#bruce is highly amused by the whole thing

[nerdpoe]

Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.

They all wake up in the haunted house.

Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.

No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.

Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.

In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.

The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.

So.

Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.

There's a note with a smiley face.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.

And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.

Then it disappears.

In it's place, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.

Batman isn't there.

Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.

"Never thought you'd fall for that~"

The door slams shut.

Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.

The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.

In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.

The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.

The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.

They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.

The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.

There's a note at his feet.

His lips quirk up against his will.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.

He knows it.

He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.

He wanted it to be a family outing.

But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.

Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!

"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."

The air itself seems to pause.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."

Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.

"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."

"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."

"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"

@simplestoryteller

[mariana-oconnor]

The Bruce Partington Plans pt 1

I feel like I get this one mixed up with The Naval Treaty…

I don't hold out much hope for the police in this story as last time the entirety of Scotland Yard seemed to be experiencing the same mass delusion.

Maybe this time they'll show a little more knowledge of basic human anatomy.

In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses. [...] the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window-panes...

Victorian London sounds like such a great place to live. Honestly, the chain-smoking in the earlier story was probably still better for your lungs than the 'fresh' air on the streets. Air should, as a rule, never be 'greasy'. Unless you are actively deep-fat frying something, in which case I guess it has to be, but that doesn't mean we should like it.

Meanwhile, Holmes:

Was it Holmes who was desperate for the outside world, or Watson? One must imagine a certain amount of authorial leeway on his behalf. I can imagine being stuck inside with Sherlock Holmes on his newest 24 hour a day obession with 'the music of the Middle Ages' - bearing in mind this man does not understand circadian rhythms - Watson must have wanted to risk breathing in the grease himself.

“The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow,” said he in the querulous voice of the sportsman whose game has failed him.

I'm sensing a theme to all of these beginnings.

"The thief or the murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces, and then evident only to his victim.”

I feel like his relentless coughing would give him away a bit. And his victim is as likely to have already keeled over from oxygen deprivation as be alive.

“Well, well! What next?” said he. “Brother Mycroft is coming round.”

Mycroft!

Actually... Mycroft, not a good idea. I doubt you have a particularly good lung capacity at this point. You spend most of your day sedentary in silence. Don't go outside Mycroft. Don't go outside!

"By the way, do you know what Mycroft is?”

So far he has been described as a train, a planet and a seal...

"You would also be right in a sense if you said that occasionally he is the British government.”

This is where that line is from. Ha. I knew it was around here somewhere. Also, even more reason for him not to venture forth into the greasy air.

"All other men are specialists, but his specialism is omniscience."

Mycroft is god, confirmed.

This does feel very much like a 'don't put all your eggs in one basket' kind of thing. Also the man has the most set routine in the whole of London. That's terrible security. The fact he hasn't been kidnapped and tortured is quite frankly madness to me.

"But Jupiter is descending to-day."

I can't decide if these are just our usual frilly narrative or if Sherlock is indeed making fat jokes this whole time. Selecting Jupiter specifically seems like a fat joke.

"The case was featureless as I remember it. The young man had apparently fallen out of the train and killed himself."

These days you would have to work pretty damn hard to fall off a train on the Tube. I know it was different back then, but imagining him trying to shimmy through the gap in one of those tube train windows is highly amusing to me. Although the purpose is not amusing, so maybe not.

“He left Woolwich suddenly on Monday night. Was last seen by his fiancee, Miss Violet Westbury..."

Another Violet to add to our ever growing collection. I've found some lists of the most popular baby names in 1870 and 1880 and apparently Violet was #100 in 1870 and #68 in 1880, then #43 in 1890, (this story is set in 1895, assuming that she's going to be somewhere around 20-25, so it is a top 100 name for the period and would have been even more common among women of that age at the time he was writing. It's still quite a high number of Violets to be knocking around. I guess ACD liked the name. It doesn't appear to be a family name, looking at his family tree I can't see a single Violet.

This is unimportant, we've just had three of them now.

"The body could only have come on the line in that way. Had it been carried down from any neighbouring street, it must have passed the station barriers, where a collector is always standing. This point seems absolutely certain.”

Were there no access tunnels in those days? I feel like I always see access tunnels to underground lines in films and TV shows. And it makes sense to have shortcuts to parts of the line that are more remote. But I don't know if they actually exist. I guess I just assumed that there would be midway access points for maintenance. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the maintenance people have to walk along the long dark tunnel to wherever they need to get to... that does see dumb, though. You'd think there would at least be something near the points. Whatever, I am probably thinking about this too much.

“The trains which traverse the lines of rail beside which the body was found are those which run from west to east, some being purely Metropolitan, and some from Willesden and outlying junctions."

Willesden Junction is now on the Bakerloo line, btw, which is one of the lines Baker Street is on. Just saying. Although the Bakerloo line wouldn't open until 1905. At this point I think it was on an overground line? idk. The Metropolitan Line was definitely open at this time, though, and Baker Street is on that one, too. Baker Street is on a lot of lines.

"...at what point he entered the train it is impossible to state.” “His ticket, of course, would show that.” “There was no ticket in his pockets.” “No ticket! Dear me, Watson, this is really very singular."

The surprise is probably due to something else entirely, but the idea that Holmes is shocked by the idea of a fare jumper amuses me.

"According to my experience it is not possible to reach the platform of a Metropolitan train without exhibiting one's ticket."

Willing to bet that was not true at all. I bet people managed it. But for the sake of the story, let us say it would be impossible for him to get on a train without a ticket. These days, of course, dropping your ticket would be a bad idea because you have to use it to get out again at the other end (if you don't just tap in and out) But then he was thrown out of a moving train, apparently, it makes sense he might lose a ticket in those circumstances. Particularly if he was holding it rather than having it in a pocket.

"He had also a check-book on the Woolwich branch of the Capital and Counties Bank. Through this his identity was established."

Once more the tried and true method of identifying someone through the name written on something in their pocket. With a cheque book I guess it's more likely that it's actually him. But there's another version of this where he's a conman who avoids paying ticket fares and has stolen someone's cheque book.

A moment later the tall and portly form of Mycroft Holmes was ushered into the room. Heavily built and massive, there was a suggestion of uncouth physical inertia in the figure, but above this unwieldy frame there was perched a head so masterful in its brow, so alert in its steel-gray, deep-set eyes, so firm in its lips, and so subtle in its play of expression, that after the first glance one forgot the gross body and remembered only the dominant mind.

Oh hai Mycroft!

Just in case you have forgotten since last time Watson described Mycroft. Or since all those comments of Sherlock's earlier, Mycroft is fat. Did you know that he's fat? But you'll immediately forget after a moment, except for how Watson will never let you forget.

At his heels came our old friend Lestrade, of Scotland Yard—thin and austere. The gravity of both their faces foretold some weighty quest.

Oh hai Lestrade.

Love you two working together. Beautiful moment. Perfect. No notes. It's the team-up I've been waiting for.

Impressed that you both seem to be breathing properly as well.

“Surely you have heard of it? I thought everyone had heard of it.” [...] "It has been the most jealously guarded of all government secrets."

I feel like maybe they haven't heard of it because it's a jealously guarded government secret, Mycroft. Just an idea. If everyone has heard of it, it's a bloody terrible secret.

"The plans [...] are kept in an elaborate safe in a confidential office adjoining the arsenal, with burglar-proof doors and windows."

What exactly constitutes a 'burglar-proof' door or window? That sounds more like a challenge than a fact. Genuinely, don't think there is such a thing, particularly at Victorian technology levels.

Also, we know from previous stories that all anyone needs to do is wait for some clerk to take them out to make a copy, then wait a little longer for them to need a coffee break and the plans will no doubt be left unattended on a desk somewhere for you to walk in and grab.

Who wants to bet that Cadogan West was just a bit of an idiot, really? That seems to be the standard level of junior clerks in the civil service in this series.

"If you have a fancy to see your name in the next honours list—”

I find it odd that Mycroft would even suggest this when, on the whole, he knows his little brother pretty well. There's no way Sherlock would want to be on the honours list.

"The actual official guardian of the papers is the famous government expert, Sir James Walter, whose decorations and sub-titles fill two lines of a book of reference. He has grown gray in the service, is a gentleman, a favoured guest in the most exalted houses, and, above all, a man whose patriotism is beyond suspicion."

I automatically hate and suspect him.

But no vibes only facts.

“Yes; his brother, Colonel Valentine Walter, has testified to his departure from Woolwich, and Admiral Sinclair to his arrival in London; so Sir James is no longer a direct factor in the problem.”

Because we know from these stories that Colonels are the most upstanding of gentlemen.

“The senior clerk and draughtsman, Mr. Sidney Johnson. He is a man of forty, married, with five children. He is a silent, morose man, but he has, on the whole, an excellent record in the public service. He is unpopular with his colleagues, but a hard worker."

Now him, I like. 😄

No, seriously though, why do his colleagues dislike him? I feel like that is crucial information. Is it because he's a stickler for the rules, or is it because he's a creep? Or is it because he once ate someone else's lunch?

“Many circumstances could be imagined under which he would pass London Bridge. There was someone in the carriage, for example, with whom he was having an absorbing interview."

Talking to a stranger? On the Tube? No, sorry. Too unbelievable. I can accept rabbits being mistaken for humans, but this is too far.

I guess he doesn't specify that it's a stranger.

"He would naturally have made an appointment with the foreign agent and kept his evening clear. Instead of that he took two tickets for the theatre, escorted his fiancee halfway there, and then suddenly disappeared.”

Has no one in this room ever heard of spycraft? A trip to the theatre would be the perfect cover for a handover. You drop your program, someone else picks it up and hands it back to you with a few extra pages folded up inside it. Easy. Taking the fiancee makes it less suspicious. Sure, she might get caught up in things, but that's a risk you have to take. They then have the entire course of the play to sneak away and make copies/take photographs of the papers before returning them to you, perhaps in the pocket of your coat at the coat check, with a little bit of extra money tucked into your hat?

Also, it's a public place with witnesses, so the bad guy is less likely to just straight up kill you so they don't have to pay. Admittedly, if they don't pay you don't get the opportunity to directly threaten them... I don't know, I'm not a spy, but I'm sure the theatre would be a great handover spot.

“It seems to me perfectly clear,” said Lestrade. “I have no doubt at all as to what occurred. He took the papers to sell them. He saw the agent. They could not agree as to price. He started home again, but the agent went with him. In the train the agent murdered him, took the more essential papers, and threw his body from the carriage. That would account for everything, would it not?”

But why not take all the papers, Lestrade? Why bother taking the time to go through them to see which are the most important? Why leave any behind at all?

“The ticket would have shown which station was nearest the agent's house. Therefore he took it from the murdered man's pocket.”

And that would just be poor work on the foreign agent's part. Never do anything near where you live.

I was going to say 'if Mycroft could make it to Baker Street, why not just go to the scene of the crime himself?' but then I remembered that this is the London train system and therefore it is wholly inaccessible to anyone who can't or doesn't want to climb up and down fifty million steps (in 1895, especially, and still at least partially today). The sudden shock to Mycroft's system of that increase in activity, coupled with the fact he's already committed chemical warfare against his lungs by going out in the smog, would definitely shuffle him off the mortal coil. Far better if Sherlock goes, considering that apparently the entirety of Britain relies on Mycroft not dying.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Plot Twist (Ep. 1)

Summary: Life was full of plot twists. You start off with a dream of making a difference in the world, becoming an Avenger. You turn away within arm's reach of your lifelong dream, spurred by the disappointing truth you discovered and deciding to choose a different path. Fate brings you back unexpectedly when the Avengers take a special interest in a powered unsub the BAU is chasing.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, Criminal Minds

Pairings: Steve Rogers x BAU!Reader (primary), Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader (previous, secondary)

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: 18+ EVENTUAL SMUT. MATURE THEMES. slow burn, enemies to lovers, canon level violence, explicit descriptions of violence and murder, serial killers, strong language

A/N: I told myself I wasn't gonna post this yet until I finished the whole thing, but fuck it. Let me know what you think. Special thanks to @sagechanoafterdark and @gogolucky13 for talking me through when I got stuck on this one.

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Episode 1:

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It would be wonderful to think that the future is unknown and sort of surprising. - Alan Rickman

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

"Why does that last name sound familiar?"

Steve Rogers had both his hands on his hips and a deep furrow on his brow as he watched the jet land on the private tarmac in the Compound. Bucky, Sam, and Natasha stood beside him, relaxed but at the same time wary of their approaching visitors.

"At your age, Cap, I'd think every last name would be familiar," Tony snickered as he joined the group, typing rapidly on his phone.

"I thought you weren't going to be part of this mission, Tony," Steve frowned.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm just here to graciously welcome our guests to our humble home."

Natasha snorted, raising an eyebrow at the obviously fake innocent expression on the genius' face. "You're curious about the FBI Team coming."

"Haven't you worked with the FBI before?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on the small plane that was slowly getting settled.

"Not with the BAU," Tony shrugged. "I find it fascinating. It's a special unit that specializes in analyzing human behaviour to catch insane criminals. Aren't you curious?"

"I'm more curious about the lead agent," Bucky said as he scratched the stubble on his chin. "I've heard about SSA Y/L/N before. He's apparently one of the best in the history of the Bureau. His skills in combat raised the training requirements and I hear he's ruthless in the field."

"Also highly intelligent, calculating, and praised as having incredible people skills by local authorities they’ve worked with and the families they help," Tony added, a twinkle clearly visible in his eyes.

"You're practically salivating, Tony," Nat chuckled. "You wanna try to recruit him, don't you?"

"I already sent him the offer," Tony smirked.

