#the waynes are too white to have this kind of drama

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

NGL feel like the Batfam would have a much better go at it if they weren't majority white.

[ladytauria]

any jason headcanons you enjoy?

oh this is a fun question, thank you <3

some of these are going to be more widely accepted fanon, i think, but! ^^;

smallest robin turned largest robin. (i actually think for size it goes jason > dick > tim > damian > steph. i also like the idea that as red hood he's taller than bruce, but bruce is broader/heavier.)

ik canonically he didn't join the school's theater/drama club bc of robin commitments, but in my head he was still part of a group <3 maybe they had a city one during the summer? idk

i also think he was starting to get involved with the martha wayne foundation before he died.

alfred & he are close. ik canonically alfred tends to be a lot more victim blame-y with jason (as all of them are) but i think that entire retcon was stupid so <3

he can cook and cook well!

related: he also stress bakes. and cooks, too. also a stress cleaner. actually, just in general, i think he responds to stress with action. anything that feels "useful" or "helpful"--so feeding people, maintaining weapons/armor, cleaning up a space, etc.

very neat, and meticulous about his space. like, he might have a few things lying around that are "in use" but for the most part everything has a spot.

phobia of needles! it was worse when he was robin, but as an adult he's worked on it & learned how to manage it. however, in times of high stress it shows back up. and he's not good with any kind of unexpected need for shots.

i saw something somewhere about jason having multiple copies of books--not necessarily editions (though def that too) but like... one to put on display & one he can annotate/dog-ear/mark up/etc as h pleases. which i like a lot!

also inspired by something else--this time a piece of art, i think for something set in the batman beyond universe--but. i think he develops hearing problems, and maybe even already has? (actually; on that subject, i think he probably has tinnitus now, and maybe develops hearing loss as he gets older.) [updating with a link to the art]

good with kids. that one might just be canon xD

does a lot of volunteer work when he's not vigilante-ing. he does work with various places, but i think one of his favorites is like, storytime with kids at a library, or something.

i go back & forth between "jason is warmer" and "jason is colder" post-resurrection, and i think i like to stick with somewhere in the middle---he gives off a lot of heat, but has a harder time retaining. so even tho he feels warm to everyone else, he's still cold.

not really a headcanon, but. white streak + autopsy scar is peak jason design~

& i'll stop there bc this is getting p long!

[maxwell-grant]

🔥 The Bat!Joker ship

I don't think the Joker actually has much to say about Batman as a person or that he works as a meaningful tragic dark mirror to Bruce Wayne (in fact why would he, he actively does not want to know shit about Bruce Wayne or whatever he himself used to be before he flattened himself into the Joker), and the idea that he needs to inspired far more boring, shallow, self-obsessed and bad Batman stories than good ones. Even The Killing Joke, which I do like, only pulled it off by giving the Joker an entire origin story and an endpoint and had to outright make him break character for good in-text for the parallel to be achieved in the end. Joker is one of the most versatile villains of all time, but I don't think he lends himself well into being a leading character of complex and personal character drama, and they basically have to reconstruct him from scratch and or/make a new character out of him everytime they do that (the Telltale games, Joker 2019, whatever the fuck White Knight was going for). It's a waste of every other character you could be applying that effort into AND it's a waste of what already makes the Batman x Joker dynamic great (also frequently means he's doing bad retreads of material Two-Face is way more suited for but that's another topic)

I don't really ship Batman with anybody personally (I'm onboard for a compelling pitch if presented but shipping is not a thing I really care about much), but I do find myself compelled by and rejecting Batman x Joker in equal measure because, in a way, it's too "perfect". Nobody gives Bruce more permission to exist and be Batman than the Joker does. Nobody is as tailor-made perfect a justification for his life's work, and thus himself, than the Joker is. Nobody accepts, and wants, the existence of Batman the way the Joker does. This absolutely does not go both ways, but Bruce knows he concedes the clown more leg room into his life with every repeat engagement, he can't deny the part Joker plays in his world.

They clearly belong together as much as they could possibly belong with anyone within their stupid futile forever battle. But the thing is, if you close the gap on that battle, that's it for them. It's the end of the line. Batman and Joker already work very similar to how romance stories work: you have to pile more and more bullshit obstacles between your characters to overcome, because when they're done, and they get together for good, that's the end of the story. It's about the yearning and the overcoming, the consumation is where it ends.

I feel like having these two get involved romantically or sexually just puts a finishing dot on the billion and one ways they already dance around the matter. It's the same problem with Joker figuring out Batman's identity elevated a thousand fold, it just ruins the game, and then what else do they have? Worse, it makes it so one of them wins, because one will have made it official, and the other will have to compromise foundationally to cede room for the other, and thus there's a win that can never be walked back. That can be very compelling stuff, but also, you ended the game between Batman and the Joker, and worse, you did it with one of them having a clear victory over the other. Not saying it can't be done, not even saying it shouldn't be done, but it's not the kind of thing you do lightly, and it's not something you do if you want to keep telliing Batman x Joker stories afterwards.

[cuephrase]

I cannot keep two words straight in my head smh. I meant the first wip and the third wip. No abandonment meant (though I would not be opposed to hearing about that one too 😅)

asjdfhjsd no worries haha!!

first wip/jigsaw: so although i personally enjoy jason being an anti-hero/being on (sort of?) better terms with the batfam i really like am so frustrated bummed that we don't really get to see how jason got there. however, i also think his current dynamic with the fam is very interesting bc idk, to me, it feels very delicate/fragile and like there's not a whole lot of trust? idk how to summarize all the nuance without giving you an essay you did not ask for, but basically, his current relationship with them is Complicated, yeah?

and i don't have a lot of interest in writing a fix-it/exploring a 'what if things had gone differently' scenario/trying to fill in that missing gap bc...idk. i just don't lmao. BUT!! a reconciliation fic still sounds like so much fun, bc like i like the idea of jason being part of the batfam right but like i don't want to erase all the drama from canon so BASICALLY-

tl;dr: i think jason's current relationship with the batfam is like a bone that broke but wasn't set properly so it needs to be re-broken to heal properly. so i want to start in a place where he's "comfortable" with them, then have him blow everything up. just stomp on all the eggshells. it would very much so be a Things Get Worse Before They Get Better type of reconciliation fic haha. i want it be messy and painful and full of missteps and misunderstandings- it would not be an 'X apologizes and magically everything is better' fic. (which is not shade to anyone who writes/enjoys those!!) i may also challenge myself to stick strictly in jason's pov to really lean into the Unreliable Narrator of it all.

this probably sounds like such a mess, omg *buries face in hands*

pretty bird: this one is a super dick-centric, kinda character study type fic somewhat focused on his sexual trauma, so mirage/catalina/liu, but also just kind of like exploring dick's relationship with himself and like...how he perceives himself? bc he is such a Performer, yk, and he is incredible at it. and he has all these close, meaningful relationships, but sometimes he can still feel so isolated to me in a way bc of how much he keeps to himself and idk i just really want to like get into his head.

also can't really articulate this one without an essay you didn't ask for haha, but it will be a very fun tonal challenge for myself bc i have a very specific vibe i want to achieve that'll require a very careful balancing act.

and then just for funsies, and bc it's also about dick haha,

abandonment: au (inspired by dan mora's black and white oneshot from batman: the brave and the bold) where bruce puts dick into foster care instead of keeping him, but they cross paths later when batman runs into dick and jason who are looking for their missing brother. at least a smidge of identity porn bc dick is willing to trust batman but won't trust bruce wayne. like i have this scene in my mind where batman offers to set the boys up with his friend bruce wayne and dick is like 'absolutely not' and batman is like ?? and then he realizes omg this is the kid i gave up omg.

just imagine dick trying to independently (with jason) try to hunt tim down with batman being like !!!! trying to assist but also not wanting to overstep and also trying not to get too attached (and failing) hehehe. complicated dick and bruce is just so fun, yk?

tysm for the ask, lily, (and for tagging me in this game to begin with!!), i hope you're having/had a beautiful day!!

[beardedmrbean]

Okay I probably going to bitch next year, but this how I feel about the society of magical negroes https://youtu.be/GvM4_U9MvPk?si=IcP7aWm2nAFA5G89

Black content creators, we was doing so well, we help on the FUCKING APOLLO LUNAR MISSIONS, we created so many inventions during periods of oppression and discrimination, many civil rights activists survived to see a fucking black President into office.

But no, we (though Obama did start it) have to burn down the bridges our forebears made towards race relations because you need to justify your racist hateboner towards white peoples even in a setting where black people have magic

Also…writers do know that there regional black cultures? Like southern blacks would probably be into the voodoo stuff, hmmm black urban magic user might blend eastern magic given our urban history with Asians….

I’m thinking more than the writers who made more money by writing this movie script alone than I do in a year am I?

Black content creators, we was doing so well, we help on the FUCKING APOLLO LUNAR MISSIONS, we created so many inventions during periods of oppression and discrimination, many civil rights activists survived to see a fucking black President into office. But no, we (though Obama did start it) have to burn down the bridges our forebears made towards race relations because you need to justify your racist hateboner towards white peoples even in a setting where black people have magic

This here is one of the big reasons why I continually say that we're going backwards from the peak of the late 90's in terms of racial issues/relations and a lot of that has to do with the media being produced and consumed.

Social media is another massive issue because honestly how fast can we see a lie that people want to believe spread once twitter gets its hands on it, and then you get the people that regardless of what the facts are refuse to shift because of a matter of pride.

Honestly though the different media that was on back there. Had stuff like Fresh Prince, Martin, In Living Colour (Waynes family owned comedy in the early/mid 90's) all kinds of non white led shows on the tv that didn't play hard into stereotypes but still managed to showcase what some of the different issues faced by the various other racial and ethnic groups without it feeling forced.

Carlton being the "wrong" kind of black man for the fraternity, that's not something a white writer could really do terribly well, but it's one of the things that seems to come up a lot irl and it's nice to put it out there for folks that may not be up on that being a thing.

Spike Lee, he ruled the 90's too, Do the Right Thing, X, even White Men Can't Jump great films showcasing the reality of life in those communities without resorting to tired stereotypes, even White Men Can't Jump since that's just kinda how the whole thing ended up till then it was solid drama even after it was still solid.

And if you wanted quality satire the previously mentioned Waynes's came in with "Don't be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood" can't recall who did CB4, but that was good too.

Now we get

Which is incredibly weird to me considering I know who Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Big Mama Thornton are.

We really erasing Black Women's accomplishments in an effort to stick it to Whitey? How about Black Men, Chuck Berry ring a bell to anyone?

How about Current year. Please I'm begging you

Tell the Death Metal Cowboys of Botswana that they're playing white people music.

No race owns any kind of music for starters, tack in suppressing loads of talent because folks just gotta keep holding their community back for some reason.

I run into the same issue with Chris Rock's whole 'he's a dentist' bit about his neighborhood, ya it's a joke but telling your predominantly black audience that you need to be Denzel Washington to be able to reach the same heights as a run of the mill white dentist, gotta be discouraging.

Then we get the "Magical Negro's" movie, which ya it's supposed to be comedy, could do without being so ham-fisted.

Sent the trailer you shot me a few days back to a friend of mine, his response was less wordy than mine but we both landed on the same conclusion.

"So basically it's Undercover Brother but not funny"

How about we bring Sinbad out of retirement and fix that whole "Shazam" issue once and for all he can do the race stuff without being a massive ass about it, and I'd love to see him working some more, maybe we get a "Good Burger" sequel.

Not that David Allen Grier isn't funny, but damn that movie just looks awful.

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Girl in White

Eddie Munson had been banned from Steve Harrington's parties since his sophomore year. Apparently, the teen"s parents busted his ass after they found the baggy of poppers Eddie sold him the day before. Plus, most people already despised the freak of Hawkins High, so he wasn't too surprised. Harrington parties were known throughout the school and while Eddie usually made enough money to help with bills most of the time, October had proven to be a slow month. Wayne had already been working double shifts for the past week and they were still about a hundred dollars short on the water bill.

Wayne told him not to worry about it. They could manage.

"Come on kid, it's my job to worry about this kind of thing." The man said as he patted Eddie on the shoulder. He didn't know Eddie was a dealer on the side but he had his suspicions. "Just keep your nose out of trouble, okay?"

When the metalhead caught wind of Harrington holding a Halloween party, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Wayne. Halloween night with a bunch of horny, drunk teenagers would be a great opportunity to make cash fast. The last time Eddie tried to sneak into one of Harrington's parties to sell, it hadn't ended well. Tommy Hagan beat his ass so bad he had to go to the emergency room. But this was Halloween. And everyone would be dressed up. Now, he would just have to find something that people wouldn't recognize him in.

Eddie would usually go with something fun like David Bowie but then people would see his face. The teen dug through his closet as he looked for something to wear when something white on the floor caught his eyes.

It was a nurse costume he pilfered from the drama club's costume room. They were making a prototype album cover for Corroded Coffin's first (unofficial) demo. They dropped his doctor idea in lieu of a more generic glam rock aesthetic. The uniform now sat, sad and unused in the back of Eddie's close, maybe to be used one day for a midnight screening of Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"Hell yeah." Eddie grinned as he grabbed the white uniform. Going to the bathroom, the teen dug around through the cabinet under the scene before he found his uncle's box of medical masks. Nurse Munson was in the house and ready to make people feel good...not in ths sex way. Probably. Who knew, maybe he'd get lucky at Harrington's.

~~

Arriving at the party a good hour after it started, Eddie easily slipped in the back door. His metal lunch box shoved into a white tote bag. Now he just needed to find some buyers. The boy felt eyes on him as he ventured further into the large house. The uniform was a little small on him but not noticeably so. Eddie had rolled up two socks to fill the front of the costume in a not too bad attempt at boobs. Heels were out of the question. Sure, they'd complete the look, but Eddie knew from experience that he couldn't walk in them even if he tried. Instead, he wore his pair of Doc Martens. He struggled not to scratch at the stockings he'd used to cover his legs. Easier than shaving, but as he found out after the first pair, they were also very easy to tear. Instead, his hands fidgeted with the chain of his necklace. Fingers playing with the plastic guitar pick nervously.

