#i mean yeah he helps the people in crime alley whatever. How much is he actually involved with them

[write-orflight]

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities. 

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her. 

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.  

“Who is that?” He had asked. 

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”  

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that. 

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.   

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles. 

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay. 

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.” 

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room. 

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.” 

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.” 

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.  

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.” 

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.  

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly. 

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that? 

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.” 

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly. 

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him. 

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking. 

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I  just know stuff sometimes too.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”  

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much. 

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

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous. 

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could. 

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.” 

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides. 

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.” 

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.  

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging. 

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks. 

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes. 

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.” 

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.” 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board. 

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that. 

“Thank you.” You say, softly. 

“What for?” Spencer asks. 

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.” 

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him. 

What? 

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

 After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea. 

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.” 

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”   

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true. 

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you. 

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in. 

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it. 

“If I have the time.” You shrug. 

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.” 

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”   

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man. 

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.” 

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.” 

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you. 

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock. 

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

 After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast. 

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you. 

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break. 

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame. 

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?” 

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.” 

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. 

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking. 

“And why’s that?” He says. 

“You’re already weak.” You say. 

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.”  He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you. 

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?”  He asks. 

“N-No, sir.” You stutter. 

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you. 

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.” 

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge. 

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out.  Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw. 

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?”  He asks. 

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.  

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place. 

“P-Please.” you stutter. 

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more. 

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together. 

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name. 

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you. 

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?” 

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.” 

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.” 

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask. 

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.” 

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say. 

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles. 

“So….?” 

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?” 

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”    

Perm. Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[i-am-plotting]

Hound

#Snippet 3 - Caleb's Crime

From my novel, this is how Caleb ended up with Ellow.

CW: gun/shot, held at gunpoint, manhandling, mafia, fear of death, kicking, locked in a trunk (not for long), swearing.

=-=

Caleb managed to find a hidden spot to spend the night, behind a trash dump surrounded by the bad smell of garbage and urine.

He didn't mind the smell, at least not that night, not after running away for so long, it was good enough that the alley was too dark for anyone to see him. It was curfew time already, but there was no chance that someone would look for people among the trash, would they?

Yes, they would. Caleb found out when he was kicked awake by a woman he didn't know, she had wavy hair dyed red, the same color as her worn-out jacket, "No house, bitch?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Please be a robber, please just be some random robber. "Yeah," Caleb lied, and the woman didn't seem to believe him, he only hoped she wasn't from the mafia, the last thing he needed is more people wanting to kill him.

"But not in the shelter, ugh?" The woman asked before kicking him again, he didn't resist, he could fight back, and he would, but if she is truly from the mafia it would be the same as asking to be killed, "Think you are immune to rules or you only really want to die?"

Fuck fuck fuck fuck, Caleb swallowed hard, it's not like 'I was running away' would earn some sympathy, not when he knows the rules so well, but whatever they intend to do with him would be too much for punishment.

"I asked you a question!" The woman said angrily, turning to the exit of the alley, "Hey, look at this guy, he isn't even answering me!"

"Deal with it yourself!" A masculine voice answered, "Do it fast, this place fucking stinks."

Caleb felt his blood run cold, what does 'deal with it’ means? "Sorry," he said hurriedly, "I don't- I don't want to die, please-"

"So you just think you're immune to rules, I see," the woman said with a dangerous grin, "Get up, I'm sure the boss will love to hear about it."

The woman grabbed him by the arm and forced him to walk, manhandling him way more than necessary, Caleb looked at the man waiting at the exit. He was slim, had neat clothes, and was covering his nose with a handkerchief.

"Finally!" He exclaimed looking at the woman.

"Said the person who didn't help," she answered sarcastically, "Open the trunk."

Caleb froze, earning himself another kick, this time on the back of his knees making him fall on the hard floor, "You don’t need to. I won't try to run," he tried, "I-"

"Or you get on your feet and enter the fuck trunk-" the woman started as she kicked him at each word, "Or I'll beat you all the way there."

Caleb forced himself on his feet as soon as she stopped kicking, there was no talk his way out of that, principally when he was never good at talking.

He swallowed hard before forcing his already sore body into the trunk, the door closed soundly making him flinch, the darkness that before seemed to protect him was now trapping and swallowing him whole.

Caleb had no time to plan something, he wasn't that far from Ellow's base, idiot, idiot. The car stopped, and he was sure that whatever is waiting for him is worse than being locked in that tight trunk.

The short time Caleb knew that woman was enough for him to brace himself to be manhandled again as soon as the trunk opened. This time she grabbed him by his hair, not allowing him to fully straighten his back.

To make things worse, the man blindfolded him, and before Caleb could focus on his hearing the woman slammed his head on the car, making his ears ring, now he had to depend on her to equilibrate himself enough to walk.

"Don't speak much, bitch?" She asked, yanking his hair when he was almost getting some balance.

"You aren't asking anything," he answered, regretting right after his poor choice of words, "I meant- I meant that I'll be quiet unless you don't want me-" he froze when the woman took out her gun and pressed it against his head, "I'm sorry."

"Are you really?" she asked, cocking the gun and watching him tensing up in fear, "Are you truly sorry, or are you just a scared little bitch?"

Caleb held his breath, feeling the cold metal against the back of his head, was there even a good answer? Is there a way to talk his way out of that? "Both," he said finally, hoping that the truth would satisfy her, "I'm sorry and scared, Ma'am."

The woman grinned at that, not that he saw it, "You should be grateful," she said, pressing the gun further against his head, "At least you will have a bit of training before meeting the boss, right?"

"Yes, yes, thank you," he said, his body refusing to move with the gun so close, he didn't move even when she moved the gun away, but when she aimed up and pressed the trigger he flinched, swallowing hard.

"Keep moving," she ordered, and he obeyed.

Caleb walked for a couple of minutes, he heard doors being opened, voices of more people greeting the pair who captured him, he heard the woman cursing him while painfully pulling his hair.

But when no one was talking that he was more scared, he heard one last door before being tossed on the floor soundly, hissing when his body hit the hard floor.

"Breaking the curfew," the woman explained, and Caleb was forced to remember that all he did was stay outside at dawn. I had no choice, but it didn't matter.

"Take the blindfold out," another female voice said with a cold voice, immediately Caleb felt a pair of hands behind his back, in the next second he was narrowing his eyes due to the light, trying to see where he was as if it would help.”

"Come here," the voice ordered, and Caleb must have taken too long because the woman who dragged him there kicked the air out of his lungs. He forced his body to move away from his attacker, crawling closer to the other woman without looking up, he knows better than to make things worse.