"We didn't discuss this, Tony," Steve scowled at him, his arms bulging as he crossed them tightly across his broad chest. "We haven't even met the guy."

"They also say he has a temper," Bucky added, slight amusement in his voice.

"We manage fine with Bruce," Tony shrugged. He straightened up as he saw the passengers start to disembark. "Heads up."

One by one the BAU Team disembarked and Earth’s Mightiest watched them carefully with great curiosity. The four passengers had begun their scrutiny of the other team the moment the plane touched down through what they could see out the small windows.

The first one out the plane was Derek Morgan, jogging down the steps with his usual confident swagger. Tony’s eyebrows shot up, clearly pleased with Derek who looked every bit as impressive as he expected. The rumors were clearly founded on truth and Tony was glad he made the offer.

The next one off was Penelope Garcia, bouncing down the steps in an explosion of patterns, color, and what Nat noted were feathers in her hair. She clutched Derek’s outstretched hand as she made the last steps, smiling brightly up at him. The FBI apparently had more personality than they thought.

Next off was Dr. Spencer Reid, squinting at the bright sun and huffing as the wind blew around his already unruly curls. Bucky noted how deceivingly lanky he was with his height and lean build, but he knew that there was muscle beneath the professorial look he had going on. Sam clocked the way his eyes were darting around, carefully taking stock of everything around him.

Last one off was who captured Steve’s attention the most. Professional and looking every bit like a seasoned agent, you moved with an unnatural grace down the steps. He noticed how the rest of the team looked to you and waited, only moving to walk alongside you in a loose formation after you nodded in confirmation. Tony was wrong. They were all wrong.

You were the lead agent.

It became more apparent the closer you got, the confidence in your steps and your steely gaze never wavering. You looked like an alpha among alphas and Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Your chin was lifted slightly and your expression was carefully kept blank, but the fire in your eyes was unmistakable. He didn’t just find you attractive, that was too tame of a word. You were arresting, the type of beauty that warranted a second look and for one to linger.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath as his whole body suddenly froze at a realization.

Bucky threw a confused look his way, alerted at his unusual use of expletives. “What’s up, pal?”

“I do know her.”

“How?” Sam frowned.

“I may have attempted to date her.”

“What do you mean attempted?” Nat asked, frowning because she has also been attempting to set him up on dates for years now.

“We kissed and were supposed to go out for coffee. We never did,” he gulped, his throat getting tighter from the nervousness he felt.

“That’s not so bad, pal,” Bucky said, trying to comfort his friend.

“That was right before I failed her on her final SHIELD agent assessment.”

“You did what?” Tony shrieked. He threw his hands in the air in tired resignation. He couldn’t believe how proactive Steve was at screwing him over.

“I’m flattered you still remember me even after 7 years,” you said with a smirk as you and your team came to stand in front of them. Awkward introductions were made before your cheeky smile returned to Steve who was trying his best not to meet your eye. “Nice to see you again, Captain.”

You were clearly enjoying watching them squirm. It wasn’t just that you were a rejected SHIELD agent, but it also rubbed you the wrong way how they requested for this case to be handed over to them. That their reasoning was that the FBI couldn’t possibly handle a case like this. You didn’t like that.

You really didn’t like that.

It was fortunate though that BAU Section Chief Mateo Cruz had the same sentiments. The man had strong-armed his way into turning this into a joint task force and allowed you to take half the team with you. Your Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner’s parting words to you brought a cocky smirk to curl on your lips.

“Prove them wrong.”

“Uh, about that email I sent you - ”

“I have to respectfully decline, Mr. Stark.”

“Right. Of course. Awesome,” he said quickly as he began to back up out of the room. “Suites are ready for you. I hope you take full advantage of our amenities. I think you’ll particularly enjoy the several olympic sized pools and the interactive gun range. Enjoy your stay!”

You shook your head as the billionaire rushed out of the room. You turned to Natasha who looked to be the only stable person on their side at the moment. “Where can we set up?”

“Don’t you wanna get settled in first?”

“That can wait,” you said as you looked at each member of your team for confirmation. “We’re ready to deliver the profile.”

[yourmcu]

Birthday

Pairings: The Avengers x  reader

Summary:

It’s your birthday and the team gets creative on how to surprise you, putting their acting skills to the test.

Word count: 2,350

A/n: just a little something because,, well,, it’s my birthday *runs away* also it’s cheesy, hopefully it makes sense lmao

Warnings: uhhh brief mention of explosion? mostly fluff

The Avengers wanted to get creative for your birthday this year. For the few years they've known you they picked up on things about you. One, you paid no mind to your birthday at all and just considered it a normal day like the rest of the 365, Tony took note that you hated parties, at least the really big ones, something that involved only the team would be good.

Okay, you sound like a party pooper, but that isn't the case; it's not a crime to just... not want to have a grand celebration, right? And people singing the 'happy birthday' song to you too while you just sit there in silence. It's awkward, you once told Natasha. It’s also awkward and hard for you to receive presents even though that’s what birthdays are all about, you’re still getting used to it since you knew someone like Tony Stark.

Well, the team think you're an amazing friend and they all treat you like family. They're so glad they met someone like you.

You're immediately called to the conference room on that day. Only to find the team arguing and pointing fingers at one another.

You kinda just slot in, sitting on the chair you usually sit on whenever there's a meeting or mission briefing. Glancing around, you try and find out what they're fighting about.

Security. Suits. Brief mention of Ultron. Rhodey busying himself with phones, probably making a lot of calls. Natasha and Clint talking among themselves, only raising their voice whenever they're included in the conversation which mainly consisted of Tony and Steve arguing.

"Suit up, get the jet ready." Steve dismisses but before he could walk out himself you raise your hand.

"Hey, sorry, I just woke up," you say sheepishly but coolly at the same time. "What happened, is everyone supposed to go? Can I read the file?" Because if this is an Avengers-level threat that required everyone, you'd want to know all about it.

His sharp and expression softens slightly when he looks at you. "No file, I'm afraid. Some of the compound's security protocols have been compromised, someone hacked in." He proceeds to tell you how they particularly had interest in Bruce and Tony's lab so the other rooms were untouched.

Apparently, they took blueprints and materials, maybe a handful of Tony's suits.

But if you think about it, those two carelessly letting the security to their lab loose? Highly unlikely...

You push the thought to the back of your mind and nod when Steve tells you to get ready. Stark tech can be dangerous in the wrong hands, after all. Let alone the Iron Man suits.

Fortunately, those things have trackers. Leaving you to wonder again why those idiots don't even try and take them off so they won't tracked?

Sat on the floor of the jet while everyone was strangely quiet but once again you didn't pay any mind, you sharpen a few of your knives. Natasha sat on a stool near you, idly picking her nails. An hour into the flight you furrow your brows and look around.

"Are you guys okay?"

"Yes," Tony states quickly and a matter-of-factly. They all share glances before he continued. "It's the tension. Sorry. My fault."

"It's not your fault, Tony," Bruce starts.

"I'm sorry, to whom were those stolen suits again?" Steve speaks up as well and you could tell it's gonna be a full blown argument again.

"Now hold on just a second-" Tony faces the super soldier to counter.

You merely blink, not expecting a simple question to turn out like this. Clint just glances from the pilot's seat and Natasha almost cracks a smile by the look of your face. If only you knew it was all fake, all planned. But what does she know? You're a spy too, maybe you've figured out what they're up to and decided to play along.

Sad to say you're still oblivious. Maybe the fact that you only slept three hours last night is one case. You wanted nothing more than your bed right now.

Heck, not one of them wished you a happy birthday but you didn't notice at all.

Tuning out their bickering you sit down next to Natasha who's the only one not in the argument.

"I haven't seen Wanda all day," you say and she turns her head to face you. "Or Sam, or Bucky."

"Probably not back from their mission." Natasha answers promptly.

You frown at that. "Steve made this sound like an Avengers-level threat, and it is, shouldn't they be here?"

You don't wait for a response, opening up a globe-shaped hologram that shows where the jet, represented by a blinking dot. Your eyes slightly widen when you see the target location which is one of the places you've been dying to visit your whole life.

Maybe it's just a coincidence. You definitely didn't expect to visit it for the first time on a mission though.

Natasha clears her throat. "Hey, have you read the book I gave you?" She subtly closes the globe up when she catches your attention.

You shake your head bashfully. "You know I'm a slow reader. Give me two months then I'll come back to you." You laugh. Natasha smiles and tells you to take your time. "Have you read the book I gave you?"

"I loved it."

"I knew you would!" You say excitedly and the next few moments you discuss about the specific book. She's just glad you didn't ask any further questions about the location.

--

All of you split up once you reach the base but Rhodey and Bruce stay in the jet as backup. The place reminded you so much of the old Avengers tower, only with darker themes. You're paired with Clint who you follow to the side of the building, with surprisingly no cautiousness. He just... ran in, entrance deserted of guards.

You all had a digital, tech checklist to see what was stolen including all the suit names. So far you've searched two drawers now and still no sign of any agent or guard. But it's weird since the others are clearly doing their part on their floors. Thuds, footsteps and sometimes banging sounds could be heard all around.

“Finally," you mutter when you hear footsteps behind you, spinning around so suddenly to surprise your enemy and take him down with ease. You raise an eyebrow when they don't put up a fight at all.

Clint was in front of a computer when you peek in to one of the rooms but he waves you off. "I'll meet you on the next floor. This'll take a second."

"One suit on the roof!" you hear Steve grunt through your earpiece.

"Remember to remove the arc reactor, that'll shut them down for sure." Bruce reminds through everyone's comms.

You hear Tony let out a noise. "Might have a problem with that, Banner, they're all reprogrammed."

Expecting the man with seven Ph. D's to worry, it only took him a minute to respond back. "It's your tech. I don't believe they could do that completely especially having them for only twelve hours."

"In that case," Tony sighs. "There should be a kill switch under one of their reactors."

"Which one?" Natasha grunts.

The deafening silence from Tony's line explains it.

You fight your way though the thugs which again, don't put up a fight. Sometimes you throw one punch and they're out cold, leading you to believe the intense training Bucky insisted you do worked. The only tough ones were the Iron Man suits themselves.

Ripping out the arc reactors wasn't easy. You had to use all you force. On the second one you encounter it got the upper hand and blasts you through a wall, the impact sending sharp pain to your head and back.

You hear metal thumping of a suit so you get back up and attempt to get your hands on the Iron Man in front of you.

"Hey, hey. Same team. Look," Tony grips on your wrists and lifts his mask up. "You alright?"

“Yeah," you pant, relaxing a bit. "Yeah. One of them got m-"

"We just discovered a bomb, northwest," Clint says. By ‘we’ he means him and Natasha. The redhead speaks right after. “Two and a half minutes. How many suits left, Friday?”

"Only one more suit is fully functional."

You get out of Tony's hold and sprint up the stairs. "I got it."

He smiles to himself. The plan is all coming  to place.

As soon as you enter the room you dodge a blast from the much bulkier Mark XVI. Of course they'd want to make the stealth suit more powerful. You launch yourself towards it, stomping on an arm while trying to dodge blasts from the the other one.

"Y/N! Fifty seconds!" Steve shouts in your earpiece.

You could've just jumped out, leaving the compromised suits here to be blown up but being under pressure made you panic and set your only goal to find the switch.

The suit could still set off a blast from the arc reactor so you couldn't really get your hands on it without losing a freaking arm.

"Get out of there!”

But you didn’t have enough time. So you just curl into a ball against the wall, accepting your fate.

A pop did go off. Loud, but you didn't feel yourself torn into pieces right after. You also heard a bunch of aye’s and oh’s. Redwing whirs by to your head to drop off a birthday hat.

"Happy Birthday!”

Your eyes fly open. Turns out the only thing inside Mark XVI was confetti. Natasha walks over to you to inspect and make sure you're alright.

"What the hell?" Your eyes widen at her, then at everyone. Sam and Bucky were now standing with them, smiling at you amused.

"I think she's in shock.”

“You think?”

Steve glares at Tony with a hint of amusement. "I told you it would be too much."

"Trust me she prefers something like this instead of a big party. Don't you, Y/N?"

"What do you mean?" You take off the hat and clutch it between your hands, appreciating Natasha rubbing your back as you try to collect yourself. "How is none of this real?"

"We basically faked a mission for you." Rhodey says.

You look around all the rubble. "This building, the people, suits-"

"Bought the place," Tony states. "Hired stuntmen, did a few tweaks on the suits...”

"God, why would you do that?" You bury your face in your hands, not knowing if you should be laughing or crying. "I punched those guys!"

"They'll be fine, they signed up for it."

You gently get up and brush off some confetti off your knees.

"But back at the compound... you guys were yelling at each other and during the whole thing you all sounded serious," you point out. "Was that all part of the act?"

Especially when that 'bomb' was about to go off. Steve's panicked voice made you scared for your life, only to know that it was all fake.

They all show signs of agreement, laughing.

"We'd make such great actors." Natasha smirks.

"Alright, the cake isn't going to blow itself." Clint walks up to you with said cake and you meet him halfway.

Everyone gathers around and before they could inhale to sing the stupid song, you cut them off. "You all know I hate to be sung at. Can we just get this over with?"

They all burst out laughing, you giggle in the process, blowing out your candle. You all group hug right after. The laughter makes you miss the sound of faint thunder outside.

"Look who's late." Bruce points out.

"Yes, I got here as soon as I can, my apologies." Thor smiles sheepishly.

Your ears perk up at the all too familiar voice of the god of thunder. Moving everyone of the way, you leap to hug him. "Thor!"

