#Batman is not allowed to eat ice cream now

[nelkcats]

Danny's "boo-tiful" parlor

After college Danny decided to open his own business, but he couldn't do it in Amity Park with so many people doubting his parents businesses or methods.

So he went to Gotham and set up a nice ice cream parlor downtown. Technically he wasn't invading any territory because he was in all of them at once. Both the Bats and the Rogues wondered if that made it a neutral area.

Everything was going well, Red Hood stopped by for pistachio ice cream every Wednesday, Harley came for bubble gum ice cream on Monday nights, ¡even a giant Crocodile came to buy him! (Croc was very surprised to be treated like another customer and it became his favorite establishment)

Until Batman decided to ruin it and investigate the harmless ice cream parlor; which unfortunately for Danny worked with his own ghost ice and sometimes could look a little too green.

He thought it wasn't fair for them to judge his ice, he had been very careful not to mix ectoplasm with his food, he didn't want alive cookies and cream or liminals running all over the city; except Hood, his pistachio ice cream might have a little ecto-dejecto, but it was to heal him ¡healing ice cream!

That's how Monday morning, the owner put up a "No Batman's allowed" sign in front of the establishment, his business was good without disrespectful furrys.

If the bat wanted to investigate, it should do so away from his respectable business and his new Boo-berry flavor. Maybe he needed to rename the place, but Sam and Tucker banned calling it "I-scream" and "Phantom's haunt" was not that obvious ¿right?

[roxineedstosleep]

Okay.. So like what about platonic batfamily with a gender neutral or male who's like 15-17 who's like a ball of sunshine who likes to pull small and harmless pranks in Gotham but can be really helpful when needed if you don't mind!

(Graphic description when you mentioned a male reader sunshine ball)

Sorry if I made a mistake in writing a male character. Being a girl, I really don't know how well I describe or portray a male figure. But I will try my best.

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

I think, for him to have access to the family and have the confidence to make jokes, he should have been with them for a good while and know all the hiding places.

The reader should have been living with the Wayne family at the mansion for a while by now. Including with Stockholm Syndrome, as they would give him the space and not realize he did things. How they were not aggressive pranks, involving harming someone directly or physical in a violent way. They let it be.

Obviously he would have his satellite GPS on at all times, as they want to make sure he doesn't wander off. Bruce would have the rule of "If he's not farther away than the surveillance zone of one of his siblings, no problem". I mean, they already know he won't wander off.

So. Jokes.

I think it would depend a lot on what kind of animus he's in and the location.

For example: if he sees that Ivy has been making messes for several days, with Bruce's VIP black card, he would buy several artificial flowers, stitches and paint everything to look like real plants. Then he would distribute them in various parts of the city and, while eating various snacks, he would have the fun of watching on the computer how Ivy despairs for not being able to control that plant or flower.

In the case of the Sauce King or King Condiment, he would go to the battle scene, with various hot dogs and hamburgers, and then start chasing the villain. "Yeah, I know you're fighting Batman, all right…. But could you put some Dijon mustard on my burger? What do you mean you don't have Dijon mustard? Italian spiced mayonnaise? Neither, what about cheese sauce or balsamic, neither? Weren't you the King of condiments?"

Obviously that joke would be double-edged: it would stop that persecution because the poor villain looks devastated at that logic, but then your father and brothers would take you to your punishment corner because now their suits smell like hot bell pepper olive sauce.

I think, within standards, they would allow him to banter directly with the low-life villains. Since that way they keep this one from playing pranks on them for a considerable length of time. They don't mind their little brother's pranks, rather, they love to see him laugh when they fall for them.

But they also don't like having to remove all the glitter from their motorcycle tires; for safety reasons. Or that Bruce's space helmet has googly eyes glued on with crazy glue; he obviously kept the helmet in a safe place, but the googly eyes were discordant with his image. They appreciated it, but it makes it funnier to see the Riddle trying to guess the new password that was put on his phone when his son hacked it.

Or when the reader paid Clayface to act like him so he could sneak into the Gala kitchen so he could eat all the mini sausages and convince the chefs to give him a whole tub of ice cream.

They love to watch you play sweet, innocent pranks. It means you've already bonded with them and have the confidence to make them around you.

Of course, always watched, and if some villain wants to take replesarias… let's say they do not hesitate that one or another punch falls on them.

It was just their sweet little boy trying to have fun

[outshinethestars]

Sticky Rice (Batfamily fic)

Damian entered the kitchen to find Grayson sitting on the counter eating the childishly colored, disgustingly sugary substance which pertained to be cereal.

“Morning Dami,” Grayson greeted cheerily as though he had not been awake most of the night as Batman.

“Why are you awake?” Damian asked.  He himself was awake because he had a sprained wrist, which was quite possibly the most embarrassing reason to be temporarily benched.

“Couldn’t sleep.  Want some?”  Dick reached for the box of cereal and Damian crinkled his nose up in disgust.

“If you put any of that disgusting stuff in my body I will stab you,” Damian said.

Grayson gave him a long look, and then seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Grayson said, “Food is cultural, right?  And what you like is influenced by where you grew up.  Now, Americans like sweet things, like, Americans are internationally known for drinking soda and putting way too much sugar in stuff like, for instance, this cereal.  Now, personally, I love this sort of thing, because I was raised in the Circus.  Which meant that most of the time my diet was fairly regimented, but after we finished a big show, my parents would pretty much give me free reign to eat leftover cotton candy and ice cream and whatever in celebration, which was great, and I grew up to really love sweet things and associate them with, like, victory and family and celebration and all those good things.  And, like, I’m pretty sure you didn’t ever had that, the celebration, I mean.  Those times where you got to acknowledge that, yeah, what you eat is important, eating healthy is really important because you depend on your body for everything you do, but also you’re a kid, and you’re allowed to have fun and have good things.”

“Is there a point to this?”  Damian asked.  This felt dangerously close to being a feelings conversation, or worse, a life philosophy one.

“I just want to ask,”  Dick said, “If you really do hate all sugary things without exception, or if you just think you should.   Because if you do just not have a sweet tooth, that’s fine, that’s perfectly natural, objectively good even.  It’s just that I don’t want you to treat your body, yourself, like a machine.  You’re allowed to like things, Damian, and I would like it if you told me what they were.”

So, it was one of those how to be a person questions.

It wasn’t that Damian was afraid to answer.  He wasn’t afraid of Grayson, that would be ridiculous.  It was just stupid.  Grayson was wrong, the primary purpose of food was nourishment, any emotional entanglements or preferences were irrelevant.

Damian didn’t know why he felt like he had a lump in his throat.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Grayson,” Damian said, “It’s just food, you’re being needlessly dramatic.”

And Damian went about preparing his own breakfast that wasn’t cereal.  How Grayson could eat that garbage, Damian genuinely could not understand.

Grayson didn’t mention it again, which is the nice thing about Grayson.  He asked him about all these preferences, all these trivialities, and just left them there for Damian to pick up again later if he ever so chose.

It was several nights later, when Grayson asked if Damian wanted to get ice cream after patrol.  He asked fairly often, and occasionally Damian even relented and consented to go, after a respectable amount of complaining and derision for the concept.  This time he actually thought about it.  Did he like ice cream?  It depended, he supposed, on the flavor and the establishment.  Most flavors were too sweet or two rich or both.  On the whole, he decided he did like ice cream, but not as much as Grayson did, and not as much as popular culture seemed to think he should.

“Sticky rice,” Damian said.

“What?” Grayson asked, bewildered.  Damian felt his cheeks grow hot, realizing how random and nonsensical his words sounded.  But he was committed now, so he pressed on.  Grayson would catch on, he was good about that, too.

“Thai sticky rice and mango,” said, “I used to have it sometimes when we spent time in Thailand in the winter.  It is sickeningly sweet and of little value apart from the mango, but -“  he thought of words to describe what it was, “acceptable”, “Not entirely unpleasant”, but this was Grayson, Grayson with his smiles and his gentleness despite his strength, and all his many layers of performance, staying up all night and then worrying about Damian’s well-being.  It was Grayson, so he would likely know what Damian meant if he said all those things, but it was Grayson, who told him he could like things, even if they were frivolous, so it was safe to open up the truth to him. “It’s good.  I like it very much,” Damian finished.

Grayson smiled at him, the soft, special one that was real all the way through and made a strange feeling bubble up in Damian’s chest that was a little, but not quite, like being afraid.

“Alright, Dami,” Grayson said, “I doubt anywhere has sticky rice at this time of night, but we’ll find some together tomorrow.  Thank you for telling me.”

And Damian huffed, and pretended very resolutely that the whole conversation never happened, but that strange bubbly feeling stayed with him, and made him feel a little as though he were floating, or falling, or flying, or being flown, all the way home from patrol.

[itsabirditsabatitsaflyingrayson]

Sticky Rice

Damian entered the kitchen to find Grayson sitting on the counter eating the childishly colored, disgustingly sugary substance which pertained to be cereal.

“Morning Dami,” Grayson greeted cheerily as though he had not been awake most of the night as Batman.

“Why are you awake?” Damian asked.  He himself was awake because he had a sprained wrist, which was quite possibly the most embarrassing reason to be temporarily benched.

“Couldn’t sleep.  Want some?”  Dick reached for the box of cereal and Damian crinkled his nose up in disgust.

“If you put any of that disgusting stuff in my body I will stab you,” Damian said.

Grayson gave him a long look, and then seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Grayson said, “Food is cultural, right?  And what you like is influenced by where you grew up.  Now, Americans like sweet things, like, Americans are internationally known for drinking soda and putting way too much sugar in stuff like, for instance, this cereal.  Now, personally, I love this sort of thing, because I was raised in the Circus.  Which meant that most of the time my diet was fairly regimented, but after we finished a big show, my parents would pretty much give me free reign to eat leftover cotton candy and ice cream and whatever in celebration, which was great, and I grew up to really love sweet things and associate them with, like, victory and family and celebration and all those good things.  And, like, I’m pretty sure you didn’t ever had that, the celebration, I mean.  Those times where you got to acknowledge that, yeah, what you eat is important, eating healthy is really important because you depend on your body for everything you do, but also you’re a kid, and you’re allowed to have fun and have good things.”

“Is there a point to this?”  Damian asked.  This felt dangerously close to being a feelings conversation, or worse, a life philosophy one.

“I just want to ask,”  Dick said, “If you really do hate all sugary things without exception, or if you just think you should.   Because if you do just not have a sweet tooth, that’s fine, that’s perfectly natural, objectively good even.  It’s just that I don’t want you to treat your body, yourself, like a machine.  You’re allowed to like things, Damian, and I would like it if you told me what they were.”

So, it was one of those how to be a person questions.

It wasn’t that Damian was afraid to answer.  He wasn’t afraid of Grayson, that would be ridiculous.  It was just stupid.  Grayson was wrong, the primary purpose of food was nourishment, any emotional entanglements or preferences were irrelevant.

Damian didn’t know why he felt like he had a lump in his throat.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Grayson,” Damian said, “It’s just food, you’re being needlessly dramatic.”

And Damian went about preparing his own breakfast that wasn’t cereal.  How Grayson could eat that garbage, Damian genuinely could not understand.

Grayson didn’t mention it again, which is the nice thing about Grayson.  He asked him about all these preferences, all these trivialities, and just left them there for Damian to pick up again later if he ever so chose.

It was several nights later, when Grayson asked if Damian wanted to get ice cream after patrol.  He asked fairly often, and occasionally Damian even relented and consented to go, after a respectable amount of complaining and derision for the concept.  This time he actually thought about it.  Did he like ice cream?  It depended, he supposed, on the flavor and the establishment.  Most flavors were too sweet or two rich or both.  On the whole, he decided he did like ice cream, but not as much as Grayson did, and not as much as popular culture seemed to think he should.

“Sticky rice,” Damian said.

“What?” Grayson asked, bewildered.  Damian felt his cheeks grow hot, realizing how random and nonsensical his words sounded.  But he was committed now, so he pressed on.  Grayson would catch on, he was good about that, too.

“Thai sticky rice and mango,” said, “I used to have it sometimes when we spent time in Thailand in the winter.  It is sickeningly sweet and of little value apart from the mango, but -“  he thought of words to describe what it was, “acceptable”, “Not entirely unpleasant”, but this was Grayson, Grayson with his smiles and his gentleness despite his strength, and all his many layers of performance, staying up all night and then worrying about Damian’s well-being.  It was Grayson, so he would likely know what Damian meant if he said all those things, but it was Grayson, who told him he could like things, even if they were frivolous, so it was safe to open up the truth to him. “It’s good.  I like it very much,” Damian finished.

Grayson smiled at him, the soft, special one that was real all the way through and made a strange feeling bubble up in Damian’s chest that was a little, but not quite, like being afraid.

“Alright, Dami,” Grayson said, “I doubt anywhere has sticky rice at this time of night, but we’ll find some together tomorrow.  Thank you for telling me.”

And Damian huffed, and pretended very resolutely that the whole conversation never happened, but that strange bubbly feeling stayed with him, and made him feel a little as though he were floating, or falling, or flying, or being flown, all the way home from patrol.

[the-atlas-sister]

The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

[nightcolorz]

Random Gotham Rogues Headcanons

(In honor of all the wonderful people who wanted more after my last post, yes I see y’all)

*Jonathan has a huge sweet tooth, the poor bastard didn’t try sugar until he was like 12 and eats candy like it’s his last meal.

*He’ll forget he needs food to live for way too long and eat a gallon of ice cream or some shit that’ll give any sensible man heart palpitations and just be like “😐👍”.

*Selina tells the newer rogues she was raised by cats to freak them out, Jervis still believes her. (Tbf, Selina does walk around with a cat tail on hissing at people and purring on their laps, I don’t blame him).

*Edward has a tiktok account that he made to fule his own ego, he’s a fragile little shit, literally all of his hate comments have video responses (as you can imagine, Edward gets A LOT of hate comments).

*One time a teenager called Edward “submissive and breedable” and he was too baffled to make a clap back.

*The Rogues have a surprising amount of stans. Ivy’s fan base consists mostly of lowly simps, Joker gets stopped on the street daily by greasy redditors and zealous scene kids.

*No one likes Joker, he thinks it’s because he’s “Batman’s favorite” (it’s not).

*For a while Joker has been insistent that he fucked Bruce Wayne once at one of his many parties, no one believes him except for Harvey (begrudgingly).

*He says it’s “Perfectly in character for Bruce” as much as he may hate it.

*Selina denies everything.

*Oswald and Jonathan share solidarity as “the weird bird people”. At first Oswald was a little put off that Jonathan only held knowledge of crows but soon got over that when he realized that now he had an excuse to infodump on someone who might actually be interested.

*Every time Jonathan visits Oswald’s aviary to pick up Nightmare and Craw Oswald jumps at the opportunity to talk about his numerous birds in excess, Jonathan’s a surprisingly good listener.

*Despite Edward and Joker’s long term rivalry Edward has remained relatively civil when faced with Joker’s constant egging on. That is until one iconic day in Arkham Asylum when Edward beat the absolute, ever loving shit out of Joker in the cafeteria. To this day no one knows what exactly got him to snap, not even Joker.