With his hair tied up in a messy bun, Eddie thought he looked pretty alright. At least, he hoped he looked okay enough not to be recognized. Making his way through the crowd, Eddie eyed up his usual buyers scattered amongst the crowd. His eyes settled on Ned Fisher in the corner of the living room, chugging a can of beer away from everyone else.

'Perfect.' Eddie grinned under the mask. Snaking his way around the couple making out on the floor and heading over, Eddie had reached into his bag to grab some of the product when he felt a hand grab his ass. Eddie stiffened at the touch, snapping back to see a guy he didn't recognize feeling him up. Some blonde dude with a mullet and a stupid little mustache smirking at him as Eddie slapped his hand away. He went to shout at the guy to keep his hands to himself when he remembered that he wasn't supposed to sound like Eddie Munson.

"Don't touch me." Eddie said in quiet anger, barely masked by the higher pitch of his voice.

"What? I'm giving you a compliment." The blonde laughed as he shook his head. "God, do all Indiana girls have a stick up their ass?"

"Go to hell." Eddie snapped. Forgetting about Ned Fisher and wanting to get away from this douchebag. Shoving past the guy and making his way upstairs. Maybe find a bathroom because God, his balls, were really starting to itch in these stockings. Stomping up the stairs, Eddie began to test door handles. Trying one after the other into one finally unlocked to reveal a surprisingly large bathroom. Eddie locked the door behind him. God, he forgot how hard parties with jocks blew. They were already assholes. The alcohol just made them louder and hornier.

Walking over to the fancy marble sink, Eddie sat his bag down before reaching under the white dress and itching his balls. Boxers didn't exactly fit with the costume, and the nylon on hair friction was driving him crazy. He wondered how some women managed to wear them every day. Pulling the gown back down, Eddie jumped when he saw movement behind the closed shower curtain.

"Shit!" Eddie cried out in surprise. Unable to hide his normal raspy voice. The metalhead watched as a hand pulled the curtain back, whoever it was letting out a small groan.

"Hey.....can you be quieter? My head's fuckin' killing me." Eddie paused when he recognized the slurred voice.

"Harrington?" It was Steve Harrington, now leaned over the edge of the bath tub and reeking of booze. His normally perfect hair was a mess with a pair of sunglasses barely hanging off his face to reveal bloodshot eyes. "You look like shit. What the hell happened?" Eddie watched as Steve's head bobbed before letting out a noise somewhere between a burp and a sob.

"She broke up with me." The supposed "King" of Hawkins cried out. Steve attempted to shuffle out of the tub, revealing saw a small pile of empty beer cans. The younger teen stumbled and Eddie darted over to catch him before he fell. The metalhead struggled to keep the jock up, lifting the other boy's arm over his shoulders to help him stand up. "Said I was bullshit! I'm not bullshit...." The jock continued to slur before turning to face Eddie. "Am I?''

"No, but you are shit faced." Eddie rolled his eyes. Harrington might be a douche, but even he knew no one should see him like this. "Come on, you're gonna sleep this off."

"But I don't wanna." Harrington cried out. Trying to move his free arm to push Eddie away but failing miserably. The goth ignored the jock's flailing as he opened the bathroom door. Glancing out to the hallway to make sure no one was nearby before walking out with the other boy. Harrington was a lot heavier than he looked. Lugging the teen along with him, letting out loud grunts as he did so.

"Okay big boy, which room's yours?"

"Mmmnah....last door...on the right." Eddie nodded, hoping they wouldn't walk in on some couple fucking in Harrington's bed. Pulling on the door, Eddie was thankfully greeted by an empty room. An ugly, empty room. The walls were covered in old plaid wallpaper and a framed photo of a car him just above his desk. Eddie snorted. Seriously? This was probably the most generic looking Home and Gardens catalog ass room he'd ever seen. Probably some weird rich kid thing.

"Hey, come on." Eddie shifted, letting the other teen down on the bed. Carefully trying to lay him down only for Harrington to fall back on the comforter and take Eddie down with him in the process. "Shit!" Eddie cried out, squirming under Steve's grip as the jock groaned. "Hey!" The teen wriggled out from under Hartington's grip, coming face to face with the other teen as he did so. Now that they were so close, Eddie could smell the booze on his breath. "You need some mouthwash."

"Mmmhmmm....whatever you say, nurse." Eddie snorted at the title. "Hey....do I know you?" Harrington asked as he tried to sit up. Eddie froze as the jock squinted against the darkness of the room. The only source of light was the window behind the bed. Unconsciously, Eddie scooted to the other side of the bed.

"Ugh, n-no..." Eddie tried to pitch his voice up. Even drunk, Harrington could still probably kick his ass.

"But you called me Harrington." Damn it, okay, maybe Harrington wasn't as drunk as he thought. As he leaned forward, Steve's hands clumsily tried to reach for him. Eddie panicked, standing up quickly and running for the door. As he ran, the teen didn't notice that his guitar pick necklace had fallen off in the process.

'Shit, shit, shit, shit.' Eddie cursed himself as he left the house. Ignoring the people he ran into during his panicked escape. 'I should've listened to Wayne. This was a bad idea.' By the time Eddie reached his van parked a block and a half away, he was struggling to breath. 'I'm just gonna go home and forget tonight ever happened.' Eddie let his head fall back against the headrest as he groaned. 'Fucking Harrington.'

[quackle]

I heard Wayne’s win was to mimicking Owen’s win in the original total drama island.

Both of them are kind hearted and goofy blonde. Both of their wins are consider dark horse win. And both of them have a group of friends to support him in compare to other finalists.

But Owen still have his own small plot: His relationship with Izzy and his relationship with Duncan and his guy alliance.

So I still think they can done Wayne more.

i also see comparisons between the two a lot! two friendly white blondes sweeping somehow. (and who i both enjoy a lot!! :D)

but i also agree that owen had at least some more plot with him. it sucks because wayne had potential to have some more too (ex. his old fear of being on separate teams from raj + the cheating plot). he got paid in dust a little </3

[countenanceblog]

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

From left to right, Xander, Wayne, Sasha and Bailey sat awkwardly on the couch together in Ralph's living room. They were watching Medium & Miasma. In this episode, the villainous character Helion was battling with Miasma. Helion employed force fields, fire manipulation, and flight.

"You guys know this show is based on folklore?," began Xander. "All the major characters are actually gods, or demigods really, if you look into the backstory – "

"Oh no, did Rufus' obsession finally link up with your weird hyper-fixation?," asked Wayne of Xander. Sasha laughed. It was a bristly laugh, some kind of verbal porcupine. "Man, why do I have to hang out with the white kids? Where did I go wrong?"

Xander giggled at some thought he was having. "Maybe you're whitewashed." He winced as if in anticipation of violence. Wayne's eyes were alight.

He huffed. "I should move to Monolith, damn. At least there's black people there. Can you change the channel, homie? You're hoarding the remote." Xander scoffed.

"Fine," he said. The remote only had four buttons on it. He pressed the one labeled 'NEWS'.

This time it was a smarmy, voluptuous redhead anchor. She seemed to have a real smile on her face, though. "Alcazar Finch has been permanently banned from journalism due to his violations of the Integrity Oath, which prohibits spreading misinformation. This comes on the heels of news that the radio host Apollo Jimenez died today in an unlawful shootout with Elite Tactical forces. His warrant, a controversial 'no-knock' warrant, was issued in relation to a treason charge."

"By Hel," said Xander. His hands fell to his knees. "They killed Apollo Jimenez." Wayne put a supportive arm on his shoulder. After a pause, he spoke.

"I'm glad I didn't land that job."

Francisco Lobo swaggered into the living room. "I can't believe how drunk I still am," he told the group on the couch. "I can't believe I almost bagged Yuki."

Wayne piped up. "Yeah, and now your girlfriend hates you again, bro. You realize that girl isn't going anywhere, right? You gotta sit her down and have a talk with her, homie. Explain that she is your main bitch, not your girlfriend." Sasha nodded grimly. Bailey was aghast.

"What do you mean?!," she demanded.

Wayne stopped to think. "An open relationship."

"Oh," said a confused Bailey. Sasha chuckled.

Francisco rolled his eyes at Wayne's advice. "You guys just don't get it. Yuki is special, and I can't mess things up with her. She's not just a side thing, okay?"

Sasha snorted. "Yeah, sure you do. Keep telling yourself that, Wolf. What if she kills herself or something? Your girlfriend, I mean." Francisco's jaw dropped.

Bailey, always the peacemaker, tried to change the subject. "Anyway, we need to figure out what's going on. Raj is missing, and there was an earthquake in Cortez."

Xander, still recovering from the news about Apollo Jimenez, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and there's something odd about Rufus and the others too. They're acting really weird. I'm not a big fan at the moment."

Sasha raised a red eyebrow. "Weird how?"

"They seem different, almost like they're not themselves," Xander explained. "I can't put my finger on it, but something's off."

Wayne leaned back on the couch, looking unconcerned. "It's probably just their drama. You know how people get."

"No, it's more than that," Bailey insisted. "We need to find out what's happening. Maybe we should try reaching out to them and see if they're okay."

Sasha scoffed. "Why bother? They don't care about us. We're just the extras in their little movie."

Xander shot Sasha a disapproving look. "We're all friends, Sasha. We should be looking out for each other."

"You're such a bleeding heart," Sasha retorted.

Francisco finally spoke up, trying to steer the conversation away from their personal drama. "Forget about that. What are we going to do about Raj and the earthquake? We can't just ignore it."

Bailey nodded in agreement. "You're right, Francisco. We can't sit around doing nothing. Let's try to get in touch with Rufus or Karen and see if they know anything."

Wayne grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. "Well, Rufus was right about one thing, they do not tell the truth on the idiot box." Just then, the garage doorbell rang out. "I'll get it." Wayne made his way to the door. Aleister, decked out in zippers, was there on the other side of the door when Wayne opened it, with tall Gwyneth and green-eyed Maggie. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're the emotional support animals," said Aleister.

Wayne laughed. "Come right in, then. We are now the B-plot leads on my favorite show, Fort Retard." With that, the three of them filed into the kitchen; and then the living room. Aleister squeaked as he settled into a leather armchair, his leather jacket rubbing against it to his chagrin. Gwyneth, with her natural leadership qualities, took charge of the situation. She looked around at the group and spoke with a calm determination.

"Listen, everyone, we need to stay together and stay safe. The situation out there is getting more dangerous by the minute. We were listening to the radio the whole way here. Apollo Jimenez is dead, and now we can't trust the authorities or the media. They're after us, and we need to be cautious," Gwyneth said, her voice steady.

Maggie nodded in agreement. "She's right. If they're willing to take down a high-profile figure like Apollo, who knows what they're capable of?"

Sasha chimed in. "So, what's the plan then? Are we just going to stay holed up in Ralph's living room and wait for them to come for us? That seems like a Fort Retard plan."

Aleister smirked. "Well, we're not going to just sit around doing nothing. We'll keep an eye on the news and see if we can find any clues about what's really going on. If we need to make a move, we'll be prepared."

Bailey asked nervously, "What if they find us here?"

"Don't worry, Bailey," Gwyneth reassured her. "This place is well-hidden, and we've got enough supplies to last for a while. We'll be safe. I think."

Francisco, who was still brooding about Yuki, interrupted. "I'm not sure how much I trust Rufus and his gang right now. They seem to be involved in some serious stuff, and I don't know if I want to get caught up in it."

Maggie looked at Francisco with empathy. "We don't have to trust them completely, but we can't ignore the fact that they might have valuable information. If they're in contact with the Resistance, they might know something about Raj or the earthquake."

Gwyneth nodded in agreement. "She's right. We should try to reach out to them discreetly and see if they can shed some light on the situation. We can't do this alone."

Wayne, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "Alright, so it's decided then. We stay here at Fort Retard until further notice. We'll gather as much information as we can, and if we need to make a move, we'll do it together. Sound good?"

The group nodded in unison, a newfound sense of solidarity forming among them. Aleister stood up, his confident demeanor inspiring the others. "Let's make sure we keep our communication channels secure. We can't risk any leaks or betrayals." Timothy was standing behind him.

"What?," the boy in his boxers asked Aleister.

"We're playing a role-playing game," said Fawkes.

Timothy's eyes widened with curiosity. "A role-playing game? Like what kind?" he asked.

Aleister gave a mysterious smile. "It's a secret adventure game, and we're all playing different characters with unique abilities and backstories."

"Wow, that sounds so cool!" Timothy exclaimed, clearly intrigued. "Can I join?"

Gwyneth and Maggie exchanged a glance, unsure of how to handle the situation. Sasha leaned in and whispered to Bailey, "Should we let him in on it?"

Bailey nodded, and then she turned to Timothy. "Well, it's a bit complicated. You see, this game is pretty intense, and it's not like your typical board game. We're actually playing out a story based on events happening in the real world. It's kind of like a way for us to cope and strategize against potential dangers out there."

Timothy furrowed his brow, not fully grasping the concept. "So, are you saying it's like a game, but it's also real? Like, you're really trying to solve some mystery or something?"

"Exactly!" Wayne chimed in, coming up with a quick cover story. "It's like a hybrid of a game and a secret investigation. We're trying to uncover the truth behind some strange occurrences in the city, and our characters have different skills that help us navigate through the challenges."

"And you all have these made-up names and everything?" Timothy asked, trying to wrap his head around the idea.

Aleister nodded. "Yes, it's all part of the fun and immersion. We get to become different characters and live out this thrilling adventure together."

Timothy was still processing the information but seemed eager to join in. "That sounds really awesome! Can I be a character too?"

The group exchanged glances, unsure if they should involve Timothy in their real situation. Bailey spoke up again, "Well, we already have a set group for this game, and the story is quite complex. It might be overwhelming for a newcomer to catch up."

Sasha jumped in, "Yeah, it's like joining a TV show in the middle of a season. You'd be lost."

"But we can play another game together sometime!" Gwyneth added, trying to soften the rejection.

Timothy seemed a bit disappointed but understood. "Sure, I get it. Maybe another time then." Ralph Rockland, dressed in muted colors, walked into the room and pointed at nothing in particular. His expression was desperate.