"Happy birthday, dearest Y/N." He grins and pats you on the head. "I'm afraid my - I mean - our gift, is with Loki at the moment."

"Enough with the formality, I’m just glad you’re here.”

Peter rings up Tony to tell him everything's set up at the huge building they rented for your low-key party. Just the Avengers. Peter, Vision and Wanda were in charge of setting things up over there, from decorations and food. Sam and Bucky also helped a bit before they arrived at the fake base.

So you all get into the jet again, this time you look at the windows in awe to see what the city's like. You also asked a bunch of questions on how they pulled something stupid but unique fake mission like that.

Once you've reached your destination, the place was simple yet big enough to fit everyone. Tony really took notes for this year. You didn't like anything too fancy or elegant, and you didn't like huge-ass parties with hundreds of people you've never met before.

Here you're with your family eating, drinking booze and playing games, generally having a good time.

You give the other five Avengers big hugs. Vision's never usually a hugger but for you he made an exception just for today. Everyone was surprised when he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

"Hugging has a lot of good benefits," Vision says when he lets you go. "Astounding, I know. It is recommended eight times a day, hopefully you've already gotten that much."

You giggle at his remark and Wanda rolls her eyes playfully. “Thank you, Vision.”

“Splendid, that means I don’t have to give you one.”

You turn around to see the god of mischief himself carefully hand you a wrapped box. Loki chuckles when you smile at him. “Happiest Birthday.”

“Loki.... you know you and Thor didn’t have to-”

“Thor? That one’s from me. I assure you.”

“Y/N!” You hear Tony call from the other side of the room. “It’s time for presents, little miss. Good lord this looks like Christmas morning.”

-

unfortunatley i am that extra to post a birthday fic woo hoo

[geekkatsblog]

Yup it's that time again! Headcannon time. Bruce edition

Where I completely ignore the comics I've read in favor of imagining stories where DC actually allows its characters to be happy.

____________________________________________

Before Bruce tried and failed to cut Tim off of coffee as seen in my (Videos the Batkids posted that went Viral headcannon) Clark first tried it on him.

The whole thing started on the watchtower when Bruce actually broke a yellow coffee mug over Hal's head just because he took the last of the coffee. Hal was clutching his head in pain meanwhile Clark looked on at his boyfriend in horror.

"Bruce you're Addicted to coffee."

"No I'm not I can stop anytime I want I just choose not to."

Clark looked highly amused by that answer for some reason.

"You literally just used the line of every addict in denial. I bet you couldn't last a day without a cup."

And because Bruce was a sucker to prove people wrong he accepted the challenge. With the prize being that Clark would finally get rid of that God awful tacky brown suit with the elbow patches he got from the 2nd hand thrift store down town.

He made it 2 days with little problems before it all went down hill. Bruce was working a particularly rough case and ended up running off of a 10 minute nap, and it was at that moment he realized exactly what he had given up.

The events were as followed:

The Batkids all temporarily started to move to Jason's apartment just to avoid Bruce's wrath. Breaking the coffee machine because, "If I can't have any no one can," was the last straw. Tim a fellow not coffee addict who could stop anytime he wanted, almost started world war 3 because of it.

He told off a cocky executive who really was getting on his nerves by talking down to everyone. He may or may not have outed the man's secret affair with the secretary downstairs along with the fact that his thick luscious hair was a toupee.

When Luthor proposed a project for their companies at a gala, Bruce told him to fuck off and use the money to buy himself a hair transplant, loudly enough for the reporters to hear and get it on tape. It made the front page and he was trending on Twitter for 2 days straight afterwards. The gossip sites were playing it for weeks after. Not to mention the whole thing became a meme.

He was spiraling out of control and he wasn't even halfway through the bet yet.

A week into the bet was when things got extreme. It was in the middle of the quarterly League meeting where all of the senior league members met up for an update. Clark had come straight from teaming up on a scoop with Lois and must have stopped for that ridiculous cheap tasting road side coffee, because Bruce could smell it from all the way on the opposite side of the table and before he knew it he had grabbed Clark by the Cape and shoved his tongue down the man's throat for a taste of the same coffee he had been making fun of for years. Needless to say the 25 plus heros in attendance were stunned, especially because no one besides the original 7 and a few of the members related directly to Bruce and Clark like Kara, Connor etc knew Batman and Superman were dating.

Clark thought it was hilarious and if he made sure to show up smelling like coffee all the time it wasn't anyone's business, (*cough Hal cough Barry*) The fun stopped however when Bruce clad in full Batman regalia in the watch tower kitchen, was very clearly flirting with an all too interested and smug Green Arrow, for his half finished coffee and silence. Clark no longer found Bruce's desperation entertaining and almost blasted the archer with his laser eyes, before literally dragging Bruce out of the room.

Luckily the bet ended that very night when Alfred discovered Bruce literally perched on top of the refrigerator about to munch on single coffee bean which must have escaped the container at some point before it was hidden.

The picture remains on the fridge to this day and no matter how many times Bruce tries to get rid of them a fresh picture always reappears, by the next day.

____________________________________________

Because Superbat is now my current Otp obsession.

Finally watched the new Justice League movie Zack Snyder's version, I was scared to watch it due to my disappointment in the first one, but I must say the movie was awesome. I especially love the changes in Flash's character. They really turned him from cute quirky filler character to the main character that saved the world. Loved the speed of force scene and the Injustice scene in the end gave me chills.

The only bad part was that the movie had several scenes for potential sequels, only for me to read that there would be none. Hope it changes. #restorethesnyderverse😭 plz.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VIII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,600+

Warning: Mention of sexual assault 

Previously on…

“Going along with this plan seems rather unlike you,” Tim finally pointed out to Bruce.

It was the two younger boys and Bruce sitting in the cave. 

“Without her help, we would have never been able to get the evidence we need to take down The Court of Owls,” Bruce sighed as he looked up at the screens.

“Yeah, but like you said before, we never use our own as bait,” Tim countered.

“Y/N knows what she’s doing.”

Tim and Damian shared a look.

“Are you certain things have not gone too personal, father?” Damian finally asked.

The personal question finally forced Bruce to tear his eyes away from the screens and look at his son.

His gaze shifted between Tim and Damian. From their looks alone, Bruce realized that his feelings towards Y/N were not as subtle and secret as he wanted.

But Bruce knew better than to answer Damian. 

The boy had never been invested in his father’s personal relationships before. Why did he have to start now? And with Y/N?

“What happens if things go south?” Tim challenged.

But Damian answered for his father. “You know he has a plan B and C, Drake. He always does, even if he doesn’t share it.”

Bruce was not about to have a conversation about his love and sex life with his two youngest sons. So, he thought of something to escape and he thought of it fast.

He stood up quickly and faced them. “Mandatory family dinner. Tonight.”

“What!?” Damian screamed in outrage.

“I don’t want to,” Tim whined like a baby, even though he was very much a young man standing at the ripe age of 19.

“Mandatory,” Bruce repeated solidly before leaving the cave.

Damian and Tim shared a look.

“This is your fault,” Tim accused.

“How is it my fault?”

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut about the sexual tension we’re all choking on in this damn mansion!”

“But you don’t disagree. You’ve noticed it as well.”

“I was a little late to the game, but yes,” Tim admitted.

“She’s not like the other ones,” Damian muttered so quietly that Tim almost missed it. 

“No, she’s not,” Tim confirmed. 

——————

Bruce was slightly surprised to find Y/N sitting at the outdoor pool, reading a book.

She wasn’t in a bathing suit – just shorts and a t-shirt.

Bruce walked over with his hands in the pocket of his slacks.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re starting to like it here.”

She looked up from her book with a smirk. “For the record, I still think we should ‘eat the rich.’”

Bruce smirked. “Right. Of course.”

Y/N eyed him. “Did you need something?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Of course he was coming to try and talk her out of the plan once again.

“Bruce, I’m not changing my mind.”

“Figured you would say that.”

Y/N could see his mind racing. It was obvious he hadn’t stopped thinking about everything that could wrong with. Bruce needed control. And even if he was going into an inevitably dangerous situation, he always had multiple plans to get out alive. Y/N’s involvement made it harder for him to do that. 

“Careful,” she warned him playfully, “It’s starting to look like you’re worried about me.”

“I am,” he retorted.

Her amusement vanished. “I didn’t think you worried. Or got scared.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you had realized by now that both of those things happen when you’re involved.”

She didn’t know how to respond that. She really didn’t.

“I also came out here to tell you we’re having a family dinner tonight.” Yes, Dick and Tim were basically living at the manor while they handled this specific case. But it was rare that the whole family ate together. All the boys would come back from patrol at different times. Alfred usually made something and put each of their meals in the oven or fridge for when they got back.

But Bruce made a habit of having mandatory family dinners. They weren’t frequent. And the boys often viewed them as some sort of punishment. But Bruce saw it as a way to remind them all that they were a family. A chaotic and a strange one, but they were still a family.

“It would be nice if you could join us,” Bruce added politely.  

Y/N smiled at how obvious it was that he was choosing his words carefully. “It was really hard for you to not me tell what to do, wasn’t it?”

He narrowed his gaze at her from being caught.

She never seemed to miss an opportunity to tease him. 

“Yes. I’ll join you.”

Bruce nodded, clearly pleased with her answer.

“Will you miss it?” Bruce surprised her by asking as he looked around at the exterior of the manor, looking almost lost in thought.

“It’s a home,” Y/N sighed. “And even with all the secrets and dark pasts, it’s still filled with happy memories, too. And a family.” 

Then she smirked. “Even if it’s a highly dysfunctional one,” she added teasingly.

“Not sure all the boys would agree with you on that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Y/N challenged.

———————

Y/N walked out of her bedroom right as Dick was dragging Damian down the hallway.

“Come on. It’s never as bad as you think it’s gonna be,” Dick tried to tell the boy.

“Why did Todd come? He never comes to family dinner. He doesn’t even see us as his family.”

Dick smirked. “You and I both know that’s not true, no matter how many times he tries to convince everyone – even himself.”

Then both of them noticed Y/N’s presence in the hallway.

“You look pretty,” Dick complimented.

Y/N looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Figured I could make a bit more of an effort.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian huffed before leaving the two of them behind.

Y/N and Dick both laughed lightly at his attitude.

“I’ve never told you how good you are with him,” she thought aloud.

“I don’t know about that…”

Y/N turned to him with an insistent look. “You are. Sometimes I think he listens to you more than Bruce. He looks up to you. I think it’s because…” her words die out.

“What? What you were going to say?”

Y/N still hesitated, but told him anyway. “I think it’s because you’re more available to him…emotionally, I mean.”

“Sometimes I feel like I have to talk to him the same way I do with Bruce. He’s a younger carbon copy of the guy. Just brattier.” Dick sighed. “Deep down, Damian has a good heart and he cares deeply about the people in his life. He’ll just never admit it.”

Y/N nodded.

It did sound like Bruce.

But Y/N never considered Dick would have a similar impact on Bruce that he also had with Damian. She wondered what Bruce would be like today if he had never taken in an orphaned Richard Grayson.

Sometimes Y/N believed Bruce would be completely devoid of any and all emotions if it hadn’t been for an adolescent Dick. His needs and wants as a child had prevented Bruce from turning completely into a callous vigilante with nothing tying him to his own humanity and life.

Y/N was about to continue her walk to the dining room, but Dick softly grabbed her arm.

“Hey, before we walking into the chaos…” Dick cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay after the other night.” He shifted his weight and looked at the ground. “If I was too forward or I misread something or–”

“Dick?” Y/N interrupted with a smug look.

His head shot up to look at her. “Yeah?”

She had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Then she moved into Dick’s space, closing the distance between their bodies and did not stop until they could feel each other’s body heat.

Y/N tipped her head as if she was about to kiss him.

But her lips stopped just a centimeter or two from his.

Dick’s eyes turned menacing once he realized she was messing with him.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered seductively, “we’re okay.”

Then she slipped away quickly and started walking away without him.

“That was cruel!” Dick called after her.

But her only response was her laugher from down the hall.

Dick shook his head, but couldn’t stop his smiling.

Maybe it was avoidance or a distraction from the reality of their relationship. But Y/N couldn’t deny that it was also fun.

—

Dinner was in the formal dining room of the manor. This was the first time Y/N had even stepped foot in the room. The fireplace was even lit. Even when Wayne Manor was hardly trying, it reminded Y/N how out of place she was.  “If I have to sit through this bullshit, you’re sitting next to me,” Jason said from behind Y/N, making her jump.

To her horror, Jason pulled out a seat at the head of the table. Two at each end and then two chairs in the middle on both sides.

“Oh, I don’t think–” Y/N stuttered out in panic.

“You’re the guest,” Jason cut her off and gently pushed in the chair when he finally got her to sit.

Damian was already sitting to the right, closer to the other head of the table– probably to be closer to his father.

Jason sat down to the left of Y/N. And when Dick finally caught up to her, he didn’t question Y/N sitting at the head and sat to the right of her.

“Perfect. You’re like our future step mom,” Jason declared.

Damian snickered, despite hating to laugh at Jason’s joke.

But Y/N looked horrified. She was about to jump up and take the remaining middle seat on the other side of Jason. But Tim’s timing was absolutely horrendous.

“Please switch spots with me,” Y/N leaned forward and hissed at Dick.

He smirked. “Absolutely not.”

When he saw her obvious panic, he leaned forward as well and whispered, “That’s payback for earlier.”

Y/N glared at him and huffed.

“Oh, I’m so glad I came,” Jason sighed.

Bruce walked into the room with his head held high. “Tim, no phones. You know better.”