*Harley keeps a scrapbook about all her misadventures + friendships as a rogue, she has a habit of taking pictures of the others at the most inappropriate times (during a heist, while being beaten to a crisp by Batman, ex).

*One time Harley asked Batman to pose for a picture to put in her scrapbook, he obliged to everyone’s surprise.

*Edward is wholly insistent that he doesn’t belong in Arkham, and is convinced he’s completely sane. He’s weirdly obsessed with the fact that Oswald is sane “as well” and will make unprompted snide remarks like: “Blackgate sounds terrific, unfortunately I’ve been misplaced among MORONS, it’s a shame that the system is too incompetent to properly judge my un-categorizable psyche.”

*Oswald usually responds with a simple “🙂👍” or “ok” to avoid conflict, disagreeing with Edward could be catastrophic.

*Art therapy is an occupational hazard for all the Arkham staff. (Seriously, who thought giving super villains an outlet to express themselves was a good idea).

*Edward can’t draw so he spends his time harshly criticizing the other rogues art, that’s caused more than a few fights. The one time Edward’s ever actually done art in art therapy was when he drew a green triangle and explained in complex detail how he colored it to perfection.

*Jonathan is no longer allowed to share his art with the group before having it reviewed by a staff member after emotionally scarring a few patients. He’s one of the few rogues who presents his art every time, just to see the disturbed looks on the others faces when he explains whatever twisted art piece he came up with this time.

*Jervis is probably the most dedicated artist of the bunch, he‘s not allowed to make himself any hats (for obvious reasons) but he’s still a very skilled seamstress and has a very interesting art style (Jervis tries not to draw anything explicitly linked to Alice in Wonderland in fear of getting repercussions, as rogues often do when they engage with their ‘personas’).

*Harvey isn’t very technically skilled in drawing, but Harv usually spices their art up enough to make it interesting. Their drawings are always two themed, as expected. One time Edward criticized a painting of theirs for being “too unrealistic” and Harv had to manually restrain himself from kicking Edward in the teeth.

*Victor can’t draw either, but he writes pretty good poetry. His writing is excessively melodramatic and flowery, and his themes even more so. Half of the presentation period is spent listening to Victor muse about the meaning of life or some shit, his poems are VERY long.

*Waylon and Ivy are the obligatory pretentious painters, both have a fondness for flowers (for very separate reasons). The two will often compare their paintings and wax poetics about the beauty of nature or some bullshit before never speaking again. That’s one of the positives of Art therapy, it brings rogues together who would otherwise not grant each other a passing glance.

*Group therapy is just as (if not more) atrocious than Art therapy.

*The only one who ever talks is Joker (and sometimes Harley, but way less).

*Joker is the embodiment of an irl troll, he does a much better job at getting responses from the other rogues in therapy than the therapists ever could (usually hostile responses but still).

*Occasionally a new and bright eyed therapist will try and coax childhood memories out of the rogues, it never ends well (usually with the rogue or the therapist in hysterics).

*The majority of the Arkham staff are either terribly unqualified or terrible period.

*Music Meister lived with Edward for a short while after escaping Arkham together but he was promptly kicked out because he wouldn’t stop singing.

*Selina and Ivy had a huge argument once because Selina’s cats nibbled on Ivy’s plants.

Okay this post is all ready super long so I’m gonna end it here, as I said last time I can always make more if you guys like these (I’m not running out of headcanons anytime soon!)

[maxdark158]

Wooo! Writing shoes are back on and i’m actually really happy that i’m finally able to write again. This chapter is a bit shorter than normal but the next two are heavy hitters so it’s alright

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian typically liked patrol.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop under the cover of the night was always exhilarating. Parkour just wasn’t the same without a belt of weapons and a costume, it was always a good way to burn of excess energy and get his mind focused.

Sure, it was his job to protect Gotham so he couldn’t be joking around, but he had to admit he liked the physical activity. He took his job seriously but taking it seriously didn’t mean it had to be unenjoyable.

Patrols were a time when he didn’t feel constrained, didn’t have to play a part or meet expectations. Nothing could ruin the cool gotham city nights on the rooftops.

Well, almost nothing.

After all, Damian’s father had the insane habit of adopting shitty ass kids for his crime fighting ring. Which meant Damian had this awful sickness called siblings. And the only thing that could ruin his nice patrols were the chortling of the other costumed idiots.

The worst nights were when all his brothers went.

Every. Single. Brother.

And what made it worse on top of that?

When they had something they felt they could tease him about. And when they were all teasing him about the same thing at the same time.

He was going to snap and stab one of them. His father might be anti murder but he didn’t have to know…

Damian shook his head. Bad thoughts.

“Thinking of your Angel?” Drake seemed to have a death wish and Damian was all about granting fucking wishes right now.

“Why do you all insist on being here?” he grumbled to himself. Because really they didn’t have to be. No bat signal, probably a few minor purse snatching crimes that one or two could handle easily. Why were they all in costume? Take the night off, stop fucking bothering him.

Annoying Fuck #1 snorted next to him when he said that, clearly not planning to be reasonable. “What, don’t like us teasing you about your Angel, demon spawn?” Todd snorted.

Damian ignored him. “Batman, shouldn’t he not be allowed to patrol with us?” His father could at least tell Todd to go home. Then when his back was turned he wouldn’t witness what happened to Dra-

“C’mon, I haven’t killed anyone and I want to hang out with my little bro! It’s not every day that Robin gets his first crush!”

Annoying Fuck #2, Drake, nearly slipped and fell from laughter.

Damian’s face warmed under his mask. “I do not have a crush you-“

“Focus on the job,” As always, father was on his side. “You can make fun of Robin later when we aren’t patrolling,” the traitorous bastard added.

Damian didn’t want to be the fucking blood son anymore.

He glared at Batman, scoffing to himself. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my own route.”

“I’ll go with you little bird!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Because of fucking course Grayson suggested that. And of fucking course Damian momentarily forgot that Grayson was back and patrolling too, leaving him unprepared for the suggestion. Grayson’s uncharacteristic quietness was the worst thing at times.

Fucking hell why’d they all have to be here tonight?

Proving himself to truly be a traitor, his father nodded to Grayson’s suggestion. So Damian, previously wanting to get away with his brothers and dream of murdering them alone, now had a tagalong stopping such a fun activity.

At this rate he’d have frown lines at 23.

Damian went off, not waiting for Grayson. He knew he’d easily keep pace though, so the halfhearted dream of being fully alone wouldn’t happen.

“Robin, wait here a second.” Oh fuck no. That’s Grayson’s I want to talk voice. Too bad for him because Damian did not want to talk. At all. Especially about anything Grayson might want to talk about. Because Grayson wanted to talk about French Angels and Riddlers and Spars and-

“Robin, are you listening?”

“No, Nightwing, I’m not.” Damian stared at him and raised a brow. “What is there to talk about?”

Grayson huffed, annoyed. Good. Fucker deserves it after what he and the others put him through these last few days. “I was asking if you actually had a crush or not. They’re teasing you but I’ve been,” at WE all day, Damian knew, “busy all day. I can’t tell if they’re making something out of nothing and I’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

There was a time when Damian would have said he wasn’t a horse. When he was younger, he didn’t know idioms and expressions that well. He considered saying it now, to try and change the subject, but he also knew Grayson didn’t let things go easily. Which wasn’t very good.

Because Damian wasn’t sure how to answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer it, even to himself. His weedkiller wouldn’t arrive for a few more fucking days, he wasn’t prepared for this.

Though maybe that in of itself showed the answer to Grayson’s question…

Fucking fuck fuck.

He shook himself from those thoughts. Grayson was waiting on an answer and he didn’t have time to get lost in thought about his Ang- Marinette. Marinette.

Damian settled for glaring at Grayson. “My private life is not any business of yours.”

Grayson snorted. “Suure little bird. She’s one of the French students, right?”

“Don’t say that right now,” he snapped. Not while they were in costume, not while they could be listened to. “Focus on the job, Nightwing.”

Grayson put his hands up in surrender. “Race you to Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian didn’t wait for an answer, jumping to the next roof and making his way as fast as he could. He was determined to beat his adopted brother’s sorry ass, not that he cared about winning. It wasn’t that he was competitive, he simply didn’t want to continue this discussion. That was all. That’s fucking it.

Grayson laughed behind him, and the race began.

-----

They were taking a break near the Batcave. No activity yet, but they stayed suited up incase that changed. The night was still young, after all.

Batman instructed them to meet there through the comms. Damian and Grayson, further from the cave, made it there last. Grayson luckily hadn’t brought up and other conversation during patrol, and Damian hoped that would hold ou-

The other two idiots were waiting like the fucking lunatics they are.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Did the demon spawn tell you about his precious Angel?” Todd clearly decided that he would die in seven days by saying that, big dumb fucking grin on his face and hair messy from removing his dumbass helmet.

“What was her name again? Mary?” Drake knew her name and was just being a little bitch. Damian decided not to give him the fucking bait, going over to a place to sit-

“Marie something, French and I think with brown eyes?”

“They’re blue,” Damian bit out. Fuck, their stupidity had infected him, he spoke before thinking. Was there a cure? He doubted it as they were all still stupid and have been for years. Fucking fuck the last thing he needs is to be on their level of idiocy.

“Right, right,” Jason’s wolfish smug grin was showing exactly how much of a fucking bitch he planned to be. Damian wanted to kick his face in.

“Little bird was pretty tight lipped on patrol,” Grayson said lightly as if he didn’t just stab him in the back.

“It’d be rude to kiss and tell,” Damian was going to strangle Drake with his own two hands.

“I haven’t kissed her!” He snapped again. His face was very warm, did he get sunburned somehow?? “We’re friends you imbeciles!”

“Friends that hold hands,” Drake pointed out.

“And tour Gotham together, alone.” Todd shortened his life span even more.

“And invite each other over to their house, where they never invited anyone before, to eat lunch.”

“Look how red his face is!”

“Little bird probably even planned to buy her ice cream! That’s why they were there when the Riddler showed up!”

“I’ll bed demon spawn-“

Damian stormed out of the room. Blood was roaring in his ears and he needed to- he just. He fucking needed fucking out of here. Away from those fuckers. Or he’d actually follow through with his thinly veiled threats and he’d rather not get blood on his costume.

He hated siblings with a passion. If his father ever considered adopting again Damian would fill all of his shoes with centipedes and rip the third seam out of every pair of pants he owned.

I don’t have a crush on her. I don’t. She’s wonderful and amazing, an angel, but I don’t like Ang- Marinette like that. She’s a friend I made and that is all.

Damian grabbed some throwing knives for target practice. Not on his brothers this time. He wanted to clear his head without those fucks nearby.

He threw one. The aim was a bit off, and he frowned. His aim was impeccable, why was he off right now? Why is having a crush on Marinette a bad thing?

No. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think those fucking thoughts right now. He threw another, harder. It went deep into the target, still off by more than he was happy with. He growled lowly.

Ange- Marinette is pure and good and wonderful. I was raised by assassins and I can’t completely shake their ideals.

Another knife. Damian’s grip on them tightened. Why was he missing?

I’m a vigilante and Damian Wayne. I have blood on my hands and money to my name and she wants to make her fashion empire herself.

Damian got more knives. His frustration was growing with each thought. They kept coming back as he tried to dismiss them, kept distracting him from the target.

She’s a talented designer. She’s incredibly smart, knows how to fight. Beautiful, dark hair and freckles and blue eyes.

Another knife sailed through the air.

I’m not anything of note without my last name or costume. She’s amazing without needing either.

Damian walked over and began taking the knives off the targets. Maybe they were fucking with his aim. He should get rid of them. Focus on removing them. Stop thinking about her.

But no matter how many fucking times he tried to redirect his thoughts, they came back.

She doesn’t have to tolerate me.

She’s wonderful and innocent.

She doesn’t deserve to be dragged down.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Damian’s hands were on his face, pushing at his eyes and trying to stop the thoughts. His Ange- Marinette was wonderful he knew that, but he didn’t think the other things. Not constantly anyway, he helped people as Robin. He was his father’s blood son. He wasn’t unhappy with himself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough for Marinette.

He grabbed a knife from the table he set them on and threw it blindly, as if throwing the thought itself out and away.

It hit the center perfectly.

Damian took a deep breath. Everything was fucking overwhelming right now, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

But it seemed he’d have to.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Okay, okay. He… He might have a crush on Marinette.

Admitting it, oddly, seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders. Damian took another deep breath.

He has a crush on Marinette. But he values her a friend very much. He isn’t going to do anything about his crush, because she deserves someone as amazing and angelic as her, and Damian isn’t that.

But that’s okay. Because he already loves being her friend. And his weedkiller isn’t too far away.

Damian calmed down. He threw some more knives. They were all on target.

She’ll always be my friend and Angel, if I have any say in it. I’ll make sure whoever she choses is worthy of her.

Damian had just thrown his third when his father spoke through their comms. “Poison Ivy sighting at Gotham Hotel.”

The six words turned Damian’s recently found peaceful mood onto its head. Ice water poured into his and filled his limbs with dread. His chest was tight, as if someone was grabbing at his lungs and they were closing. The weeds of worry were strangling him.

That’s my Angel’s hotel.

He had dropped her off there with Alfred just earlier that day. She was staying there with her class. They were supposed to be safe and protected, she was supposed to be safe and protected.

Damian’s knives hit the ground but his feet hit it faster as he ran through the cave to the exit. Ivy best not lay a finger on her or she would lose her entire arm.

His Angel wouldn’t get hurt, not if he could help it.

[13uswntimagines]

Where Do I Fit? (Preath x Little!Reader)

Request: angsty little!reader with Tobin, where Tobin was rs caretaking fir way before Christen(like since college?) and they tell Christen but she isnt okay with it at first but accepts it by gettung r stuffies to apologise?

“It’s not like that Chris,” Tobin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her elbows rested on her knees. The two of you had been trying to explain this for a better part of an hour, and Christen still didn’t understand. 

“Then tell me what it’s like Tobin, because from what you’ve said it sounds like your adult friend pretends to be a toddler, and you give her baths and feed her bottles. Do I need to continue? It’s some kinky shit-...” Christen said exasperated, frustratedly running fingers through her hair. How Tobin thought she would be ok with this? She was at a loss for words. 

Tobin shook her head, blinking up at her girlfriend “It’s not sexual Christen. It just-“  

“What, makes you feel good?” Christen spat, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. 

“Helps me deal with stress and anxiety, in a more positive way,” you mumbled, shifting anxiously on the couch next to Tobin, shivering at the glare Christen sent your way. You weren’t in love with Tobin, actually, you had a girlfriend of your own (who also happened to be little). Tobin was your safety blanket, and you just wished Christen could understand. 

****

Tobin had been your mama since college. An arrangement that had been made after she found you curled up under your dorm room bed, so stressed you didn’t know what day it was much less what stuff you had to get done. Instead of running away, she had pulled you into her arms and rocked you until you were done crying. 

After a little research and some explaining about why you regressed and how long it had been happening on your end, Tobin wholeheartedly embraced the role of Mama. And together you became more comfortable. She made you bottles and helped you keep track of school and soccer. As your best friend she decided it was her duty to protect you, and you were too fucking adorable when you were little to pass up. 