=-=

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: L - Language 

Summary: Jason doesn’t hesitate to drag his brothers down with him when Bruce starts reprimanding him about the type of language he uses on a daily basis. 

Enjoy! :D 

“Well this is just a load of bullshit! Why do they have to intervene? We’re perfectly capable of handling this.” Jason huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. He can’t believe what he's hearing.

On the opposite side of the table Bruce levels him with a hard look. “Watch your language Jason.”

Jason blinks before sitting up straight. “What, it’s not like the kid is currently around to overhear."

“Jason!”

Glaring at the man, Jason scowls. This seems to be a regular topic of conversation between them recently because according to Bruce Jason swears too much, especially when he’s around Damian. The man, for whatever reason, wants Jason to be a good role model for the kid and apparently that includes him not swearing.

So now anytime he swears, Bruce points it out with a matching scolding tone and expression.

It’s a ridiculous notion because Jason being who he is was brought up with swearing, living on the streets for so many years exposed him to all kinds of things, one of which being the language people use. Swearing is just part of his vocabulary, half of the time he isn’t even aware he is doing it. As long as he’s not swearing at someone, then surely there should be some leniency.

“Oh come on!” He exclaims with a wave of his hands. “He’s been raised as an assassin, he was already tainted before we even met. Me saying a few words isn’t doing any harm.”

Before Bruce could respond a new voice joins the conversation. “To be fair you do swear a lot. Maybe you should try and tone it down.”

Jason turns to his right to glare at his older brother who’s lounging comfortably next to him. “Oh fuck off, Dick, no one asked for your opinion.”

Dick stares back unimpressed, he raises both eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

Jason recalls what he said and grits his teeth.

He points menacingly at Dick. “That doesn’t prove anything. Quite frankly I grew up in Crime Alley, of course I’m gonna swear, you hear it every minute in that place and typically as a kid you’re gonna pick up the habit. You know what they say old habits die hard.”

“Just like you did?” A different voice retorts with a snort.

Jason switches his gaze to Tim, who is opposite him next to Bruce currently playing with his phone, and blinks at him in surprise. “Uh, excuse me? I don’t know whether to be insulted or proud by that.”

It’s usually only him who makes death jokes so it’s come as a surprise to find Tim making one, a well-timed one too. Jason shakes his head, he’ll deal with those emotions at another time.

“Anyway, if we’re talking about who swears too much then why aren’t you giving Tim a lecture? He swears like a bloody sailor. If anyone needs reprimanding on his language it’s him!”

Tim abruptly stops fiddling with his phone and looks up, he rolls his eyes and glowers at him. “Jesus Christ that’s so immature Jason. How old are you, 10? I’m no way near as bad as you.”

His response gets a gleeful chuckle out of Jason. He knows exactly how the next few minutes are about to play out and he can’t wait. While the focus of the conversation had been on him, he’s glad for the opportunity to move it onto someone else and Tim happens to be perfect for the new spotlight.

Without any hesitation Jason digs into his pocket and grabs his phone. Once he has the device in hand he starts searching for the video he has saved for this very purpose. Call him petty, but he knew it would be good blackmail material one day.

“Oh really?” He drawls out, finally finding the video he had been looking for, “then what do I have here…” Jason clicks play and puts it on speaker so everyone in the room would be able to hear the audio.

After a second the sound of Tim’s voice could be heard. The teenager was clearly angry about something and certainly wasn’t holding back from letting his anger be known through his choice of words.

“You bloody bastard, why won’t you work you piece of shit. By god this is pissing me off now, I’ve been at this all fucking day and you’re still not fucking working. I am going to kill…”

The recording lasts for about a minute and is filled with Tim swearing his head off, cursing at everything and everyone and making empty threats. Once it’s finished Jason turns his phone off, puts it back in his pocket and leans back in his chair feeling smug about the situation.

“I rest my case.”

His words are met with a stunned silence in the room. Tim is blushing hard with his head buried in his hands. Next to him Bruce looks concerned, probably for Tim’s mental health and wellbeing. Dick’s staring at Tim with shock spread across his features.

After a few beats Tim lifts his head from his hands but keeps his eyes down staring at the table so he could avoid everyone’s eyes. “Okay in my defence the technology was really piss–annoying me. It wouldn’t work and I couldn’t work out why so I got frustrated and that happened.”

His response makes Jason snort and causes Dick to shake his head in disbelief. He knew Tim could be feisty but until that moment he never realised how bad his temper could get. Jason’s honestly impressed. However that doesn’t mean he’s letting Tim get away with it, especially when he’s getting blamed for something Tim does just as much of as him.

If he's going down then he’s dragging Tim down with him. It’s just unfortunate that he doesn’t have anything on Dick.

Jason’s broken out of his thoughts on ways he could get blackmail material on Dick when Tim speaks up again. He’s finally looking up at everyone though his still flushed face shows his prior embarrassment.

“Let’s be honest, is swearing really all that bad? As long as we’re not swearing at people then I think it’s fine. We’re not harming anyone. Who cares if we swear a little too much. And anyway, doesn’t everyone swear at some point?”

“Clark doesn’t.” Dick pipes up next to him.

Jason snorts. “That’s because big blue is a boy scout, of course he isn’t going to swear. He doesn’t count. Plus we’re from Gotham after all, it’s not like this is the most impeccable place in the world.”

Dick becomes thoughtful, humming his response. “Yeah that’s true I guess.”

“Boys.”

The three brother’s all turn and look at Bruce who had called for their attention. Jason had forgotten the man was even there, he had surprisingly been quiet until now. Maybe it’s because Clark was brought into the conversation, it must have peaked his interest. Jason files that information away for later.

“It doesn’t matter how much any of you swear, you shouldn’t do it at all. Damian is still young, he doesn’t need to grow up listening to that sort of language despite his initial upbringing.” Bruce firmly says, looking at each of them in turn. “You all know better and have good manners, going forward I expect you to use them.”

As Bruce rattles on about proper manners and the importance of them, Jason finds himself resisting the urge to smile. With every second that passes, it threatens to break out on his face. What makes matters worse is that he knows he shouldn’t smile, this isn’t a smiling matter considering how serious Bruce is being but the man is making it difficult to concentrate and to take the topic seriously.

Jason glances to the right to find Dick staring at Bruce with a hand covering the lower part of his face and Jason can tell that his brother is in the exact same boat as he is.

Apparently all it takes for him to break is Dick to glance at him and for them to make eye contact.

After that Jason couldn’t help himself but to burst out laughing, next to him Dick also breaks out into a fit of giggles. They laugh for a good while until they’re able to start calming down, by that point Jason’s cheeks are hurting and he even had tears forming in his eyes. As he takes a deep breath to compose himself he makes the mistake of looking over at Dick again, Dick looks back at him too and just like that they fall into another uncontrollable laughing fit.