Tim sighed in annoyance but slipped his phone into his back pocket.

Dick leaned to Y/N. “Bruce has a strict ‘no electronics’ rule for family dinners. Phones are forbidden.”

Y/N nodded, even though she would never be so rude as to bring a phone to dinner, especially when she was a guest and this was a literal “manor.”

Somehow Jason had pulled a bottle of red wine from nowhere. Or maybe it had been sitting on the table and Y/N had just missed it.

And Jason had already grabbed Y/N’s glass and gave her a heavy pour. “But drinking is highly encouraged,” he added with a crooked smile.

Y/N barely let him finish pouring before she grabbed the wine and chugged. 

When she put the glass back down, Bruce was watching her carefully. She at least had enough shame to sink lower in her chair and give him an apologetic look.

But Bruce was amused more than anything.

He’d never brought a woman to a family dinner like this. And though the situation was not that straightforward, it was still causing him a weird amount of anxiety.

“How are your lessons going, Damian?” Bruce broke the tension with the question.

Damian muttered off what sounded like rehearsed and generic statements about his personal studies.

“I didn’t even know he went to school,” Y/N muttered to Dick as Damian and Bruce talked.

“He doesn’t. He’s technically homeschooled,” Jason answered first. “Which is total bullshit seeing as all of us were forced to go to Gotham Academy with all the spoiled brats of the city.”

“As if it mattered, you died before you were forced to graduate from the stupid establishment,” Damian commented darkly.

Jason beamed and laughed lightly at the comment.

But Dick, Tim, and Y/N all froze and looked to Bruce.

They all knew it was a sensitive topic. 

Bruce was clearly trying his hardest not to scold them all night. So he just took in a deep, shaky breath.

“Why get your GED or drop out of high school when you can just get murdered?” Jason offered with enthusiasm.

“Jason,” Y/N warned lowly when she saw the pained look on Bruce’s face that he was trying so hard to hide.

Jason’s death still haunted Bruce and riddled him with guilt – despite the miracle of him being resurrected. Y/N probably knew that more than any of the boys. Maybe only Dick really shared that understanding.

“You’re right,” Jason agreed. “Tonight’s not about me. You’re the guest, Y/N. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got caught in her throat when she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

This was not how she imagined tonight going.

But Alfred – her savior – interrupted with the first course of soup and salad.

Everyone was momentarily distracted with the food.

Y/N hoped it stayed that way.

“Who taught you how to hack?” Damian piped up.

Y/N relaxed at that particular question. “No one. I taught myself.”

“Where’s your family?” Tim asked innocently.

Y/N flipped through all the possible lies she could tell, deciding to go with the one that would lead to the least amount of follow-up questions. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

“We’re estranged,” Y/N mumbled without looking up from her food.

“Parents are overrated,” Jason commented with a smirk.

Dick and Bruce glared at him.

However, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with Jason.

Little did she know that Jason could relate to her upbringing far more than anyone else at the table. Their childhood’s were parallel. Ones neither of them deserved. 

Tim instantly felt guilty for asking an uncomfortable question without realizing it.

“Y/N is not here to be interrogated,” Bruce warned the table.

“Well, why don’t you tell us about her, B?” Jason answered. “How exactly did you two meet again?”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. He knew what game this was. The more emotion and reaction he showed, the more it would encourage Jason to continue with such antics. “We worked on a case together a couple years ago,” was all Bruce supplied.

“More like she threatened you into working with her,” Dick mumbled as he tried to hide his smirk by licking his lips.

Y/N kicked him under the table.

“So, Y/N, have you always had a thing for older men?” Jason asked.

She gave him a death glare.

“Jason, come on.” Dick cautioned.

“I mean, you of all people should be curious, Dickie.”

Everyone went quiet.

Jason rolled his eyes and looked around the table. “Oh. Are we all pretending there’s not a weird love triangle going on?”

“I didn’t realize my sex life was up for discussion tonight,” Y/N mumbled.

But it wasn’t just sex was it?

“Why don’t we all go around the table and share!?” Jason suggested loudly. “Dick, you first. What’s your number?”

“Jason that is enough.” Bruce grunted.

But Y/N had it with Jason’s pot stirring and she wasn’t going to let Bruce fight her battles for her.

She snapped her head in Jason’s direction. “I hope you don’t have a sex tape laying around, because I will sell that shit to PornHub faster than you can jerk off,” she threatened.

The words slipped out of Y/N’s mouth so quickly that she had momentarily forgotten that a literal child was also sitting at the dinner table.

Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in shock. 

Jason threw his head back with laughter. This was exactly the chaos he was trying to start.

Her eyes whipped to Damian with horror as she blurted out, “I am so sorry!"

“Please, I know what fornication is,” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not so innocent. After all, I was conceived from my mother drugging my father and forcing coitus onto him.”

“I also slept with said mother,” Jason chimed in.

Tim made a disgusted gag noise.  

Dick rubbed his face in exhaustion. Y/N’s jaw dropped at this new information. 

But when she looked to Bruce, he wouldn’t meet her stare, only further proving it was all true.

This was no laughing matter. 

Yet the whole family seemed desensitized by the subject.  

Y/N was processing that Bruce had gone through such an assault – and by the mother of his only biological son, nonetheless. “Can Jonathan come over soon for a sleepover, father?” Damian suddenly asked.

The subject change was like whiplash on the entire table.

Y/N couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t just move past what she found out like that. 

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce answered.

Clearly he was grateful for his son’s short attention span and his inability to read the room and realize he’d said something entirely inappropriate for the situation. 

But Y/N could also see the subtle happiness in Bruce’s eyes from his son asking him such a question. And for that split second, this felt like a normal family.

“Who’s Jonathan?” Y/N asked Dick quietly.

She was trying to follow Bruce’s lead and move on. 

“Superman’s son,” Dick provided.

“And literally Damian’s only friend,” Jason added.

“I heard that!” Damian shouted.

“I meant you to!”

“Put that knife down, Damian.” Bruce warned. “What have I told you?”

Damian lowered his head in shame. “The knives at the dinner table are for eating, and are not to be used as weapons under any circumstance.”

The table suddenly erupted into various conversations. Tim started talking Wayne Enterprises business with Bruce. Damian and Jason were shooting insults at each other. Alfred brought in another course.

Dick and Y/N shared a moment.

She sighed, realizing that the worst of it was probably over now.

‘Sorry,’ Dick mouthed to her.

‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed back.

The dinner continue with filet mignon, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom bordelaise, and – thankfully – more wine. 

Maybe Jason had helped them all in a way by airing out all their dirty laundry immediately and getting it over with so they could move on.

But as Y/N looked around the table, listening to the boys and Bruce talk, she realized that maybe – just maybe – she didn’t want to leave. 

—

Alfred put all the boys to work cleaning the dishes after dinner.

But he refused to allow Y/N to help. Once a guest always a guest.

Alfred handed Y/N a fresh glass of wine and told her to wait in the drawing room and that he’d bring dessert within the hour.  

Y/N knew better than to argue with him and did as she was told.

There was a roaring fire in the room, pulling her to it.

“Please don’t take anything Jason said personally,” Bruce said from behind her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. “He loves to start drama. That’s for fucking sure.”

“He’s constantly trying to get back at me. You weren’t his target. I was. But I apologize that you were caught in the crossfire.”

She turned away from the fireplace to face him.

Her eyes were heartbroken and worried.

“You never told me about…” she hesitated, “about Damian’s mother. I-I had no idea.”

“I try not to speak of it. No matter what happened in the past, Talia is still Damian’s mother.”

“But she still–”

“I’m fine,” Bruce cut her off. “Really, Y/N. I came to terms with it long ago.”

He was irritated, but too preoccupied with comforting Y/N to face the dark truth of how Damian was conceived.

“Well, if you need to ta–”

“I know, Y/N. Thank you.”

Their moment was interrupted by the boys trampling in the drawing room.

Dick had Damian thrown over his shoulder as the boy screamed insults at both Tim and Jason. Clearly Dick was preventing a full-on brawl from errupting.

The bickering and teasing continued but wasn’t anywhere near as awkward or stressful as it was at dinner. Perhaps all the glasses of wine Y/N had were helping with that. She decided to simply sit back and watch the Wayne family.

Eventually it hit Damian’s bed time. Bruce insisted on tucking his son into bed. 

Jason took their leave as his cue to leave the manor. 

Tim went up to his own room. Except they all knew it wasn’t to sleep, but to get back to work and not stop until he was utterly exhausted. 

The drawing room turned relaxing as Dick and Y/N were the only two who remained. 

“You survived,” Dick pointed out with a chuckle.

“I did,” Y/N answered with a light laugh.

Dick let a moment pass before he asked,  “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents?”

She sighed, knowing Dick was going to bring this up at some point.

“Because I don’t tell anyone about them.”

“You told Bruce,” he countered.

Her brow furrowed. “And how do you know that?”

Dick at least looked guilty for answering, “He told me.”

She glared at him. “So is that what you two do now? You talk about me with each other? Swap notes?”

“Course not. But don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical getting mad about it?”

“Hypocritical?” She shot back.

“Yeah, hypocritical. You did a background check on every single member of this family. You know my entire past. You know every woman I’ve been connected to in my life. But the moment I know something about you, it’s not OK?”

“As if you wouldn’t offer that info freely if I asked…”

“That’s exactly my point, Y/N.” Dick sounded exasperated. “I’m trying to get to know you. I’m really trying. But now I know you’ve done it before. So I’m asking you to trust me enough to do it again.”

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N mumbled before walking out of the room.

Dick let out a groan of frustration and rubbed his face.

That definitely could’ve gone better.

But Y/N’s night wasn’t free of the Wayne men yet.

Just before reaching her bedroom door, Bruce crossed her path.

“Hey!” She snapped at him. “My past isn’t something for you to announce to whoever the fuck you want.”

“Y/N, that’s–”

“Save it,” Y/N snapped before he could get a word in. “Whatever broody and cryptic bullshit you’re about to spew…just…save it, k?”

And with that, Y/N slammed her bedroom door shut.

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

Part 9

A/N: I know a lot of people really hate the Talia/Bruce sexual assualt storyline. But that was the version of Damian’s conception that I was most familiar with. I didn’t want to make light of it, because we all know male victims of sexual assault are not taken seriously – and that’s fucked up. But I also didn’t want to linger on it too long since it’s such a disliked plot point

Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!! Pretty, pretty please. 😔

[wordsablaze]

All Trussed Up

day one, where dick disappears from comms and the others eventually find him tied up in a painfully unconventional way...

A/N: channelling my batfam love into fics this year,, whumptober prompts: barbed wire / bound

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The last thing they’d heard through their comms was Dick crying out in pain.

And it's highly uncommon for any of them to hear him sound pained so it was surprising enough to catch everyone’s attention. Unfortunately, they’d all been wrapping up their own situations and they’d lost communication with Dick before being able to ask him what was happening.

“Can’t this vehicle go any faster?” Damian asks, and nobody blames him for his cold tone because they know how close he is to Dick.

“We’re going as fast as we can,” Bruce replies.

Damian sighs. He knows they are, even the batmobile can’t entirely hide the effects of going at such high speeds so of course he can feel the wind racing past them, but it still doesn’t feel fast enough. Nothing will feel fast enough until they find Dick.

They’ve already been slow enough to react that Dick is in pain and they have no idea what’s happening to him. Not to mention that none of them had heeded his hesitation and accompanied him in the first place so it’s really partly their fault for ignoring his warnings. Though they’re definitely going to have to scold him for not being straightforward with them.

“I’m here. I’m going in,” Jason says through comms.

“No. Not alone, wait for us.” Bruce snaps. His voice is cold and fierce and it’s really just a testament to how concerned they all are that Jason actually sighs and agrees to wait. To be fair, he doesn’t have to wait long - it’s only another few minutes before Bruce and Damian are arriving too.

“Took your time,” Jason grumbles as soon as they’re within earshot.

Damian only nods, sharing his frustration. “And now we’re wasting time talking. We need to find Nightwing.”

Jason mutters something under his breath but Damian kindly pretends he’s oblivious to it and the two of them follow Bruce, who’d taken their brief bickering as an opportunity to head inside. They’re met with almost a dozen men immediately, Jason ducking and pulling out a gun as Bruce grabs Damian and ducks. They too join in the fight as soon as Bruce has spun them around and Damian has wriggled out of his grasp, all three vigilantes hardly breaking a sweat between them.

“Overconfident fools,” Damian mutters darkly once they’re all unconscious.

Jason snorts in amusement before catching himself and clearing his throat. “They probably just weren’t expecting a whole cavalry.”

“Then they shouldn’t have been so unprepared,” Damian says, rolling his joints to make sure he’s actually as unscathed as he feels.

“They were prepared enough to catch Goldie off guard,” Jason argues, although he doesn’t look comfortable with the point he’s making.

“Less bickering, more searching,” Bruce interrupts. “We’ll split up, report if you find something before I catch up.”

And with that, he disappears through the side door on the left of the building, leaving them with the one straight ahead. Damian shares a sideways look with Jason that neither of them will later admit to before they head through the door, not quite sprinting but close to it.

Damian sees him first.

He stops dead in his tracks, Jason crashing into him with an unnecessarily loud curse before his common sense catches up with his anger. At which point he curses again, but softly this time. “Nightwing?” he asks, stepping forwards hesitantly.

Damian swallows whatever emotion it is causing the lump in his throat at the sight of Dick sat slumped against a pipe of some sort, his legs folded up in front of him and his forehead resting on his knees. He shakes his head to rid himself of the fear that automatically fills him whenever he sees Dick so still and unlike himself before rushing forwards, kneeling next to his brother.