Then your Mama started dating Christen, and after a few months of them being serious, it was decided that you had to tell Chris. That you could propose that she join in your little arrangement. You got along well with the woman, and she was pretty nurturing to you anyway (especially at national team camps) making sure you ate and didn’t stay up at all hours of the night with your girlfriend and the youngins. 

****

Christen paused mid-pace, turning to look her girlfriend in the eye. “I don’t know how I feel about having a third person in our relationship Tobin,” She said calmly, crossing her arms. 

“Baby, I promise you it’s not like that. Y/n may be my baby girl, but I’m not romantically attracted to her. She’s my best friend, and this helps her,” Tobin pleaded, begging for the woman she loved to understand. She didn’t want to lose her and she didn’t want to lose her baby girl. You were a very sensitive little, absolutely petrified of her getting bored and abandoning you one day. She had made so many promises, and she couldn’t bear the thought that she might have to break them. 

“So what, she’ll call you whenever she’s little and you’ll just fucking drop everything to go ‘help’ her?” Christen’s eyebrow quirked up. 

You frowned. You had been hoping that this conversation would end in you having another mommy, so technically you would be calling them, and you were always mindful of overstaying your welcome. 

“I wouldn’t abuse that,” You huffed. 

“But you can’t control when you're little or whatever right? As long as you’re involved in this thing, she will always come first, and that’s not a healthy relationship,”  Christen asked viciously, turning her attention to you for the first time. You sunk into the couch, fighting the natural descent into little space that came with such looks. With looks only Moms could muster. 

You opened your mouth to respond, only for Tobin to jump in first. “Babe, we’ll figure it out. I was act-”

“Well then, I’ll be back when you figure your priorities out,” Christen scoffed, grabbing her keys and her purse and slamming the door behind her. 

Heavy silence stretched across Tobin’s apartment, both of you staring at the door. 

You hadn’t been expecting things to be rainbows and butterflies, but you didn’t think it was going to come down to an ultimatum. Little you or the love of Tobin’s life. It wasn’t a fair choice, but you knew exactly what needed to be done, no matter how much it hurt. 

“I was afraid that would happen,” You sighed, staring at the door, gulping to try and stay big. Trying to force yourself to hold back the painful emotions that were rattling in your chest. Someone had to be the mature one. The realistic one. 

“Y/n,” Tobin said softly, her voice ruff with unushered tears.

You shook your head, patting her knee, but never looking in her direction. If you did you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together anymore. You wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. You had promised yourself that you would never get in the way of her love life, and you were about to follow through on that. “It’s fine Tobin. I understand,”

“I love her,” Tobin said, sniffling, and you felt a little piece of your heart crack. Didn't Tobin love little you too? Just not enough. You swallowed hard, again pushing those feelings down. This wasn’t about you, and Tobin deserved to be happy. 

“I know. Go after her, I know how to let myself out. I’ll go to Lindsey’s and text the group chat to see if anyone wants another little,” You shrugged. Lindsey could handle you and your girlfriend for the night, and the group chat was sure to be able to give you good advice, at least until you figured this whole thing out. They hadn’t let you down yet. 

Tobin made a strangled sound at the mention of the group chat. At the idea that one of her friends could ever replace her as your mama. She knew that it was the logical next step (you and little Em were a handful on your own, together you were little terrors), but she couldn’t help the little twinge in her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her hand over yours and squeezing tightly. She hoped it could convey how badly she felt about this whole situation. She never thought Christen would react so badly. 

You bit your lip, avoiding looking at your mama. “Don’t be. You were the best Mama ever. Now go,” You mumbled, kissing the back of her hand and shooing her towards the door. She didn’t even spare a glance in your direction as she left. 

You stood from the couch, walking to the guest room that always served as your nursery. You collected your little things bag, Roary (you could never leave him behind), and your Batman blanket before heading towards the door. You paused in the doorway, turning to glance over the room one more time, allowing yourself to reminisce for just a second. How you wished this night had gone differently. You sighed, shaking your head and closing the door behind you. You would find a new caregiver, but Tobin would always be your mama. 

****

You were miserable. Completely, totally and utterly miserable. Hovering somewhere between adult you and little you, curled up in the corner of Lindsey’s couch, staring listlessly into space. Even your girlfriend cuddled into your side, running race cars gently over your legs couldn't cheer you up, and Lindsey was starting to get worried. 

“I don’t know what else to do, short of calling Tobin,” Lindsey said quietly, watching you from where her and Kelley were hovering by the door. It was one thing handling her little handful, and a complete other trying to take in both of you at the same time. She didn’t even know where to begin with you, hence why she called in reinforcements. 

You had known Kelley and Alex for almost as long as you had known Tobin. You trusted them, and if anyone could get you out of your funk, your aunt Kelley could. 

“You tried pudding?” Kelley asked, biting her lip. You were curled into the couch, Emily cuddled into your side, sending glances every now and then towards the stuffed triceratops you had left on the other couch. Pudding was little you’s favorite cheat food, and if that didn’t work she wasn’t sure what to do next. By now the entire team was aware of what was going on between you and Tobin, and none of them were surprised that little you wasn’t taking it so well. 

“And ice cream, and hot pretzels and Mac and cheese. I even tried warm milk,” Lindsey nodded. She had seen you upset before, but never this bad. She was literally at her wits end, and Emily wasn’t even being her normally bratty self. 

“Damn,” Kelley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously. How Tobin was going to fix this mess she didn’t know and how she was going to aid your obviously miserable self she wasn’t sure either. 

“Yeah, and she forbade me from calling Tobs,” Lindsey mumbled, patting Kelley’s shoulder. Kelley was known to have a magic touch with littles, but Lindsey was skeptical anyone besides your mama could pull you from this funk. 

“From the text she sent the group chat I’m not surprised. I’ll see what I can do,” Kelley nodded, shooing Lindsey towards the kitchen to heat up some Mac and cheese. She would get you to eat something even if it killed her. 

She slowly made her way over to you, gently patting Emily’s shin when she was close enough. “Hey Emmy, your mama wants to see you in the kitchen please,” 

The blond little blinked up at her, big Emily suddenly very present in her eyes. She didn’t like how much pain you were in, but you both trusted Kelley. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Emily nodded once, seemingly satisfied that Kelley would help. 

Emily leaned up and kissed your cheek before toddling off towards the kitchen. Maybe mama would get her a cookie. 

Kelley took her spot, watching you carefully, as though you were a puzzle she was trying to solve. “How you holding up bug?”

You shrugged in response, tucking your legs tighter underneath you and crossing your arms. 

“Not too good then huh?” Kelley filled in, scooting a little bit closer to you, taking a breath of relief when you didn’t curl into an impossibly tighter ball. 

You nodded once. While big you understood why Tobin couldn’t be your mama, little you was devastated that she had chosen someone over you. That she didn’t love you anymore (big you knew this was just as hard for her). 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually hovered around 2 and a half or three when you were little, but this version of you was far smaller. Small enough for you to go nonverbal. The only person to see you this small was Tobin, and as far as Kelley knew the last time this had happened you were still in college. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Roary was telling me that his tummy was hurting. Does your tummy hurt?” She asked you softly, holding up your favorite stuffed triceratops and wiggling him in front of your face. 

You shrugged again. Yeah your tummy was a little grumbly, but you were sad and all you wanted was for mama to scoop you up, but she couldn’t. 

“I know you’re upset bug, but not eating isn’t going to make you or Roary feel better, ok? Aunt Lindsey made Mac and cheese and it’ll warm you up ok?” she tried again, nudging your cheek with Roary’s nose. You bit your lip in thought. You did love Mac and cheese, and you didn’t want Roary to turn into a grumpasaurus. 

“Otay,” you mumbled, reaching for the defender (who despite her short stature was still an inch taller than you). She smiled tightly at you, handing you your stuffed Dino and picking you up to head towards the kitchen. At least they were getting you to eat. 

*****

Christen sighed from her place on the couch next to Tobin, glaring at the cellphone that had gotten far more attention than she had tonight. All she wanted was a date night with her girlfriend, and Tobin had spent the whole thing glued to her phone, nervously biting her lip. 

“Alright, who have you been texting all night?” Christen asked, pulling away from Tobin and wrapping the blanket tighter around her. 

The midfielder turned forward blinked and sat back to look carefully at her girlfriend. “Lindsey,” Tobin said, biting her lip. 

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up with Linds?” 

Tobin sighed. “Y/n went to stay with her until preseason starts. Emily’s there too and she wanted to hang out with her girlfriend,” 

“So what, why has Lindsey been texting you?” Christen asked. She was usually good at following Tobin’s train of thought, but she was lost. 

Tobin sighed again, shaking her head. “Y/n is having a really hard time, and I know you think it’s just some weird kink or something, but little Y/n doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t know what she did wrong and Lindsey needs some advice on how to handle her,” 

Christen’s back straightened immediately at the mention of your name. She thought she had made her opinion clear. “How can you say that like Y/n is two people. Like she isn’t manipulating you into doing what she wants?” Christen said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 

Tobin took a deep breath trying to figure out how to explain it. How to make her girlfriend understand that it was so much more than you pretending to be a kid for a little while. “Y/n isn’t two people, and she isn’t manipulating me. That’s evident considering she forbade Lindsey from calling me,” Tobin started calmly, picking at a stray thread on her pants. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words to explain it. “It’s not a sexual thing for her. It’s about trust. When y/n is little she doesn’t have to worry about everyday things, she can trust that I’ll take care of her. That no matter what happens, someone will be there to protect her. That no one will abandon her…” her voice cracked. 

That’s exactly what she had done, isn’t it? Abandoned her best friend?. 

Christen pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into her shoulder. It was hard to see Tobin this upset, even if she didn’t fully understand why. 

“My relationship with her isn’t like the one I have with you. She loves Emily,” The words were muffled by Christen’s shoulder, but the forward heard them loud and clear. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. She had done some research after Tobin had initially told her, but this was turning out to be way more complicated than the online forum suggested. If Emily was involved too, and you were dating her, then why did you need Tobin? 

“Why can’t Emily be her mama?” She asked softly, honestly trying to understand this mess. 

Tobin leaned back, wiping her eyes. 

“Cause Emily’s little too and that would be dangerous. Lindsey takes care of Em like I take care of Y/n,” 

Christen nodded as she took in the information. That made sense. If you couldn’t necessarily control being little, then it was possible you would both slip at the same time (or one could trigger the other). That did seem like a pretty bad idea for a long term solution. 

But if Lindsey was there, then what was the problem? 

“I just don’t understand how I fit into this whole thing,” Christen said after a few minutes, finally looking Tobin in the eyes, searching for the answer. 

“You don’t have to deal with her when she’s little if you don’t want to. I just didn’t want to hide it from you,” Tobin shrugged, running a hand through her hair (the weight on her chest lifting just a bit now that Christen actually seemed to be willing to talk about this). 

“If she’s here, I’m not just going to ignore her,” Christen scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Tobin’s lips ticked up just a bit. She wasn’t sure if Christen realized she had basically said you were going to be around, but Tobin was pleased with the new development. Maybe Christen just needed to logic it out a little bit more to become more open to the idea, but she wasn’t going to force her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. 

“It’s still the Y/n you know, just a little bit more carefree. A little more silly and cuddly. You don’t have to be around her, but if you wanted to… she was gonna ask if you wanted to see what being a caretaker with me was like,” She said, leaning in and nudging under Christen’s chin with her nose. 

Christen frowned, pouting a little, the real reason she had been so against the idea initially finally rolling from her lips. “She wasn’t trying to take you away from me-“ 

Tobin was shaking her head before Christen even finished her sentence. “No, she was trying to include you,”

You had been open to the idea of being little around Christen (hesitant, but open especially if it meant including the woman your mama was head over heels for. 

The silence stretched between them for a few long seconds, broken only by Christen’s sigh. 

“I fucked up,” She mumbled, pinching the space between her eyes, completely missing Tobin’s blinding smile. 

“We fucked up, now let’s go fix it,” Tobin said, kissing her girlfriend’s cheeks and standing, extending her hand for the woman to take. They would make this right together. 

*****

Kelley would say that you were tolerating dinner. You were reluctantly opening your mouth for the airplanes of Mac and Cheese she was sending your way, glancing longingly at Roary (who was eating his carrots in his very own seat across from you). 

Lindsey had gotten up a few minutes ago to answer the door but had yet to return. That was why you were taking turns having Kelley feed you bites of dinner with Emmy. 

Kelley lifted the next bite up to your lips, but you pulled your head away. “No tank you,” 

Kelley sighed, leaning forward to make eye contact with you. “Baby, you’ve only had two bites. You need to eat a little more for me please,” 

You rapidly shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want to eat the stupid Mac and cheese. You wanted your mama to love you again, but she was off loving Christen. 

“It otay, I eat Mac for you,” Emily said, patting your arm and placing a very sloppy kiss on your cheek. She didn’t like it when you were upset, and if she got more Mac and cheese out of it, then that was fine with her too. 

Kelley glared at the younger defender. You didn’t need any more encouragement to not eat, especially when you were this fussy. “I don’t think it works like that Em”

She looked back into your direction(ignoring your girlfriend’s pout), making her voice soft and sympathetic “Come on Y/n, 5 more bites please,” 

You whined loudly, shaking your head rapidly and kicking your feet a little in displeasure. The tears were now falling heavily down your very red face. “No want it!!”

“Alright bug,” Kelley murmured, pulling you into her lap, and letting you cry it out. You buried your face in her shoulder, heartbreaking sobs wracking through you. Kelley rubbed circles into your back, and carded her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you. When that didn’t work, she carefully transferred you into a very familiar lap.

*****

You clung to Tobin as though your life depended on it, fisting her sweatshirt like you thought she would disappear at any second. You probably thought she would, Christen noted. 

It was truly a pitiful sight so see, and each little sob from your lips was like a knife in Christen’s chest. She hadn’t known what to expect when Lindsey said you were taking it hard, but it most certainly wasn’t this. It made her apology gift seem incredibly inadequate. 

“No babydoll, I’m never leaving you again. I promise,” Tobin said into your hair, rocking you to try and ease the wave of tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“But you wove Christen,” You said, though your voice was muffled by Tobin’s shoulder and your tears, Christen heard the words loud and clear. She shared a look with Tobin over your head, and she knew that she was the only one who could fix this mess. 

She knelt down next to you, carefully rubbing your back, encouraging you to look at her. You obliged, rubbing your bloodshot eyes as you pulled away from Tobin. 

“Tobin can love both of us darling, and I see that now. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see that before, but if you’re willing, I’d like to try helping your mama take care of you when you’re little,” She said softly. 

“No make me go bye bye?” You asked, sniffling. 

“No little one,” Christen reassured, bringing her thumb up to while away a stray tear. “No I brought a friend, but they don’t have a name yet. Do you think you can help me out?” She said, holding up the stuffed dragon they had picked up for you as an apology. 

You gently grabbed the purple stuffie, holding him very close to your nose, and examining him carefully. “Spike wants ta know if we go home?” You said after a few seconds, poking your tongue out the side of your mouth. Christen and Tobin laughed lightly at your expression. 

“Yeah, let’s go home,” 

[leewritesstuff]

Keeping Up With The Hollands | 04

Summary: You and Tom were offered to document your life since you are both famous in the entertainment industry. Now as you got older you left the entertainment industry and head for the medical field. How difficult can it be? Also, did I mention that you have kids?