"Alright!," exclaimed the old man, "what are you kids doing? It's been a non-stop party in here and now there's a fucking earthquake on the news, my favorite radio host has been shot, and my favorite news anchor lost his credentials. I've been glued to the screen in my room, do any of you," he emphasized, "you know anything?!"

After a brief pause, everyone in the room shook their heads at once. Ralph scoffed and walked away.

Timothy looked at Gwyneth. "Everything does seem to be moving really fast these last couple days."

Gwyneth shook her head at him. Maggie's green eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. "What's going on?,” asked Maggie. "You know something, Tim?"

Gwyneth's eyes burned like dark coals. Timothy breathed in deeply. "She admitted that she has feelings for Rufus," he said, pointing directly at Gwyneth.

"You're unbelievable," said Gwyneth. Maggie just kept looking back and forth between the two of them.

"It's not my fault everyone's hiding things from each other. You know in an ideal society we would tell each other the truth, all the time. No exceptions." Timothy's authenticity left his audience stunned for a turn.

Francisco said, "We're not in an ideal society, we're in the opposite of an ideal society. We're in a pessimist's wet dream," he stated bluntly and coolly. "Life isn't fair."

Maggie, finally snapping out of it, exclaimed, "You like him, Gwyneth?! You told my boyfriend you like him?"

"Are, are you Rufus' girlfriend?," Sasha chimed in.

Maggie was terribly red and flustered. "Yes. No. Maybe. I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette." With that, Maggie stormed off. Gwyneth's shoulders slumped.

"Me too," said Wayne. "Anyone else want a cigarette?" Everyone nodded, made hand gestures or otherwise just said 'yes'. To Timothy's surprise, the entire group got up.

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

NGL feel like the Batfam would have a much better go at it if they weren't majority white.

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

Alright gay people. Be prepared to lose your shit:

Ronance Lemonade Mouth AU

Nancy is Stella!!! Because I said so!!! Nancy deserves a rebel era and I can so see her being upset about the arts funding being cut for sports, including journalism. Electric guitar player Nancy my beloved >>>

Robin is Olivia, the shy, socially awkward songwriter and singer!!! Going to have her living with Steve as opposed to a grandma or something, but keeping the cat (who ironically in the movie is named Nancy). Might keep the her dad is in prison part? Undecided on how I’m translating Olivia’s background to Robin.

Speaking of Steve, he gets to be Charlie, the drummer! Keeping the pretty hair and parental pressure, but instead of wanting him to go to Stanford or play soccer, his dad wants him to join the insurance firm.

Eddie is Wen because Stella/Wen friendship > Nancy/Eddie besties ofc. Rather than coming in with rap, he adds amazing guitar riffs and heavy metal elements to the band’s sound. His family trouble involves settling in with Wayne, rather than dealing with a new stepmom.

And Mo was hard to decide, but!!! Our own Chrissy Cunningham. Her mom puts so much pressure on her to be the perfect daughter and Mo’s relationship with the one guy translates far too well to Chrissy’s relationship with Jason. Chrissy bass player arc omfg.

The rival band includes Jason, Billy (the one shitty guy who always starts drama), Tommy H, and Lucas (mirroring the basketball team here). Lucas tries to settle the drama throughout the AU.

The story begins when everyone gets detention. Robin and Chrissy were skipping class, Nancy blew up at someone about a news segment. Eddie got mad at a teacher, and Steve hit someone with a basketball (on accident).

The music teacher is Joyce and she leaves them all alone and that goofy little music moment happens and they all sing together.

Instead of Mel’s Lemonade, hear me out: Argyle’s Lemonade.

Robin has severe stage fright, but the band helps her get through it, especially Nancy. She and Steve live together. Eddie is often over to help with lyrics. She has an old ass cat that’s the last thing she has of her mother, just like Olivia.

Nancy gets to be rebellious in this fic. Her dad thinks she should just settle for a white picket fence (when he bothers to pay attention to her at all), her mom doesn’t really fight it, so Nancy rebels. She’s also getting the school newspaper together after the funding cut. Tell me this girl isn’t the kind to protest lack of free speech and the removal of the lemonade machine.

Eddie was only just sent to Wayne. It’s supposed to be temporary. In the same way Wen gets used to his stepmom, Eddie has to get used to Wayne and they do eventually grow closer. The scene where it’s revealed that Wen’s stepmom is moving in is instead Eddie arriving home to all of his belongings there in boxes and his parents nowhere to be seen—his stay is suddenly much more permanent.

Steve’s dad wants him to be an athlete (basketball) and join the insurance firm, but Steve just doesn’t want that. He quits basketball for the band and there’s some family struggle.

Rethinking the living situation, I may have Robin and Steve move in together partway through the story as opposed to the beginning, but I’m unsure where that leaves Robin. Her background is the hardest to work out.

Chrissy learns to stand on her own, gets away from her mom’s expectations, and sees Jason as the manipulative shitheel he is. Naturally she falls for one of the band’s biggest fans: Vickie.

Dustin plays the role of the AV kid that helps the band throughout the movie. He shows Nancy around in the beginning, explains the budget cut, and he makes the first vinyls for the band.

Nancy gets to rock Billy’s shit because I said so.

In the end scene, it’s Max and Lucas who save the day. Lucas leaves the rival band to help Lemonade Mouth out, Max is the first person in the crowd to start singing.

Steddie is established already. Ronance is the focus. Any of the Wen/Olivia scenes will be Ronance instead because I said so. Rumors circulate that Eddie and Robin are dating because Steddie keeps quiet and Robin isn’t out and the whole band finds it hilarious.

[sspacecowgirls]

Glory to the Night

Chapter 4

pairing: bruce wayne x reader, selina kyle x bruce wayne

word count: 3.2k

warnings: unhealthy relationship

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 5 | ao3 link

summary: Each kiss is a thousand promises and every word is a stab to the heart. Breaking and fixing in the same breath, overwhelming to the point of bliss. Joy and suffering are two sides of the same coin and now you’re sick of both.

a/n: I listened to no children by the mountain goats while writing this one. Also inspired by the telenovelas I used to watch with my mom. Love the drama. Love the angst. I keep having to Google rich people things because I’m like poor and have never had to think about this kind of stuff.

You should feel happy that everything is back to normal and maybe you would if there wasn’t something stuck in the back of your mind. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to rid your brain of every uncomfortable thought before starting the day. There is work to be done, meetings to be set up, appointments to keep, and so forth. You look at the clock and see that the time to relax in bed is coming to a close. The thoughts aren’t completely gone and some of them come back when you open your laptop to see the email to Thelma that you’ve written and rewritten (but never sent) staring at you mockingly.

You close the laptop with a huff and notice a box next to it on the desk. It’s from Tiffany & Co. and there is a letter on top of it that reads: for your meeting this morning, love Bruce. Opening the box you see that inside lies a pair of beautiful diamond earrings shaped to look like a chain of flowers.

“Do you like them?”

You jump and turn around to see Bruce leaning on the door frame. He’s dressed casually, in a simple black t-shirt and dark pants.

“Yeah,” You hold the earrings up to the light. “They’re beautiful. What are they? Sunflowers?”

“I wanted them to look like your favorite.”

“They look expensive,” you muse, a teasing smile forming on your face. “Are you sure you want me walking around Gotham in these? There are a lot of criminals out there and these are some shiny flowers.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re never in danger with me.” His voice is deep with a sharp, confident edge. “Let me drive you to the meeting.”

“I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy.” You elect to look at the floor while he talks to you because as much as you try to get over it, eye contact with him still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I know how tired you can get.”

“Don’t be silly, I want to.” His hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to look into his beautiful, cold blue eyes. “Get dressed, I’ll see you in the garage.

He gives you a quick kiss on the lips before he leaves the room and you open up the laptop again. Looking at the email, you end up making some changes to the wording but ultimately only end up frowning at how it reads even worse than before. It has been weird, receiving so much of Bruce’s attention given that was something you know he has gone out of his way to change. In the face of his reserved nature, his forcing himself to talk felt a little insulting, like he was walking too far in the wrong direction.

You loved the silence you shared. There was no need for communication because the understanding ran so deep that verbalizing things wouldn’t have helped. He was the first person you ever let yourself be happy in silence with. Now the same silence felt like a heavy fog full of uncomfortable and unrealized thoughts, it was no wonder the both of you tried to chase it away with talking and gifts. The cursor hovers over the send button but once again you decide against it.

Opening the closet you see yet another gift for you: a rich, dark blue coat with the inside of the sleeve subtly embroidered with his initials. Pinned to it is another note, for when I’m not there but the elements are. When you open the coat you see the final part of his gift, a white button-down with a bow coupled with navy blue pants. There is yet another note attached to the hanger, blue is the color of sorrowful apologies, I hope you’ll accept mine.

You wonder if Alfred helped Bruce come up with this, if not then he had to have gotten someone to help with the fashion and sizing. Bruce didn’t really follow the latest fashion trends, not that he needed to, and maybe that was for the better. He had put together a classic, vintage look that was entirely in your wheelhouse, paired it nicely with the right accessories, and then wrapped it in an apologetic bow. You look at the clock again, disappointed in how the minutes have moved forward even though you knew what was waiting for you. You get dressed and when you look in the mirror, to your slight disappointment, the clothes look even better on you than on the hanger. The clock keeps ticking, so you grab your things and leave the warm comfort of the room in exchange for the cool Gotham air that always finds its way into the garage.

-

“You know Bella wanted to give you a medal, or a plaque, or something in public with lots of press.” you blurt out after several minutes of silence in the car. “She said she was kidding but she did send me an email after asking about your public speaking skills.”

He hums in acknowledgment of your words. “What did you tell her?”

“The truth.” You answer plainly.

“Which is?”

“That they leave a lot to be desired,” you answer, shooting him a sly smile.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need a medal anyway.”

“I know. I think she’s just happy you’ve been doing so much for the city. None of Gotham’s elite really put in the work like you do.”

His response is cold. “They lack purpose.”

“She’s probably going to ask me to bring you to the event tonight,” you muse, thinking of the meeting's potential itinerary. “It’s a fundraiser for some organizations that help Gotham’s low-income communities. They do get more money when you show up.”

“If the mayor wants me there I’ll go,” he sounds nonchalant but his face forms a small grimace. “It’s gotten easier.”

“You don’t have to lie. I mean you do enough for the city already and you’ve been to like 6 of these events in the last half-year so you can stay home tonight if-“

He cuts you off. “You helped her plan this right?”

“Yeah,” you shake your hands dismissively. “It's silly.”

“It’s not silly, you’re helping the city.”

“I feel like I could be doing more than standing in a room trying to raise money and never coming close to reaching how much people's clothes are worth.” Your voice rises, full of semi-misplaced resentment. “I mean why do these people treat this like it’s fucking fashion week instead of something they need to take seriously. I’ll tell you why it’s because they don’t give a damn about anyone in Gotham but themselves.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry it’s just tough to watch. I hate these damn rich people.” You scowl, crossing your arms.

“So this would be a bad time to tell you how much I spent on those earrings?” He jokes to try and lighten the mood. Not a very common sight.

“I bet it was a lot,” you let out a mirthless laugh. “And I bet this shit sounds stupid to you, all things considered.”

“Your troubles are never stupid to me,” he says, deadly serious. “Especially when they mirror my own. We both care a lot about this city.”

You hum in response, turning the radio volume up as City Hall comes into view. He pulls over and gets out of the car, opening the door for you.

“I have some meetings today with accounts and others,” he spoke softly as he helped you out of the car. “Call me when the meeting’s over. I'll take you home if I can.” His cold hand comes up to gently caress your face. He tries to say something but instead, he leans down to kiss you.

His lips are warm and soft, a nice contrast to his hand. He brings you closer to him and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, the desire for more beginning to flow through your body. Kissing him hardly ever stays as chaste as it starts. You should mind that he’s being so passionate in public but after spending so much time feeling unloved by Bruce, anything he does makes your heart race to the point of dizziness. You would do anything he wanted as long as he touched you first. When he pulls away it’s an unexpected loss so you continue to lean forward, looking at him through half-lidded eyes as if expecting more.

“I’ll see you later,” he mumbles into your ear before getting back in the car. As you watch him drive away your fingers faintly run over your lips, and you wish that he was still there kissing you. Looking at your watch you sigh and force yourself up the stairs and into City Hall.

Mayor Bella Reál is your friend. It feels weird to think about her like that because she’s the Mayor (obviously) and a colleague but over the last couple of months it's become impossible to deny the bond you’ve formed with her. Still, you didn’t tell her about what happened in your marriage, not because you didn’t trust her but because you didn’t want to change her perception of Bruce Wayne as a good man.

You needed more friends, you pondered as you waited for her in a small conference room. Aside from the Mayor, you didn’t really have a close relationship with anyone else. You hadn’t even spoken to your parents in a long time but they lived upstate. Who has the time to go upstate? You don’t have the time to keep pondering as Bella walks in. She smiles at you and hands you a coffee that you graciously accept.

“Is it legal to smoke here?” you ask, pulling out a packet of Marlboro reds. Coffee and cigarettes, you think to yourself, what a cliche breakfast. It’s getting pathetic.

“Not usually but I’ll make an exception for you.” Bella opens the window. “This old building has probably seen worse.”

“Thanks,” you light the cigarette and take a slow drag, trying to savor the warm smoke and the following rush. “What’s on the agenda today?”

-

It’s a productive meeting. Paperwork and red tape for building a new rehab center are moving along smoothly. Funding for several other projects is being voted on soon. So on and so forth. At the end of the meeting, Bella asked you if you were okay in a way that implied that she might know something. You know that no one else should know what you know but you also know that Thelma knows which means that other people know but are choosing to stay quiet about it. It makes your head hurt to think about it.

The very reasonable part of you says that of course, she’s asking if you’re okay. You’ve been an obvious mess for two whole months. It's a miracle this is the first time she’s brought it up. You shake your head and light another cigarette as you try and get a taxi’s attention.

A part of you wishes you would just call a Bruce but you shove that out of your mind and get into the first taxi that stops in front of you. Instead of going home, you tell the driver to stop at Bergdorf Goodman. Nothing like making a bit of retail therapy align with fancy events.