Dick flinches at the sound of their arrival, lifting his head. They can’t see his eyes because of the domino mask - which is thankfully intact and leaves them one less problem - but both Damian and Jason gasp at the sight of what they’d used to gag him; the grey material pulled between his teeth and around the back of his head had looked normal from a distance but even in the low light, they can now see that it’s not fabric, it’s wire.

Barbed wire.

Damian is so outraged that he forgets what he’s meant to be doing. It’s Jason who shoves him out of the way and reaches behind Dick’s head to undo the knot, wincing when his efforts cause the barbs to dig into Dick’s skin and make him stiffen, his eyebrows scrunching up in pain.

“I’m going to burn their entire operation down,” Damian vows as he shifts his attention to Dick’s ankles, which are similarly bound with the same barbed wire.

He tries his best to be gentle but it’s inevitable that the wire ends up digging into Dick’s suit as he unravels it, both of them wincing each time it does.  In fact, he’s trying so hard to be slow and careful that he’s made almost no progress before Jason gets the wire out of his mouth. Dick cries out before he can stop it, spitting blood that seems to have collected from where a barb had dug into the inside of his cheek.

“Nightwing?” Damian asks carefully.

Dick breathes heavily for a moment before looking up again, offering Damian a small smile. “Hey, Lil- Robin. You alright?”

Jason snorts. “We’re meant to be the ones asking that.”

“Sorry,” Dick mumbles sheepishly, leaning his head back against the pipe behind him. “Where’s B?”

“Right here,” Bruce says from behind them, kneeling beside them all with pliers in his hand; Damian mentally kicks himself for not thinking of looking for something to cut the wire instead of trying to simply undo it.

He doesn’t voice that, though, he’s too busy looking at the small scratches along Dick’s face, the way he winces and bites his lip to stifle a groan when Bruce frees his arms and then his legs, the blood that seems to be welling all over his skin all because some cruel fools had decided they were better than using rope like everyone else.

“Report?” Bruce asks once Dick has pulled his arms in front of himself, rubbing his wrists where his suit has torn through.

Dick shrugs. “Not much more than the obvious. Possibly some bruised ribs?”

“Still, no more galas until your face has healed back to its stupid perfection,” Jason says with a smirk, the relief clear in his voice anyway.

“Guess you’ll have to go in my place until then,” Dick replies, laughing when Jason frowns and folds his arms like a toddler.

Damian can’t bring himself to say anything - he's not sure he knows how to verbalise what he's feeling - but as they all get to their feet, he silently slips his hand into Dick’s, squeezing gently. Dick smiles down at him in return and keeps him close as they head out so he figures the sentiment is conveyed anyway, and allows himself to finally stop worrying and smile back.

-

short and sweet because i'm aiming to complete every day and i simply don't have time for contexts ^.^

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thanks for reading !! masterlist | dc sideblog: @batfamvibes 

[consumeconstantly]

A Discowing at the Wayne Gala

Summary: Getting Jason to go to the Wayne Gala each year was more difficult than putting the Joker away in Arkham; he insisted the part was full of pretentious, rich social climbers who were horribly boring. As it turned out, all he really needed to persuade him was an upset, drunk girl rambling about how much she was going to deck her highschool enemies there to convince himself that he’d be in for a great show. (AKA the extremely chaotic and nonsensical salt/crack fic)

____________________________________________________

“I, Mar--” she hiccupped, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng solemnly swear to rip Lila a new one with Discowing’s godawful costume.”

“You say it girl!” called some random person from across the bar. 

“I will--” another hiccup “--use Batman’s Batmobile to run over Kim. And slam Red Hood’s ugly ass helmet onto Adrien’s stupid face.”

“Better yet,” Marinette pounded the table, “I will use their stupid utility belts to dismantle Gabriel’s empire. Somebody give me a yeah!”

“Yeah!”

All in all, the sight wasn’t that atypical for a bar in Gotham, if it weren’t for the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was barely five feet, wore pigtails, and knocked five men on their asses when they tried to approach her. 

“Take that, Hawkass,” she hissed. “Think you can pull a fast one on me when I’m drunk, do you? Well I’ve got news for you!”

Her words slurred together, and she leaned on the bar for support. “When I get my way, you’re going to be tied up into a pretzel and dumped into a volcano, then the tundra and then we’ll see how you like your stupid little jewlery touched.”

“Dupain-Cheng,” her blonde companion hissed. “Get yourself together. We don’t need another one of your breakdowns now. You know we’re going to be busy tomorrow night, and I don’t want to deal with you completely hung over all throughout the gala.��

“Aww,” Marinette squished her cheek onto Chloe’s “You know you love me.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit. If you want to make good on your plans, you need to be in tip top shape.”

“Ughhhh, why are they even invited to the stupid gala? It’s not even like they’re rich! Oh wait, I guess they are…” Marinette pressed her face to the bar, which was undoubtedly dirty. She reveled in it’s coolness, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And why do you have to be right? I guess I have to stop drinking if I want to make any of my plans work.”

“Your plans will work, hungover or not. It’s just a question of how much you’ll be able to enjoy them. I don’t want you complaining for months after the fact that you don’t remember half of what happened.”

“I guess you’re right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm feeling a little too warm to ice them out.” Staggering, Marinette got to her feet. “Call an Uber?”

“It’s already here.”

#

“What made you change your mind?” Tim frowned at Jason, doubtful that he wasn’t going to cop out at the last second. He was sure that he was only putting on his suit as some sort of deliberate ploy to get out of the Gala. Truthfully, it wasn’t required that all of them attend the Gala, but it was one of the few events that brought together most of the Wayne family.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Let’s just say I’m expecting quite the show.”

#

Jason kept a hawkish gaze on the entrance, waiting for the appearance of one short, pigtailed girl, and a taller blonde. They arrived almost forty five minutes into the Gala, which was good timing; not late enough to be considered rude, but most people have already arrived and have made their rounds.

Marinette looked different out of the dim lighting of the bar, and even though she definitely looks like she’s nursing a light hangover, she still managed to look stunning. With a matte-black floor length dress that attracted all light in the vicinity towards it, it’s hard not to look her way; Tim, for one, stared at the outfits that Marinette and her companion are wearing with stars in his eyes. Any moment now, he’s going to approach them. Or he would if he weren’t on Jason-sitting duty.

“I’ll play nice,” Jason promised.

“You? Nice?” Tim sounded incredulous, and it’s not like he can fault him. Whenever Jason did successfully get roped into coming to the Gala, it’s a sure thing that he gets at least one fist fight started, if not an everyone for themselves sort of situation. 

“They’re the reason I decided to come. It’s not me you have to be worried about.”

Tim groaned. “Really? They’re trouble makers? But they’re wearing MDC!”

Jason chuckled, slipping a hand into his pants pocket. Tim was weirdly obsessed with the highly secretive French designer. Nobody ever saw them in person. “Wearing your fashion icon doesn’t mean they can’t kick ass.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, looking at the two girls calculatively. “That’s right. If anything, they’re more likely to kick ass, because that’s the kind of confidence that MDC inspires in their designs. Well, if you’re not going to fight them, I’m going to introduce myself.”

“And I can’t leave my little brother alone.” Jason said, watching the blonde girl point in the direction of, if he wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel Agreste’s son and his plus one.

Who knew that doing a preliminary reading of the guests would be so informative? He could only guess what kind of beef Marinette had with Agreste Jr.--Bruce had enough problems with Gabriel; even though Wayne Enterprises only dabbled in fashion, Gabriel was a ruthless man when it came to his competitors, and tried to edge them out of the market multiple times. Foolish on his part, not taking into consideration that both Bruce and Tim were very, very stubborn people who only get more difficult to face when dealing with a challenge.

Wayne Enterprise might primarily be considered with R&D and technology companies, but underestimating the amount of influence Tim could gather when someone pissed him off was just a bad idea.

“Hi, I’m Tim--”

“--and it’s lovely to meet you, but we’re on a mission right now,” finished the blonde girl, who Jason was now 98% sure is Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’ mayor and Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois. “Dupain-Cheng, it’s your time to shine.”

“God,” Marinette muttered underneath her breath, ducking her head. “I can’t believe you’re holding me to what I said while drunk last night.”

“It’s not just what you said drunk last night, it’s the most effective way of dealing with that liar. She’ll be so embarrassed she’ll hide away forever. Maybe get some plastic surgery and change her name. Daddy will make sure she can never step foot in Paris again.” 

“Chloe,” Marinette groaned. “We all know how that panned out last time. Do you want a repeat performance?”

“By that time Hawkmoth will already be taken down. No need to worry about evil butterflies.”

“Evil butterflies?” Tim frowned. 

“We can fill you in later, Marinette has a car to steal.”

“Chloe!” 

“Oh stuff it, Dupain-Cheng, you’re no goody two shoes, even though you pretend to be one.”

Marinette whispers into Chloe’s ear, eyeing Jason and Tim. “Do you have to discuss that with other people around?”

“Well,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You boys aren’t going to rat us out, are you? They’re part of the infamous Wayne family. They’ll definitely be in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know they already reached out-- I can’t risk--” Marinette kept cutting herself off. “Fine, but if you-know-what falls through, I’m putting it all on you.”

“Like they’re going to pass you up just because of what’s going to go down at this gala. If anything, they’ll be glad to know that you’re as vicious as you are creative,” Chloe checked her nails and touched her hair, making sure it was in place.

“Sorry, what? I’m a little bit lost.”

“Keep up, Drake. I’m beginning to doubt your title as child-genius.You have the unique opportunity to watch history in the making.”

#

“Wait,” Tim’s jaw almost dropped at the display in front of him. “How did you even--”

“Trade secret. Marinette doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But that’s the Batmobile.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jason laughed. He stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile, Marinette stole the whole thing. What a sight.

#

Here’s how the rest of the night went: Chloe plied Marinette with copious amounts of water, trying to get rid of her headache. Marinette hopped into the driver’s seat of the Batmobile (to which Chloe cackled, “And she doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet,” and Tim paled to the shade of freshly fired ceramic plate.) They ran over Kim, who, somehow managed to get into the event as a server of sorts, at which point Tim swore that the background checks would have to be upped again. Marinette landed the Batmobile in the middle of the gala, barely managing to avoid several innocents who were in her path. She reached into the convenient storage compartment that Jason was previously unaware of and pulled out the Discowing outfit and his helmet-- seriously, how did she get those?-- and slammed the car door.

Security, of course, was waiting for them. How couldn’t they, with that big of a disturbance? Half of the guests were up in a tizzy-- mostly the ones who were experiencing their first Wayne Gala-- and the other half were looking on, amused. Tim waved the guards off as Marinette made her way to Lila and Adrien, like a vengeful Valkyrie.

“You,” Marinette grimaced. “Chloe, say the words, I forgot them.”

“We decided that words were useless, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Marinette said, before promptly slamming Red Hood’s helmet onto Adrien’s head hard enough for him to fall to the ground, likely concussed. Lila, who started screeching and running away made for a surprisingly difficult target. Well, difficult in the fact that she was using other people as shields, but once she came across a group of Experienced Wayne Gala Goers, she got pushed out of her comfort zone.

In eight inch heels and with her hair down, Marinette stalked towards her prey. 

“Lila Rossi,” Marinette intoned. “Your sins will be judged.”

“What are you going to do, Marinette? You have no power here. We’re in America now. No Ladybug to back you up. No public opinion in your favor.”

Marinette shuddered. “Ugh, your voice makes me want to vomit. In any case, I sentence you to life in Discowing’s costume.”

“You can’t make me wear anything!”

Famous last words, Lila.

#

“I’m still so confused. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe gave Tim a pat on the back. “You’ll get used to this kind of thing if you end up hanging around Marinette more often.”

“I think I’m in love,” said Jason.

“Get in the back of the line. The only thing Marinette has time for now are her plans to take down Hawkmoth.”

“I’m not opposed to joining you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Jason paused. “By the way, has she already stolen the utility belts to take down Gabriel or does she need more? I’ve got contacts.”

 "Fair warning, everything in Paris is at least twenty times crazier than what you’ve seen here today.” Chloe swiped through a few notifications on her phone. “And please, do you think someone who hotwired the Batmobile needs your help getting her hands on a couple utility belts? If she really put her mind to it, she could get the Lasso of Truth from Wonder Woman.”

“Yeah, Jason, I’m definitely not going to join you on that trip.” Tim turned his attention towards Marinette, who was currently passed out on the hotel couch. “Anyways, You two are wearing MDC, right? I have a meeting with them tomorrow!”

Chloe looked at the poor boy with pity. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

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i’m really churning out these jasonette prompts like butter (god butter is so freaking good you ever eat butter straight? i do. heart attack city & the next paula dean) even tho i only thought about joining in right when july was ending but here we are 

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: B - Bat Label

Summary: Unknowingly at nine years old, Dick started a tradition by labelling everything Bruce owns with the term bat at the beginning of it. Even now, years later, the family are still putting that labelling method to good use, even if it’s not used in the most serious of ways. 

Enjoy! :D

“What’s that?”

The question comes out of nowhere and Tim blinks before registering that he should give an answer. He glances at Jason who is standing next to him on his right.

“It’s a radar. I decided to do a little bit of experimenting, it’s supposed to specifically recognise-”

Jason waves his hand through the air in a slashing motion. “I really don’t care,” he deadpans, “I only asked what it was, not for a detailed explanation of it.”