While laughing Jason gets a glimpse of a confused looking Tim and a disappointed Bruce, but it’s Bruce’s scowling expression that triggers off another wave of giggles.

It takes even longer for the two of them to calm down. As he sits there Jason repeatedly takes deep breaths in order to collect himself. Once he’s calmed down a little, now able to breathe somewhat normally, he could feel how his sides are aching, how his cheeks hurt from the wide smiling and the tears coming from his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard that it hurt, and over something so trivial nonetheless.

When it feels like he’s finally composed himself he risks a glance at Dick to find his brother also in the state of calming down though there’s still a wide grin on face. He then looks at Bruce who is still staring at the two of them with his disappointed look. That’s almost enough to set himself off again. Almost.

“If you’re both quite done, we have important business to discuss, may I remind you that being the reason we’re meeting to begin with.”

“Hey, you’re the one who started on the whole language topic that derailed us in the beginning.” Jason defends himself and his brother’s. All Bruce does is huff at that, knowing Jason is right and can’t defend himself against it otherwise. Jason smirks victoriously.

Opposite him, Tim sighs loudly and makes a show to sitting up straight and sorting out some of the paperwork between them all on table. “Enough already, can we just go over the details and the police reports again and get to the end of this. I have better things to do than hear everyone bicker about language and manners.”

Dick gives the youngest a side look. “What you got planned? Is that who you were messaging just now? Is it your boyfriend?”

“What? No. Just friends. I ain’t telling you.” Tim snaps glaring at Dick.

Jason whistles. “Timmy’s getting some tonight then eh? Make sure to stay safe and use protection.”

“Jason!”

“Well he’s not wrong Tim, but where are you going? We need to know so if something happens we know where to look first.” Dick’s looking more concerned by the minute and Jason could see the flip switch from carefree older brother to over-bearing mother hen.

Tim blinks at them before turning his gaze to Bruce. In a whining voice he pleads the man, “Bruce, get them to stop!”

To begin with all Bruce does is run a hand over his face like he’s regretting every life choice he’s made and how he would rather be anywhere else but here. After a moment he sends exasperated looks at his eldest sons.

“Not much more to go, then we should be all caught up and ready to proceed with the case further tomorrow. Is it too much to ask for your full attention for the remaining hour?”

Jason sighs and sits up straighter, knowing play time is over and it’s time to be serious. One more hour won’t hurt, then afterwards there’s nothing stopping him from having a little fun is there. He nods at Bruce and picks up the piece of paper closet to him to examine the page. Dick does the same and finally Bruce proceeds with their meeting.

[capricorn-stark]

Othello

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am, kinda short, swearing

a/n: i got strong feelings towards Othello, The Catcher in the Rye, and Jason Todd, but this one’s for @tadpole-san smirk smirk smirk

part 2

You liked studying at Gotham University’s library for the ambience. 

Whether or not you got any actual “studying” done depended wholly on your mood and whatever being that may or may not have been watching you from above, but even if you somehow managed to procrastinate the entire time you were there, at least you could walk back to your dorm with the comforting fact that you had gotten in your cardio for the day. 

The place itself was gorgeous with its overarching ceilings, long hall lined with pillars supporting a seemingly endless array of books, the cozy golden glow of the lights, and the generally pleasant atmosphere provided by the myriads of students sitting around its tables and lounging on its couches. The entire campus was stunning - but it would only be surprising if it wasn’t thanks to the very generous grants from patrons of the Gotham elite, most notably people like Bruce Wayne.

You had a particular spot you liked near the edge of the library, in a little corner mostly surrounded by shelves with enough space for a few usually-unoccupied couches. Aside from you, the only regulars to sit there mainly just consisted of one other guy who recently had started to drop in every few days or so to listen to music and do his own work. You didn’t mind him - he never bothered you, and you both kept up your mutual solidarity towards maintaining a very comfortable silence.

That was, until one particular day.

“Is that Othello?” You glanced over the book in your hand and saw the guy’s startlingly green eyes gazing right at you over his dark-rimmed reading glasses. He wasn’t wearing his earbuds as per usual, so you figured your agonized sigh of boredom must’ve come out a little too loudly. 

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slowly lowering the book a little. “Unfortunately.” He cracked a slight grin at that.

“What, you’re not a fan of Shakespeare?” 

“I don’t hate him,” you started with a fairly nonchalant shrug, “I just think this book in particular is just kinda-”

“Boring as fuck?” he finished very eloquently, causing you to grin back despite yourself. 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“I can agree with that,” he said with a nod towards the book. “Definitely not one of my favorites, that’s for sure. Good premise, dynamics were pretty interesting, but I couldn’t really get into it either.” The fact that he was discussing Shakespeare’s works in a way that suggested he had fully read the book (without wholly relying on CliffNotes) and that he did perhaps genuinely enjoy some of them suggested to you that he was probably an English major. “And Iago was a bitch-”

“I know!” you nearly exclaimed, throwing your hands up in very evident frustration. “Iago was shady as hell, and I don’t get how Othello never saw it coming from him. Like, no one can be that oblivious, come on. I wouldn’t have listened to him.” RIP to Othello, but you were different. 

He was actually laughing at that point, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You and me both. You an English major?” You shook your head, holding up your Psychology Twelfth Edition textbook that had been resting on the table beside you.

“Psych.” He raised a brow and you inwardly sighed.

“Jeez - at GU? I’m impressed.” 

Being a psych student at your particular Gotham-based university was both a blessing and somewhat of a curse. The classes were phenomenal and your professors consisted of some of the best and most experienced in the nation - but that also came with the downside that the city you lived in had some of the biggest psychopaths and the largest insane asylum in the nation as well. 

Well, you win some, you lose some.

“It’s not that bad,” you tried to say, but the smirk playing at his lips proved that you weren’t convincing anyone. “Let me guess, you’re an English major.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpanned, chuckling regardless as he closed up his own book and extended a hand out. “Name’s Jason Todd. I’ve seen you around a lot, but we never really talked, huh?” You smiled as you reached out to shake his hand, introducing yourself as well.

“I guess not. You usually look like you’re pretty busy.”

“Something like that,” Jason grinned, leaning back against his chair and sliding off his glasses. Without them, the lights somehow gave them an almost glowing effect. “I figured you wouldn’t want me to bother you.”

Bantering over Shakespeare with a cute boy wasn’t exactly your definition of being bothered, so you shook your head.

“Believe me, that was a lot better than Othello was.”