When you finally call him it’s an hour before the fundraiser starts. When he shows up he opens the door from the inside and when you get in, he drives away silently.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You shrug in response. “You had meetings, I didn’t want to bother you.”

Bruce relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “I asked you to call me so you wouldn’t think it was a bother.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, fiddling with your coat sleeve. “I know it’s dangerous out there but I kinda wanted to do some shopping alone.”

”You should have at least told me. I was worried about you,” he takes your hand in his and gives it a comforting squeeze. “I should hire a driver for you.” He turns on the radio and is greeted with an ABBA song playing. “Did you leave that cd in there?”

“There’s nothing wrong with some upbeat music.” You smile at him and point. “You can be the dancing queen. You can jive. You can even have the time of your life.”

He takes the red light as a chance to look at you with a dreamy, love-struck look that softens his usually piercing eyes. It gives you a warm feeling that you haven’t felt in a while that is unfortunately interrupted when the cars behind him start honking.

“Eyes on the road honey.” An idea suddenly pops into your head. “Do you want a donut or something? We have some time to kill.”

He turns the car around, ignoring how the GPS says he’s made a mistake. “I know a place.”

-

Mayor Reál is monopolizing Bruce for a while in order to introduce him to the latest group of people she’s deemed important for him to know. Even after all this time, without him, you still feel like an imposter. Sure, now you don’t have to deal with fake blondes and their trust funds trying to intimidate you out of dating Bruce in the bathroom but that doesn’t mean they’ve moved on. You’re glad they don’t know anything or else they would be attacking you like a pack of vultures. They’ve settled for glaring daggers into your back, and front, anywhere really as long as Mr. Wayne isn’t around to notice.

You finish your second glass of champagne and reach for a third before noticing someone approaching you. It’s Thelma again.

“Thelma! What’re you doing here?” You smile wide and hand her a glass of champagne.

Thelma pulls out a press badge and replies dryly. “They invited me. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.” She rejects the champagne so you down it in a single gulp.

“Just because we know each other doesn’t mean you have to talk to me.” You place the empty cup in one of the server's empty trays.

“What if I thought you looked lonely?”

Maybe the champagne is getting to you because you (uncharacteristically) ignore her obvious dig. “Is this about the email? Because I decided against it. I don’t need to know.”

Thelma makes a pained expression and sighs. “You might want to change your mind on that.”

You tilt your head curiously. “Why?”

Thelma doesn’t answer. Instead, she purses her lips and drags you off to a dark corner on the balcony, ignoring your shocked yelps and complaints. She looks at you quizzically. “Where’d you get another glass of champagne?”

“Why’d you drag me to the balcony?” You retort.

“Listen this is off the record, relatively new classified information.” She takes a manilla folder out of her jacket pocket and forces it into your empty hand. “And this time I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You set the glass on the railing and open the envelope. You instantly wish you hadn’t. It was a picture of Bruce. Regular billionaire Bruce (not Batman) kissing the mystery woman from the video again. Your chest begins to feel tight and your heart feels like it’s in your throat. You feel nauseous and dizzy and like time has slowed down and sped up at the same time. You vaguely hear Thelma call out your name but it doesn’t really register like she’s talking to you through a fishbowl. You reach for the champagne glass but before you can drink it your shaky hands drop it.

The glass falls in slow motion but shatters quickly. You don’t even attempt to catch it, all you can do is stand in shock. Thelma is sweet enough to put one of her cigarettes in your hand. She guides it to your lips and lights it for you.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is full of sorrow that feels like pity. “I wish-“

“Whatever you wish for it’s a little too late.” You snarl at her. “When was this? Tell me it was-“

“Three days ago.”

“Thelma Sawyer, blunt as always.” You exhale the cigarette smoke and cough. “Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?” You stare at your feet, eyes brimming with tears.

“I care about you and as much as it hurts to see you like this…” she gestures at your sorry state. “I know you can leave him. I know you’ll be better without him.”

You angrily put the cigarette out on the railing. “You don’t get it. I don’t want to leave him and I can’t leave him. I have nothing without him! I don’t have any friends and I don’t like my dad. I don’t have a career so I wouldn’t have any money… why couldn’t you have left it alone?”

The tears are done being restrained, you run out of the balcony and straight into the server from before. When you go to apologize to her you notice that you’ve seen her before. It’s her, the mystery woman from the not mystery pictures and video. Recognition flashes in her eye but you don’t feel in the right place or state of mind to say anything. Maybe it’s the coward's way out but you just run past her and everyone else until you’re out on the street.

You get into the first cab that stops and you ask him to drop you off across the street from the manor you call home. You don’t really want to go in and face pitiful glances from everyone except Alfred but it’s cold outside (you forgot to grab your coat) so you find the bravery to go in. It’s unfortunate that the first thing you see in the foyer is the oil painting of the both of you that was made to commemorate a wedding anniversary.

Your eyes burn from the tears and the realization that he had played you like a fiddle. Why were you never able to resist his charms? Hell, you’re 50% sure that if he came through the door with a half-baked excuse and more false promises you would believe him. You would let him build you up and tear you back down as many times as he wanted because you know that he needs you. As long as he had that wounded look in his eyes and that self-destructive rage you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to leave. He had so much and so little at the same time, who would give him unconditional love and comfort if you left (the mystery woman perhaps)?

You know these are the thoughts of a pathetic, desperate woman with her own unyielding desire to be known and loved but it doesn’t matter. You stare at the painted ring on your finger and then at the real one on your hand. You were supposed to have that already. It wasn’t supposed to get up and leave.

You try and walk to a bedroom but you don’t make it past the hall. Instead, you sink down to your knees and hug them close to you. Your loud sobs echo around the hall, becoming the sound of another ghost set to haunt Wayne Manor.

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel Is the Sexiest Woman Alive

Those liquid lips, those pearly ankles, those Boulder shoulders -- Jessica Biel is a woman of many parts, all of which we have been assembling in the pages of Esquire over the last five months. Now, at last, she is whole. Behold.

I know the body climbing out of that SUV alarmingly well. I know it better than the body of any other human being, with the possible exception of my wife's. I've been staring at photos of this body for weeks now -- thinking about it, scrutinizing it, asking lots of probing questions about it. For those who haven't been paying attention: In each of the last five issues, Esquire has unveiled a different body part of the Sexiest Woman Alive. We started at her toes in June and took you to her lower lip last month. Until now, her identity has been kept hidden even from our friends and family. Our readers have submitted a flurry of guesses: Angelina Jolie? Kirsten Dunst? Kay Bailey Hutchison?

It has been my job to phone this mystery woman every month and ask her about that issue's body part. (This is journalism, after all, not prurience.) The first time I spoke to the Sexiest Woman Alive, we had a fifteen-minute discussion about her feet. It was the kind of phone conversation that, under other circumstances, would have required the use of a credit card."What color are your toenails?""Red.""What color red?""I'm not sure of the name.""Um, do you like getting your feet massaged?""Yes.""Hard or soft?""I like strong hands. Someone who really gets in there and gets the knots out.""Can you pick up objects with your toes?""Yes, actually, I can.""Like what? Pens?""Yes, I could probably pick up pens. Maybe a big marble.""What about a stapler? Could you pick up a stapler?""Yes, I could probably pick up a stapler, too."

After several equally refined conversations, I have become planet Earth's greatest expert on this body. I know about the blue tattoo of a dove on her stomach and the scar on her left shin from slipping on a tractor. I know about her preference for shaving over waxing because waxing feels like a flyswatter on her skin. I know her thighs are strong from riding a big white horse in Prague this summer for the movie The Illusionist. I know she loved having pumped-up shoulders for her role as a vampire slayer in Blade: Trinity. I know her opinion about her breasts: "I feel comfortable with them. And, uh, I like them."

And now, finally, I am looking at the sexiest body in the world in three dimensions, live and unplugged.

Jessica Biel steps out of the SUV and jogs toward me. She's wearing tight jeans, a sparkly gold shirt tied at the waist, a low-cut white T-shirt underneath. No doubt about it: It's an impressive body. And I should probably stop staring. Right now. Or now. Okay, I've officially started to creep myself out.

Before I met Jessica, I decided we needed to elevate our relationship. So I asked her to meet me at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Can't get much more highbrow than that, right? I also brought along my wife and kid. This, I figured, would show Jessica that I'm not a John Wayne Gacy-like perv.

When Jessica meets my seventeen-month-old son, she leans in and says, "Hello, gorgeous." He smiles vacantly -- a common enough reaction by men. Her voice is husky like Lauren Bacall's. In fact, it's deeper than my voice (an observation she doesn't contradict, sadly). We start strolling into the Greek-statue section.

Jessica is hardly new to fame -- she started her career as a preacher's daughter on the WB drama 7th Heaven, battled an evil robotic plane with Jamie Foxx in Stealth, has a bunch of worshipful fan sites -- but at twenty-three she hasn't yet passed the threshold into surreal, fighting-off-the-paparazzi fame. And yet something about her sends off an invisible celebrity signal. Maybe it's the famous-person sunglasses. (Hers are reddish tinted.) Or maybe it's the star posture. She has the best posture I've ever seen. She could hold an apple between her shoulder blades. The signal goes to work immediately, causing museum-goers to stop her every few feet. One of her admirers requests and gets a hug. Another, an oily teenager who looks as if he spends a lot of time searching for the secret sex scenes in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, manages to stop her twice -- once for an autograph, and minutes later for a picture.

We've been in the museum all of ten minutes when I decide we need a mission to stay focused. Naturally, I find myself taking the relationship right back into the gutter. "What if we tried to find the sexiest woman in the museum? You know, because you're the Sexiest Woman Alive?""Okay, sure. Sounds like fun." Jessica starts scanning the crowd, sizing up the German tourist ladies waddling toward a sarcophagus. "Oh, I actually meant the sexiest painting or statue."I may not be Ted Koppel, but I'm not that crass.She seems relieved. But you've got to love her for agreeing to critique the relative attractiveness of fat European tourists. This much is clear: She's a game girl.

We come to our first candidate, a frighteningly steatopygous Babylonian statue. "Well, a fertility goddess," she says. "You can't get much sexier than that." Nevertheless, we decide to keep searching.

Jessica was a child actor, and when child actors get older, they seem to fall into two camps: They either self-destruct into liquor-store-robbing messes, or they become adults long before they should. Jessica falls into the second category. She seems far too poised and stable and directed for her age.Still, she is in her early twenties. She gushes about a drink she pounded in Prague: lick coffee grounds off hand, take a shot of vodka, finish with a lime. Her friend named it "the molester." And on her twenty-first birthday, she tells me, she downed "about fifteen shots in fifteen minutes," went to the bathroom, vomited, then rode in a mechanical-bull competition and won. But that aside, she seems far older than a girl who still can't rent a car. She doesn't uptalk or giggle. There aren't a lot of likes or ums in her conversation. She actually asks questions about other people -- bizarre for a celebrity. And she has a healthy lack of pretension about her status as an actress. During interviews for the military movie Stealth, journalists kept asking her opinion about the latest weapons. "Sometimes I'd say, 'I am totally in favor of unmanned combat-aerial vehicles during wartime.' And the next time I'd be absolutely against it. I'd change it up to keep myself from getting bored. Because my opinion on a subject like that doesn't really matter."

My wife points out a Paolo Veronese portrait of Venus squeezing a stream of milk from her breast. Sexy? Well, there are Websites devoted to those who would say yes. But Jessica deems it "too functional." She does like the size of the painting, though. It's huge. "I went to the Louvre," she says, "and I was a little disappointed by how small the Mona Lisa was.

"I didn't know she had been to Paris. It's one of the few facts I didn't know. In addition to my monthly interrogations of Jessica about her body parts, I wrote the clues to her identity we gave each month. Which means I read far too many Jessica Biel profiles. So now I know that she started out doing Pringles commercials. And that the pilot of the WB's Christian-themed 7th Heaven featured a scene of her being taught how to kiss by her onscreen brother -- a plotline that was wisely deemed too weird. I know that her friends call her Jesse. And that she dates actor Chris Evans (the Human Torch from Fantastic Four), who spread rose petals all over her apartment on her twenty-first birthday -- presumably before the vomiting incident.I know she grew up in Boulder, Colorado. That her dad is a former business consultant, and her mom used to do "spiritual healing." I know she attended Tufts University for a year and that the Tufts mascot is Jumbo the elephant. (In fact, the only friend of hers who guessed she was the mystery woman was a Tufts alum who decoded the elephant clue.) I know swordfish is one of her favorite foods. I know that she's starring in Elizabethtown, Cameron Crowe's comedy, which opens this month and in which she plays Orlando Bloom's bitch of a girlfriend.

I also know that Jessica does not do nudity. She's made that clear in interview after interview. She'll do sex scenes, like the one with James Van Der Beek in The Rules of Attraction, but she won't bare anything naughty. In fact, a good part of that scene was a close-up of Jessica's face. She says that Van Der Beek wasn't even on the bed with her. So: no nudity. The reason, not surprisingly, has a lot to do with a quasi-infamous photo shoot for Gear magazine.

Back in 2000, when she was starring as a good Christian girl on 7th Heaven, Jessica posed for a series of topless photos. They weren't completely topless, mind you -- there was a carefully placed arm covering her breasts -- but close enough. She was seventeen. Aaron Spelling, the show's producer, was pissed; Stephen Collins, the actor who played her father on the show, called the pictures "child pornography"; and her role on the show was chopped down to guest appearances."

A lot of people said to me, That was the bravest thing I've ever seen anybody do," she says. "But I was miserable. It was horrible. I was humiliated. I just wanted my family to forgive me....I was taken advantage of in many different ways. Now I can look at the pictures and not be disgusted, and I don't have to cry about it. I look at it as a learning experience."

Which makes it all the more remarkable that she agreed to pose for our project, a life-size, multipart, heart-stopping photograph revealing her as the Sexiest Woman Alive. While wearing nothing but a scarf wrapped around her privates. "The shooting of that photo was very hard," she admits. "I felt all the emotions coming back from four or five years ago. I went home after the day was done, I called my mom and cried to her on the phone. But actually, it was almost cathartic in a way. And I feel really happy with the outcome."