Tim glares at him, feeling both annoyed and offended by the comment. Instead of retorting Tim goes back to his device and scans the area they are investigating. The two of them are out on patrol and have been sent to this location after reports of a truck full of highly toxic chemicals had recently passed through. Tim and Jason are to investigate and see if they can find any clues on this mysterious truck, Tim also thought this would be a good opportunity to try out his new gadget he built.

“Does it have a name?” Jason asks out of the blue again.

Tim frowns, considering Jason declares he’s not interested in his device he sure does seem curious about it.

“Uh no… why?”

“You should call it the batdar.”

Tim gapes at him, completely bewildered by the comment. His brother is wearing that stupid helmet so Tim couldn’t even get a clue to his facial expression on whether he’s being serious about this or not.

“What?” He gets out in the end, having no idea on what Jason is thinking.

“Yeah y’know, how everything we have has been named bat-something. Batcave, batmobile, batcomputer, batarangs, bat-signal. That could be the batdar.”

Tim just stares at Jason, following the man’s movements as he walks around the alley inspecting it. After several beats Tim shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. That’s so stupid.”

Jason turns to him. “How so? Everything else works, so this could too. It just doesn’t sound right because it’s new.”

Tim runs a hand over his face in exasperation, not for the first time he worries about Jason’s mental wellbeing and maturity. “You do realise that everything else was named by Dick when he was nine. Bruce only started using those names because Dick kept insisting on it.”

“I know. I don’t see why we can’t keep the tradition going. I mean, in the community we’re known at the batfamily, so it really isn’t too farfetched.”

Tim shakes his head again and decides to drop the subject, it’s probably best to not indulge Jason with this line of thinking, it’ll only encourage him more and it’s already bad enough as it is.

Turns out Jason isn’t giving up the idea of naming Tim’s gadgets any time soon. As soon as they arrive back at the cave he brings it up again, this time dragging Steph and Dick into the conversation who eagerly respond to it.

“I think it’s great!” Steph claims grinning widely, she swivels around in the computer chair with a smiling Dick standing next to her.

Tim rolls his eyes at her. “Of course you would, it’s stupid.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” She challenges him.

“You know exactly what I mean.” Tim retorts raising an eyebrow.

“I think we should label most things starting with ‘bat’. We have a reputation after all.” She says looking around, as if trying to find inspiration from around the cave.

“I mean there’s the batsuit.” Dick inputs from where he’s leaning against the computer desk.

“What about the batvault? Like where Bruce keeps all the hardcore stuff.”

“That could work.” Dick agrees easily. He reaches out and pokes at the chair Steph is sat in. “This could be the batchair.”

Steph hums. “Maybe, but wouldn’t the batchair be more suitable for Bruce’s chair at the Justice League HQ?”

“Good point.”

The two of them continue to throw words starting with bat at each other, each of them debating the suggestion before moving onto the next. After several minutes of this, Tim turns to Jason with an exasperated look on his face. “This is on you, look at what you have done.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Jason smirks mischievously, his words counteracting his expression. The bastard knows exactly what he’s done.

“Hey, you know what,” Dick starts, getting their attention again, “when I was ten I tried calling Alfred Bruce’s batler.”

Dick receives a few surprised snorts for that statement.

“What was Alfred’s response to that?” Jason queries amusedly. Even Tim has to admit he’s curious to that one.

“All he did was raise an eyebrow at me and sent me that look. You know the one.”

They all snicker at the mental image of a tiny Dick Grayson being on the receiving send of one of Alfred disapproving looks.

“And here I was thinking we were the only ones still up at this time in the morning.”

A new voice interrupts their conversation and gets their attention. The four of them all look over to find Duke and Cass making their way across the cave towards them. The two groups at look at one another respectively, wondering the same thing, after all it is four in the morning and six of them were still up.

“Well we’re discussing the all-important matter of adding ‘bat’ to everything we own, because after all we do have a reputation to uphold.” Steph tells them.

Cass looks amused while Duke looks rightfully confused.

Tim holds up his hands. “I did not agree to this, Jason brought it up and here we are.”

“Ah ah ah,” Jason denies, “if you want to get technical, it’s originally Dick who brought it up, when he was nine. He started this whole ‘bat’ thing.”

Tim sends him a disbelieving look. “You brought it up tonight by calling my gadget the batdar. This is on you!”

His comment goes ignores as Jason addresses the rest of the group. “Did you know that Roy has nicknamed Bruce our bat-dad? I cracked up laughing when I first heard him say it so casually.”

Dick chuckles, nodding, “I do know that, yeah, I think he used it when we were in the Titan’s together a time or two.”

Steph spins on the chair to face Cass and Duke. “Have anything to add, any ideas to share?”

“Batcow.” Cass supplies simply.

Steph clicks her fingers, her face lighting up in recognition. “Oh yeah! How could we forget. Damian’s batcow and then there’s Titus and Ace as our bathounds.”

“I’ve got nothing,” Duke shakes his head seeming apologetic for not coming up with anything, “but all I know is that you’re all batshit crazy.”

A sudden silence envelops the room and everyone turns to stare at Duke. Duke himself is fighting a smile, clearly proud of his quip, but then loses the battle after Jason barks out a laugh, breaking the silence. Jason’s laugh is contagious and soon enough all of them have cracked up over Duke’s comment.

“Oh Duke, I knew there was a reason why I liked you, you dark horse.” Jason says breathlessly.

Duke shrugs sheepishly and seems to accept his words. Once they all calmed down, Tim decides he’s had enough and decides that he wants to go to bed, after all it is late, or early depending how you see it. Also he’s so done with the talk of bat named things.

Wishing everyone a goodnight Tim heads towards the stairs and in hindsight he really should have expected the next lot of comments giving that nights theme.

“Night Timmy, sleep tight-”

“- and don’t let the batbugs bite!”

As Tim groans another round of laughter starts up behind him. Why does he hang around these people again? What is the sole purpose of them? He swears that they lower his IQ bit by bit everyday and that’s saying something considering his best friends are Kon and Bart.

He loves them all really (Damian is very much debatable in that matter), but sometimes they really test him. He has to admit though life would be very different without them, he may complain about his family but he honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

[dessarious]

What Makes a Family? Pt8

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

“How exactly is a billionaire businessman connected to the al Ghuls, and what does that have to do with my birth mother?” Marinette decided to take advantage of Alfred’s shock. She knew better than to think he’d just answer her question but she’d be able to get a lot of information from his reaction while he was off balance.

“How does a teenager from Paris even know who they are?” Deflection. Fairly standard move.

“I asked first.” She had to hide a smile at the eyeroll that produced. Finding his buttons was proving to be quite amusing.

“Master Bruce has business interests all over the world.” She just gave him a flat look. More deflection.

“No, that’s not it.” Alfred blinked at her for a moment. She’d admit he was very good at half truths, but not enough to fool her.

“I assure you Miss, Wayne Enterprises has ventures all over the world.”

“That may be true but it’s not how he’s connected to the League. Wait… Taila can’t be my mother. There’s no way she could have written that note given that the woman has no empathy.” After what happened that would be a literal nightmare. But there was also no reason for Talia to want to protect her from the League so it couldn’t be her… right?

“No, Talia isn’t your mother.” There was a slight emphasis on the word ‘your’ that most people would have missed. He wasn’t kidding when he said things were complicated.As far as she knew Talia only had one child. A child she claimed was fathered by some American superhero. What was his name? Dixon? No, Daren? No that wasn’t it. She’d gone on and on about her precious…

“Damian.” She didn’t mean to say it out loud but seeing Alfred’s expression she was glad she did. But if Bruce was Damian’s father as well, and Talia wasn’t just being grandiose, that meant he was a hero? “Where exactly does my father live?” She’d done her homework on other heroes in case she needed help or one of them ended up in Paris. Maybe she could narrow down the possibilities by location.

“Gotham, Miss.” Marinette heard a sound leave her throat that she couldn’t identify. Judging by Alfred’s expression he hadn’t heard anything like it before either.

“My father is Batman?” Alfred wasn’t able to hide his shock, but she wasn’t certain it was because she was right. At the same time all the pieces fit. Not to mention Tikki had told her that as a true chosen, fate and chance were always working overtime around her.

“Marinette, that is an interesting fancy. Just because a man lives in the same city as a notable vigilante doesn’t mean they’re the same person.” Alfred’s tone was a bit huffy and Marinette laughed out loud, earning her a glare.

“You have tells Grandpa Alfie. Using my name without prompting is definitely one of them. Don’t worry, the secret is safe with me.” She suddenly found herself on the receiving end of an extremely intense stare. It was a lot like the look her Maman gave her that made it feel like she could see everything Marinette had ever done wrong. When she was younger that stare made her start confessing to everything, even things she hadn’t done. By the time she became Ladybug she was able to hold it in though she couldn’t control her expressions. She honestly didn't know how she’d kept it secret for so long. Now though, she could simply sit there calmly and wait as Alfred seemed to weigh and measure every aspect of her life. She felt sorry for all her siblings who must be on the receiving end of this inspection on a regular basis.

“I would like to know how you came to that conclusion, why you think you can be trusted with such information if it were in fact true, and how you know about the League of Assassins.” The poor man sounded so tired. She could only imagine what he went through on a daily basis if she was right about her father. The only solid thought that went through her head was ‘give to get’ and as she examined her instincts she knew he could be trusted. Not to mention that at this point she’d had too many slip ups to avoid at least a partial explanation. Fate and chance once again conspiring to set her on a certain path. As much as she hated her hand being forced like this it wasn’t fair to take it out on her new found family.

“It’s complicated.” She giggled at the flat look he shot her as she echoed his own words back at him. “I have a lot more pieces of the puzzle than you’re aware of for starters so nothing you said or did would have outed him by itself. My conclusion is actually tied to how I know about the League of Assassins and that is a story that I need you to promise not to share, with anyone, unless you ask me first. No one knows the whole of it besides me because I don’t want to risk any Akuma’s or worse. But I trust you to keep it to yourself, given that you’re obviously experienced at keeping secrets.”

“I have a feeling you are as well.” She could only offer him a tired smile at that observation. If only he knew. His look softened considerably. “You have my word that nothing you say will be shared without your permission. Unless it’s a matter of life and death.” She let out a thoughtful hum before replying.

“That’s fair I suppose. Granted the whole life or death thing can be a bit subjective. I suppose I should start at the beginning, though I’m not sure I know where that is anymore. Remember how I said our heroes and villains are using Magical Artifacts to get their powers?”

“I do Miss.” She rolled her eyes, more in annoyance at herself than anything.

“You’re just going to refuse to use my name at all now that I called you on your tell aren’t you?” There was that almost smile again.

“I don’t know what you mean Miss.”

“Of course you don’t. Anyway, those Artifacts are highly coveted by certain groups. One of those groups is the League of Assassins. Given how little information gets out of Paris intact I’m still not sure how they found out the Miraculous were in circulation, but Ra’s and Talia came to Paris, about two years ago I believe, to try and take them.” That had started the worst week of her life, even if some of the lasting effects were some of the best things in her life currently. That week she’d found out that Adrien was Chat. That was the week Paris had been destroyed over a dozen times as she fought and Akumatized Ra’s al Ghul almost by herself. That was the week she’d given Chloe, Luka, and Kagami their Miraculous permanently. That was the week she’d seen everyone and everything she’d ever loved ripped apart. She still had nightmares that featured the lifeless stares of everyone she cared about. Yes she’d fixed it in the end, just like always, but unlike everyone else she didn’t have the luxury of forgetting. Suddenly she felt gentle hands on her own.

“You remind me so much of your father. You both carry burdens and refuse to share them. You both seem to think that the world is on your shoulders, and yours alone. You both have people all around you who would help, if only you’d let them.” His tone was an odd mixture of concern and censure.

“You’d be a good match for Wayzz. A calm and steadying presence full of wisdom yet willing to do whatever is necessary to protect those you care about.” She was just as surprised by the words as he was but she knew she was right. “But that is another complicated matter and I still owe you a proper explanation for the first round of confusion I sprang on you.”

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Ko-Fi

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[boreddcposts]

Oliver, talking about an amusement park ride: I took my ward on it a couple years ago when it was previously called the Tower of Terror or something. And he wasn't tall enough, and he was really upset

Oliver: And I was like, "nah, forget this, come here" so I grabbed a couple of snickers bars and things and slammed it in the back of his shoe under his heel

Justice League: [mixture of shocked gasps and laughter]

Oliver: So I propped him up, he was like this short, walked up and was like "what about now?" so- they're like [pretends to measure height] okay! In you come! So I'm like [punches the air victoriously]

Barry: That's WILDLY irresponsible

Oliver: It gets worse. So I was sitting in the chair and this thing- it's, you know I don't know how many hundreds of feet high

Barry: Oh, god

Oliver: We're at the top and I'm looking at him and he's strapped in, you know the seat is massive on him, and I'm like "we beat the system, buddy! Well done!"

Oliver: And then it drops and he's like zoom- [imitates someone being lifted out of a chair] so I grab onto him and he's screaming the whole way down. I was like, maybe- maybe there's a reason that there's a- a height... thing

Bruce, now highly stressed from hearing this: MAYBE!?