You saw Jason at your spot again the next day, then the day after and the next, lounging across from your couch and always seeming rather out-of-place with his black leather jackets and ripped jeans, but a welcome sight to you nonetheless. And just like that, suddenly, your visits to the library weren’t just for the sake of cardio and the ambience anymore.

He was surprisingly amusing to talk to, whether it was complaining about more books for your respective English courses or just ranting to each other about the struggles of being a student at GU. It was easy to bond over things like getting your midterms interrupted by random threats from the likes of the Riddler, or arguing over whether or not the city’s latest vigilante, some guy named Red Hood, was actually cooler than Batman himself. 

He had been particularly passionate about that last debate.

Aside from being easy-going and annoyingly attractive, you also figured out that he was ridiculously smart, especially when it came to helping you with your English course. Whether it was explaining the deeper societal message behind a particular reading or helping you research topics for your thesis, Jason had a knack towards figuring out exactly the things you yourself seemed to struggle with. 

“How do you figure all of this out?” You asked one day out of sheer disbelief after he connected The Catcher in the Rye to themes of disillusionment about innocence and one’s childhood, and not just towards the protagonist, Holden, being an ass. “Seriously, I thought I was pretty decent with this stuff, but you blow me out of the water.”

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, sliding off his reading glasses and setting it on top of the wooden table you were at. You had grown fond of the way they looked on him.

“It’s nothing special,” he dismissed in response, lifting his gaze from the book to fixate it back on you. “You do great by yourself, I just kinda give you a little push with my interpretations.” 

He did that a lot - downplaying the fact that he was actually smart as hell like it really was no big deal. The way your grades had started rising after he started helping you out proved otherwise, though.

“Still, thanks for helping me out,” you insisted, eliciting another slight smile from him. “It means a lot.” 

“Oh yeah?” His tone had gotten cheekier as he leaned closer to you. “How much is a lot?” 

“That’s up for you to decide,” you smirked, moving back and closing up your laptop. “Not me.” 

“You know, if you really wanted to thank me, you should get a coffee with me sometime.” 

“We get coffee together like every week,” you deadpanned and he sighed.

“Not like that. Like a date.” 

It hit you like a truck.

“A date,” you repeated, like you hadn’t heard him the first time. 

“Only if you were into that,” he added, trying to play it cool as he moved to pack his things into his bag. “I’m not working tonight, so I thought you might wanna give it a shot.” That was even more surprising, because he always happened to have a mysterious night shift going on. He never told you what exactly that was, aside from off-handedly mentioning something about motorcycles and Crime Alley every once in a while.

You were still letting it process. 

“...if you don’t want to-”

“No, no - that sounds great,” you interjected, already starting to smile. At the sight of it, he managed another grin himself, an evident hint of relief flashing across his face.

“Right. Yeah. Cool.” He cleared his throat and shot you another grin as he tossed his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s head out. And I’m telling you right now, I’m not letting your broke ass pay for it.”

“Jason!” you protested as he laughed and nudged your shoulder with his, making you join in despite yourself.

At least Othello had managed to lead you to one good thing.

[iloveitwhen]

jasonette but like siblings but like angst- like that whole trope where they are blood related and got separated, or they didnt get separated idk thats cool too i just want some sibling jasonette😅

Wow. ok. uhmmmm. this is a lot i think?? I got a little jk a lot carried away and this past week was super busy so i’ll finish the second part later??

Again... a lot...

Jason is walking home after another night at the bar when he sees a small woman, teenager? Slip into a dark alleyway and two men follow in after her a few moments later. 

Jason curses and bolts across the street, what was this girl thinking? How stupid do you have to be to go into a dark alley where no one will hear you or care to help?

He jumps into the alley to find one man already slumped on himself on the floor and the other getting kicked in the teeth by army boots then falling limply. 

Jason curses again, impressed this time. He scans over the men noting that they probably had pretty good concussions judging from the dent in the garbage can the first man was laying next to and the way the second guy’s head smacked onto the concrete when he fell. He lands his eyes back on the woman, no, definitely a teenager, with a smile on his face that instantly falters. The girl is in a fighting stance and waiting for him to attack so he quickly raises his hands to placate her.

“I’m not here to fight you, I saw you get followed and I was coming to help.” 

“Nobody helps in Gotham,” she states, a dangerous edge to her voice that held a carefully hidden accent. 

“Not from around here, are you?” 

The girl narrows her eyes, “I was born and raised here, take a step further and you won’t be waking up tomorrow.” 

Jason pockets his hands and smirks. He likes her, she’s a fighter, she reminds him of himself when he was younger. 

“Ok. Just make sure you make it home safe. A girl’s going to get some unwanted attention at a time and place like this.” He turns around and crosses the street but as soon as he’s out of her sight he turns back and hides in the shadows to track her and make sure no one else tries to catch her alone. Just because she could handle herself the first time doesn’t mean she’s necessarily safe from the next attempt. 

The girl exits the alley and starts toward the direction of Jason’s apartment calmly as if she didn’t just get attacked. At least that means less walking for him. After a few minutes she slips into another dark alley, of course she does, and Jason crosses the street again going into his own empty alley before pulling his helmet on and scaling the building. As he peers over the side of the building his helmet scans the area giving him feedback he would normally miss due to the horrible lighting and telling him that the alley was empty. He figured she had somehow gotten into one of the buildings and decided to go home by rooftops since he was already up there. 

However, as he landed on the opposite rooftop his feet slipped from underneath him. Jason managed to roll out of it but before he could get his footing his hip was kicked into and he stumbled, tripped over a seemingly perfectly placed rock and smashed his head on the side of the stair house. Then, just as quickly as this all transpired, there was a body behind him, they hooked their fingers under his helmet and lifted it to expose his neck and press a knife with jagged points onto his neck. How did he know the knife had jagged points? Good question, it was, as previously mentioned, against his neck and piercing into his skin, drawing blood. 

“Why are you following me?” a girl’s voice filters through his mask and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His mask let him know through the constant visuals that the voice belonged to a female in their late teens, not that he didn’t already know that. 

“Making sure you got home safe,” he says carefully, weighing his options and trying to decide if he should let her feel like she got him or escape with a slight nick on his neck. 

Eh. Jason preferred to not have a bleeding neck no matter how small the cut. 

“Lies,” she hisses, digging the knife a bit deeper as a warning, maybe getting out sooner was a better idea. “What do you want?” 

“Knife off my throat first,” he manages without pushing his neck further onto the blade. 

A second later the girl releases him and jumps back with enough space between them to react if he ended up deciding to attack her. 

Jason gives her a quick glance as he stands up, a hand to his throat to check for blood. 