Pervious | CHAPTER 04 | Next

Series Masterlist

WORDS: 1.6+k

Writting this made me laugh at some parts pfftt. Anyway let's pretend that Far Away From Home was shooting during the time the boys were of age (forgot their age ngl 2 or 3 somewhere there)

Tom woke up first, sensing something on his face. He opened his eyes and catch a small foot in front of him. In confusion, he turned and notice all of his children on his king-size bed. Slowly but gently, he removed the feet that belonged to Edward.

He got up and head to the kitchen. Preparing breakfast for the family. His girlfriend Y/N was on a press conference for her charity.

"So today, we are going on the set of Spiderman Far From Home. Um, I'm not really sure how I'm going to do that and take care of four children. I know Harrison said he will be there but... I'm scared" he said to the camera as he tries to flip the pancake.

"I actually tried hiring a babysitter, they only lasted a few hours. I think I had forgotten to tell them that there would be more than one kids. Anyway, Ed and Chase gave them hell so they all left." After flipping the pancakes, Tom separated them, one for each boy and three for him, with some whipped cream on them.

Finish fixing up breakfast, he goes to wake up the boys, seeing as they are on a time limit. When he got there, he saw Jake up, trying to wake up his brothers.

Tom smile and ruffle the boy's hair, "Morning bud, you slept well?" Jake gave him a toothy grin and nodded. Jake got up and jumped into Chase's body making the boy yell, which woke up Max.

"Get up" Chase got up and pushed Jake down the bed, the two starting a fight. Jake's leg accidentally kicked Ed in his face, making the boy cry. Tom pulled away Chase from Jake and grabbed Ed, trying to soothe his nose.

"Alright, alright, it was an accident okay? You're okay" Once the boy calmed down, he picked up Maxton and carried him to the kitchen, as his two other ducklings followed.

Chase and Jake climbed into their highchair while Tom put Ed and Max in there's. He grabbed the prepared plates and gave them it.

Tom sat down in front of them, trying to feed each of the boys, "Chase is the only one who could fully feed himself, so I have to help the others."

Max took a piece of pancake and gave it to Tom, when Tom saw what he was doing, he opened his mouth and let Max feed him.

"Thank you Max for sharing." Max smiled and nodded and continued eating. After the boys were finished, Tom took their plates and washed them.

When he was done, he went to get the boys dressed including himself.

They made it to the studio safely. Tom took out each boy and placed name tags on them. He took Chase hand's who was holding Ed, then Jake's then Max and walked towards the entrance.

"Pa where we at?" Questioned Ed as he looked around the building.

"Well, we're at my work. You get to see Ironman, Thor-"

"Do we get to see Batman?" Tom looked at Max as if he just asked the weirdest question. As he was going to answer, Ed beat him to it.

"No stupid, they have Captin America"

"Aye! Don't call your brother stupid!" Ed pouted but kept quiet. After checking in with security and handing the children their passes they were allowed to enter.

As they were walking, Tom felt something heavy on his foot. He looked down and noticed Maxton was on it, he let out a sigh and tried to get the boy off of him.

"Max let go, I need to walk"

"No"

"Max, come on buddy, I need my foot"

"No"

Tom huffed and bent down, then he grabbed the boy making him scream. He tried shaking the boy off his foot but he wouldn't move. Giving up, he grabbed back Chase's hand and dragged his right foot.

"Stay then. Bloody hell"

On his way to his trailer, he showed the boys all the objects that were on the walls, the posters, the banners, the pictures of people etc etc.

Tom had left the boys in the lounge area with his stylist, Rachael since she asked too. He was grateful for that, but what he didn't mention was that they were slippery. Literally.

The poor woman's attention was more focused on Jake and  Maxton fighting to get the last box of juice, that she didn't notice that both Ed and Chase were missing. Somehow, both boys ended up by the set where Tom was shooting his scene for Far Away Home.

They watch as 'Spiderman' fought Mysterio. Wanting to go help his father, Chase quickly took off his clothes and ran onto the set and started hitting Mysterio.

(I'm sorry I had to laugh at this scene pffttt)

"Someone's Kid is on set!" someone shouted

"Tom's!"

"Whoa! Hey hey! Get me down!" Tom yelled when he notices what's going on. Jake who was playing as Mysterio, 'fell' onto the ground yelling, "Argh! You got me! Man down!" Giggles and laughter could be heard around the seat.

After they got Tom down, he quickly grabbed his son, and shield him, "Mate, I get you're trying to save me and all but you need to keep your clothes on"

Chase smiled at his father, dimples on display. Tom couldn't hold in his laugh and just started bursting out. Jake got up from the ground and head over to the duo. "I guess we have a new spiderman?"

The director yelled for everyone to take a break, Tom, Chase and Jake head over to where Ed and Jacob were enjoying themselves at the buffet table.

"Ed, I thought I left you at Rachel's? Why didn't you stop your brother?"

"He's older" "Yes he is, but you know sometimes he acts like a div and you're stronger than him, so why didn't you?" "I saw food" Both  Jake and Jacob laughed at that while Tom let out a sigh. He picked up the other boy and carried them to who knows where. They spent a good few minutes looking for the other two Hollands. After giving him, Tom carried the two to the lounge area. Tom got irritated when he saw both Jake and Max sitting next to Zendaya and Angourie who was entertaining the two.

"You're shitting me right?" The four turned towards the voice, Max with his bag on his back and  Jake running up to their father's leg and hugging him.

"Daddy said a bad word" "Pay the cookie jar!" Both girls laughed at their friend, watching as his children scold him for cursing. Tom squeezed into the girls and sat on the couch. Noticing that his brother was nude, Max goes up to Tom and turned around. The said man opened the bag and took out some clothes.

While he was putting on the clothes on his eldest son, he kept mumbling about how 'what's with you and clothes?' and 'I will glue them onto you' or 'You have some issues with clothes'

Both girls found the whole scene to be entertaining considering the eldest son was fidgeting and feeling squirmish. Zendaya who had Max on her lap, played with the boy's hair while Angourie tickled Jake. Ed kept on enjoying his juice box.

After finishing dressing the boy, Tom took out a juice box from the bag and handed it to Chase. "Now keep your clothes on okay?" The boy nodded his head in return.

"So what's his issue with pants? Is it too tight or something?" Questioned Zendaya.

"No. He just doesn't like clothes for whatever reason. We're trying to break him out of it but it's hard. The lad just likes to keep his bits cool" "Tom never say that again please" "I'm just saying"

As he was going to say something else Rachel burst into the room panting and sweating, gasping for air. Quickly Tom got up and handed her a bottle of water while Zendaya rubs her back.

"Are you okay?" questioned Angourie. After calming herself down, Rachel turned to Tom and quickly started spurting out apologizes, "I-I'm sorry,  I got distracted by Max and Jake? I think and then I lost the other two and then I told the two that were with me to stay put but when I came back they were gone!"

"Rachel, love, it's alright. I forgot to explain hay they tend to wonder about so that's my fault. I shouldn't have given you four kids. They are a lot to handle" After trying to reassure the woman, he turned to his troublemakers who all gave him a cheeky smile.

"You should apologise for worrying Mrs Rachel."

"We're sorry" The woman nodded her head and left the room, feeling tired after all of the stunts that were pulled on her today.

Since Chase interrupted the scene, the director decided to call it a day and sent everyone home. After Tom changes out of his suit, he heads back to the lounge to pick up his troublesome children.

Once they got home, Tom took them to the shower, after doing that he dressed the boys into their nightwear with the extra stress from Chase.

Once they were out cold, Tom grabbed his phone and called his wife.

"Hey love"

"Hey, you sound tired, how was today?" He took his hand and rubbed his forehead. A minute had passed.

"It was alright until Max and Jake gave Rachel the slipped, then while I was shooting Chase ran onto the scene and started hitting Jake" "He what?!" "Oh! Not our Jake, I mean Jake Gyllenhaal" "Almost got me rilled up"

"Yeah no, we were shooting a scene and Chase thought I was being attacked so he started hitting Jake, it was cute and funny but it did give me the day off. I got them ice cream, so we had a good day, yeah"

"Well I'm glad you guys enjoy yourself" "Yeah.. I miss you. I'm going to bed alright?" "Sure, night, love you" "Love you too"

Tom hangs up the phone and heads to bed, as soon as he laid down, he heard yelling in the other room.

"You got to be pissing me!" He complained but head into the other room to try and get his trouble makers back to sleep.

T A G L I S T @webmeupspiderdaddy @runawayolives @nerdy-collector-festival @hopelessromm@bi-lmg @speedyhandsbonkpalace (If you see this then I couldn't tag you) Want to be added? Then message me!

[maxwell-grant]

The crossover fic + learning he's a favorite of yours has me curious: do you think it would be possible to tell a satisfactory Shadow vs. Mr. Mxyzptlk story? I think he'd fit surprisingly well in that milieu as a credible threat: he's something of an older, mistier, shadowy world, kin to fairies and elves and imps, pixies and sprites and genies, bound by old laws and dressed like a parody of 20s/30s class, beyond The Shadow's usual powers and yet...THAT. There a thematic in to this throwdown?

I had never actually thought of Mxy in that light, even though it's very much in line with what he is, because Mxy is one of those characters I don't tend to think about much. He's one of those ready-made perfect villains who pretty much guarantees a fun and creative time whenever he pops up uninvented. Like The Ventriloquist for Batman, he is so uniquely a product of how Superman works and what his stories allow for, that I can't say I ever thought of taking him for a spin outside of them. But there's definitely stuff to work with in putting him and The Shadow together.

Come to think of it, if there's a Superman villain I think Walter Gibson would have liked to play around with, it would be Mxyzptlk. Mxy stories are fundamentally about Superman being thrust into a position where his only way out is to solve puzzles and turn the tables using nothing but his wits, and Gibson spent the majority of his career before and after The Shadow as a writer of books on magic and puzzles, both of which show up a lot in The Shadow stories. You see it even in several covers which contained clues for the stories within.

To an extent, you could argue that The Shadow might figure out quicker a way to trick Mxy, because The Shadow's already has to utilize a constant amount of trickery and deceit and puzzle-solving in his daily adventures, it comprises almost the majority of what his stories are about under Gibson. The usual Mxyzptlk narrative is one that's well within The Shadow's domain.

But on the other hand, it's definitely some extremely unusual territory for The Shadow, villain-wise. A villain who eclipses his powers and scope to such an extent is completely unheard of. The one time I can think of where he fought a villain this weird and who he was completely powerless against was when he met Suven The Clown King of Venus (who's definitely a character that could show up in this meeting), and even then Suven was just a weird alien who looked gigantic next to the shrunken Shadow. Even on the few occasions where The Shadow encountered other aliens or eldritch monsters, he was able to find a way to stop the threat for the moment or even kill it, which is definitely not happening here, because Mxy is a whole other level.

Superman has the strength and endurance and superpowers to roll with whatever mayhem Mxy throws his way. If Mxy decides that The Shadow’s looking too pale so he's gonna give him a tan by throwing him in the sun, what the hell is he gonna do to stop him? I imagine that Mxy would likely take a different approach to messing with The Shadow, since he can't tank nukes like Supes and he's not really a good sport about the game. 

Fine, whatever, Mxy's a creative sort, he's got a couple of ideas for messing around with Mr Grim-n-Serious over there, show him what an Eldritch Monster looks like past the squid monsters and dragons he may have met.

The idea I'm getting here is, on one hand, Mxy attacking The Shadow with the usual goofiness he brings with him. And on the other, him realizing that messing with The Shadow's dignity isn't as fun as he thought he'd be, so he instead goes full SCP Foundation/Awful Hospital/Ice Cream Man on The Shadow until he's stopped, trapping him in amusing and horrifying eldritch nightmares and situations that he has absolutely no way to escape until he solves the puzzle. 

I mean, he's not fighting Superman here, he can kill this guy with a blink, even just stopping his heart with a thought. No fun in that. He's gotta beat the "Master of Darkness" at his own game. He's got a point to prove.

I imagine that much of the story would play out of The Shadow having to piece together what exactly has gone topsy-turvy in his reality, whether it's Commissioner Weston eating spiders for breakfest or the entirety of Manhattan sans him going blind and all lights going out across the country. And when Mxy comes out with that shrill SURPROISE!!!, assuming The Shadow already knows what he needs to do, then he falls for whatever gambit The Shadow's had to cook up to trick him. 

At the end, Mxy is an arrogant bully who lords power over those that can't fight back, and The Shadow's a master of beating those by turning their arrogance against them. It's Duck Amuck, except Bugs is a mind-breaking sadist and Daffy has to fight back.

I imagine something akin to a particularly funny scene from a story called Face of Doom, where a gangster traps The Shadow in a room surrounded by armed henchman so he can enlist him into taking down the city's leading criminal, The Face. The Shadow unmasks himself as Cranston to gain his trust, and the two proceed to talk plans. I'll post the sequence below

Calmly, The Shadow was removing his slouch hat. His arms spread, the black cloak began to drop from his shoulders. Clipper's nervousness changed to elation. If ever a criminal fooled himself, Clipper did so at that moment.

Though The Shadow voiced no agreement to Clipper's offer, the crook was confident that it was sealed. The Shadow was taking a step that no other criminal had ever witnessed.

When Clipper's squinty eyes saw the hawkish features of Lamont Cranston, the crook displayed another of his downward grins. There wasn't any question about the prisoner really being The Shadow.

"A ritzy mug, ain't you?" voiced Clipper. "Well, that makes you the real McCoy. One thing we'd all figured, Shadow — we guessed you was a high-hat guy.

"'You don't get out of here until The Face is croaked! Say, though — maybe one of your ritzy friends could put up a good front with The Face."

"There are others, who might serve. I have agents, you know."

A shrewd gleam brought new ugliness to Clipper's eyes. He had heard of The Shadow's agents. It would be smart stuff—using them to get The Face, then disposing of them afterward. Clipper couldn't hide the eagerness that betrayed his new scheme.

"Good stuff," agreed Clipper. "But how am I going to reach those guys and get them to work with me? They only take orders from you, don't they?"

In reply, Clipper saw Cranston pick up the black cloak and hat. He handed the garments to the crook. For the moment, Clipper was puzzled; then he saw Cranston's hand extend the discarded gloves.

"I get it," chuckled Clipper. "You want me to rig up like I was you. Then the guys that work for you will listen to me. How do you handle them—with some password?"

"Usually," replied The Shadow. "Try on the cloak and hat first, Clipper. I must study the appearance that you make."

It seemed like a give-away of The Shadow's game. Any one could stage this Shadow stuff. All he had to do was masquerade in black, spring a shivery laugh, and shoot quick with his guns. If Cranston could pull it, Clipper could.

The Shadow spends a couple of paragraphs calmly walking Clipper through the steps necessary to pull off a convincing Shadow performance, almost like he's directing him. And then this happens:

The back of Clipper's neck was exposed. Though The Shadow's voice was still the leisurely tone of Cranston, his left hand had lost its laziness. Behind Clipper's back, that fist whipped an automatic from a shoulder holster. Clipper didn't scent the move until the muzzle of the .45 iced his neck.