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 10

Jason woke up around five am, bleary and in a tangle of blankets again from yet another nightmare…Sweat-soaked, he peeled himself out of his bed with a grimace and stripped first himself, then the bed, tossing everything into his washing machine before turning on the shower and stepping inside. Lukewarm woke him up a little better than hot right now, and felt better on his scarred skin; he leaned heavily against the tile, head tipped back as his waterfall nozzle rained down on him. The familiar sound of the washer going was a comfort, and piece by piece, he brought himself back to the present, breathing slowly, evenly, just as Bruce had taught him all those years ago…

“…Fuck.” He sighed out, and started washing up, glad for the indie shop he supported down the street that made its own soaps, shampoos, and conditioners. They were bar form, of course, but the natural scents helped ground him…anything heavily chemically scented was too triggering, too much like the factory he’d died in. A lot of things triggered that…tannerite, for one, which was why in all his varied explosions, he’d only ever used C4. Iron…He unconsciously touched the cheekbone that Talia had had her surgeons rebuild, for even the Pit couldn’t do everything. Not on a body that had been so badly brutalized that it’d been a closed casket funeral…

“Knock it off, Todd.” He growled out to himself, scrubbing furiously now. Fuckin’ don’t go down that path again, Jason…you know where it leads. Besides, you promised you’d make waffles this morning. Can’t leave a lady waiting. Steph’s smile filled his mind, and Jason relaxed, as he had for months now around his Batgirl…and he felt a tiny smile tug at his lips. He didn’t have a waffle iron; he rarely did more than griddle cakes, eggs, and bacon for himself, and that’s when he felt like cooking, so it was a good thing he’d woken up before his alarm; he had time to run to the nearest Lux-Mart. He finished his shower, relaxed now, and other than rescuing his book from the floor and setting it on his nightstand, left his bed to airdry for a while; he’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Dark jeans, boxer-briefs, a soft tee shirt, socks, his boots, and a hoodie, and he was ready to brave the pre-dawn crowds. He twirled his keys on one finger as he made his way down the stairs to his garage, and side-stepped the engine for Roy’s Corvette, unlocking the truck and opening the door with a flick of a button. It was dark still; small wonder, it was just barely five forty-five, and the sun wouldn’t be up for another hour or so…the garage door slid closed behind him with a whisper, and Jason set out for the Lux-Mart, following the main roads this morning, since they weren’t clogged yet by the early morning commuters. A few early birds passed him, and he waved at the Batmobile as they both continued on out of the city, since the nearest of Lux Luthor’s monster all-in-one stores was in the suburbs on the mainland.

Jason’s phone buzzed, and he answered it on the dash with a grin, glad for his blue-tooth dashboard connection.

“Hey Pops.”

“I thought that was you, Jason…what has you out so early?” Bruce’s voice was warm, exhausted, but for once, actually pretty damned friendly, and Jason hummed a little, smirking to see the ‘mobile keeping pace with him.

“Well, I promised I’d bring Steph waffles this morning as incentive to get her homework done…and then I realized I didn’t have a waffle iron.” Bruce laughed at that, low and surprisingly genuine, while he heard a squawk from Tim. Now, he didn’t…completely hate his replacement in the Robin line-up; certainly, he adored Steph and Damian. But Tim was…well, everything that Jason hadn’t ever been, and Jason was still too aware of how similar Tim and Bruce really were. Dick had commented on it, last time he’d come up from Bludhaven, and if Dick could see it…well. Jason still felt like he’d been the downgrade from Dick, and that Tim was the super upgrade.

It wasn’t true…but emotions could be ugly, ugly things.

And Tim had stolen his ex-girlfriend’s waffles.

“Well then, that makes complete sense…do you two need anything from us? We had a busy night dealing with Boyle again.” Jason winced; Ferris Boyle had been a problem since Bruce’s early days, even before Dick, and Jason hated the man almost as much as he hated Joker. Totally aside from how he’d fucked up Victor Fries, his actions regarding Nora had been absolutely appalling. He wanted custody of her so that he could experiment on her…and since Victor is now a supervillain…goddamn, I’m glad Bruce was able to win custody of her.

“Bastard…was he after Nora again?”

“And Victor. We convinced Fries to come back to Wayne Inc. and talk to us about Nora’s future; we’ve made some serious progress towards a cure, and with his research, we might just have what we need. And I’ve been working on something to help him as well…But we can talk about it later.” A yawn broke his sentence, and Jason smiled fondly.

“Go home, Pops; Steph and I will take patrol tonight. You two take the night off.”

“…Thank you, Jason. I really appreciate it; Damian and Tim do too.”

“Yes, thank you, akhi.” Damian’s voice was softer over the phone, tired, and Jason smiled, though he grit his teeth when Tim spoke up.

“Sure, thanks Hood. Hope you two actually get some patrolling done, and don’t just make out on a roof.”

“…Well, Timmy, I’m quite certain we’ll keep our professionalism at the fore. After all, we wouldn’t want to attract undue attention…like Kon did the other night.” Jason responded, voice sickeningly sweet as Tim choked over the phone call, and Bruce made an inquisitive noise.

“We were going over tactical plans!”

“Tim, I’m sure it’s fine.” Bruce’s voice was gentle, but curious, and Jason felt his grin stretch to maniacal proportions.

“Oh, of course you were! Silly ol’ me, ‘tactical plans’, of course! Must’ve been wall plans!” Jason replied sweetly, and Tim choked again, a strangled noise coming over the line. Bruce snorted suddenly, clearly understanding now, and Damian just sighed; Jason could almost hear his eyes rolling.

“Drake, do not give Todd grief for kissing; we all know you regularly have intercourse with Kon-El.” Tim’s voice was pitched even higher now, babbling as Bruce snorted again, clearly holding back laughter, and Jason snickered.

“Damian, Lil D, I want you to know how much I love you right now.”

“As I love and cherish you, akhi. Please do tell Grayson this.”

“DO NOT TELL DICK ANYTHING, JASON, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

“Then don’t steal Stephie’s waffles again, and I won’t~” He purred, and Tim let out a heavy sigh.

“…I apologize to her later.”

“So good to work with you, Tim, it’s just such a pleasure!”

“God, I hate you sometimes.” Bruce was laughing now, deep and highly amused, and Jason gave the ‘mobile a salute as he turned off towards the Lux-Mart, still snickering.

“Love you too, Timmy; good night, you three, I’m off to waffle-maker hunt.”

“Love you too, Jay; good luck! And tell Steph we love her too for me, will you?” Bruce asked, over the other twos’ groaning, and Jason chuckled.

“Of course, Pops. See ya.”

“See you.” The call winked out, and Jason pulled into the Lux-Mart, still grinning. He grabbed up his phone, double checked his wallet, and headed into the store, grabbing a cart. He didn’t want to buy a ton of stuff…but he knew he’d need more room than a basket. Appliances first; he grabbed a waffle-maker, one with interchangeable plates, and from the small selection, picked a Millennium Falcon and an Eevee (both for Steph), since they’d traded favorite Pokémon a few weeks ago, then favorite films. He was always looking for Pride and Prejudice/Sense and Sensibility stuff, or even just basic literary things, but hey, he liked Eevee too (even if his favorite was still Rapidash), and Star Wars was a familiar favorite from his childhood.

From there, he grabbed utensils that he knew he didn’t have, then a few things from pharmacy to cover his personal stores for the week. Bandages, wraps, gauze, alcohol…all the usual stuff, and then he made his way to the grocery area, where things were getting a little bit busier. Two boxes of waffle/pancake mix, maple syrup, and a carton of eggs; a package of bacon made the cut too, as did a gallon of milk, a bottle of his favorite fancy protein juice smoothie, and as he made his way into the produce section, a bag each of blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries. He also got a couple apples, good for a snack as well as baking into the batter, and a pair of pomegranates. Bananas too, just as small bunch, and a small tub of butter.

On a whim, he also grabbed sugary snacks for later, mostly Hostess cakes and some Little Debbie stuff, and a big bag of Chex Mix; not healthy, no, but they held up to patrols well, and he’d gone hungry too many nights to ever feel good about not having food around. Besides…his stay in the Lazarus Pit hadn’t just accelerated his healing factor…it’d forced his metabolism onto a higher level, and now he could almost match Kon pound for pound with food. He also grabbed some pizzas; just in case, he liked to have them. Checking his watch, Jason bit off a swear; it was seven am already, and it was easily a half-hour drive back into Gotham.

He got through self checkout with ease, and hauled his finds out of the store, leaving the cart at the entrance and legging it to his truck. To his surprise, clouds that hadn’t been visible in the darkness were rolling over the whole of Gotham City, heavy thunder rumbling out on the ocean, and in the low light from the rising sun, he made a few quick calculations. He had just enough time to get back to the city before the rain really started; he loaded up his backseat and tore ass out of the parking lot, hopping on the freeway in record time. He glanced around, confused at the lack of cars…then laughed to himself.

Of course it was empty; it was Sunday. I think I’m getting to love Sundays now…Jason thought to himself as he gunned it back to Steph’s place, settling back for the drive with a sigh. Just then, the familiar strains of ‘Home’ came onto the radio, and Jason grinned, then started singing along.

“I’m goin’ home…to the place where I belong…”

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.6

    Wayne Manor had been much larger than what Marinette had been expecting. As she stepped out of the town car Damian’s father had sent to pick her up, she was struck by how huge the place was, it almost reminded her of a castle. But she didn’t dare say that aloud as she made her way up the front steps.

    “You look like you’re about to dart back down the driveway and never come back.” Marinette glanced back at Eva, who gave her an amused smile. 

When Mari had told her about being invited to meet Damian’s family, the TA had put her foot down in Marinette going alone. If her student was going to anyone’s house, she was going to meet the parents of the man her student was so infatuated with. Besides, if they were going to be doing some weird cult sacrifice, Eva could go and save Marinette before things got freaky. 

    “I’m just really nervous. Damian is great, but what if his family doesn’t like me? What if they think I’m only after Damian for his money? What if they decide I’m not worthy of him and they ban him from ever seeing me again and we can’t give this relationship a real shot? I might end up all alone, just like Lila said!” Marinette felt herself going into a panic attack, her breathing hitching. She felt herself calm down as soon as Eva gripped her shoulders and stared hard into her eyes. “What if I screw up, Eva?”

    “Now you stop that, they’d be lucky to be in your presence, and if they dare insult you, I’ll shove my boot so high up their ass, they’ll need to get it surgically removed.” Eva whispered, and Marinette laughed, feeling herself relax. “Besides, I’ve heard they’re good people, though they could be posing for the public. Let’s hope the articles are right.”

    “I certainly hope they are.” Both women jumped and turned towards the front door, not realizing that it had been opened. A kind - looking elderly man stood there, smiling at them. He bowed, then guided them inside. “I am glad you ladies have arrived safely. My name is Alfred, I have been working for Master Wayne for many years. When I heard Master Damian had a fancy for a young lady, I was excited to see him smiling much more than he used to. He speaks highly of you, Miss Marinette.”

    “D-does he really?” Marinette felt her heart skip a beat at Alfred’s words. The butler took her and Eva’s coats, before taking them to a living room. Marinette instantly felt her blood pressure spike at the sight of so many people in the room, and her palms suddenly felt clammy.

"Master Bruce, your guests have arrived." Alfred's voice broke through the chatter, and instantly all eyes were on Marinette, making her tremble. She could feel them all judging her, analyzing her… Trying to see what kind of person she was. She made herself smile, though she knew it didn't look quite right. She was just so nervous! "Dinner shall be ready in an hour's time."

When Alfred left, it took everything in Marinette not to bolt. What was she thinking, pursuing a Wayne? They probably thought she was only after him for his money! They must think she's a tramp, a shameless girl, a-

"I'm glad you made it, Angel." Damian stepped forward, and took her hands in his. At the gesture, Mari felt herself relax and her smile turned genuine. He leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. It felt so intimate, that it made her heart flutter. "My family hasn't shut up since I told them you'd be joining us tonight. I hope you are prepared to be swarmed."

"I'm sure I can handle it, I've been through tougher situations." Marinette joked as she spotted Dick striding up to them, a woman with vibrant red hair, and green eyes. Green that seemed to take up the entire eye. "Oh, hello Dick. I hope this meeting isn't as dramatic as last time."

"Well those classmates of yours aren't around, so the evening shouldn't be full of defamation about our family." Dick gave her a joking smile, before gesturing to the woman beside him. "Marinette, this is my wife Kory."

"It is most wonderful to meet the girl who has captured Damian's heart. I was truly afraid that he would never find love." Kory instantly wrapped Marinette into a hug, causing her to blush vividly. "Oh, and I love your outfit! Cass, Babs, look at this! She's just adorable!"

"Kory, you're going to break her if you hug her like that." One of the women stepped forward, her dark eyes meeting Marinette's. She was tall, slim, with short black hair that framed a pretty face. She held out a slim hand. "I'm Cassandra. It's nice to meet you, Marinette. Welcome to the crazy Wayne family."

"I'm Barbara, but you can call me Babs." A redhead in a wheelchair pushed herself forward, smiling and shook Marinette's hand after Cass had.

"I- I'm happy to meet you all too. Wow, I've never seen such a big family before." Marinette let out a shaky laugh, feeling a little overwhelmed. The atmosphere had changed. It was warm, inviting, and everyone was smiling now.

"So you're Demon Spawn's 'Angel'. Huh, I guess even demons have weaknesses." A tall man stepped up, pulling Marinette into a bear hug. He was handsome, with a spiky head of black hair with a shock of white at his right temple, and startlingly blue eyes. His grin was playful, before he set down the girl. "But by God, you're so small! Like a pixie."

"Jason, don't scare her." Marinette turned her gaze to the Bruce Wayne as he strode up, taking her hand and smiling warmly. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette. I am sorry about my children, they can be a handful."

"That's an understatement." Tim spoke up, a dry smile on his face. He nudged Dick when he saw Marinette beaming at everyone, bright like sunshine. It was almost refreshing.

"You're all swarming her, give her some space." Damian snapped out, wrapping an arm around Marinette and made her squeak when he dragged her close. He smiled apologetically to her. "I'm sorry, Angel, I should have prepared you better."

