frowned as he set the book down and leaned over, checking inside the bandage that was wrapped around her head. “Thank you.” Her eyes found his behind his mask. “What happened after?”

“You don’t remember?” he inquired curiously, and she tried to shake her head, but his grip was firm, keeping her in place.

“No. I remember you saving me but everything after that is a giant blur.” Suddenly she felt too transparent and pulled from his hands, turning her back to him as she threw her legs over the side of the bed. She rested a split second and stood, though his earlier warning rang in her ears as her knees buckled beneath her, head swimming.

He was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her waist as he caught her, lowering her back onto the bed. “I told you not to move.”

(Y/N) grunted at him and when he moved to pull away, she held on, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just…wait, K.” She whispered softly. “Please, just a moment.”

Ghost-Maker didn’t move though she felt the way he tensed at the first letter of his name. “You called me ‘K’ back there too.”

“I was relieved to see you.”

“And what you said afterwards?” She fell silent. “You don’t remember, do you?”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled downwards. “I have an idea of what I said. But I doubt you’ve been oblivious to it all these years.”

“Why do you love me?” he inquired, and from the tone of his voice he was either genuinely curious or completely baffled, she was hoping for the former and not the latter.

She turned her head, ignoring the prickling of pain as her temple brushed his shoulder, and pressed her forehead into his neck. “Because you saw who I was when no one else did.” Tears started swimming in her vision, and she reached up, curling her hand in his suit jacket. “I love you because you’re you, K. Because you’re my oldest friend and the one who’s always known me.”

Ghost-Maker closed his hand around the one in his suit and fell silent for a long while and (Y/N) stayed quiet too, simply letting the tears fall from her cheeks to the skin of his collarbone, her lips quivering against his skin.

“I can’t love you the way you love me.” He finally admitted.

(Y/N) blinked the tears away, whispering, “I know.” She started to pull away from him, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry, K.” It was hard to look at him, but she managed it, barely. “Just…give me some time and let me work through all,” she gestured around herself, her heart, and her head. “This.”

“You’re not angry at me.” He remarked and her brows furrowed.

“Of course not. Why would I be?”

“Because I don’t feel what you do. Love.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh despite the heartache. “K, I’m not going to get angry because you don’t feel love.” She reached up and placed a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing against the fabric he kept covering his nose and eyes. “I know that in your own way you do care. Even if it’s not love.” Her hand shifted and she ran her thumb over his lips. “I can live with that.”

Ghost-Maker slid his hand up the side of her neck, pulling her to him; he pressed his lips to hers and she closed her eyes, letting herself be lost in the bliss of the moment, if only for a moment, then she pulled away and opened her eyes, gazing at him.

She offered him a sad smile and managed to find her feet again, rising from the bed, leaving him there. “I’ll see you sometime soon, K.” she said, walking to the door.

“Do you want me to call Bruce to pick you up?”

“No. I’ll walk for a bit.” (Y/N) got to the door and stopped, pausing to look back at him. “K?”

He glanced over, meeting her gaze. “Hmm?”

“Do you know what my biggest regret is?”

“I don’t.”

(Y/N) grimaced. “It was leaving you.” Even behind his mask, she knew the surprise was in his eyes; she knew him that well. “And if I could do it all over again…I’d stay with you instead of getting on the plane that night.”

Ghost-Maker looked shocked for a moment, then it gave way to a smile. A real smile. One she hadn’t seen in years from him. “I think I would liked that.”

“Goodnight K.”

“Goodnight (Y/N). Stay safe.”