In fact, she says, she might not be opposed to baring herself for the camera in the future. I know it's a cheap question to ask, but we happen to be within spitting distance of some very naked Rubens women. "I don't know how I'll feel in two years, five years, ten years," she says. "I heard about an actress -- someone I admired -- who said she wished she had done more nudity when she was twenty-something, since now she's older and it ain't pretty anymore."

Finally, we come upon one more candidate, a painting of a beautiful biblical heroine draped in robes. Jessica thinks she looks a bit like Juliette Binoche. Though the scene is a little incongruous, Jessica wants me to know that the woman is definitely sexy. "It's not because of her great body, either," she says. "It's because she's hardcore and confident. That's instantly sexy." I have decided to ask no more impertinent questions. We are standing in front of Massimo Stanzione's portrait of Judith gripping the decapitated head of Holofernes, her oppressor.

Source: Esquire Magazine, October 2005

[themaribatpit]

Fiasco At The Wayne Gala

Author’s note: This story was written by DC Fanboy and proofread by Maribat fangirl, as a reaction to Style Queen.  Maribat fangirl has been hard at work on Chapter 6 of “Hanging by a Thread”, while DC fanboy needed a break from the angst.  This is the result, enjoy.

Content warning: A dash of Chloe salt, mostly Audrey managing to piss off everyone. Ships: Jason Todd / Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson / Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain / Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake / Bernard Dowd (mentioned), Bruce Wayne / Selina Kyle.

Fiasco at the Wayne Gala

Jason stood at the driveway to Wayne Manor, bored out of his mind as he waited for Marinette to arrive. Another Wayne Gala was underway, with Gotham’s elite pouring into Wayne Manor. Marinette said she would be arriving with her roommate, Zoe. He took out his phone and messaged his girlfriend asking where she was. He was interrupted from his thoughts when a rude woman cleared her throat in front of him.  Jason was just able to look up from his phone before he was berated for not paying attention to her. 

“You! Valet! How dare you play on your phone when you should be attending to us guests?” the woman screeched. Jason cringed and immediately placed his phone back into his pocket, just as he was about to argue with this banshee that he wasn’t a valet, he was rudely interrupted again with another screech. “How unprofessional! Notify Bruce Wayne that I, Audrey Bourgeois have arrived,” she waved her hand as if to shoo him away.  “Now go and park the car before I fire you.” She tossed her keys to Jason, before promptly walking away with her chin held snobbishly high.

Jason looked down at the keys in his hands. He looked at the woman walking away and then towards her car, a jet black convertible. He walked around the vehicle, admiring the exquisite European sports car. A mischievous grin grew on his face as he looked back at the keys in his hand, he jumped in over the door into the car and started its engine. It roared to life, Jason couldn’t resist stamping both his feet on the accelerator and brakes at the same time. The tyres screeched from the friction, spewing smoke behind him. He then spun around, performing a doughnut around the driveway. He left behind a trail of black tyre markings on the asphalt below. Jason stomped his foot onto the accelerator, all the way to the bottom. The engine roared in response with an immediate burst of power, rocketing him out of Wayne Manor, speeding off into the distance. 

Meanwhile, Dick waited for the cloakroom attendant to return. In his hands he held Barbara’s coat. Him being the gentleman that he was, he volunteered to bring it to the cloakroom for her. As he patiently waited at the counter, he heard a throat being cleared behind him. He chose to ignore it but then the voice grew louder. He elected to ignore it again, but the person behind him then shouted “You!”

Dick turned in surprise, he looked around to the source of the voice, a woman wearing a black, white and gold ball gown with a white fur coat in her arms. Beside her was, what he assumed to be, her daughter. She wore a matching dress and an entitled look on her face. He looked around, thinking and hoping she was trying to talk to someone else.

The woman then threw her coat at Dick, it draped over his head completely. He looked as if he was wearing an expensive ghost costume, as the coat hung over his head. The rude woman continued, “Now put this in the cloakroom, bring me the ticket when you are done and make sure nothing happens to it.” Dick didn’t say anything at that moment, he hadn’t fully registered what had just happened. “It is an expensive Arctic Fox coat, if anything were to happen to it I will make sure Mr. Wayne fires you.” She stomped off with her daughter in tow, the two walked past Barbara with Haley napping on her lap. The two scoff in disgust at the sight of the dog, “Disgusting, don't you think?” Audrey asked her daughter.

Chloe repeated the sentiment, “Absolutely, Mother.” 

Audrey nodded towards her daughter in approval before turning back to face Barbara, “Now get that mangy, misshapen mutt out of here before we file a complaint and get that thing put down!” she threatened before walking away. 

Haley whimpered from the scary lady’s yelling, Barbara’s eyes narrowed as her hands moved to cover Haley’s floppy ears, “Oh no you did not just threaten Haley.” 

“Where did she go? I can’t see.” Dick asked, the coat still covering his head.

Tim stood near the food table, enjoying canapés and several other hors d'oeuvre while waiting for his date, Bernard, to arrive at the gala. A loud voice caught his attention mid bite, “Is that you Timothy? Oh it is you.” He looked up from his plate to see an obnoxious woman wearing sunglasses indoors, at night. 

“Do you remember me? I’m your Aunt Audrey.” the woman spoke.

Tim cringed internally, remembering the woman from past events. A horrible woman if he remembered correctly, always sucking up to his parents, pretending to be their friend. Most of all he remembered the constant attempts at matchmaking, doing whatever she could to pawn her daughter off to the Drake family to gain their favour. He quickly swallowed the appetizer in his mouth and answered “Hello Aunt Audrey.” with a strained smile. His mind was in a flurry, trying to think of a plan to get rid of her. 

“Oh how handsome you’ve grown, why don't you spend time with my daughter? I brought her here today.” she suggested, her voice devoid of any sincerity. 

Tim slowly backed off, looking around the room hoping to think of a plan to get her to leave him alone. “Well...you see…” he tried to stall for time. He then spotted a familiar plume of blonde hair standing near the performing band and rushed towards her. “Steph! You gotta help me!” he croaked. 

She turned in surprise, “Tim? You okay? What's wrong?”

“Pretend to be my date” he blurted out.

“What?” she cried incredulously, “No, I’m dating Cass. What would Bernard say?” she responded angrily.

“Please, I’m begging you. At least until this crazy woman leaves me alone,” Tim explained, “she’s been trying to hook me up with her daughter for years.” Tim grabbed on to her arms and gave her a shake.

“What is this, some kind of fake dating storyline? Did I wake up in one of your K-Dramas?” She answered in a voice dripping with sarcasm. She then peered over his shoulder to see two women in hot pursuit, shoving guests aside. She was already feeling her mood sour from their presence.

“You owe me for this, understand?” Stephanie said, her fingers jabbed Tim in the chest before she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Thanks, I’ll pay you back some day.” Tim then held out his elbow for Stephanie, which she held on to. 

Tim and Steph slowly walked up to Audrey, “Aunt Audrey, I’d like to meet my girlfriend Stephanie Brown.” He gestures towards his friend. Stephanie then kissed Tim in the cheek, trying her absolute best to not show just how irritated she was at the whole situation. 

Audrey’s eyes twitched at the sight, but it was unnoticeable under her sunglasses. “Nice to meet you too Stephanie.” she greeted, venom dripping from her voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I will attend to other guests. It was nice meeting you again Timothy.” She then stomped away with Chloe in tow.  

The two then breathed a sigh of relief as they were left alone, “I need a drink” groaned Stephanie, as she held onto her forehead. “I just hope that Cass didn't see....that.” She turned around to see Cassandra Cain right behind the two, a frown on her face. 

Both Tim and Steph both held up their hands, attempting to placate the girl in front of them. “Tim needed a fake date to get rid of a crazy old hag.” explained Steph, as quickly and concisely as she could. Stephanie gave Tim the evil eye, thinking of all the ways she would hurt him if his fiasco cost her her relationship with Cass. 

Cass spun her finger on the side of her head.  Tim and Steph released a breath they both had been holding, worried of what Cass’ reaction would be. Fortunately for them, Cass was able to see the whole thing. From watching Tim’s desperate plea, to the subtle signs of discomfort as the two spoke to Ms. Bourgeois. 

Damian clung to the edges of the party, he detested these events. However, as the son of Gotham’s Billionaire he had no choice but to attend. He wandered around, hands in his pockets, he hoped he could find a familiar face in a sea of strangers. Perhaps Gordon or Grayson would let him pet Haley, it would at least help pass the time better. 

For someone unaware of who he was, one could possibly mistake him for a delinquent. Then again, he was the grandson of the Demon. He spotted the dog on Gordon's lap, and made his way towards her. He was then intercepted by a raging woman pointing her finger at him and calling him a trespasser and an intruder.

The gall of this woman, he clenched his teeth and yelled back. "Shut up you hag, I live here!" 

The woman expressed a loud gasp, "How dare you call me that? Do you know who I am? I am Audrey Bourgeois, director of Style Queen."

Damian rolled his eyes, "What? A magazine giving fashion advice to shriveled old hags like you?" he shot back.

Audrey Bourgeois snapped, she yelled at the boy at the top of the voice "How dare you!"

Damian shouted back "How dare YOU! Do you know who I am?"

Their shouting match had drawn the entire attention of the ball room, eyes drawn to the argument unraveling before them. Tim and Dick walked closer, hoping to get a clear view of what was happening, and to intervene if necessary. Who knows what would happen with Damian around?

Alfred ignored the chaos unraveling around him as he pushed a food trolley through the ball room. However, a young woman with blonde hair rushed in front of his trolley. "May I help you?" He asked.

"My mother is being harassed by some miscreant, go get rid of him." Chloe growled towards the butler.

"Very well." Alfred complied and began walking to the two shouting their lungs off.

Damian spots the two former Robins approaching and calls out to them, "Grayson, Drake, tell her who I am and get rid of her."

Both Tim and Dick narrowed their eyes, annoyed about how all attention was now on the two of them. The two looked at each other, annoyed at their younger sibling. 

Tim had a plan to redirect that attention and knock Hell Spawn down a peg, "Who are you?" he asked. 

This infuriated Damian, he roared "Traitor!" and was about to throw fists at Tim before Alfred stepped in between them.

"Please, let us all calm down and enjoy this fine evening." Alfred attempted to calm the entire situation. 

"Not until you get rid of him!" Audrey yelled, pointing her finger accusingly at Damian.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Madam." Alfred deadpanned.

Audrey stomped her foot in anger, then she pointed threateningly at Alfred. "You're fired!" she yelled.

Alfred sighs and answers in a monotone voice "Madam, with all due respect, I don't work for you. I work for Master Wayne, and in turn I also work for the young Master Wayne." He gestured to Damian, who stood there angrily with his arms crossed.

Audrey Bourgeois recoiled in shock, she attempted to come up with a retort. Alfred continued, "As per the young master's wishes, please leave the premises immediately."

Audrey gritted her teeth, "Fine. Call the valet to bring my car over." She commanded before marching off.

Alfred and Damian looked at each other, intrigued at the request for a valet. "Pennyworth, we don't have a valet for this evening, do we?" asked Damian.

"No Master Damian, though I suspect we may have a case of grand theft auto on our hands. I shall go check the cameras for our culprit.” Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and left for the Batcave.

Marinette and Zoe stood near a window. Marinette was worried, Jason was supposed to be at the party. He did not answer any of her calls or reply to any of her messages. She paced about, worried Jason was away dealing with an emergency. 

Zoe on the other hand was red with embarrassment and shame. She was unfortunately related to the two wrecking balls tearing their way through the gala. She hoped to any and every deity above that they would prevent her mother from noticing her. However, this was to no avail as Zoe was spun around forcefully.

"...Zoe! Why did you not greet your dear mother?" Yelled Audrey.

Zoe began sweating bullets trying to think of an answer while being berated by her mother and half-sister. "I-I uh, I just got here." She shakily attempted to explain herself.

"What are you doing here Marinette?" Growled Chloe, annoyed at how such a clumsy girl would be even invited to this event. 

Marinette put the phone back into her purse, "I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend, but I can't find him and he won't answer the phone."

Chloe laughed at the girl's plight, "Who would even date a loser like you? Any sane person would leave you."

Marinette gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, much to Chloe’s delight. Her contained rage and shame were interrupted as Audrey began complaining about a valet.

"Where is my car? Where is that damn stupid valet?" Audrey shouted. 

Zoe and Marinette looked at each other, confused at the mention of a valet. "There was a valet?" Marinette asked nervously.

"Of course there was." Audrey told her. 

"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous," ranted Chloe, "He did not even dress properly and now he can't even deliver mother's car. Where is the idiot with the white streak of hair?"

Marinette and Zoe raised an eyebrow at the specific mention of a white streak of hair. 

"At least it explains what Jason is up to." Marinette thought to herself, "They won't be getting the car back for a while, if at all."

Alfred had reviewed footage of the driveway earlier that evening, and had discovered Jason was the culprit. Alfred sighed as he picked up the telephone and attempted to call Jason. Just like Marinette, Jason was not answering his calls. Alfred then contacted Jason through his Bat Communicator.

"What's the emergency, Alfred?" Answered Jason.

Alfred could hear the sound of a roaring engine and wind whipping through the air over the communicator. "Master Todd, you are the emergency. Please return the automobile to the manor.

"Alright, I will if you bake me two dozen cookies. Just for me and no one else." Negotiated Jason.

"Very well, Master Todd." agreed Alfred "Now please return the vehicle." Alfred closed the call and made his way to the ballroom.

Jason turned the steering wheel of the car harshly, sending it to a tight drift, making a turn back towards Wayne Manor. "Alright you two, we're getting cookies!" he yelled to his passengers beside him.

"Yaaaaay" cheered Roy along with Lian on his lap. 

Back in the ballroom, Alfred asked the guests to quiet down for he was making an announcement. "Esteemed guests, allow me to introduce Bruce Wayne.'' He stepped aside and gestured to Bruce atop the stairs with Selena Kyle. The two slowly walked down the stairs, and  thanked each of their guests for attending the gala. 

Audrey Bourgeois pushed past several attendees to get a closer look. Other guests gave her space, not wanting to incur her wrath. As she reached Bruce Wayne, she shoved Selena aside and wrapped herself around Bruce's arm. Taking extra attention to make sure her chest rubbed against his arm. 