“I wasn’t lying-”

“You’re not fooling anyone you Red Hood wannabe,” she snaps. Jason just laughs in surprise, no one has ever accused him of being a Red Hood wannabe. He's the one who made the mantle into something to respect, something to fear. He stops laughing and levels a glare at the girl, his helmet telling him unhelpfully there was no match of facial recognition in any database. 

“I am Red Hood-” he started to growl out but she cut him off again. The audacity. 

“Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught by the person he was trailing, Red Hood wouldn’t have been caught off guard, Red Hood doesn’t have a stupid streak of white hair on his head. He may have been a theatre nerd but he wouldn’t do that.” 

Wait what. 

“What are you talking about?” But it was more of a demand than a question. 

“You’re not…” she trailed off waving her hand in the air trying to find a word, “slick. Same jacket, same shoes, same build, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Ok. Whatever, I’m going home.” He turns and starts jogging across the rooftop towards home. So much for helping out. 

“Where is he?” she calls out after him.

“Right here, princess,” he spat before jumping to the other rooftop. 

But as soon as his feet leave the building a big dark blue warbly hole appears and swallows him before he can react. Unfortunately for him the other side of that weird black hole was a face full of concrete. 

“Prove you’re him.” 

Oh this girl was something else. Jason shakes his disorientation away, he didn’t know how she did that, nor did he care but he was pissed. He swings his foot around and connects with her ankle, she falls as expected but easily bounces right back up and hops out of his range. 

“Do that again and I’ll have to break my no killing kids rule,” he growls out, staring her down for a moment. Her face was finally lit by the dim yellow street lamps and he could see the entirety of her face and all the raw emotions she was trying to hide. For a split second familiarity passed through him, like when you see someone at the library then at the store a few weeks later or you see an old school friend ten years later and can’t quite place them. Jason dismisses the feeling and turns to go. 

“Wait.” She says it so vulnerably that Jason gives her a chance, when he turns she pulls up her sleeve and shows off her forearm. 

In the center of her arm is a faded black tattoo that was a writing symbol, but because of its name and one of its uses it was used to brand child soldiers in Gotham from a particular gang that Red Hood obliterated as soon as his first order of business in Gotham. 

‡

It was the double dagger, or better known in Gotham as the death dagger. The children were expendable although highly trained and dangerous, they could give Damian a run for his money in the child assassin department. The tattoo was a reminder to the children and to the people they came across that they were soulless, emotionless, their lives and actions were not their own and they would give their lives willingly for the mission

Meaning who they were before was dead. No family, no connections, no one would notice if they went missing and no one would be able to identify their bodies if and when the time came. Sometimes poor families would sell one of their children and promise to forget them and to never contact them. 

Jason was led to assume that this was another child soldier looking to thank him, or kill him. It was 50/50 these days, some of those kids just never recovered. 

“So what is it that you want? You want my autograph across your head?” Jason asks dryly. 

The girl just huffs and pulls her sleeve back down. 

“I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.”

I want to know if my brother is underneath that mask.

The words struck Jason deep in his chest but it only fueled his anger. He didn’t know why that hit so deep but he was not in the mood for this nor would he be at any time. 

“Just because I ended that gang doesn’t mean we’re family. Go find your other assassin siblings to play house with.” 

“Annette,” she calls after as he turns his back again. A strike of familiarity pulses through him and when he hesitates she continues, “that was my name before I was initiated. I was one of the first. Daddy’s little girl,” she was still talking louder than necessary since he hadn’t turned back around. “I’m the only one left from The 13.” 

Right. The 13. That’s what everyone called the first batch even as they were killed off, they were the most ruthless being the oldest and were also the most aggressive in proving their worth. It was common to find a number from 1-13 placed strategically behind at the crime scene, whoever had the most successful missions would be highly rewarded, or so he was told. 

“Do you remember?” 

“I remember destroying that gang and their stupid leader and having to kill some of your little friends and I also remember The 13 died within the first year and a half and were easily replaced by their younger friends.” 

“Do you remember me?”

“Look, kid,” he finally turns to look at her, “I don’t care, ok? Yay whoopdeedoo I saved you, get in line. It’s what I do, kill bad people and let the rest walk away. You’re not special.” 

“Annette Marie Todd,” she says hurriedly, like it’s a last resort. “Jason Peter Todd,” she continues, “just you. Me. And a blitzed out Mom.” 

Jason did not like this, he knew the Dagger Children were ruthless and expert manipulators but this was pushing it. He spun around to face her, ripping off his helmet, she already knew what he looked like and it was in the way of his death glare. 

“You don’t know who you are messing with. If you really were a Dagger you’d know that I am not one to be fucked with.” He slides his helmet back on and without a backward glance he runs off to the next roof and continues home. Thankfully not another portal thing opens up in front of him. 

———————————

Jason didn’t have a sister. He did not have a sister. He would remember having a sister. He would remember having a Dagger for a sister. But Annette was such a familiar name. And she had said her name was Annette Marie Todd. Todd. 

No that’s stupid. Impossible. She was just messing with him, for all he knew she could have been subtly showing her face in random places for him to react to the familiarity of her face and she could have said the name sometime in the last few months for him to vaguely recognize the sound of her name but not place it. 

But the Lazarus pit did alter his memories from childhood, it was like looking through a fog of red anger, or maybe it was always like that even before the pit, and it also completely wiped out other parts of his memory. But a sister? No. No way. 

Hours of this, circling around the possibilities and shifting around on his bed trying to get comfortable until he finally drifted off in a very restless sleep. 

Jason found himself in a familiar apartment, the one he lived in before his “mother” died. He looked around and it was more of the feeling of familiarity that convinced him where he was than anything else. He steps aside for a younger version of himself to run by him and turns to the window that led out to the fire escape and watches him climb out of it and close the window. Jason turns back around to see what Young Jason was hiding from. A man hands a thick envelope to his mother, Catherine Todd who had wrapped herself in a thin silk robe, her bony frame visible as well as her happy focus on the money inside that envelope. Jason couldn’t make out the man’s face but he turned around and grabbed the small hand of a little girl in pigtails. She turned her head and faced the window sending a smile but he couldn’t quite make out her face so he instead turned to himself sitting outside.

As he turned his surroundings changed but in his dreamstate he paid no mind to it. This time he was standing in an aisle of a store as a child. He looked around and found his mother dressed embarrassingly in a thin tank top and ragged jeans and flip flops. He feels a squeeze of his hand and looks down, his little sister is looking up at him and pointing to a rack of stuffed animals of Clifford the Big Red Dog that were suddenly there. He sends her a smile and looks up, intent on catching up with his mother and asking her to buy one but as he chases her his intent slips from his mind and instead he wants to taste the cupcakes he just saw. He opens a case and takes a bite but yelling makes him turn around and there is Batman towering over him. Instead of a tasty cupcake he is holding something thick and metal, a crowbar. He throws it at the man and turns to run away and jumps out of the parking garage and jumps into the air flying up. But he’s too slow, he tries kicking and swimming in the air to propel himself further away from Batman but a hand wraps around his foot. 