"It won't work, Shadow," rasped Clipper. "You know it as well as I do! One pop from that gat of yours, the mob will pile in and croak you! There's a wicket in that door; they'll use it!"

The Shadow had shifted low behind Clipper's back. The crook could no longer observe the reflection of Cranston's face. He could still feel the pressure of the gun muzzle on his flesh. "Climb off my neck, Shadow," warned Clipper. "It ain't getting you nowhere!"

It was getting The Shadow further than Clipper guessed. The gun muzzle was actually gone from Clipper's neck. His impression that it rested there was merely an after effect, from former pressure.

Crouched low, The Shadow had now reached the door. Before Clipper guessed what was up, The Shadow twisted the door knob. Wrenching the door inward, he pulled himself behind it.

At the same moment, The Shadow snapped a quick command, in a rasp that resembled Clipper's own harsh tone:

"The Shadow's yours, gang! Croak him!"

It ends for Clipper about as well as you'd expect.

One of the things I like most about Mxy is that you can't take shortcuts with him. It's not like how it is with Riddler stories, where you can half-ass the riddles because you know Batman's gonna win once he touches Riddler and the story's gonna end in a punch-up, Mxyzptlk is completely invincible unless you solve the puzzle he presents, and you'd think of course that, surely, he can't fall for it this time.

He's a wise guy, see, he's seen all of Superman's tricks by now, and what's that dumb old Shadow gonna do that he can't see a mile away? This is almost too easy.

It's so easy, in fact, that The Shadow even agrees, he's lost it completely, and the way he could possibly beat Mxyzptlk is by calling one of his agents to save him, and he's prepared a list of some of his smartest, cleverest agents for this moment. But, no, he wouldn't dare put them in such danger against this invincible, immortal genius, someone has to take this list from him and run, but ZOINKS, Mxy's taken the list. So he's gonna start seeing who is it that the Shadda thinks is smart enough to take him.

Clyde BurKe? Like some dimestore journalist's gonna have a shot, just cause he solves crossword puzzles. Lamont Cranston, yeah, more like, LAMEONT CRANSTON. Harry VincenT, who, the dumb kid who tried jumping off a bridge once? Come on, you gotta give me a hand here, Shadda! Let's see, Pietro, what, some cook? Ya kidding? Moe ShrevnitZ...actually, Shrevy's allright, scratch that one. ShrevY, hey, come on, that's cheating, ya just put Shrevnitz's name again, ya dum-dum. Mr Xanadu, hmm, catchy name but probably not a real guy. And Margo Lane. Yeah, smart dame that one, she could probably figger something out. And ya keep writing everyone's name's weird - WAIT

I KNOW WHAT YER TRYING TO DO HERE.

I KNOW YOU GOT SOME CLEVER SCHEME HERE, I'D SEEN THIS BEFORE, IT'S AN OLD TRICK.

YOU EMPHASIZED THE LETTERS SO THE REAL SMARTEST GUY YOU KNOW WOULD BE HIDDEN WITHIN THEM, SO THAT SOMEONE ELSE COULD FIND HIM.

HAH, THAT'S RICH. THAT'S KID'S PLAY. WHAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T FIND THIS

KLTPZYXM

BY MYSELF?

.

.

.

aw crickets...

[kaemulti]

DC SUPERHERO GIRLS HEADCANNONS

i’m gonna start writing headcannons whenever i get sad/anxious for a number of different fandoms. it takes my mind off things, even if only for a little bit. this time it’s gonna be about dcshg 2019. i’m honestly obsessed with thinking about the mundane teenager things we don’t see in the show that all the superhero/villian kids go through so i wanted to write some stuff about that.

•karen is actually more popular than she realizes, people think she’s sweet even though they rarely see her/don’t have classes with her

•leslie and dorris are a thing to everyone BUT themselves; they hilariously don’t even realize they’ve basically been dating for years: carpooling together, hanging out before and after school, bullying kids like a tag team, skipping classes together, movie nights, shorting out the exercise machines at the mall to make that misogynistic jerk at the fitness store scared, buying their favorite snacks for each other without thinking much of it, etc.

•barbi not only hates diana with a burning passion but ALSO tatsu because both girls excel in both their academic and physical education classes, unintentionally surpassing barbie by a long shot whenever the opportunity presents itself

•jessica and hal hang out at sweet justice after their week day training classes and even invite barry when he has the day off

•kara is completely oblivious to the fact there are a bunch of girls crushing on her at school, she keeps wondering why they whisper about her and never make direct eye contact with her as she walks through the hallways. she only finds out what is actually going on when she opens her locker on valentine’s day and gets COVERED in cards. she doesn’t tell most of her friends about it (she knows they’ll just be annoying) but she does vaguely ask jess about how to write people back, turning them down nicely and whatnot, she’s not a monster for gods sake, she’s just not ready for a relationship.

•babs and diana like to study together the most even though barbra never really pays attention, she mostly talks about different batman articles and comics she read and new gadgets she’s created but diana doesn’t mind TOO much because she has an growing interest in modern day ‘world of man’ technology

•diana can NOT sing to save her life. the girls thought that having a karaoke night would be fun sure, but nothing would’ve prepared them for the laughing fits they had when diana started screeching into the mic. They also find out that Babs is always off pitch and Jessica refuses to sing in front of people. alternatively, however, zee, kara and karen (in that order) are the best singers in the group.

•zee keeps inviting kara to these crazy expensive-super long wait list restaurants even though she knows kara probably won’t eat any of the food. she doesn’t really know why she keeps doing it, especially after the whole giant tentacle incident, but she does know she enjoys kara’s funny comments and cute laugh enough to continue.

•when selina first saw diana she might of had a tiny sexuality crisis, no she won’t elaborate.

•tatsu helps garth work on his confidence and he helps her with her HUGE slight fear of open water. even though they don’t know the other is super, they still help each other as much as they can. tatsu will train garth to do some basic defense techniques against bullies and they’ll go swimming every other week, garth always making sure to keep as much water as he can away from tatsu’s eyes and nose.

•kara and barry like to race each other whenever they get a chance to go to the pier. kara always cheats so she never loses but barry doesn’t mind because he’s her friend and it makes them laugh.

•steve is actually really good at embroidery, his mom taught him when he was younger. he once made a wonder woman shirt for diana and when he gave it to her, she fainted.....twice.

•pam is allergic to three different types of flowers but she still nurtures them in her garden at home whenever she can. if her allergies get really bad though, she’ll ask jess to help her water them, ONLY because she needs to keep her precious flowers alive, NOT because she is actually jess’ friend...she thinks.

•the first time carol met barbie they both got into detention for loudly insulting each other’s fashion sense in the middle of math class. (they still haven’t apologized to each other so they keep acting like it didn’t happen because they both think they’re right)

•the first time harleen called pam “green bean”, pam blushed and giggled...like FULL blown diana talking to steve giggle. and then she pushed harleen off a bridge with a vine on accident. harleen thought it was the funniest thing ever and pam could only awkwardly apologize for almost killing her teammate

•oliver and zee tried to co-write a christmas play but they were so busy fighting each other on who had a better ending they didn’t actually order any props or costumes for it. leaving the main actress to perform in a pirate outfit.

•kara still hangs out with bizarro super girl every now and again and they take turns ranting about their idiot cousins, it’s all light hearted because kara still has some emotional stuff to work through.

•diana unintentionally starts a “who will come out next” contest when she asks the girls about same sex attraction. she had seen leslie and dorris making out in one of the locker rooms (yes they FINALLY got together together) and asked her friends what it meant. after a lot of confusion as kara stumbled over her explanation of the lgbtq+ community, she ends up coming out as a lesbian first, followed by babs, who is bisexual, karen, who is questioning but absolutely had a crush on kara before their food fight detention day, and zee who is trans. they end up going to metropolis pride two months after that.

•diana is still convinced there is an oracle at the pier so every other sunday the girls go so she can spend all of her money on “knowing the future”

•babs never really gets angry on the daily and the rest of the girls learn why when some jerk at sweet justice insults jess’ looks because she wouldn’t go out with him. barbra turned bright red as she let him have it, words coming out of her mouth faster than barry can make their ice cream (they didn’t think she had it in her). and if he he ended up glued to his bed the next day, well, jess will let batgirl get away with that one JUST this once. barbra will NEVER not stick up for her friends.

•kara and babs often have multiple sleepovers a week, harleen even joins them sometimes when kara doesn’t mind her LOUD presence.

•the girls never get mad at one another when someone breaks down or blows up after holding certain feelings in for too long. whether it’s kara ghosting them for days leading up to her mom’s birthday, diana overworking herself to the point of exhaustion when she gets homesick, karen refusing to go out to anywhere except for school and tough missions for weeks at a time because she thinks she doesn’t matter, zee reading too many spells at once and giving herself an awful migraine after messing up an easy one, jessica isolating herself at lunch so she can sit in the library alone and cry to herself quietly after a hard day of training, or babs not being her normal happy self after having a heated argument with harleen, there will ALWAYS be a shoulder to cry on when someone needs it. If that comes in the form a knock on kara’s door as her friends invite themselves in with her favorite foods and a mega ‘feel better soon’ music playlist in tow, an impromptu destress retreat that they force diana to go on where she is only allowed to use a weapon if there is a direct threat, making a giant list of all the things they love about karen and reading it to her from outside her window, someone closing zee’s spell book and holding her tightly as her eyes turn back to normal from flaring pink with anger, all the girls quietly sitting with jessica one by one in the library and gently holding her hand as she lets out what she can, or buying limited edition comics and leaving them as presents for babs in her section of the hideout, there is ALWAYS someone there to make it hurt a little less.

the end :))

[dumbkiri]

Hypnotic You

Second Series for Jason Todd

Request: Mixing up requests I got in submissions. 

Summary: [Name] has to come to terms that she really isn’t a fighter yet. Her mother, Diana Prince, left her in the care of Batman to help [Name] fight or at least learn how. Jason and [Name] have been partners for a long time and he is her mentor. But that all changes when he requests to go back to his team, The Outlaws. [Name] feels that she is left behind and comes across a new friend. 

But this new friend of hers is another enemy of the Justice League and a sworn enemy of her mother’s. [Name]’s body is resistant to some magic, but when Hecate awakens her godly form, is she able to control her dormant powers?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

Genre: Mystery, Drama, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k, 6 pgs

WARNING(S): NONE???

The sun shined brightly onto Gotham City providing light and warmth in the cold season of Winter. The snow that piled up from last night's storm was gradually melting under the bright star. And [Name] witnessed the frost on her living room windows going away. 

     She watched her neighbors do their daily routine of mowing their luscious green grass. Their kids had the job of taking out the trash and recycling. The mother would usually watch on holding their newborn baby or she was wiping her hands on a dish rag. [Name] turned away from the normal scene and glued her eyes on the TV.

      "In Today's news, Batman and Robin had stopped another criminal last night. Despite the storm, the caped vigilantes stopped the Riddler from robbing one of Gotham's finest jewelry stores. The Riddler is now being sent to Gotham--" 

     [Name] turned the TV off knowing that the Riddler would just escape again from wherever he's being sent to. She stayed on her couch for a while and enjoyed snuggling with her warm blanket that she got out of the dryer. Her eyes closed in happiness and she began to wonder in her land of dreams. That was until there was a knock at her front door. 

     She grumbled in annoyance and got up from the couch. [Name]’s sock covered feet carried her to the door and she opened it with a kind smile. There standing on her porch was her best friend and partner, Jason Todd. He was wearing his signature red hoodie with black jeans and black adidas. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie and sighed, “Are you gonna invite me in?” 

     [Name] snapped out of her trance and opened the door more to let him in. She watched as he relaxed and walked into her house. He took his shoes off by her door where her own shoes were placed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked and walked in front of him to stop him from entering her kitchen. 

     “I’m hungry,” He responded and took his hands from his hoodie. He placed his cold fingers on her exposed waist and moved her aside. [Name] recoiled from his touch and giggled, “You should warm your hands up. Oh, I’ll make you hot chocolate!” 

     Jason stayed silent and watched [Name] run into her kitchen. He chuckled when he saw that she struggled to reach her mugs on the top shelf. But after a few seconds, she managed to get them. “I said I was hungry, not thirsty,” Jason grumbled and sat in the barstools at the kitchen island. [Name] stopped pouring the hot chocolate and looked at him, “Do you not want any?”

     “Let’s go grab a bite.” Jason asked suddenly. 

    “Are you asking me out to eat breakfast with you?” [Name] looked at him questioningly. 

     Jason sighed and walked over to her. He grabbed the mug filled with hot chocolate topped with cool whipped cream. He took a sip and relished the hot drink entering his freezing body. “I am asking you to eat breakfast with me,” He replied after setting the cocoa down on the granite counter.

      [Name] smiled and grabbed a napkin from the kitchen island. She wiped Jason’s mouth to get rid of the whipped cream. She made eye contact with the male and laughed, “Yes, I’ll go eat with you, Todd, so stop your glaring.” [Name] walked away and threw the napkin into the trash. “Gimme five minutes to get dressed.”

       It took her longer than five minutes to get dressed, but Jason wasn’t going to ruin her perfect mood. He looked at her outfit and he took notice how she wore gloves and a scarf. “What?” [Name] interrupted his thoughts and placed her hands on her hips, “I’m not going out there freezing my butt off like you, okay?” 

     Jason raised his hands up and looked away, “I wasn’t going to say anything about your fashion choices. It’s a smart idea to bundle up, I don’t want anybody blaming me if you get sick.” 

     “You really do care for me,” [Name] softly said and Jason scoffed, turning to the front door. He opened it and walked out. He was going to ignore her comment about how he felt toward her. Jason wasn't’ sure himself. There were days he wanted to shoot her because of her rash decisions of saving a petty criminal. Yet there were days he had the strong urge to protect her from those petty criminals. “I’ll buy breakfast!” [Name] shouted as she locked her front door. 

……

     “The reason why I brought you here was because we need to talk,” Jason lit a cigarette and before he could inhale the deadly toxins, [Name] was quick enough to snatch it from him. 

     “Smoking isn’t allowed in here and I want to enjoy my breakfast before we get kicked out.” She smiled at him kindly. 

     Jason grumbled under his breath as he watched the female put out the cigarette in her empty glass half filled with ice. He crossed his arms over his chest and began speaking, “I requested that we change partners or back to our original teams. Now I don’t want you to interrupt me because I need you to listen to my reasons.” Jason’s blue eyes connected with her [e.color] eyes. 

     [Name] remained quiet waiting for his reasons. She stopped messing with the crayons she got from the host and paid Jason her undivided attention. 

     “I feel as though I need to work with my team, The Outlaws, more than Batman’s sidekick. Roy said he needs some help with the team and that they’re breaking without my leadership. I am also needed on higher stake missions and not burglars who steal money from an ATM.” 

    “He didn’t just steal money from an ATM. He was stealing from homeless people!” [Name] whispered-yelled. She was a bit frustrated about Jason’s choice. 

     “Hey, I told you to not interrupt me,” Jason scolded and continued his explanation. His stare softened and his body slowly relaxed into a vulnerable state. “I’m needed with my team, [Name]. I helped you with a lot of your training and I believe you already make a fine Batgirl. You don’t need me anymore.” 