Zoe sped to the bathroom in absolute shame after watching her mother attempt to flirt with Bruce Wayne. Marinette remained by the window, waiting for Jason’s return. She was then approached by Alfred, holding a small basket of fresh cookies. “Good evening Ms. Dupain-Cheng, I just spoke to Master Todd, he is on his way.” 

Marinette glanced at Audrey Bourgeois still attempting to flirt with Bruce, “the sooner he gets here the sooner she leaves.” she comments. She notices the cookies in the basket.  “Can I have a cookie?” she asked, salivating at Alfred’s baking.  Tikki peeked out from her small bag, enticed  by the smell of the cookies.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Master Todd, I made these in order to entice him to return the car. Undamaged, I hope.” Alfred explains.

Fortunately Jason arrived at that moment, with Roy and Lian in tow, their hairs were messy from the wind. Alfred gave Marinette the basket of cookies and asked her to give them to Jason while he notified Ms. Bourgeois that her car had arrived. “Jason, where have you been? I've been trying to call you all night!” Marinette yelled.

Jason scratched the back of his head, “about that, some crazy lady thought I was a valet.”

Marinette crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “I heard. But that doesn't mean you can take her car.” she huffed.

“ ‘Sup Little Wing,” Dick greeted Jason, “heard about your joyride from Alfred. How was it?”

“Awesome,” Jason replied, reaching into the basket of cookies. Roy, Lian and Tikki were already enjoying their share.

“Now that you’re back, that crazy woman can now go.” Dick said

“What did she do?” asked Jason curiously, hoping there would be a good story.

“For starters, she thought I was the cloakroom attendant. She threw her coat over my face, she pissed Babs off by calling Haley a ‘Misshapen Mutt’. Then she tried to hook her daughter up with Tim. On top of that, she managed to royally piss off Damian.” Explained Dick. 

Jason’s jaw dropped while chewing his cookie, a few crumbs landing on the floor. Before doing a spit-take with the cookie in his mouth, he burst out laughing.

Meanwhile Alfred walked up to Audrey Bourgeois, who was still clinging onto Bruce Wayne as if her life depended on it. “Ahem, Madam Bourgeois, your automobile has arrived. Please kindly leave the premises.” interrupted Alfred. 

“Come now, Brucie Darling. Are you really going to send me away after all we have been through?” Audrey asked coyly. 

Bruce took a deep breath, “Ms. Bourgeois, please leave. As you can see my date, Ms. Kyle, has been very patient with you.” He points with his thumb behind him towards a glaring Selena.

Audrey growled loudly, “Fine, we are leaving.” She stomped out the front door. “You, Valet! What took you so long?” she demanded an explanation from Jason. 

Jason spoke to her with his mouth full, spewing crumbs everywhere. “Having dinner, what's it to you?” 

Audrey and Chloe recoiled at Jason’s bad manners, as a force of habit Audrey yelled back “I’ll have you fired for this.”

Jason continued undeterred, still answering with his mouth full of cookies. “Well shit, too bad.” 

Frustrated at his aloof  response, the two quickly got into the car and drove off. Everyone but the two Bourgeois noticed a large scratch and several dents along the side of the sports car as it drove away. “Yeah, uh, forget you saw that. Let’s get back to the party shall we?” suggested Jason. Everyone laughed hysterically at the wild night, now that the human wrecking ball had left. 

As Marinette walked back into the manor, she pouted at Jason for keeping her waiting. “Come on now Pixie, are you still mad at me?” Jason asked.

“Yes, you stole someone’s car, drove off to who knows where. You didn’t answer any of my messages or calls. I was really looking forward to enjoying the Gala with you.” Marinette complained. 

Jason ran in front of Marinette, stopping her in her tracks. “Look I’ll make it up to you Pixie, I promise. How about a dance then? The night is still young.” Jason said, offering his hand to Marinette. 

Marinette contemplates for a moment before reaching out to hold his hand. “Fine, but this doesn’t mean I forgive you yet.”

The two then walked to the centre of the ballroom and danced the night away.

[mxtantrights]

past lives | 6

a/n: don’t you just love angst and drama???? I know I dooo. I hope y’all enjoy <3

tw: mentions of blood, death, and Ra’s manipulation games.

The microwave rang, your hot chocolate was ready. You got up from the couch, where your notes were all sprawled out. The recorder was still going. The Wayne family in deep conversation about what organizations they donate to.

You opened the microwave door to stop the beeping. You pick up the mug and place it on the counter. For this part of the recording you would just summarize briefly what they were talking about. You think that some of this information has been relayed before so there’s no use in stretching it out.

The mug is smoking a bit so you decide to bring it over to the coffee table near the couch. That way it can cool off and you won’t burn your taste buds. So you grabbed your laptop from beside you and pulled it into your lap.

You wrote a quick summary about their donations and opened another tab. Subconsciously you went to your Gmail to ask Kennedy, the photographer for the shoot to send over some photos of the family. That way you can get ahead of the layout for this piece. It was all in your control.

The voices on the recorder began to get louder. This must’ve been when you stepped out to use the bathroom. Even though that’s not what you were actually doing. You needed to talk to Damian about what was happening.

At first you can hear Damian excusing himself so that he can ‘show you’ where the bathroom was. You slide your computer over to the couch and begin to reach for the recorder to skip over this. Nothing important was probably said.

Just as you’re an inch away from the device you hear Dick’s voice.

-

“Did you think this was a good idea? A journal article?” He asks.

Bruce sighs, “I needed something. Anything.”

“Wait what’s going on here?” Jason asks.

“Tim got a letter, and within that letter was one addressed to me. A woman from my past claiming that I had a child.” Bruce answers.

Jason snickers.

“Woah that’s what was in the letter? Do you know who it is?” Tim asks.

Dick steps in for that answer, “As it so happens the deliverer of the letter.” 

“What?!” Tim almost shouts.

“Okay I need more details.” Jason says.

“I don’t have any doubt in my mind that the letter is telling the truth. I just needed to be sure, that’s why we’re having an article written about us.” Bruce says.

“The same person who delivered the letter is the same person interviewing us.” Dick points out the door.

At the moment it opens. All the men think it’s you so they hush up. But it’s only Damian coming in. 

“Father may I be excused, Titus needs to go for a walk.” He says.

Bruce nods his head, “You may.”

The youngest son says nothing else, except for a quick grimace at Jason when he exits. 

“Did you tell the brat he’s got a sibling yet?” Jason asks.

“Not yet. I need to be sure.” 

-

When you heard your voice come on the recording you finally reached out and stopped the recorder. There was a faint buzzing in your ears. You felt like you picked up on something- when he said your name, when he asked you to stay back at the meeting. 

You just didn’t know that you were picking up on THAT.

There were certain things you knew. And certain things you put together. When you were growing up your mother didn’t talk much about who your father was. She talked about him, how he would treat her so kindly, how caring he was. But she never went into specifics. 

And a part of you wasn’t ready to know. When she was the only one to care for you and love you. There was no ‘father’ to look for. All you saw was her. She was all you needed. Or that’s what you remember at least.

Nothing like Gotham to turn something good into something sour. One night you were held up in an alleyway. At gun point you gave away your valuables. But it wasn’t enough that night for the robber. So they decided to take your life. 

Then you woke up in a place you did not recognize. Even though you could have sworn you felt your body go cold in that alleyway. You saw the blood, you saw everything fade to black.

Ra's al Ghul came face to face with you. He told you that you’d been given a second chance at his request. And that you owed him. If you didn’t comply you would die a second time. It confirmed the cold feeling in your chest and the suspicions you had before.

From there you didn’t question anything publicly. You did the training. You stood in seclusion away from everyone else. You listened to the words that came out of his mouth for months and months. It was only about a year into your training that you met everyone else. Or the people that mattered. Talia and Nyssa.

In some weird way you three became something like friends. They trained you. They told you about how much of an asset you could be for the league. And eventually they were the ones to convince Ra's that you could be loyal to him. 

It was Nyssa that told you about the pit. About what it does to people, how it enhances their worst traits. She point blank asked you what you worst traits were and you couldn’t really tell her, because everything was a bit hazy pre-pit.

Then for some reason unbeknownst to you, Talia told you about her one-night stand. She confided in you that she was having a baby. You told her you would help her, because she had helped you. 

And then a few months later when she was supposed to be showing, she showed you the incubator that held her child. It creeped you out for a while. That a baby was being genetically engineered but you trusted Talia. 

When Damian al Ghul was born you really felt that pull. You knew in that moment you could care for him. Something connected you, you weren’t sure what, but it was a bond nonetheless.

At some point someone lower on the food chain said something about Talia and her son. You didn’t hesitate, you killed them. It wasn’t really a test, because Ra’s didn't give it to you. Yet you proved yourself to be loyal to him and his heir. Undoubtedly. 

Damian was too young to be trained the way you were so you did your best with what you could. The young boy was the first one to touch the scar that lay between your collarbone and your chest. The scar that you knew at that point had been deadly. 

The scar was was ugly and white. You did your best to cover it up when you could. But you were tending to the young boy in the middle of the night so that Talia might rest a bit. You slept with only a few layers.

He touched your scar and looked up at you with a kind of sparkle in his eyes.

That moment was one of the few that you would take with you when you finally left the island years later. Ra's said you were free to leave and you questioned it. You thought about if you had gone wrong somewhere. If he were to kill you the moment you breathed the air outside the door knowing you didn’t have to come back. If this was the ultimate test.

He didn't. It wasn’t. And you left.

So now as you sit on your couch you have more points to put together. Like the fact that you were the child of Bruce Wayne. And the fact that Talia’s one night stand had in fact seemed to be Bruce Wayne. Which means you and Damian were actually bonded. Half siblings. Blood.

Bruce Wayne knows this.

And for some sickening reason you think Ra's al Ghul knows this as well. 

[mrspanky]

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

[mochegato]

Pixie Spy

Written for the Jasonette July Wayne Gala prompt.

Why?!? Why was she doing this again? Oh right, because John Constantine promised to give her some help with a particularly difficult part of the Grimoire if she did.  And he needed the information he was currently obtaining in order to give said help.  That is how she ended up with an invitation, still not sure how Constantine pulled that off, to the most exclusive event of the year, the Wayne Gala.  

Plus, Adrien was kind of right, ordinarily it would be a great opportunity to showcase her designs. The problem was on its surface, her dress wasn't one of her best works. The black dress had a high, cowl neckline in front and in back, adding a bit of drama and a small homage to the local heroes, vigilantes she silently corrected herself.  The high neckline also offset the incredibly short bubble skirt, making her legs look longer than the Nile.  Despite being a bit uncomfortable showing that much leg, it was necessary for this particular design and if she could actually feel like she had long legs for once, she was willing to deal with the discomfort.  She also added a glittery belt to show her shape and add some bling, which seemed like something the people at this particular event would value.  It was functional, not fashionable.  Not that it was ugly, just that it was designed to be passable, enough to fit in but not enough to get noticed.

She fidgeted slightly as she stood in the entryway trying to get past the people piling up trying to not so discretely pay homage to the king.  That king being Bruce Wayne. From her research, he actually did seem like he was a good guy. The list of charities he started or contributed to was longer than she was tall. She scowled at the voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Adrien's saying that wasn't much.  Adrien, who got out of coming tonight because the mission was to observe the Waynes unnoticed and Adrien Agreste would get a bit too much attention, that cat bastard.

Despite the laundry list of charity work, Marinette was still suspicious of Wayne.  First of all, he was rich, filthy rich.  Anyone that rich had to have some dark and twisted secrets they were hiding.  He wouldn’t be the first rich person to hide their illicit activities behind a veil of charity work.  Second, he chose to live in Gotham, the most crime-riddled city in the world.  And that is just the reported crime.  A great deal of the crime never got reported to or investigated by the police, whether through corruption or exhaustion.  The kind of place a rich person could be confident they would get away with literal murder.

But mostly, it was Constantine that made her suspicious of Bruce Wayne.  Not that Constantine had ever said anything negative about him, well nothing more than calling him a pain in the ass, but that was really not so much an insult as a compliment coming from Constantine.  But, Wayne had information Constantine needed to help them with the Grimoire and Constantine refused to say how Wayne had gotten that information. How and why would a playboy billionaire have that information?  There is absolutely no reason someone outside of the hero/villain/magic community would have that information.  And, if he was such a good guy, why would Constantine need to go to these lengths to get it without Wayne’s knowledge?  Unless it was related to one of his illicit secrets.

Her eyes darted around the room taking in its grandeur, muttering to herself about how ostentatious it all was.  Normally, she would be completely mesmerized by the grandeur and pomp of the scene.  The room was decorated to perfection.  Everything was absolutely exquisite.  However, she was too anxious and wary to enjoy it.  So instead of being inspired, each gorgeous detail grated on her. She reached up to tug on her hair before remembering her hair had been pulled up into an elegant twist held in place with a single silver pin. With her normal anxiety relief method unavailable, she instead shifted nervously from foot to foot while she scanned the room trying to catch sight of the rest of the Waynes, gently tightening and loosening her grip on her purse, trying not to crush Tikki.

She was so lost in her anxiety she didn't notice the dark haired man walking behind her take notice of her and stop.  He stood behind her with a nonchalance that didn’t seem to fit a man his size.  He watched her fidget and muttering to herself about “damn rich people” with a smile on his face.

“You don't seem excited to be here” he said quietly.

She turned around with wide eyes, shocked that someone had heard her.  Whatever she was expecting to see it was not what she saw in front of her.  The man towered over her.  Even in her ridiculously, dangerously high heels, Chloe insisted, her head didn’t even come up to his chin.  He was also extremely handsome, with chiseled features and the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen.  Those eyes were going to be a problem.  They were clear and kind and roguish and hypnotizing.  His black hair with a shock of white was slightly tousled giving the impression of a rouge trying to look sophisticated.  Was it inappropriate to imagine running her hand through his hair and along his sharp jawline?  Yeah, probably not appropriate and likely not welcome.  Clean up your thoughts, girl!  Great, now Alya was in her head scolding her.  No, that’s not right, because that would definitely not be Alya’s advice.  