"I like them." Marinette spoke up quickly, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze. She got onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, causing his face to go crimson. "As long as they don't think I'm a gold digger, I'm happy."

"Right, if you're a gold digger, I'm Rena Rouge." All eyes went to Evangeline, who was still standing in the doorway. She gave a wry smile as she winked at Marinette. "Don't worry, sugar cookie, they'd have to be crazy to think you're bad news."

It wasn't hard to hear the faint threat in Eva's voice, the entire Bat family heard it loud and clear. Damian rose a brow, his grip tightening slightly in Marinette's waist.

"Don't worry. I'd never let anyone think that of Marinette, they'd be facing my blade if they did." He commented casually, watching his brothers from the corner of his eye. He noticed that Jason looked almost nervous. 

"I think she's a real treat." Cass chimed it, grabbing Marinette's hand and pulling her free from Damian's possessive grasp. "Finally, some girl that the Demon Spawn can't scare off."

"Give it a few days." Tim piped up, and the family chuckled amongst themselves. Marinette felt her heart warm and her body relaxed. She was dragged over to the group of girls, all of them showering her with questions, so many that she could barely keep track of them all.

"Marinette, do you have any interests?" Bruce's voice cut through the mess of voices, and all eyes were soon trained on the patriarch of the Wayne family. His kind smile made Marinette's nerves get shot again.

"Um.. Well, I design." She stuttered out, tugging gently at the sweater she was wearing. Her cheeks burned as she felt the eyes again, judging her… "I actually made this sweater. And Evangeline's dress, though I think high heels in winter time is ridiculous."

Eva merely shrugged at the grumbled comment and smiled.

"But I hope to start my own brand someday." Marinette continued, everyone seeing that spark of passion in her eyes as she went on to explain her dreams of making clothes that can make any man or woman feel beautiful inside. She just wanted their self confidence to blossom and to see them smile.

It melted Bruce's heart a little, seeing her want to spread so much happiness, a rare trait in Gotham.

As soon as Marinette realized she was rambling, she flinched and went crimson."I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She whispered, hugging herself once again.

"Dinner is ready." Alfred appeared in the doorway, cutting off any comments that were going to be made.

Damian carefully took Marinette's hand and guided her towards the dining room, planting a small kiss on her temple.

"They're loving you." At his whispered assurance, she seemed to relax once again. This roller coaster of emotions was starting to make her feel a bit tired. She just… Didn't know if she could fully trust them, or if they trust her.

She realized the whole Lila mess had certainly messed up her sense of trust, didn't it?She took a deep breath, and sat with the family for a meal.And the meal was delicious, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Everyone spoke of their day, of things that had annoyed them at work, there was playful banter, most of the teasing being thrown towards Damian, who in return made heated threats about slicing his brothers up and hiding the bodies. 

"What about your family?" Bruce spoke up, his kind eyes settling on Marinette once again. "You live in Paris, what is it like there?"

"Oh, I live with my parents. They're bakers, they are the best parents anyone could ask for, always helping me, supporting my dreams. I couldn't ask for better." Marinette admitted, feeling a faint tug at her heart, feeling desperately homesick for them. She really wanted her parents here, to meet Damian, to meet his family. They were always more careful that her and her trusting heart. "I'm currently in my last year at lycée, then I'm applying for internships at any fashion brand that I can."

"Marinette, I have a small question." Dick crossed his arms, tilting his head ever so slightly, as if he were pondering something. "That class of yours… Do they usually act in such a rambunctious way?"

"N- no, not usually.." Well, Marinette knew they hadn't been like that, not until Lila came around. Ever since Lila became the center of everything, the class had gotten more bold in many things, suddenly thinking nothing could touch them, no one could tell them no. Their attitudes at Wayne Enterprises had been abhorrent, to say the least. They hadn't listened to a single thing Dick had had to say, they had only hung only Lila's every word. 

It still hurt.

"That Lila puts a bad taste in my mouth." Damian muttered, poking at his food with his fork. He glanced over at his father, a pained look on his face. "She keeps going around, saying I'm her fiancé. And that class of hers laps it up."

"Not all of them!" Marinette's spine stiffened as the words in defense of her class rose in her mouth, but she swallowed them back down. No, the entirety of them did not deserve her kind words. "Alix and a few others don't believe that. But she's just such a force to be reckoned with, you can't really speak up against her…"

"She ruins lives, nearly makes people lose their jobs." Evangeline spoke up, shadows in her eyes. 

"But her lies are so obvious, from what Dick told us." Kory spoke up, her brows drawing together in confusion. "Why do they believe such obvious lies?"

"Because they're idiots who don't even share a single brain cell." Damian stood up abruptly, taking Marinette's hand. He felt her trembling, saw the glassiness of her eyes. "Thank you for dinner, Alfred, it was delicious. I'm going to go show Marinette around our home now."

The family stared after the couple, plans already beginning to form in their minds.

---

"They must think I'm a freak." Marinette leaned into Damian was they walked along the long halls of Wayne Manor. It was such an old architecture, yet kept in such good condition, she desperately wished she had brought her sketch book.

"They love you. They wouldn't talk to you if they didn't love you." Damian assured her softly, kissing the top of her head.But did they really? 

They could be faking, just to please Damian… They are probably talking behind her back now, saying how pathetic she was..

"Angel, you have that look on your face." Damian kissed her furrowed brow, causing her to blink. "That class of yours really hurt you, didn't they? Did they hurt you so badly, that you think no one likes you?"

When Marinette teared up, he hugged her close, and let her silently weep into his shoulder, slowly stroking her back as he did. All the while, he was plotting on how to destroy that class of hers.

Once her tears were shed, Marinette pulled back, wiping her cheeks, embarrassed."I'm sorry." She whispered, but Damian merely shook his head and softly kissed her cheek.

"I'm always here for you, Angel. Always."

Little did they know, Tim, Cass, and Alfred were listening in on the conversation, a bit confused at where this suave, gentleman had come from and where their uptight Damian went.

"This is gonna give me so much ammo to tease him." Tim snickered, only to help when Cass hit him upside the head.

---

When the car pulled up in front of the hotel, Damian quickly got out of the car, to let the two ladies out. 

"I have to say, Mr. Wayne, your father and siblings reassured me that you won't do anything bad to Marinette, so I suppose you get a pass this once." Evangeline smirked at Damian, giving him a playful wink before she headed inside.

"I hope she doesn't scare you off." Marinette gripped Damian's hand tightly as he helped her out of the car, only to tightly embrace him. "I loved meeting your family, they're really great."

"I'm glad you came, Angel. Maybe I can meet your parents soon, we wouldn't want to keep them in the dark about this? I'd lose brownie points that way." Damian joked, before cupping her face in his hands, leaning close. "Good night, and make sure to lock your window, alright?"

"..." Marinette's brows drew together slightly in confusion, but she nodded. "Good night, Dami. I'll call you in the morning."

He kissed her cheek before heading back to the car, giving her a small wave as he drove off.Marinette collapsed into bed, a dopey smile on her face as she hugged her pillow to her chest, her cheeks rosy from her thoughts of Damian.

"Tikki.." Marinette glanced over at the kwami that floated up beside her, her face going even more red now. "I've only known him for a few days, but… Would it be silly to fall in love with a guy in a few days?"

Tikki seemed to ponder her words before smiling to herself.

"It's very possible, Marinette. I've seen people fall in love in a single day, then later on get married for life, having a happy life together. But, to be safe, I wouldn't rush into anything too serious, just in case." Tikki nuzzled Marinette gently.

"I know, I kinda already came to that conclusion too, but I thought I was in love with Adrien soon after I met him as well." Hot tears welled up in Marinette's eyes as she hugged the pillow tighter. "I don't know what I'm going to do if I make another mistake, Tikki. I don't want to hurt again…"

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[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Angst Prompts #7 and #19

@scottxlogan said: Angst Prompts #7 and #19

(Sorry this took so long!  These were tough!)

7. “Guess our luck ran out.” & 19. “If you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead.”

It took months before Tony was well enough to leave the Avengers facility he'd built for a team he'd stopped 'consulting' for after Steve went rogue and disappeared.  Pepper fed him so many healthy meals, and Happy snuck him twice as many cheeseburgers until he no longer looked like a starving version of the Walking Dead.  The Snap had taken away so much from everyone.  Pepper hadn't wanted to let Tony out of her sight.  They'd married, escaped to the cabin in the woods that was now their home, and in the moments after they were completely alone, Tony had broken down.  Pepper held him until there was nothing left, and he finally slept.  

He'd let himself into the former Avengers Tower, an empty shell.  No life left in the old girl, especially after Happy saw to moving everything out. Tony could access everything still, so he rode the elevator up to the penthouse.  Echoes of former friends' laughter haunted him here.  They'd been manipulated into strengthening themselves as a team by the death of a good man; he'd been manipulated into tearing the team apart by the death of a man, who was nowhere near as good, being revealed to him.  

Tony closed his eyes and shoved away the ache.

All around him in the penthouse, he could hear the memories of everything that happened here.  The ghosts of the Avengers would never leave him alone. Some of their voices would accuse him until the day he died, he supposed.  

You failed, Tony.  Where were you when we needed you most?  

"Fuck you," he told the ghosts out loud.  

When the last of his words lost their echo, Tony's attention was caught by a strange green shimmer that activated like a piece of his own tech by the sound of his voice.  He walked over to the bar, and the shimmer grew and illuminated his face in the mirror wall behind the shelves that had been empty of their bottles for a long time now.  

The green began to pulse, as if it took on a life of its own.  It became a lighthouse's beacon, and Tony moved closer until he noticed what appeared to be a small green gem embedded in the bar-back.  He reached for it.  His brain went immediately to the Infinity Stones, and he wondered if this was one of them; if this was a chance to bring everyone back.  

As his finger stroked the surface of the stone, it shook in its confines in the counter until it pulled free and floated inches above its encasement.  He wracked his brain trying to figure out how and when this could've been put in his highly secure building.  Had Stephen Strange come poking around at some point that he was unaware of?  

Tony stepped back as the stone hovered in front of him, and the light expanded down to the floor and up until it towered over him by another foot.  The light formed into a figure, and as the features became clearer, the mechanic took another step back and gripped the edge of the bar to keep his balance.  

Within seconds, Loki stared at him.  The Asgardian – Jotun? – mage was made of the green light that still emanated from the stone, which he could barely make out now other than to see it pulsating where Loki's heart would be.  As if the stone was Loki's heart.  

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Tony demanded, but his voice just barely came out as a whisper.  "Are you here?  Is that really..."  

"Stark.  You are no doubt swearing or summoning your gauntlet to blast me, the latter of which will be entirely pointless.  I'm sure I've just given you a fright, and I do apologize.  It is a shame we could never connect on the intellectual level that might have made us friends instead of enemies.  For this strange intrusion into your life, I apologize, but my message for you is more than likely urgent, for you are about to tangle with a power in the universe that you have very little chance in defeating."  

Tony's lips were parted to speak back to this illusion – his own personal 'Help me, Obi Wan' message from the asshole who threw him out of the window not far from where the magic projected.  

"You're a bit late with this message, asshole," he snarked, even though he was certain Loki couldn't actually hear him through this little magic...thing.  He thought about reaching for a bottle and the empty shelves reminded him that all of it had been moved out years ago.  

"If you've found this message, chances are, I'm dead, and this is the best warning I can give you to prepare for what's coming, so listen closely."

That perked Tony's ears.  

"Dead?  Didn't you die before?"  

"I've been dead before...a few times, in fact, but this time, I doubt there will be any coming back from whatever Thanos has done to me.  He tends to make death final, and to be quite honest, Stark, I'm tired enough to stay dead this time."  The image of Loki gave a sad, almost wistful smile behind the exhausted features. "I've jumped through hoops my entire life and was never good enough no matter how well I did.  Banner tells me that you have some understanding of that. Oh yes, Banner and I have become quite good friends since Sakaar.  You should have him tell you about it.  You might find the whole...Revengers story an amusing one."  

Tony leaned against the counter, feeling the weight of exhaustion against his chest.  There were whole stories that he needed to hear, and this would be a good one, he thought.  If he could get Bruce to tell him about it.  Thor wasn't talking to much of anyone these days.  

"My luck has likely run out, and if you don't pay attention, yours will as well," Loki went on.  "Speak with Stephen Strange.  He has a nifty little green gem in a rather gaudy piece of jewelry he wears around his neck.  That will allow you many chances to attack Thanos until you get it right and kill him.  Reclaim all the stones he'd already gathered and destroy him.  Bring people back from the dead if you can, for no doubt he'll kill many in his wake.  If you get the stones, keep them away from him.  If you're half the genius you tout yourself to be, Stark, figure out how to travel the strands of time, even if you can't get your hands on that green stone of Strange's."  

The image of Loki glanced around at something behind him, and Tony was certain he heard him mutter, 'I'll be there in a moment, Bruce.  Just finishing this up.'  He looked once more 'at' Tony.  

"I have things to tend to, Stark, before this all goes south.  I have plans to make, epic villains to try to foil.  Heed my warning and do what needs to be done.  Save your people.  Do what you do best and save your whole world.  I truly do wish we could've had that drink.  What mischief we could've created together."  

Tony couldn't help but smile at that.  Loki knew how to appeal to him.  

"Yeah, that would've been fun, Reindeer Games," Tony remarked, though he knew the illusion couldn't hear him.  He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumbs.  When he opened them again, the illusion was gone, and the stone stopped glowing as it floated back to the counter where it had been hiding all this time.  

For the first time since that little gem brought this magic out, Tony wondered how and when it had been left there.