     “Yes, I do,” [Name] spoke up, not caring that she didn’t let him finish, “You help me make those hard decisions. You sometimes influence me, but most importantly you make me decide what I want to do. I never really had that choice with Batman and Robin. You help me a lot in those times, in our missions.” 

     Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, “Those aren’t missions, [Name]. I get it, you entered the fighting scene a little too late. But what Batman has us doing, what he has you doing is nothing compared to what I used to do with my team. We take down guys like Sionis. We take down actual criminals with dangerous agendas.” 

     [Name] felt small in her seat. 

     “And to be frank, I’m tired of dealing with those petty criminals. I want the real deal. I want to go back to my team,” Jason finished.  

    [Name] swallowed the lump in her throat, “Then be with your team, Jason. No one is going to stop you.” 

     Jason stared at her and was baffled by her response, “You-- Why are you not stopping me?” He was 100% positive that she was going to throw a royal fit. But here she was surprising him.

      [Name] pushed her plate of food away from her kid’s menu. She grabbed a red crayon and began doodling. Her attention was divided now and it was because she needed a distraction. She could no longer stare in his gunmetal eyes anymore. “You said you needed your team and that they needed you. Why would I stop you if you want to leave?” 

    “I don’t know, I thought you would have put up a bigger fight. It’s what you would usually do.” Jason replied back and watched her aimlessly draw on her kids menu. He didn’t know what she was trying to draw and honestly he didn’t care. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly looked at who was calling him. It was Roy Harper. 

     [Name] pretended she wasn’t looking, but she noticed how Jason didn’t hesitate to answer the call. She put her crayon down and raised her hand in the air to call the waitress. Their waitress came by with a pretty smile. “Can I have the check please?” [Name] warmly asked with her own smile. The waitress nodded her head and handed the check to which [Name] handed back cash. “Keep the change.” 

     Jason watched [Name]’s interactions with the waitress carefully. He noticed the front she was putting up. After all, he spent a long time with her to notice how she was doing. He focused back on the call and listened to Roy’s words. Apparently, Sionis was still in the game while in prison. It meant that the criminal had connections inside the prison to make deals outside. Jason wanted to shoot himself twenty times right about now.

      [Name] waited patiently for Jason to end the call, so they can have a proper goodbye. It was rude to leave while he was on the call, but it was also rude to answer the phone when he was having a conversation with her. Yet [Name] didn’t have the confidence to communicate with him. It wouldn’t matter anyways because they were no longer going to work together. Maybe that is why [Name] felt so sad. She was growing attached to the male even if they did have their downs.

      “I got it, Harper,” Jason said with the roll of his eyes, “We’ll talk about it more later and plan from there. Alright, see you guys later.” He ended the call and gave a curt nod to [Name]. “Roy called about--” 

     [Name] waved him off and laughed, “Spare me the details and go get the bad guy.” 

     Jason sighed and gestured to her with his hands, “You’re mad.” 

    “I’m upset,” [Name] truthfully said with a shrug of her shoulders. Her eyes were downcasted to examine her scramble of a drawing. “I thought of us as a team, you know? So being sent back to a dynamic duo like Batman and Robin kind of makes me feel-- I don’t know,” [Name] laughed and looked up at him. She waved her hands side to side, “I don’t know what I’m talking about now, my words are going to be scrambled soon if we keep talking.”

     [Name] put her wallet back in her purse and flipped the straps on her shoulder. She was collecting her things. She scooted to the edge of the booth and stood up, “But thank you for teaching me the ropes and other important things. I’ll catch you on the flipside.” [Name] turned her back on Jason and hurried to exit the restaurant. She was really digging herself into a hole back there. 

     “Catch you on the flipside? God, what was I thinking?” [Name] scolded herself and lightly hit the side of her head with her palm. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” She helplessly muttered as she walked further away from the restaurant. [Name] walked past some people going about their business and easily dodged the shoulders of people not paying attention to their surroundings. She was surprised that she was able to notice the people around her when her mind was plagued with questions. 

     At this point, [Name] wanted to be home and enjoy her hot chocolate for real this time. If Jason really requested for her to go back with Batman then the caped crusader will call her if she soon. "I should go pick up Blue from the pet store. Ah, I forgot my poor baby had an appointment today,” [Name] hailed a taxi and got into the backseat while telling the driver where to go. 

     “Rough mornin’, miss?” The taxi driver asked looking into the rearview mirror. 

     [Name] gave him a small smile, “You can say that.” 

    The taxi driver whistled with his clapped lips. They seemed to bleed a little meaning that he was picking at the skin of his bottom lip recently. “The storm must have hit yer area hard or somethin’ if ya ain’t smilin’. The kids ‘round here are havin’ a field day! Throwin’ snowballs and jus’ havin’ some normal fun! Ya should join ‘em, put a pretty smile back on ya face, y’know?” 

    “I will when I pick up my dog from his appointment. Blue would love the snow and I’m sure the kids would love him,” [Name] replied looking out the window. She watched the buildings she recognized pass by with a blur. Then she averted her attention to the taxi driver. She noticed a purple ring surrounding his irises before it disappeared. 

     The taxi driver cleared his throat and clenched the steering wheel tighter, “He must've really hurt yer feelings.” 

    “Excuse me?” [Name] swallowed and stared at the man with a new sense of curiosity and suspicion. She scooted to the edge of her seat and asked again, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

     “I said he must’ve hurt yer feelings. Especially if ya have that sad look in yer eyes like someone ran o’er yer dog. What’s his name?” The taxi driver tilted his head to the side and a large pop resonated in the taxi. 

      Uncomfortable, [Name] leaned her back into the cushion of her seat. Her lips parted in uncertainty, “He’s only a friend and there’s no reason for you to know his name. You’re a stranger.” 

     “I’m more than jus’ a stranger, darlin’,” The taxi driver answered quickly. The car came to a stop and [Name] opened the door. She almost forgot to pay the man, but he stopped her with a creepy smile on his face.

      “No need to pay me, girl,” He said and leaned over the passenger seat, “I want ya to know somethin’.” 

    [Name] got out of the car and closed the door. She bent down to listen to him talk though. She didn’t know why she was staying any longer with this weirdo. Yet her curiosity wasn’t quenched, not now. “She’s always watchin’ ya. Said somethin’ about awakening yer true potential.”

     “Thank you for the ride, sir,” [Name] dismissed his words  and ran into the pet store where she felt somewhat safe. She picked her phone from her purse and dialed Jason’s number hoping he would pick up as quickly as he did for Roy. It rang twice then went straight to voicemail. Might as well tell him what happened to her. 

     “Hey, Jason, I called to tell you the strangest thing that happened to me. This taxi driver gave me the weirdest ride ever. I-- He knew that I talked to you? Actually, he doesn’t know you, but I don’t know. It was the oddest thing that’s ever happened. He knew what I was feeling. I mean he knew-- Whatever, just give me a call back?” She said with nervousness, “He said someone was watching me. I have to hear some advice from you.”

      She ended the call there and perked up at her dog barking happily. She hoped that the taxi driver was only crazy and that what he said wasn’t true. [Name] has enough to worry about. 

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter Two-There You'll Be

Book: The Royal Heir

Liam x Riley

Series Summary: After losing the love of his life, Liam is left with a newborn daughter and a council that demands he endure another social season quickly. Not wanting to move on, he gets help from an unlikely ally-his late wife.

C/N: It wont always be like this, that's all I'm saying. This is angsty!!!

_____________

The capital city was peaceful as it laid under a veil of darkness. The moon glowed brightly in a cloudless sky, the stars glistened like clusters of white diamonds and sapphires and the ebb and flow of the Mediterranean tide gave off a calming lull. Spring was in full bloom and the typical, crisp night winds were just beginning to have a touch of warmth. It was a time for renewal and rebirth in Cordonia-tiny seeds and saplings sprouting into little blossoms.

Meanwhile, in a private, heavily guarded section of the hospital, was a room and a shattered heart. Monitors were shut off, silencing its deafening sounds, tubes removed, and lights dimmed to match the mood within its walls. Staff began collecting equipment and their distraught selves, leaving Liam behind to hover over Riley’s bedside, alone.

He couldn't take his heavily, tearful eyes off her, nor did he dare try. As he stood next to her bed in a complete daze, trying to make any kind of sense of what just took place, he reached out for her tiny hand. For a moment he just held it in his; rubbing his thumb gently along the outside of her palm, wanting desperately to feel her squeeze back, even if just slightly. 

This wasn't the first time he felt the consequences of an unexpected loss, yet, this...this was different than his mothers. The woman who gave him everything he ever dreamed of- the chance to be himself, an unconditional love, a real marriage and a family- was somehow gone. 

Liam leaned down and lifted the dainty hand he held in his, up to his lips, placing a soft kiss over her knuckles.

"And here we wait", Riley exclaimed as she leaned against the railing of the dock overlooking the water of the New York bay. The gusty wind blowing her brown hair in twists and twirls, sweeping across her face and covering the golden hue of her cheeks.

Liam stepped up beside her, gazing out at the near empty waters before quirking his brow at her, "For?".

Riley beamed enthusiastically tapping him lightly on the shoulder, "For a magical boat ride I've summoned just for you".

He brushes her pale, cool hand across his cheek, then holds it in place, memorizing how she feels- how she made him feel. Her engagement ring dimples his skin and he can't help but recall the night he gave it to her. 

His lips begin to quiver, feeling an ache in his chest he'd never felt before, "Riley'' he wails out, completely overcome by an increasing wave of grief, "darling, don't leave me". 

He turns her hand over and kisses the palm, his lips lingering along each crease and fingertip.  Lowering her hand and placing it gently across her stomach, draped by a white sheet, his eyes turn his gaze to her peaceful, face. Liam traces his thumb along her jawline, caresses her cheek, and trails his finger over her lips. 

Standing side-by-side on the deck of the boat Riley had miraculously summoned on his behalf, he reached for her hand,  “I want you to know that I admire you. Your adventurous spirit. The way you follow your heart”.

She laces her fingers through his, “You can live that way too.''

“If only. My whole life I”ve prepared myself to do what’s best for Cordonia”.

“Well...we’re not in Cordonia now…”, Riley wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer, searching his eyes before meeting his lips with hers. They kiss passionately while the mist of the sea rains down on them. 

Liam smiles into her kiss, "You're full of surprises aren't you?"

She leans in for one more kiss and pulls away with a sly grin, "I try".

"I'm glad to have met you, Riley. I'll never forget this night”.

With both hands, he wipes away the tears that have drenched his cheeks and were hanging off his chin. He needed to be closer to her, to feel her body pressed against his and to hold her in his arms. Climbing into the bed beside her with very little room for himself, he rolled to his side and placed one arm under her and with the other, pulled her closer to him, cradling her head snuggly against his neck  Feeling her cold skin against his own flesh, Liam pulled the sheet up around her chest and wrapped her tightly in his arms. This was his Riley after all, he couldn’t help but want to protect her, keep her warm and feeling safe in his arms. He rested the side of his face on top of her head, breathing in the floral scent of her hair that was becoming moistened by the never ending tears that fell into them.

“My love...’, he swallowed between whimpers, his entire body quaking with grief, “I don’t know how to do this love...I don’t...I don’t know what to do without you”.

*****

Outside of her room, a despondent Bastien stood on the other side of the closed door. He could hear every sniffle, every agonizing moan and grief stricken sob that escaped from his King. He, himself, stunned by the entire situation and the loss of a young Queen who took Cordonia by storm. He pondered whether she had ever truly forgiven him for his part in the Applewood incident. Bastien was sure she had, she was always nothing but kind and respectful to him, yet, his regret for that ordeal crashed into his chest like a ton of bricks. 

He glanced over to dozens of guards,  watching over the door to the private wing, noticing that all their training in keeping their emotions in check were failing miserably. Bastien bit his top lip and inhaled deeply through his nose, attempting to maintain some composure, but, knowing this was the saddest situation he had witnessed since Jackson Walker’s death. He remembered the look on a devastated,  young Drake’s face when he told him his father had passed away. 

As if it were some cosmic joke, he turned to see a stunned Drake standing there, both hands in his pockets with that same look of denial again.

Drake knew by Bastien’s demeanor and that of the guards he passed coming in, what her status was, but wouldn't allow his heart to accept it. 

He approached Bastien wearily, breathing heavily from adrenaline and fear, “Where is she Bas, where’s Brook’s...I need to see her.”

Bastien gestured with his weepy eyes to the door and Drake stepped away from him to go inside, but, Bastien grabbed his arm to hold him back.

“You can’t go in there right now, Drake.’

Drake jerked his arm back, “The hell I can’t, she needs me...Liam needs me...and WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL THE DOCTORS AT, she needs help?”

"Son, keep your voice down'' he muttered, pressing into Drake's chest to ease him away from the door and into the opposite wall. 

Bastien gripped both of Drake’s shoulders and looked into his troubled eyes with a sigh, “Drake..”

“Don’t...don’t you dare say it’, shirking away from him, nodding furiously, “don’t...she’s not…’, his voice becoming weak and raspy, “she not...gone”. Drake weaved around Bastien, gasping for words, his eyes welling up and raised his hand to Riley’s room. He pushed it in quietly, just enough to see his distraught best friend on her hospital bed cradling- his, Brooks. 

Drake reaches out and shoves Riley, who for a second, struggles to keep her footing before toppling over and landing on a soft snow drift.

“Hey!” she yells, prepared to give him a piece of her mind, however, stops herself when she notices the most star-filled sky she had ever laid her eyes on.  The stars shooting, light up the night.

“Drake...:”

He plops down next to her, “Yes, my lady?”

“This is absolutely gorgeous”.

Drake takes in a refreshing breath, “Nothing beats a clear view of the sky during a meteor shower”.

Riley smiles as she watches stars race across the sky; her eyes glistening with astonishment, “I’m glad I didn’t miss this”.

He huffs, “Really? Would’ve figured you’d rather eat bon-bons and dress up tiny dogs, or whatever shit Olivia had planned for the night”.

“Not exactly my scene”, she scoffs.

As they both stare up at the sky, the clouds start to creep across the stars.

“Looks like we were just in time to see this before the storm comes”.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to miss it”, he rubs a hand over his face, “I used to do this with my sister, Savannah, every year. We grew up around the royals. My dad used to do security for Liam and his brother, and my sister and I were allowed to hang out with them. My sister, she’s...she’s been through a lot”.

“Wow, did Drake Walker just open up to me, maybe trust me a little?”.

“I don’t trust a lot of people, Brooks, but maybe I do trust you”.

“Drake, that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to anyone”.

“Heh, maybe”.

As more snowflakes continue to fall, Drake sighed, “I better get you back. It’d be quite a scandal if I let one of the Prince’s suitors freeze to death out here on my watch’.

“I’d hate for my untimely demise to cause you any difficulty’, 

He stands from the snow, sweeping the flakes from his backside and extends his hand to Riley, “Let’s go back in”.

Drake’s body began to shake and his chest tightened as he closed the door back gingerly. He turned to face Bastien, feeling a weakness he hadn’t experienced in many years and fell limply to his knees.