He was grinning at her with an impish look in his eyes. “What?  Not impressed with the ‘we care about whatever the point of this gala is, but we’re not hobos so let’s not skimp on the luxury for us’ décor?  Or maybe it is the illustrious, soul sucking, benefactors of Gotham that have set you on edge.”  The smile he shot her was guarded and critical. She chuckled lightly and looked away. “You have good judgement and a good reason to be suspicious.  But you made it to The event of the season, so you must have done something right… or wrong.”

She hummed and looked away.  “Have you ever had one of those days where everything went wrong and now you don't know how you got where you are or why you are there?”

“I’m familiar with the feeling,” he nodded.

“That's my life. All of it.  Every single fucking day.  This one included."

He barked out a laugh and looked at her again appraising her.  “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine.  I think I like you.  You might just make this torture session more bearable.  See you around,” he chuckled as he walked away.

Marinette watched the man’s retreating back.  The night was already going better than she thought it would.  But the plan for the night wasn’t to find a date it was to act as a scout and keep tabs on the… enemy?  For all intents and purposes, that is what the Waynes were tonight, right?  They had information that she needed, that Paris needed, and they apparently weren’t going to part with it willingly, so they were the enemy.  No, enemy sounded too harsh she chided herself.  Opposition? Yes, they were the opposition.  That sounded much less hostile, more like a game… a game where people’s lives were on the line.  You know, just for fun, no pressure.

She found a spot against a wall she could use.  It was slightly raised but not well lit so it wouldn’t draw attention to her.  From her spot she could finally see the family. It was very thoughtful of them to group together like that.  She could see the little one, stiff and military-like posture, glowering at the people around him.  He was standing as far away from the rest of the people there as he could without actually leaving the room.  Much closer to the dancefloor, she could see the middle boy talking to a few business men. They all had fake smiles plastered on their faces as they made seemingly insignificant small talk.  She did not envy him that experience.  Between the two and to the side was the oldest son. He was chatting up some business person’s daughter, leaning in a lot closer than etiquette would dictate. Just the father then… there he was still not too far from the door talking to a dark haired woman.  He had his arm around her waist as she leaned into him. She must be the girlfriend then. Mari made a note that she should probably pay attention to where she was as well.  Fortunately, the spot she had chosen gave her a great vantage point.  Unfortunately, her observation spot wasn’t as unnoticed as she had hoped.

 ___________________________________________________________

Jason made his way over to the bar and ordered a beer.  He still hadn’t spoken to his family to let them know he was there and he definitely needed a drink before he approached them.  Why the fuck was he here again?  Fucking Batman.  

Fresh glass of beer in hand, he made his way over to his brothers, refusing to acknowledge any of the partygoers along the way.  He watched as his brothers took note of his approach and excused themselves from their conversation partners.  Dick didn’t look too happy to turn away from the latest interest, smiling at her and giving her reassurances before sending her away.  Tim looked less happy to have to turn away from the men he was talking with. He should be thanking Jason really. He was giving him an out from having to deal with them and their god awful personalities and fashion. Seriously, who told that guy that tie was okay.  Even the Riddler would think that tie was obnoxious.

“Okay, I’m here,” Jason said taking a large swig of his drink.  “How long before I can ditch this bottomless pit of misery?”

“Woah, slow down there.  You’re going to get drunk before the announcement.”  Dick cautioned him.

“Do you want me here or do you want me sober?  You’re going to have to choose one.  They’re mutually exclusive, Dickweed.”

“Come on Jaybird, we all have to be here.  None of the rest of us are getting drunk.”

“That’s just because I’m smarter than you guys are,” he said tipping his glass to Tim who had scoffed at the suggestion and took another drink.  “There is no reason we all have to be here.  We shouldn’t all have to suffer.  And officially, I’m not even a member of this hellscape of a family anymore so I really shouldn’t have to be here.”

“If The Disappointment gets to leave, so do I. Someone should be patrolling tonight instead of all of us wasting our time entertaining these harpies.  And if one more person tries to touch me on my head I’m going to break a hand.”

“Stop it!  Nobody is leaving, Damian.  We’re in this together.  And Jason, if anyone got to go home it wouldn’t be you.  You are the reason we all have to be here in the first place; so we can ALL show our support when we officially announce that you are part of this ‘hellscape of a family’ again.  So enjoy it,” he said with a cutting smile.

“Not everyone enjoys getting groped by the gold-digging, trust fund whores.  I’ve found a way to cope.  It’s called alcohol.  Now if you’ll excuse me,” he downed the drink in his hand, “my drink is empty.  I’m going to go find another.”

“At least try not to interact with anyone. We don’t want to piss anyone off tonight.  And I don’t want to have to fix your messes.”

“Way ahead of you, Replacement.”  Jason turned and walked away before Dick could reprimand him again.  He needed to get away.  He could only handle his family in small does, very small doses, miniscule amounts, and he had already surpassed that limit.  

He grabbed two more drinks off of a passing waiter’s tray and looked for the Sunshine Girl.  He scanned the room sipping the champagne, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room.  His size and demeanor was usually enough to keep people away but making eye contact made people think he was open to talking.  He was not.  He had no interest in making nice with Gotham’s elite.  He wanted to get this night over with, with as little pain as possible.  

He finally spotted her off to the side of the room speaking with the obnoxious tie guy.  Jason watched as the man slid his hand up the side of her leg starting to move under her skirt.  Jason started to make his way over to them until he saw her move closer to the man.  She was close enough to whisper seductively into his ear now.  Ah, not uninvited then.  Maybe he had misread her.  Well there goes his hope of this party not sucking balls.  He started to turn away but noticed a pained expression on the man’s face.  He turned back to reexamine the scene.  She was holding the man’s hand at an unnatural angle.  It was a hold he’d used a few times himself, it was discrete but extremely effective, causing intense pain with a small movement.  He knew if she moved her hand just a few more centimeters, she could easily break his wrist.

She let go with a viscous look pushing him away from her as she did.  The man shook his hand and scowled at her.  He started back toward her and Jason took off running, not pausing to apologize to the people he bumped into along the way.  Before he could get to her, she had already taken care of it. She squared her shoulders and glared at the man, making it clear that she could and would continue with her actions if he persisted.  When she moved her hand ever so slightly, just enough so he could see it and remember what she had done, the man turned away and smiled at the people who had been standing behind him as though nothing had happened.  Jason chuckled to himself watching her move away from the man. She was definitely going to make this night more bearable.

“Looks like you don’t need me around for protection. Although I did bring a drink so maybe I can earn my keep that way,” he said handing her one of the glasses in his hand.  “That was extremely impressive.  How did you lean to handle yourself like that?”  

She accepted the glass and shrugged.  “You live in Paris long enough you pick up a few things.”

“That isn’t something you just ‘pick up’. That’s experience.”

“And that is exactly what you get when you have a supervillain terrorizing your streets and thoughts for 5 years; experience. And how do you know about that move?  Rich boy secretly a vigilante?” She raised an eyebrow at him giving him a daring smile and pretending to take a drink from the glass.  She was on a mission and she didn’t know him.  She wasn’t about to actually drink anything a stranger gave her, let alone get drunk.

“You don’t grow up in Gotham without learning how to take down someone trying to cop a feel.  And what do you mean about a supervillain in Paris?” he asked taking a step closer to her, concern edging into his stare.

“It doesn’t matter.  It’s not relevant for tonight.” She said taking a step away and scanning the room again to locate the Waynes.

He looked at her for a few moments taking her in, not just her appearance but how she held herself.  She stood with confidence and nonchalance.  She wasn’t acting coy, she wasn’t baiting him to ask her more questions, she was serious.  There was some kind of supervillain running around Paris that they had no idea about.  Well that piqued his interest.  He wanted to find out more about that and just his luck, the only person around who knew about it was the gorgeous and badass Sunshine Child in front of him. Guess he’ll just have to suffer and spend more time talking to her.  The things he does for Gotham, he smirked to himself. “I’m Jason,” he said putting his hand out for her to shake.

She looked at his hand before hesitantly taking it. His hand absolutely engulfed hers. “Nice to meet you Jason,” she said looking toward the dancefloor.  She had last seen the Waynes near the dancefloor and they couldn’t have gotten far, right?  They were likely to be near it.

Misinterpreting her focus he asked, “Wanna dance?” placing down his now empty glass.

She needed a better vantage point to locate the Waynes and even if they weren’t on the dancefloor anymore, the dancefloor would be the ideal place get an unobstructed, overall view of the room.  She could see the entire room from the dancefloor.  She just had to scope it out discretely so Jason didn’t get suspicious.  “Sure,” she said smiling at him and accepting the hand he had offered her.

He guided her out onto the dancefloor.  Jason noticed a little girl standing nervously next to the dancefloor looking at a group of kids nearby.  “Hold on just a second,” he said dropping her hand to kneel down next to the little girl.  “Hey, I just wanted to say what a beautiful dress you have.  I wish you had a smile to match.  Anything wrong, kid?” he asked gently.  The little girl gave him a nervous smile.

“Thanks.  My Mom said I could pick out a dress and I chose this one.  But Mom says it looks silly.  It’s too fluffy and gets in everyone’s way.”

At that Marinette kneeled down next to her as well. “Oh.  Well, let me fill you in on a little secret.  I’m a fashion designer and I can tell you there is nothing wrong with fluffy.  You did a great job picking it out.  It is perfect for you.  I couldn’t design anything better.  I wish I looked as confident and effortlessly beautiful as you do. ”

The smile the little girl gave her was genuine this time.  “You really like it?”

“I do,” Marinette responded.  

“I do, too.  I’m not a fashion designer, but I still think you look good, kid.  And if anyone tells you they don’t like it, scr… I mean, forget them.  Who cares what they think.  A fashion designer and a delinquent think it looks amazing.  Don’t let someone else tell you what you like.” Jason added.  The little girl beamed at both of them and bounded off to join the kids with much more confidence.

Marinette watched him as he watched the kid play with her friends making raucous noise as they played, a grin on his face until he saw some parents come to reprimand their kids for being so noisy.  So, rich boy has a heart and is really protective of kids.  Well that wasn’t going to help Marinette focus solely on the mission. “That was incredibly nice of you.  That’s not advice I would have expected from someone attending a party like this.” Marinette said taking Jason’s outstretched hand again.

“Just because we’re miserable here doesn’t mean she should be, too.  Kids should be happy.  It’s ridiculous to bring a kid to a party if you aren’t going to let them be a kid. Adults in Gotham expect too much of their kids.  They treat them like props instead of kids, tools to help them achieve a goal.” He said voice getting gruff as he spoke.  He looked back at her and shook his head as if to clear his head of his thoughts.  He smiled at her instead and took her waist with his free hand to start dancing with her.

“You know, I noticed you never did give me your name.”

She looked into his eyes for a just a moment before she looked back to the dancefloor, “You know, I noticed that too.”

“Hmmm.  Secretive. No name but a fashion designer from Paris,” he said.  Marinette paled slightly refusing to look back at him.  He was paying attention to her and noticing details.  She hadn’t expected that from this crowd.  She was going to have to be more careful about what she said.  ‘Not get noticed’ played over and over in her head.  She was supposed to slip in and out with nobody remembering her.  She might have blown the mission already.  But, was she ready to walk away from those blue eyes?  Surely, talking with him couldn’t do any harm, right?  “So, did you design the dress you’re wearing?”

She was brought back to reality with a jolt.  “Yes.  Not… not my best work, but it fit the uh, occasion,” she stuttered out.

“Was the occasion to look stunning?  Because you do.”  He grinned smugly as she blushed heavily under his praise.  This was fun.  This was his new mission for the night; to see how many times he could make her blush.  “Still not going to tell me your name, huh?”

She looked back at him before dropping her eyes again.  Stupid mission.  If it were just her here for herself, she could stay here dancing with Jason and gazing into his eyes for the rest of the night, and tomorrow, and the day after for that matter.  But she wasn’t here for herself.  She was here for a reason and that reason demanded she be anonymous and keep track of the Waynes.

She scanned the floor again and finally spotted the Waynes, confirming they were all there.  Nobody had snuck off.  They really liked sticking around each other didn’t they?

“No, it takes more than a pretty line from a pretty boy to get my name” she said looking back to Jason and plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t need any rich boys remembering me after this is over.  Tomorrow I’ll go back to my real life and it will be like none of this ever happened. I can report that I came, I danced, and I even smiled a few times, then never speak of it again.”

“Friends or family forced you to come because they thought you needed some excitement in your life, Pixie Pop?”

“Something like that… Pixie Pop?”

“You won’t tell me your name and I need to call you something.  You’re little and mischievous and can handle yourself… Pixie Pop. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t go with Odysseus.  Also, you think I’m pretty?”  He grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, cheeks flushing slightly.  “I think that would have made you Polyphemus, which you certainly have the size for,” she grinned up at him.  “Anyway, that’s why I’m here.  How about you?”

“Oh, my family thinks I have enough fun already. I’m here because if they have to suffer, so do I.  And all to bolster the name of the illustrious Bruce Wayne.”

Marinette examined his face as he stared toward where she last seen Bruce Wayne.  He looked annoyed and frustrated.  This was a side of Mr. Wayne she had not heard about in her research, a side that frustrated native Gothamites.  A bit more information could be helpful for her to figure out what role he played in the Grimoire information Constantine was gathering, figure out whether or not he was a threat.  “Not a fan?” she asked delicately.

He looked back at her examining her face for any malice.  “Depends on the day.”

She hummed in response.  “What can you tell me about Bruce Wayne?” she finally asked.

“Why do you want to know?” he responded suspiciously. Most people looking for more information wanted it as a weapon.  Bruce might not be his favorite person, he might actually hate him right now, but he wasn’t going to help someone take him down unless it was him.

She shrugged, “everything I’ve seen shows an exemplary record for him.  You don’t seem to be a fan though and you’ve grown up in Gotham so you would have some good insights.  So, I’m wondering what your take on him is.  What he’s done to draw your ire.”

Jason nodded slightly seeming to mull over what she said.  “He does good things.  He helps a lot of charities.  He honestly does care about the city and the people and about making their lives better. His parenting skills could use some work though.  He could show his sons that he actually cares about them as more than tools, you know, whether they live or died…” he furrowed his brows and looked away for a few seconds before he schooled his expression.  His eyes got a wicked gleam to them and he leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially “… and I hear he’s sleeping with Batman.”