Jason jerks awake, breathing heavy and feeling uncomfortably hot. This was much more mild than his usual nightmares, if it could even be called a nightmare, but it was bad in a different way. It wasn’t unusual for Jason to be getting chased in his dreams by one thing or another and it always ended before whatever or whoever was chasing him got him but it was getting a little old honestly. 

His head was pounding so he slipped out of bed and poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen. As he takes a sip he recalls his dream and how he had looked down at his sister. But that couldn’t be right. 

A searing pain in his head forces him to tighten his grip on his cup before it goes away again. Stupid head. Stupid dream. Stupid girl trying to get in his head. 

As he lays back down a memory of clear grey eyes flashes across his mind’s eye. 

---

Throughout the next few days Jason tries to ignore the headaches and his dreams of the young black haired girl with grey eyes and of getting chased which was more frequent and more urgent than he remembered them being. It was just all a big waste of time. At least the Dagger girl wasn’t trying to find him anymore, he didn’t know how he would react if she showed up again. 

After another dream of getting chased, this time he was just so tired of it he got a few good punches in on the Bane/Joker demon that was chasing him when his phone buzzes, startling him awake. He ignores it in favor of a cup of coffee and checks the time on the oven that he never uses, it’s almost two o’clock. 

His phone buzzes again several more times in quick succession. He finally heads over and clicks his phone on to see five messages from Stephanie. 

Replacement’s replacement🤰

so u have a little sister and u never told me???

anyways shes at the big house and getting interrogated by bruce and i think hes ready to adopt her

hello

so rude

i mean it looks to me shes tellin the truth but like seems sus for obvious reasons and ur the only one that'll actually know so… hurry up??

Jason curses and rushes to grab his things before running outside and zooming to the Wayne Manor on his motorcycle. 

welp i’ll add with another part soon that i havent finished yet but anywho let me know if jason is too ooc or something😁😁

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

Part 5:

When you wake up the next morning, your blankets are folded. They’re folded and piled neatly next to rearranged pillows, not even a crease left in your couch cushions from where he’d slept. It’s like he was never even there in the first place, but then you walk into your kitchen. There’s a muffin sitting on your counter, a note attached on top of it’s plastic container. 

Your couch is fucking shitty, but thanks I guess. I only bought you this so you don’t complain. I don’t owe you shit, leech.

It’s a strange sort of fondness that eclispes you then, so faint that you almost don’t even catch it. You never thought you’d have a soft spot for anything Bakugou did- but you figure leech isn’t so bad. Way better than witch or any of the other names he’d called you anyway.

You remove the note, popping open the plastic lid. The muffin’s long gone cold, but you figured that was about right; Bakugou did seem the type to be fussy about rising early. Still, you tear away the paper, smiling while you take a bite, chewing and-

Bran.

Bakugou bought you a bran muffin.

Suddenly, and you’re sure it must be brain damage, but you feel a little warmer than before. You spit out the disgusting muffin with an exasperated laugh, wondering just where the hell he even managed to buy such an abomination.

—//—

A few weeks later, you’re locking the back door behind you, once again stepping into the street. You see him the second you turn around, clad in costume and leaning against the wall. You can’t really see his face well in the low light, but no shadows could hide those red eyes you’d come to know.

There’s that weird sensation again, a subtle warmth settling in your chest at the sight of him. You’d been feeling it for weeks now, this strange pride overcoming you every time you’d seen him succeed. Whether it was on the news or on magazines, or even in commericials, you felt a strange peace at seeing his face. You try to convince yourself that it’s just the same happiness you feel at seeing anybody you healed- but it’s more than that.

You’d come to realize you thought of Bakugou as more than just a patient. He was nearing more of a strange sort of friend. Albeit one that frequently made you want to tear your hair out.

He shifts, standing straighter while you look at him, and you’re not sure what you were expecting, but his costume looks intimidating. The only time you’d seen it before, that very first night you’d met him, he hadn’t had his gauntlets or his headpiece. Now he’s standing in front of you, arms entrapped by giants grenades and sharp spikes behind his ears. He looks larger than life- so loud and proud that you almost can’t match the tired and injured Bakugou you knew to the seemingly invincible Dynamite he was now.

“I got your gift.” You break the ice with a small smile, stepping away from the door.

“You did, huh? You like it?”

“Oh my god, wipe the smirk off your face. I can hear it, you asshole.” You roll your eyes at his tone. “I didn’t like it. It was disgusting! Where the hell did you even get it?”

“Bakery down the street. Not that it matters since you’re fuckin’ ungrateful. Apparently.”

“Bakugou- you invited yourself into my house, and then left me a war-crime for breakfast! You try being grateful when that happens- trust me, it’s hard.”

He just shrugs, falling into step with you as you continue down the alley.

“Oh, okay, so is this just, like, a thing you’re doing now? Stalking me home-“

“Walking.” He interrupts sternly, clearly not finding humor in your joke. “Stupid shit like this is my fuckin’ job, okay- so don’t go thinking you’re special.”

“Oh I don’t. Believe me, you’ve made it very clear that you don’t even like- oh my god, are you bleeding?”

When he finally steps into the light of the street lamps, you can see blood glisten something sickly as it drips from his nose. It hardly reaches his lip before Bakugou is grunting, smearing it away on the back of his hand. There’s a strange torpidity to his  movements, and it’s not until you meet his eyes that you realize it- he’s tired again, sleepless and ghostly just like every other time you’d ever seen him.

“What’s with the nose? I thought you said you didn’t get hurt often. What happened to that, huh?”

“You try fighting on less than 3 hours of sleep a night. Shit fuckin’ adds up. Makes you sloppy.” He defends, grumbling under his breath as he wipes away more blood. “I doubt you’d do any fuckin’ better.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t. I’m sure I wouldn’t.” You stop, staring him down until he spins to face you. “Can I see it? I think it’s broken.”

“No fuckin’ shit.”

“Bakugou, c’mon. I’m trying to help.” You roll your eyes at him. “Drop the attitude please.”

“Why the hell do you even care? Hah?”

“Because, contrary to your very disrespectful insults, I’m actually a pretty good nurse, alright? And that means I try my best to help injured people when I see them. Even when they’re rude to me.”

“Who the fuck said I’m rude?”