********

Maxwell didn’t need an alarm clock to wake up, his energy and alertness kicked in at 5:00 every morning, ready to go. He threw the panda comforter Hana bought him for Christmas off and stretched heartily, contemplating whether to get in an early morning jog or eat a bowl of brownie ripple ice cream before feeding the peacocks. “It’s always the ice cream, ain’t that  right, Drake Jr”, he spoke to the guinea pig staring at him from its cage. He threw on a blue, cashmere robe to conceal his Batman boxers, since Savannah didn’t approve of him walking around naked in the estate. 

After using the restroom, he headed to the dark kitchen on the first floor, flipping on the lights and grabbing a serving spoon out of a utensil drawer. He stood in front of the open freezer door, trying to decide whether he wanted the brownie ripple or the mint chocolate chip, “what the hell, let’s live dangerously”, reaching for both of them. 

Maxwell flopped back on the couch with both cartons of ice cream and his serving spoon, sitting them both beside him before snatching the remote from the coffee table. He dug out a hearty spoonful of brownie ripple and licked on it while flipping through the channels.

“We have an unconfirmed report that the Queen of Cordonia has passed away unexpectedly. Sources right now are trying to reach the Royal Press office for confirmation”. 

Maxwell’s hand shook with panic as he flipped to the next channel and the next, each one reporting the breaking news alert with Riley face plastered in the backdrop.

He dropped his spoon in the container and tossed it off of him, desperately searching the pockets of his robe for his cell phone. When he found it, he pulled up his messages and found dozens of texts from reporters wanting him to confirm her passing.

“What the fuck is going on?”.

Maxwell flipped desperately to his contacts and tried to call Riley...no answer. He tried Liam several times, each one going to voicemail. Overwhelming fear set in as he pushed the number for Drake, hoping he may have heard something...anything.

Maxwell cleared his throat, a collection of bile had stifled his voice, “Drake, please tell me it’s not true”. 

What he heard was not what he wanted to hear; he didn’t end the call, just loosely allowed his phone to slip from his ear and crash to the floor,  his lip quivering, “Little Blossom”.

Maxwell watches a forlorn Riley waiting at the corner across from the bar he met her the previous night. After she gets  clearing to cross, he pipes up through the sunroof of the limo parked in front and waves his arms wildly.

“Riley!”, he shouts and she approaches him with a bit of confusion and hesitation.

“Maxwell, right?

“Yeah, I'm glad I caught you. We’re heading back to Cordonia so Liam can find someone to marry and all that jazz. But before I go, I wanted to officially extend to you an invitation to join us for the festivities in Cordonia”.

“Huh?”.

“You wouldn’t be allowed to join...but I wanted to sponsor you!”.

Riley furrowed her brow, “You...want to sponsor...me”, she snickered, “is this a joke?”.

“Nah, girl. I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sisters, so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the Prince. Instead we can sponsor any girl we choose. And you’re my pick!”.

Riley shook her head, slightly taken aback, yet, intrigued by his proposal,  animated use of hand gestures and liveliness, “You want to sponsor me? Why?”,

“I’m not doing it for you. I saw how LIam looked at you last night. I’ve never seen him so happy. Honestly? I don’t want him to lose that. We’re kinda crunched for time though. I’ve got a plane leaving within the hour…”

Riley looks around at her bleak surroundings, shifting anxiously at the thought of seeing Liam again, getting away from the boredom and dread that had become her life, and the absolute hell that was waitressing at the bar that stood in front of her. She looked up at Maxwell, a large grin plastered on her face, “I”m in”.

“Yeah”, Maxwell pumped his fist in the air, causing the limo to bounce, “Go pack your bag. This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime”.

Maxwell glanced up at the fireplace, where a selfie of he and Riley posing with the mechanical bull at the American bar during Drake’s birthday, sat in a glittery frame. He felt the blood drain from his face, nausea building in the pit of his stomach and he bolted from the couch, “Bertrand!”

*******

Liam stayed with Riley for over an hour before kissing her once more, making promises to love her forever and take care of Ellie; hoping she would be everything her mother was.

He reached the door of her room and looked back once more as a nurse was carefully placing the sheet to cover her entire body. After exiting the room, he was met by Drake, who pulled him into a hug that didn’t end for several minutes while both wept into the other. 

The guards cleared the halls that led to a private exit, hoping to avoid any and all press or prying eyes. Bastien returned and escorted Liam and Drake through the cordoned off hallways and passages that led to a private car, so not to be followed. 

Liam’s mind was in a complete tailspin. Thoughts of what took place, how a young, vibrant woman dies suddenly without warning, and how the hell he was going to live the rest of his life without her. He was a King  without his Queen, a husband without his wife, and a father without the mother of his child. Nothing made sense, but there was no time to try to make any sense of it; he had a country waiting anxiously to hear word on the fate of his wife and a newborn baby that he was now the sole parent for. In all of his heartbreak, Liam wanted to run far away, to scream, to take all of his anger and grief out on something. 

Bastien maneuvered the car through the throngs of press and people that had amassed around the gates of the palace. Entering through the garage of the palace, he parked the car and Liam jumped out before the door could be opened for him. Drake offered to stay with him, but Liam heard nothing. He wanted to get back to his quarters as quickly as possible, away from everyone and the flurry of questions he had no answers for. This was a new life for Liam, one that he hadn’t fully digested yet, nor believed he ever would. 

He opened the door to his quarters, stepping slowly inside to the darkened foyer, passing listlessly through into the living room. Remnants of Riley scattered throughout from the pictures on the walls, her favorite throw blanket folded neatly on the ottoman, and a vase of purple lilies he bought her yesterday, adorned on the sofa table. Moving to the ottoman, he picked up the throw blanket and sat down on the sofa, lifting the blanket to his nose and inhaling sharply. Her scent lingering from the soft fabric and memories of her laugh, her giggles, the playfulness she exuded flooding through him. He gripped her throw tightly, slumping down onto the floor and began to sob uncontrollably into it. This was his reality, one that he would never accept. 

[alecthedevil]

Handcuffs (Bat family x reader)

Pairing: Bat family x reader (Platonic obviously)

Word Count:1688

No specific pronouns used. All inclusive reader!

Warnings: Like one swear word.

...

99% of the time, at least one resident of Wayne Manor was causing trouble. Even Dick and Jason, who hadn’t lived with Bruce for a long while, were known to be problematic in their visits to the Manor.

Last month, Tim not only managed to trip down the stairs, he did so whilst sleepwalking with a plate of pancakes in his hand. The incident arose many questions. How did he fall down the stairs? Why isn’t his neck broken? Tim sleepwalks? Didn’t I tell you to keep an eye on him? Where did he get the pancakes from? Wait did Alfred make Pancakes?

Two weeks ago, Jason and Dick put aside their differences decided to hum the mission impossible theme on their top-secret mission to infiltrate the villains lair and save the damsel in distress. The villain being Bruce, the lair aka the Batcave, and the damsel being their confiscated phones due to their previous night’s hijacking of the bat mobile. Jason tripped Dick, Dick fell down and bumped into the table, the coffee was spilt onto the floor, Bruce, otherwise unaware of their antics rushed in at the sound and slipped on the coffee, Jason laughed so hard he backed into one of the display cabinets, knocking it over, it fell down and narrowly missed Titus, Titus sprang up and barked so much that Tim wandered down stairs to find his brother’s and father in a heap on the floor, their mission thoroughly failed.

On Monday Damian thought not to tell the household that his latest pet was a python certainly not native to Gotham, let alone America, and did not think he should perhaps tell anyone that it was not in the glass tank he’d acquired to care for it. Alfred received a shock when he opened a cabinet in the kitchen to retrieve a dish, only to find a sleeping snake curled up.

Yes, it was safe to say that the Wayne residence was full of drama and mischief.

Today, the problem was you.

It wasn’t your fault. Not really. I mean, it’s not like anyone told you not to touch the stuff on the table in the cave. Nobody warned you that it wasn’t a good idea to mess around with some of the new gadgets Bruce was working on.

Ok so maybe Bruce had said something along the lines of;

“blah blah blah, don’t go into the bat cave without permission, more words, more talking, don’t touch anything, he’s still talking, the things down there are NOT for fun, they’re for work, something something, do you understand me?”

And yeah, you understood him. But like, he said not to go down there and touch stuff. So that’s why you did the opposite and did everything he said not to do. But c’mon. Isn’t it really obvious that you were going to do It anyway? It’s not like it resulted in too big of a problem.

“Uh, Bruce?” “No.” “But I-” “No.” “I really think you should-” “I’m working.” “Okay… but it’s just that,” “Y/n, I’m busy.” “... Bruceeeeeeeeeeeeee” “You can see I’m working.” “I know, but…” “… but what.” “No, it’s fine. You’re working, I don’t want to bother you.” “What did you want?” “Tell me that you’ll always love me no matter what.” “What did you do?” “Tell me.”

“I’ll always love you no matter what. Now what did you do?”

“I can’t get them off...”

You messed around with the prototype batcuffs Alfred and Bruce had been experimenting with. Bruce wanted to make them unescapable after the last time the Riddler managed to unlock them. The idea was for them to be Unescapable for the wearer, but not for the captor. Unfortunately they were in fact, unescapable for even Gotham’s Dark Knight.

Luckily for you, you had the smartest people in Gotham at your side, ready to tackle the issue.

Alfred and Bruce poured over the plans for the cuffs, certain that they could kill two birds with one stone by simply fixing the cuffs so that they were the real thing instead of broken prototypes, and therefore it could really be a valuable use of time.

Dick tried dish soap. It worked, he proclaimed, for rings stuck on peoples fingers, and it’s kind of the same thing really, when you think about it.

Tim pulled together an elaborate plan composed of several complex elements including but not limited to; the batmobile, rope and chain, an antique radio, several straws, the dish soap from earlier, a turkey sandwich, parts he’d need to unscrew from the garage door, a thorn from a rose between the colours of bashful blush and Scarlett Dream, two spoons, a canary and most importantly; something to burn metal with. He wanted a flame thrower, but on such short notice, promised that he could work with a blow torch if need be.

Safe to say Tim was put on bed rest until further notice.

Damian, grandson of the demon, son of Batman and Tahlia Al Ghul, Robin and well-trained fighter and weapons expert all round proposed an idea so practical, it was unclear why no one had thought of it before.

“Tch. I Don’t see why we don’t leave them to rot in them. It would serve them right. I wouldn’t be as stupid to lock myself in handcuffs.”

You’d responded with a glare and a “I won’t hesitate Bitch”, much to Dick’s delight.

Sometime later it became apparent that nobody had an idea and it was basically a good opportunity for an argument to occur between the members of your family, bar Alfred of course. (Alfred would never partake in such an opportunity.)

Bruce was hunched over his work bench, looking tired and frustrated. Alfred had prepared several cups of tea and strong coffee, most of which had remained untouched as Bruce tried to understand where the hand cuffs had gone wrong.

Dick had become very flustered, flitting around nervously, and wringing his hands like a worried mother. “Oh, my poor baby!” he cried, when you complained that your wrists were sore, throwing his arms around you. The hug was suffocating, but you were pretty sure he needed the comfort more than you did.

Tim escaped his bedroom and was sitting on the floor with one of the cups of coffee not meant for him, looking at the wall blankly. There was no further update for him, as he had not made any movement since sitting down.

Damian had left some time ago with Titus. As he was not allowed to pester Tim or you anymore, he’d declared that he was not going to waste his time on such a silly issue anymore and disappeared into the training room for practice.

And as for you. Well, you’re wrists were aching, your head hurt, and you were beginning to worry about how you were ever going to eat dinner if you couldn’t separate your hands enough to grab utensils. It was a very distressing thought, so you escaped upstairs just as Bruce yelled at Dick to sit down and for Tim to go to bed.

It was only when you went upstairs that you heard the loud music blasting from somewhere in the house. And judging by the fact that your brothers, Bruce and Alfred were downstairs, it could only mean one thing;

Jason was home.

You wandered into the workshop, an attachment for the garage that nobody seemed to ever go into except Jason. It housed all the power tools and handy man equipment that anyone could ever desire, despite the fact no one in the house ever used it. You weren’t allowed in there, usually due to your habit of touching things that were potentially dangerous. But Jason was a rebel, and he liked woodwork, and fixing things, so it became his designated zone in the house.

The music was louder in here, and Jason was banging his head along to a rock song currently playing.

“Hey Kid!” he called over the music when he saw you, adding a drum roll on the table for good measure.

“Why’s the music so loud?” You ask.

He walked to the stereo and turned it down slightly. “You losers were shouting in the cave when I got here and it was doing my head in. Anyway, what’s up?”

You hold your hands up so he can see the problem, and he observes with a frown.

“Didn’t know you were into that.” He comments casually, dodging a kick from you. “How’d you do that anyway?”

“I went and messed around with the stuff in the cave after I was told not to. Bruce can’t get them off.” You supply, and he scoffs

“Of course, B can’t.” He mutters. With a single movement; he grabs you by the waist and lifts you onto his work bench. He picks up your hands and examines the cuffs closely, turning them this way and that to get a good look. Humming along to the song, he searches through a few drill bits in the draw and finds one that looks like it’d fit into the lock on the cuffs. Without a word he sets to work, occasionally moving, or covering your hand his own as to not hurt them whilst he drills. Five minutes and one set of unescapable cuffs later, you’re free, and Jason’s packing away his drill and tools.

You’re rubbing your wrists gratefully when a thought occurs to you. “How’d you know it’d work?”

Jason grins. “He locked one of my hands to a radiator with the old ones a little while back. I drilled into that one and it worked, figured it’d work for this one since he still doesn’t know how I did it.”

You both wander down the hall, and your family is still fighting by the sounds coming from downstairs.

You both pause at the exposed stairwell that usually is hidden from sight.

“What do you say that we leave them there to fight for a bit and go get ice-cream?” Jason proposes quietly from behind you.

“I’d say that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette’s Villainy Lessons with her Uncles, Victor Zsasz, Jerimah, Riddler and Ed

Reminder, the rouges know her as Jillian Strange and are aware her cover in Gotham is Jillian Smith in public.

Most people would think a hitman and casual murder would make a horrible, horribly godfather. At least for morals. 

Well, her father is Strange so he’s not most people. Her Maman had to have dated him or something so she probably isn’t normal either, Marinette would think as lessons began.

“Okay, now today we’re going to review how to take down  someone bigger than you. What do you do first?”

Marinette hummed. “Check what’s on them and around them. Look for weapons and weak points while keeping distance.”

Uncle Victor smiled. “Good job Jill!”

Marinette beamed at that. “Second step?”

“disarm them.”

“Good, now next thing?”

“Exploit wekanesses. Use weapons if possible.”

“In the kitchen, no knives open. but there’s a spork.”

“Spork?”

“Don’t question it. what do you do?”

“aim for the eye?”

“Good! popped out eyes are very distracting. Now, after that’s done, what do we do?”

“Run away and call the family.”

“And why not the police?”

“Batman will know. And he and the police will take me away.”

“And do we want that?”

“NEVER!”

“That’s my Jilly bean. Now, self defense in theory you have down. and you kept up with punch practice, right?”

“And kicks and the bendy-training.”

“Flexibility. You already have strength down, so we can focus on lean muscle like gymnasts and acrobats for you.”

“If i become an acrobat does that mean i have to be nice to batman?”