Mari looks at him surprised.  “Huh, I guess he has a type then, supermodels, superheroes…”

“Supervillains…” Jason says under her breath looking back at Bruce and his date.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he covered quickly, but the damage had already been done.  She had started thinking about Bruce’s involvement with the super community.  If he was sleeping with superheroes and super villains, that meant he was part of the same circles as Constantine… and Constantine liked dating in the super community.  Could Bruce Wayne be in the super community?  That would explain why he had information pertaining to the Grimoire.  And she might need to revisit exactly how Constantine knew Bruce Wayne.

“Are you okay?  I didn’t break you, did I?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, fine I could just maybe use some uh, water?” she gave an awkward smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please?”  She just needed a bit of space to think.

Jason left to grab a glass of water and turned back to her.  She watched Bruce with her head crooked to the side.  He saw her finger discretely swiping to the right a few times as she stared intently at Bruce.  After a few times her finger swiped left instead and head straightened.  She looked around to the other members of the family as if she was counting, confirming something in her head.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized why Bruce Wayne could have information they needed and why Constantine needed her to keep an eye on the Waynes.  Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.  She turned away quickly.  This could not be happening.  This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.  She did NOT help him break into the BATCAVE while she kept tabs on BATMAN.

And if Constantine was trying desperately to avoid him, like he did all his exes…That little…

Jason had no idea what happened but as he got closer to his Pixie he could hear her muttering under her breath in French.  His French was a bit rusty so even the pieces he could pick up were scarce and nonsensical.  Something about maybe “lying” and “Roast Beef” and “bat” and “shark” and “fucking”.  He couldn’t be positive about any of the words except two; “fucking” and “bat” those he was pretty familiar with.  Not to brag but he could swear like a sailor in at least 7 languages.  And “bat”, he knew that word in a few more languages for obvious reasons.

She was abruptly moving and ran right into him before she could take notice of her surroundings.  She looked at Jason with wide eyes, reexamining the man she had spent the evening speaking and dancing with.  Suddenly, everything clicking into place.  There was one more hero she hadn’t accounted for, Red Hood, who while he hid his face behind a mask, just so happened to have the same towering build as Jason. But Bruce Wayne didn’t have any more kids, right?  And if the other vigilantes were his sons, Red Hood should be too, right?  He just had the three boys and the two girls who were out of town.  That was it.  He had another son, but that son had died.  What was his name… She gasped loudly, “Oh God! You’re Jason,” she exclaimed out loud.  

“Yeah?”  He said confused.  They’d been over this before.

“You’re Jason Todd,” she said looking down and taking slow breaths.  “You’re Bruce Wayne’s son.”

He looked at her startled.  She put that together quicker than he was expecting especially since she didn’t seem to know much about the family. “For what it’s worth, I don’t feel like his son most of the time,” he tried to joke.  “Sorry for not telling you before.  I don’t like talking about being in the family, or being in the family at all, actually.” He winced looking at her wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to get noticed by the Waynes. Shit!”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress… or that face… or that smile, Pixie.”  He said grinning suavely.  

She examined him for a few seconds, emotions flittering across her face almost too quickly to identify them.  Confusion, bashful, flattered, hopeful, guilt, pain, melancholy.

“I have to go.” She finally spoke up.

“Wait.  What?”

“I… I have to go”

“Wait, is it… you have to go because I’m Wayne’s son?”

“No, I… shit.  Putain de bâtard.” Yep, that one he understood too.  Wait... “Me?” He asked pointing to himself.

“No, not you… Not because you’re a Wayne, well kind of because you’re a Wayne.  It’s…” she faltered for a few seconds then muttered under her breath again “Je vais tuer cette putain de mère.”

“Wait, who is the mother fucker you’re talking about? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  I’m just going to kill a bitch when I get home.”

“Okay… Okay, first, that is a lot more swearing than I thought you were capable of and I’m extremely impressed… and turned on,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him and mumbled under her breath “you should have heard what was going on in my head”.  He raised his eyebrows at her suggestion.  “Okay, you’re making it really hard not to make out with you right now.” He watched proudly as her cheeks suddenly blazed red at his comment. Another point for him tonight.

“Second, if you’re just worried about Bruce finding out you were here, it never happened.  I never saw you.  You were never here,” he assured her.  Instead of calming her she seemed more panicked, eyes darting from the door to him. This seemed like more than just not wanting to get noticed.  She was into something and didn’t want to be.  “Or, if you’re in trouble, I can help.  You just need to tell me what is going on.  You don’t seem like you would willingly work with someone out to hurt others, so whatever it is, I’m sure you aren’t willingly doing it.  If it is something bad.  I just really have no idea what is going on right now and I would like you to tell me.” He continued earnestly, looking her in her eyes to make sure she understood how deathly serious he was about it.  If she needed help, he WOULD help her.  Even if he didn’t like her, which he really did, he was going to help put that smile back on her face.

She looked at him for another few moments opening her mouth slightly to say something then seemed to think better of it and closed it again.  She narrowed her eyes and looked away scanning the room as she thought about what to say and do next.  She seemed to come to a conclusion as she turned back to him and set her feet firmly on the ground.

“I never told you why I was here, did I?” Even before he shook his head she continued.  “I’m here to keep an eye on the Waynes.  On you, apparently.  Didn’t know you were back from the dead though, so I wasn’t looking out for you. Congratulations on that, by the way, you know, on the whole not being dead thing.  That’s really amazing.  I’m glad you can be around to enjoy life and laugh and be sarcastic and look at me with those eyes and look like that in a suit… probably even better out of it.”  She muttered the last part under her breath.

“I’d love to see you out of that dress, too.” He smiled smugly at her.

She huffed out a breath, cheeks reddening again, “Yeah, not happening.  I’m burning this dress as soon as I get out of here.”

“I can help you with that, too.  I like setting fires.  Two birds, one pyrotechnic.” He preened for a moment enjoying the flirting. Wait, less flirting, more focusing back on the more important part of her earlier speech.

“Wait, why are you keeping an eye on us?” he asked apprehensively.

“So I could warn my… associate if any of you left. So he could have plenty of time to… what is the best way to say this…” she looked up to the ceiling and took a deep steadying breath thinking about the words she wanted to use.  None of this was part of the plan. “…so he could have plenty of time to evacuate your… lair? No, lair makes you sound like villains… your illicit… cavern of, actually I don’t know if it is a cavern… and it isn’t really illicit, is it?  Well, actually I guess it kind of is, but that still makes it sound like you’re a villain…your underground… no, I don’t even know if it is underground… to evacuate your… uh… secret… base of… um, operations?”

“My what?” Jason demanded now more than a little concerned. “Who are you?”

“Nobody.  Absolutely nobody of consequence. And nobody who should be here right now.”  She turned to walk away before Jason stopped her.

“No.  You don’t get to say something like that then try to slink away like nothing happened. Come on, we’re going to go talk to some people,” he said grabbing her arm a bit harder than strictly necessary and dragging her towards his brothers and Bruce.  She definitely figured out who they all were or at least who Bruce was and that they knew too, which put her in danger, and she was working with someone to break into the Batcave, which put them all in danger.  Everything about this situation was dangerous and bad and they needed to talk to the family to figure out the best next steps.

Marinette dug her heels into the ground pulling against him, a really bad idea considering how high her heels were. Instead of stopping him she stumbled into his chest allowing him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said squirming to get out of his embrace. “This is between you guys.  I have neither the desire nor the interest to get involved in this little lover’s spat.  I have more important things to be doing right now.  Things that asshole was supposed to be doing instead of pulling practical jokes.”

“Jokes?  What do you mean jokes?  What the fuck is going on?”  He looked at her again.  She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t gloating, she wasn’t even nervous.  She was annoyed verging on enraged.  

“Nothing you need to worry about, Red.” She threw in the moniker at him to get him to back down.  She knew how important secret identities were, and how finding out someone knew yours could throw you off your game.  She felt a bit of guilt as she used that knowledge against him but this was no longer fun.  Now this was infuriating.  John was playing games with his former lover, or current lover, whatever Bruce was to him, instead of just helping.  He was taking time she didn’t want to spend, time the people of Paris should not have to wait.  They had spent weeks planning this when he could have just walked in and asked for the information.  They had wasted so much time.

“I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This.  This is not a joke.  This is not some gag for you overgrown children to play at,” she said hitting her finger into his chest with each word.  “I have people in need relying on me.  I have children counting on me. Parents counting on me.  Single people, who also deserve to live just as much as everyone else, counting on me and all suffering while they wait.  I. Am. Done.  And I am leaving”

Jason listened to her shocked.  Something was happening and he had absolutely no idea what, but somehow they were involved.  He hated not knowing what was going on.  Apparently children were suffering because of all of this and he didn’t know why.  But, he was going to figure it out.  She was right.  They did not have time for this.  Whatever was going on, they were going to help.  He turned away loosening his grip on her waist to just laying his arm on her instead of encircling her.  He touched his hand to his ear to activate the com hidden inside, “Tim, can you check the security video for the uh… our base of operations?”

It appeared that Tim was giving Jason some resistance because Jason turned away even further and started yell whispering threats into the air.  He was trying to be as discrete as possible in the crowded room, which normally wouldn’t be such a concern but there was a group of dancers headed their way, just leaving the dance floor after the song ended.  Marinette took advantage of his distraction and the sudden cover to twist away from him and slip into the crowd.

Jason called after her and tried to grasp her arm but missed her.  He searched for her but the crowd was too thick, having had to bottleneck to get past the tables surrounding the dance floor.  He scanned the crowd for her twisted hair or the black dress, but couldn’t see her in the group.  She had effectively disappeared, but if she went into the crowd, she would have to come out and cross the dancefloor in order to leave.  He could just wait for her on the other side of the group and keep an eye on the dancefloor.  He moved to go around the table, but that side was just as crowded so he did the only rational, discrete thing he could in the situation, he slid across the top of the table landing on the dancefloor and waited to grab her there, but she never came out.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

_____________________________________________________________

Marinette had a habit of catastrophizing.  She knew this.  Everyone who knew her knew this.  She thought of all of the worst case scenarios and tried to plan for them. Generally, it was a wasted effort that did little more than stress her out and annoy her teammates.  Today, however, today it paid off.  She had anticipated having to make a quick escape and once she decided it was time to go, she put her escape plan into action. Freeing herself from Jason, she pulled off her belt before even getting to the crowd.  As she entered the crowd of people, she pulled out her hair pin, letting her hair fall down.  She didn’t even have to hunch down much at all to disappear into the crowd as she weaved her way through them.  One advantage to being short.  She ran her left hand through her hair tousling it so her long raven hair cascaded around her shoulders.  With her right hand, she yanked at the cowl neckline of her dress, allowing the fabric overlay to drop forming a floor length skirt, revealing the bodice of her now red Harlow inspired dress that had been hidden underneath.  Her new dress hugged her body until it reached her hips then fell freely.  

Finally, she reached into her red purse, removed her phone, the cookie for Tikki, and Kaalki’s glasses, nodded to Tikki, turned her purse inside out revealing a now black purse with red detailing, and returned her phone, glasses, cookie, hairpin, and belt into it, leaving plenty of room for Tikki. The entire change took all of 10 seconds.  By the time she would walk out of the crowd, she would be completely unrecognizable, at least by anyone who didn’t already know her.  Unless that is, if they were looking for someone moving against the tide of people.  That would be a dead giveaway.  So instead, she pivoted and moved with the crowd instead of against it, parting with them after a few tables and moving laterally toward the exit.

Marinette made her way to the exit quickly, but not quickly enough to draw attention to herself.  She needed to get to Constantine before the “bat family”, as her research had called them, got to him.  They had reasons for keeping other superheroes out of Paris and she had no interest in having that particular awkward and slightly guilt laden (stupid gorgeous blue eyes she wanted to get lost in) conversation with them.  Especially when she was this utterly livid with Constantine, which was another reason she was rushing.  She needed to get to him so she could beat the asshole out of him. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this, and not in a way he would enjoy.  

She was angry and frustrated and guilty and grieved. She knew Jason didn’t deserve for her to snap at him like she had but she had been too frustrated to hold back and he was part of the problem.  She had been having fun with Jason.  She had been enjoying bantering with him and looking into his eyes.  She had really, really been enjoying having him look at her like she was the most interesting thing in Gotham and having him hold her closer than he had to while they danced.  And now it was gone.  She was a hero and he was a vigilante so he had to be kept at a distance.  A 3,670 mile distance to be precise, well approximate.

She was just about to cross through the exit when a voice stopped her.

“Hey,” a woman with short black hair and green eyes called out to her.  Marinette slowed down weighing the risk of just blowing her off vs the risk of stopping. She decided ignoring her might lead to the woman calling after her, which would bring unwanted attention, which she wanted to avoid.  Stopping seemed the safer answer.  As long as she didn’t look back at the gala or do anything else that might incriminate herself, she would be able to get away without any awkward conversations or fights.

“Yes” she answered with a strained smile.

“I saw that little quick change back there,” the woman responded.  Marinette’s eyes widened in panic.  Before anxiety could start going over all the worst case scenarios her mind could come up with, she was already in the midst of one of them in real life she really didn’t need to start thinking of worse things to add to it, the woman continued, nonchalantly scanning the people at the gala, “don’t worry, I’m not going to out you.  I just might have occasion to use a quick change myself from time to time, so I was hoping you might share where you got your dress.”  She shot Marinette a wicked smile.  ”Just because you’re hustling doesn’t mean you can’t look killer doing it.”

Marinette relaxed minutely and gave her a small smile, “it’s called MDC Designs.  She’s online. What’s your name so she’ll know who to look out for?”

“Thanks kitten.  I appreciate it.”  She said never looking back at Marinette.  “Selina.  Selina Kyle. I’d say nice to meet you, but we never met, did we?”

Marinette smiled to herself as she walked out the door. Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss. Hopefully, Constantine got the information they needed, she’ll get to punch his smug face as soon as she sees him, and she’ll get a new client.  Guess Adrien was right about showcasing her design after all.  He must never know.  Not such a bad night at all.

 Chapter 2

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