“Me. I’m saying it.” You insist, stepping closer to him. He smells like blood and smoke, still clad in his hero costume, but you approach anyway. “But, really, can I see? If it’s broken then it’s just going to keep bleeding unless you do something about it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but seems to relent without much fight. He removes his mask, revealing the now familiar purpling under his eyes. You briefly wonder if he has a make-up artist- he never looked nearly that tired when he was doing interviews for the media. 

You shake off the musing, reaching for his face and gently running your thumbs along his nose. Bakugou sucks a breath, and when you meet his eyes they’re guarded. He looks nervous, almost unsure under your touch, but you try your best to reassure him with a confident smile. Over the bridge of his nose you can feel swelling and aged scarring, but there cartilage feels intact. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I think you might just be stuck with the swelling, but otherwise you’re good. Nothing’s broken.” You say easily, dropping your hands from his face as you take a step back. “Although, must’ve been some hit- you’ve already got a bit of bruising under your eyes.” 

“Wow, thanks for the report- of all the baseline shit I already fuckin’ knew.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired? You know, of being so mean all the time?” You level him with an unimpressed look, before digging in your purse for your pack of tissues. You fish a few out, pressing them into his hand. “Listen, you don’t deserve these, especially after that last remark, but take them anyways. And do me a favor and chill out, alright? I wasn’t trying to waste your time. I was just checking to see that the bleeding was from the impact and not anything else.”

“Yeah. Whatever, leech. I just don’t understand why you had to fuckin’ manhandle me to do it.”

“Please, I touched your nose, drama queen. And, even if I actually wanted to, I’m pretty sure you’d blow me up way before I even got that far.”

“Damn right.”

“Yep, and there he is.” You tease, turning down a side street. “Was hoping I’d get to experience another blatant display of your egotism sometime soon. Totally glad I don’t have to wait any longer.”

Bakugou scoffs, turning away, but you don’t miss it: his lip twitches. Just a bit, it hardly even counts, but you see it.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.” You smile.

“Hell does that mean? Hah?”

“I mean, you need to stop running yourself ragged. You look terrible, and you’re getting yourself hurt. It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s fuckin’ healthy.”

“Well if thought you knew, I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

“Don’t act like you’re so fuckin’ smart. You’re not.”

“Hey- no insults. You agreed, remember?”

“Because you fuckin’ made me, you bitch.” He grumbles, pressing another tissue into his nose. “And it’s not an insult if it’s a fact.”

“Hey, genuine question- have you ever tried just, like, I don’t know, being nice to people? Just asking out of curiosity.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a joke. I’m genuinely curious.” You say, your grin only growing wider at the sight of his grimace. “Like, if it was a life or death situation, and someone told you that you had to give a genuine compliment or be burned to death, you’d be an absolute crisp, right? Right?”

“Wrong. Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean I don’t believe you at all, but that’s okay.”

“Hell does that mean?”

“It means I don’t think you could do it.”

“I could.”

“You absolutely couldn’t.” 

“I fuckin’ could, you leech.”

“See now that just proves my point.” You smile easily. “Feel free to prove me wrong though.” 

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but you see his pinched expression and that says enough. He knows he couldn’t do it just as much as you did.

From then on you walk in relative silence, and after a few more tissues from your purse, he finally stops bleeding all over the pavement. It’s a weird sort of stillness that ensuses but you find you don’t mind much.

“Aren’t you on patrol?” You ask.

“Obviously. What, the costume wasn’t enough to tell ya that? You seriously telling me your dumbass couldn’t figure that out?”

“You’re so difficult, I swear.” You roll your eyes. “What I meant, is don’t you have a job to get to? Instead of just walking me home.”

“What the hell do you think patrol is?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, hero.”

“It’s walking the streets. For fuckin’ hours and being bored as shit. That’s what it is.”

“Oh. Okay, so basically this, huh.” You sigh. “How do you always end up so hurt then?”

“I fuckin’ don’t. Or didn’t used to.” He grits, kicking at a rock in the road with his boot. “But there’s lots of fuckin’ idiots with surprise quirks. It’s absolute bullshit some of the powers people end up with.” 

“So you’re telling me even the great Dynamite loses sometimes?”

“No. Never.” 

“What about that first night then? When you landed on my balcony?” You ask quietly, pulling your keycard out as you begin to near your apartment complex. “You were unconscious.”

“It wasn’t- I didn’t lose, you fuckin’ idiot. That was different.”

There’s something in his voice- an unusual tension that’s only amplified by the way he clenches his jaw and shakes his head. Bakugou looks strange, his forehead split by a crease you’d never seen on him before. It hardly lasts a second though, and then he’s blinking it away, eyes hardening like it was never even there in the first place.

“Yeah?” You’re swiping your keycard, turning back to face him with your hand on the door handle. You try to keep your tone light. “Tell me how.”

“It’s none of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Is that your default answer for everything? C’mon, I’ve always been curious about it.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s not your problem.”

“Yeah, maybe not, but I’m sure if I wound up half-dead on your doorstep you’d be curious too. So, c’mon, indulge me.” 

“No.” He grits.

“Seriously?” You huff, trying to keep the slight frustration out of your voice. You just didn’t understand him. “Why not?”

“Because.”

“Bakugou, seriously, it’s just a question and I don’t understand why-” 

“Stop fuckin’ pushing!” He suddenly roars, spitting as he seethes. His palms are crackling, gauntlets glinting dangerously under the street lamps. “Jesus fucking christ, you never shut the hell up! Don’t you get it? We’re not fucking friends! Stop asking me shit and digging in my fuckin’ business like you’re special!”

You shrink back, a little taken aback by his tone. You hadn’t realized just how used to his normal grumbling you’d become, but the outright venom in his voice shocked you. His eyes were blazing, red and fiery and harsh against the black of his mask. It wasn’t like before. He wasn’t joking and it wasn’t an empty threat, he wanted to scare you off this time. 

You quickly realized you’d become way too comfortable. Somehow you’d forgotten just how much he truly didn’t like you. And how short his fuse was.

“Yeah. I- uh, I’m sorry.” You fumble over your words, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s not my business. Sorry.” 

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, just sneering before turning his back and stomping off. You think there’s blood rushing in your ears, but his heavy boots are louder, striking against the pavement like thunder. He’s off in a cacophony of metallic clanking and heavy breathing, leaving a strange vacuum of silence behind him. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of your uneasiness. He’d blown up and left so quickly you’d hardly even processed it. Left you standing in the street, blinking away the whiplash, and scrunching your nose at the smell of gunpowder and nitroglycerin.

With shaking hands, you pull open the door, head reeling as you step into the elevator. There’s guilt settling in your stomach by the time you reach your floor, practically suffocating you when you step into your apartment.

You shouldn’t have pried. You shouldn’t have, because he didn’t technically owe you anything, especially not if it was a bad memory for him- and you didn’t need your quirk to tell you that’s what it was for him. 