Zsasz shook his head. “Just because bat is in it, doesn’t make it his.”

“He calls his boomerangs batarangs. I’m not taking chances.”

--

“Now, its all in the wrist, Bend it back, like that, when the target is close.” Jerome hovered over Marinette, watching her form closely.

“I need to do this to take out the bad guys right?”

“If a bat goes after you when you’re with one of us, hit them hard.” He wouldn’t have Strange and whoever Jill’s Maman was after any of them for losing her mid-lesson to a zealous Batman or Robin. 

“Knees are better targets right?”

“Since you’re not allowed to kill, yes.” Jerome still didn’t get that rule, but whatever. His niece followed her Maman’s rules most of the time, and was adamant about that one. it made lessons more difficult, but they worked around it.

“Maman said something about it staining the soul,” the girl threw the knife, just missing the target.

“Eh, mine’s fine.” He didn’t regret any of it, something about him being incapable of remorse. 

“They were bad people right?”

“Of course, i don’t hurt actually good people--they make it so things don’t happen in the first place.” After all, letting things happen was bad too, and worse as far as Jerome was concerned. He still remembered everything his family did and how no one said anything about what was done to him. Silence and acceptance was far worse than doing in his books.

“Like Uncle Victor?” Marinette was still fuzzy on good and bad and the in betweens. her Father said its because binaries can’t contain her understanding so she needs another frame of reference or something.

“Like Uncle Victor,” Jerome agreed, watching Marinette closely as she sunk the next knife into the cereal box. “Now, i think we’ve done enough with weapons for now. Want to practice trapeze tricks?”

“But Aunt Harley isn’t here.”

“Safety nets are there for a reason.”

Marinette considered it for one second. Then bolted up the post and threw each trapeze into one another., making them swing for a challenge “I can’t fly for a few hours!”

“Good! Sooner you get used to falling, the less scary it is, trust me!”

“Okay!” Marinette grinned as she got a running start. She loved lessons like this.

--

Uncle Riddler decided today was a software programming day. And a cyber-crime day, she guessed. But those are always boring--she practices these with Hero Stalker and sometimes Max in Paris anyways.

“See, this is how you beat their firewalls, a simple virus that looks like a normal email. when it’s opened then we have access to the servers and get the information we want, okay?” Riddler was trying to be more clear with her today. Ed was probably trying to keep control.

“How long does it take?”

“Varies.”

“Can we get icecream while we wait?”

Riddler almost sighed. almost.

“Why?”

“Why not? We can’t build anything without the base and Father said no more autopsies in the kitchen.”

“It wasn’t even a human, just a bird. but nooo, that’s traumatizing and damaging to your mind.”

“But it was cool!”

“I know, i know. Bodies are just bigger puzzles... Hm, what’s broken when spoken Jilly bean?”

“The ice cream machine at McDonalds. And Silence, but that one’s an easy answer... OH! hero’s name is a honophone with crazy!”

“Batman.”

“Yep! Did he find the new base yet?”

“Nah, Dent got him off the trail last with another robbing spree.”

“Oh, is it going to Mr. Freeze for his research or bills or the RKC?”

“I... am pretty sure Rose stole it so your group won this time.”

“Yes!” Marinette fist pumped. “I told them operation bouncy ball would work!”

“....I. is that why they were everywhere.”

Marinette grinned back. “Just like you all keep saying, misdirection is the key to getting what you want when dealing with someone with more.”

Riddler grinned, the one that spelled doom for everyone else. “Our little jilly bean is already pulling off jobs on her own! I’m so proud!”

there was shift on his face, his stance altered and he was more... Uncle Ed than Uncle Riddler. “Jill, we talked about this. You need to be at least thirteen before you start plotting on your own.”

“I had co-conspirators of age so i didn’t break that rule!”

Uncle Ed was in control now. “I curse the day Dent taught you about malicious compliance and loopholes.”

“No you don’t. You’re just mad i used it against Dent and you missed him  tripping on everything. Don’t worry, Ghoul had cameras and made a montage.”

 Uncle Ed’s lip twitched. “Really?”

“Ice cream and we watch.” Mairinette knew her horrible stealth uncle had to be good at something. business things.

“Oswald is a terrible influence on you.”

why wasn’t this working? Wait, this is Riddler... “Ice cream please?”

“... fine. but no sparkly sprinkles.”

“But those are the best kind!”

“Jillian Strange,” Uncle Ed warned. “We do not leave evidence at the scene of a crime. Your favorite sprinkles leave evidence everywhere. Do you want to answer to your father about spoiling dinner again?”

“.... No. But after?”

“I want to know who gave you a metabolism like this, but sure. No telling Strange.”

“Okay!” Marinette ran off to the kitchen, returning with a large bowl for herself--half the gallon Ed noted--and a more normal serving for himself. “Here! and this is the video,” Marinette pulled out her ipad and played a few minutes of Dent tripping over various bouncy balls swarming his base.

“You really are a baby mastermind,” Uncle Riddler cooed. “Remind me to set you up with Puzzles later.” 

“Huh?” Marinette looked up from her empty bowl. 

“Nothing,” Ed said, almost glaring. 

“Oh, are you two fighting again? I’ll clean up until its over. Then we can work on the reality augmentation glasses, right?” Marinette asked with her infamous kitten eyes.

“Of course, I think you’ll like the new coding patterns we’ve been working on..”

--

Hope you enjoyed a slice of Marinette Strange Dupain Cheng’s Gotham life. 

Bonus:

“Jill, why are we missing a gallon of ice cream?”

“Uncle Ed took it.”

“...Please tell me it wasn’t for another biology lesson.”

Marinette thought for a moment. She is bad at lying. but letting her Father come to his own conclusions isn’t lying, right?

“I have to remind him that biology lessons are for his base again then, wonderful. I will bleach the counters. Put on  something while i do.”

“Breaking News,Poison Ivy’s Plants are out of control again.”

“Rose ran away again!” Marinette yellled.

Strange took a deep breath. “Get her room ready, I’ll call Harley.”

Marinette nodded, wandering off to find Ghoul and Frost in the ‘extra room’ already. “So who’s turn is it to tell Aunt Ivy to stop?”

“You’re here the least.”

Marinette groaned. “Do i get a disguise?”

“Green wig, colored contacts, and some baggy clothes i can feel you trying to burn.” 

“If i had heat vision it wouldn’t be trying.”

a few minutes later, the boys worked on fixing up the room while Marinette walked through the plant infested section of Gotham. The vines moved away from her, cuasing the few semi-conscious to stare at her. 

“Aunt Ivy! She’s on her way to my place, ok!”

Poison Ivy dropped to Marinette’s level, appearing from a bunch of vines. “Why didn’t she tell me!”

“You do this but at home when she does.”

“She knows better!”

“She’s six. She really doesn’t. Did you feed the flowers human blood again?”

“They were already dead, and they weren’t even half decent poeple. just abusers and pedos this time.”

“Did you tell her or...”

“They’re my children, why do i need to tell my non-plant daughter what her sibblings are eating?”

“So she doesn’t think you’re murdering for fun.”

“Oh right, that..”

--

Marinette casually curbing the rogues while learning how to villian and applying skills in the opposite direction will be a trend in the au. And they support her 100% when she does this as that’s their girl, theirs!

they tolerate whoever she adds though. eventually. 

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Their first walks on the Wayne’s garden - Chapter 3: Tim Drake

A glimpse into Bruce's relationships with his kids, seen through the first time he took each of them on a walk through his garden.

Or: Bruce Wayne actually tries to communicate and care for his children. Because fuck canon.

Word count: 1648

Tim wasn’t much of a nature guy. Or an outside guy. Or even a sunshine guy, really. His pale skin could absorb enough D vitamin in five minutes next to the living room window or get nothing at all. He needed to be productive, and being outside wouldn’t help with that. What does help is the batcave, filled to the brim with the most modern tech in existence and all kinds of tools one could imagine or need to do absolutely anything, and no sunlight or fresh air. He spent most of his time there.

Bruce got increasingly worried about his behaviour. Tim had a brilliant mind and when he’d put it to work he always accomplished things Bruce hadn’t ever thought possible, noticing ways to improve perfectly functional equipments and turn them into perfect pieces of machinery, but he hand a tendency to forget that he also needed to be in a decent enough shape to use them. He went down to the cave once, finding Tim staring at the screen, hands shoved into his black hair and looking a little lost.

“Tim,” He called, climbing down the stairs “Is everything okay?”

“Sort of.” He ran a hand down his face and yawned “I’m stuck.” He stretched his arms back like a tired kitten “I want to see if I can convert the batmobile into an eletric car without losing horsepower, but, apparently, I can’t. Except that there must be a way, there’s something I’m missing, I’m sure.”

“How long have you been here for?” Bruce frowned.

“What time is it?” He asked, spinning his chair around to face the other.

“Four in the afternoon.”

“Then...” He thought for a second “Maybe six hours? I took a quick break to pick up lunch.” Bruce’s eyes met an empty bowl. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please tell me you didn’t have cereal for lunch.” Tim started at him in silence “Was it the sugary kind?” The teen nodded and the man sighed.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t ice cream.” Tim shrugged, turning his chair back to the screen “I mean, I would’ve, but Dick ate the last of it as his dinner. Go bother him about it.”

“I’ll ask Alfred to make you a sandwich.” Bruce walked towards the stairs.

“C’mon Bruce,” The teen complained “I’m fine.”

“I’m not asking you to eat it, I’m telling you to eat it.” The man left the cave, hearing Tim’s annoyed groans. He ignored the protests and walked towards the kitchen, calling for Alfred.

“I don’t know, sometimes I worry about him.” Bruce leaned back against the marble countertop “Am I underestimating him? Should I trust him? I mean, he’s not a regular teenager. Maybe I should just... let him be?”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, not looking up from the sandwich he was assembling “Teenagers should never be trusted to take care of their own health. I’d expect you to know that by now, sir.” Bruce breathed in again, but the butler cut him off “I believe, sir, that this is the best decision you’ve made regarding master Tim in a while.” The man raised an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment.

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

Bruce took the sandwich and left, finding Tim still in the same postion, most likely going over the same calculations again, trying to find a solution to the non-issue that was the batmobile’s gas consumption. He sighed.

“Tim,” He called from the top of the cave’s metal staircase “Come take a walk with me.”

The young man opened his mouth to protest, but met Bruce’s serious gaze and decided it wasn’t worth it. He got up and followed him outside, taking the food he was given gratefully, realizing he was hungrier than he noticed. They walked all the way to the garden, Tim biting his way through the sandwich quietly.

“Bruce,” He asked between bites “What are we doing?”

“Taking a break.” He answered, watching the pink carnations growing to his right side.

“Why?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

“Because we still have work to do.” Tim replied “People depend on us to do it.”

“Tim, you were trying to turn my car eletric for six hours straight. That’s not exactly our work.”

“Aren’t you ever afraid we might run out of gas during a mission? Besides, it’s greener.” Tim shrugged “Why shouldn’t I try to improve the thing we use? I can do it, and the better our stuff works, the more good we can do.”

“It’s not about that Tim.” Bruce glanced down at the paved walkway to kick a small rock away “I think it’s great that you are so dedicated to this. You’re a genius, and you can achieve whatever it is that you set your mind on. However, there’s no point in overworking yourself to such an extent as you do.” Tim kept quiet, finishing his sandwich “How many hours of sleep do you get every night?”

“Usually about four hours.” Bruce almost choked.

“You should be getting at least eight. Ideally nine or ten.” Tim rolled his eyes.

“You worry too much. I’m fine.”

“I think I haven’t been worring enough.” Bruce stopped suddenly “I haven’t been taking care of you like I should. I’m sorry.”

“Bruce, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m fine.” Tim insisted.

“No. You haven’t been eating properly, or sleeping properly, or even having any adequate amount of leisure time at all.” Bruce shook his head.

“Bruce. Don’t. I’m okay.” Tim repeated “Seriously. I like this life, I feel like I’m made for it, and I don’t mind feeling tired.”

“Tim, this life requires some sacrifices, but not nearly as many as you make.  And that’s not what this is about. How do you plan on taking care of Gotham if you won’t even take care of yourself?”

“I am taking care of myself!”

“You’re surviving. That’s not the same thing. Look,” Bruce argued “Here’s what you’re going to do; at least eight hours of sleep and one hour of break. Fifteen minutes in the sun, everyday, away from any screens, and we’ll have every meal together to make sure you’re eating appropriately for the amount of physical effort you’re putting in.”

“That’s too much Bruce.”

“Those are basics Tim.” He crossed his arms “I’m asking you to sleep, eat and sunbathe. I’m not cutting off your arm.”

“Yeah, but like, eight hours of sleep, plus one hour break and around two more hours if you include every meal of the day, that leaves me with only thirteen hours, and several of those will be occupied with school.” Tim complained.

“If you won’t comply, I’ll lock you out of the batcave.”

Tim stared at him, exasperated.

“Oh, c’mon!” He threw his hands up.

“Look, Tim, I know this might not make sense right now...” He set a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It really doesn’t.”

“But I spent most of my life neglecting my own needs and it took me a lot to recover from it. I’m still recovering from it. I won’t allow you to do that to yourself. I will not sit and watch as your mental and physical health deteriorates in front of my eyes.” Tim kept quiet “I’m not asking you to like it. You don’t have to like it. However, I am your legal guardian. And I’m asking you to respect and trust my decisions as Bruce as much as you respect and trust my decisions as Batman.”

“Fine.” He looked down, but seemed a little less grumpy “You can go now. I’ll spend my fifteen minutes in the sun.” Bruce nodded and walked back inside.

Tim paced around for a couple of minutes, trying to make sense of what he felt. He was angry, right? Angry for being treated like a child. But wasn’t he a child? He sat down next to the geraniums, legs stretched out in front of him, feeling the sun warming up his skin and the flower’s scent invading his nose. He threw his head back, sunshine finding it’s way to his pale neck, and tears gathered in his eyes.

That was the first time Bruce had scolded him. It was the first time anyone scolded him in a long, long time. Tim leaned back, laying down on the cemented floor. He felt... weirdly good. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate him and scream, and throw a fit over Bruce’s decision. But he couldn’t. He was annoyed, sure, yet he wasn’t angry, not really. The man’s decision made sense after all. And having the sun directly on his skin felt good. Really good.

The teen turned his head to the side, studying the velvety-looking pink and purplish flowers growing in bushes. Stretching his hand out, he felt one petal under his finger tips, warm tears flowing out of his eyes. His vision got blurry and he looked back up again. He was sobbing now, there was no point in holding it back anymore. He covered his face with his hands for a while. They smelled like bread so that didn’t last long.

Once he opened his eyes again, Dick was sitting by his side.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yes.” He sobbed. Tim sat up, and threw his arms around his brother’s neck. Dick held him tightly “I-I... I just... I...”

“Shh...” The older man whispered “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“I...” He breathed in “I think... Think I’m... I’m his son.” Tim was full-on ugly crying on his brother’s shoulder, but couldn’t gather any strenght to care. He was falling apart in front of someone and it felt good. For the first time since his early childhood, he allowed himself to be held. He never realized how desperatly he craved this “I think he wants me to be, Dick.”

“Of course he does Tim.” He reassured the kid “We’re family.”