Bakugou was right. You weren’t friends. You hardly knew him; even if sometimes it felt like you saw vulnerable parts of him nobody else did.

Ridding yourself of the thought, you decide to settle in for a calm night. You’d originally planned to make a trip to the store for some food, but now you just weren’t feeling up to it. What you were feeling up to was some take-out, so you pulled out a menu and ordered your usual.

You showered, changing into pajamas and throwing your hair up before your food arrived, trying not to stew over your latest disastrous interaction with Bakugou. 

A part of you wondered what was up with him, especially because the longer you thought about it, the more his voice seemed to sound vulnerable. When he’d yelled it was like the sound was eating away at his throat, like it had been sitting there for a while and building. There was no emphasis to any of his words, all of them tumbling out with the same rage. Like the words were less important than the expression itself. You’d love to just throw the interaction away as nothing more than anger at your prying, but it didn’t read like that to you. You’d been reading secondhand emotions your entire life, you knew them like an entirely separate language, and something about Bakugou’s outburst felt layered to you- like his rage was something opportunistic that had just been searching for an outlet.

You wonder again about what happened all those months ago, wonder just what must happen in his day-to-day life to make him that angry. You’ve learned your lesson though- you won’t let yourself mistakenly feel comfortable enough to ask him again. 

Something about that thought makes you a little sad, as this wasn’t the first time you’d ran into this problem. You weren’t sure if it was a byproduct of your quirk or if it was just you, but you’d sort of always cared about people disproportionately. Somehow always came on too strong. Your heart was big enough to bleed for just about anybody. 

There’s a knock on your door, and you rise to get your food. It’s hot in your hands, the smell wafting deliciously, but you hardly even recognize it, caught off-guard by another knock. This one’s at your back door, and it’s softer. Tentative and light against the glass. You set your food down, spinning to face the noise. 

You can hardly hide your surprise, and he must see it too. He’s rolling his eyes then, knuckles rapping against the glass once more. He’s clad in sweats, devoid of his hero costume from earlier, and there’s a bag in his hands. He’s shuffling it impatiently as you near the door.

“Bakugou? I-” You start, sliding the door open for him to step in. 

“Save it. Apologies are wimp shit.” He growls, stepping past you with large strides. “We both know why I’m here so just shut the fuck up and get on with it already.” 

There’s a lot of things you want to ask him in that moment- why he’s showing up so late, how he even knew which balcony was yours, why there’s a bruise on his jaw that you’re sure wasn’t there before, but mostly, why he even came back at all. With how angry he was, you were sure you’d run him off for a while. 

“It’s- no. I have to apologize, I do.” You tell him, trying to catch his gaze. Bakugou doesn’t let you, but you continue trying anyway. “Really. Your business is your business and I shouldn’t have pried. I wasn’t trying to be rude, I really was just curious. Still though, if you don’t want to say you absolutely don’t have to, and I shouldn’t have pushed it.” 

“Why do you even care?”

“You asked me that earlier.” You note softly, taking a deep breath before talking again. “And I meant it, what I said, about being a nurse. But I’m also just me, and that means I care about everyone. Everyone and everything. All the time.” 

“That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

“I mean, for my mental health? Yeah. Absolutely.” You laugh sardonically, fiddling with a piece of your hair as you continue. “But I don’t regret it, and there’s pretty much nothing I can do to stop it. Caring about everyone is like, my biggest character trait-”

“Character flaw.”

“No. I think it’s a good thing. But I get how it could be uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of it. And that maybe, I sometimes come off as invasive when really I’m just concerned. Sorry if I got too comfortable with you. I’ll try not to let it happen again. “

“That’s not-” Bakugou curses under his breath, before whipping around to face you. He’s blushing slightly, fist clenching the paper bag he’s holding. “I was just mad. Not every goddamn thing is about you. So don’t be a fuckin’ idiot and go reading into it like that.” 

Truly, you’re not sure how to take his comment. You felt like you were definitely in the wrong, but Bakugou seemed serious. His eyes were full of a new sincerity you’d hardly seen in him before. 

“Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” You smile unsurely. Then you’re walking past him, returning back to your food in the kitchen. “So, you planning to sleep on my couch again?” 

“Fuckin’ obviously. Gonna eat first though.”

“Oh I’m sure. That’s what’s in the bag, right?” You ask, beginning to unpack your own food. At his nod, you begin speaking once more. “Makes sense. I’m sure you’ve gotta be hungry after lugging those gauntlets around. Those are massive, you know?” 

“Yep. I know.”

When you look up at him, he’s got that signature smirk pulled across his face. You let the sarcasm seep thickly into your words. “If I didn’t know any better, that’d sound a lot like pride.”

“It might be.”

“Oh, so you’re proud of dragging those huge weapons around? You know, why doesn’t that surprise me? Of course you are.” 

Bakugou just shrugs, making himself a home of your kitchen table, grunting slightly as he tears the plastic lid off his container of food. Almost immediately something spicy and nearly choking permeates the air. You scrunch your nose up with a shiver.

“What the hell is that?” You ask him incredulously, picking at your food while standing at the counter. You’d briefly thought about joining him at the table, but the option looks absolutely unappealing now. “That smells lethal, Bakugou! Who needs something that spicy? Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“Oi, chill the hell out, it’s not even bad. You’re just a fuckin’ wimp.”

“Hey, no insults, remember?” 

“God, you’re gonna kill me with that shit.” He grumbles, but he’s stabbing at his noodles with a tiny, barely-there tilt to his lips. “You should abandon that.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’d have way too much fun with it.” You smile, taking another bite. “And because it’d be like when I stitched you up all over again. You were so mean.”

“I was not. Fuckin’ baby.”

“You were. Do you not remember telling me to shut the fuck up? To my face? Like, minutes after I started fixing you up!” 

“Because you were being fucking annoying!” He challenges, that same hint of amusement in his eyes. “How in the hell is that my fault?”

“It’s your fault because everything seems to annoy you.”

“Yeah, well everything is fucking bullshit. Again, how is that my fault.” 

“God, you’re impossible.” You groan, setting your fork down. You open your fridge, hand grasping at a water bottle before you turn back to him. “You want a drink? Pretty much all I have is water, but you’re welcome to that.”

Bakugou nods, but then he’s tilting his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. “You’re a shitty host. Only offering me a drink when I’m already half-way through my meal. That shit’s embarrassing as hell.” 

“Bakugou. Open your mouth again and I swear I’ll chuck this at you.” 

“Do it, leech.” 

“Is that a challenge?”

“Are you fucking braindead? Of course it is.” 

Then Bakugou’s leaning forward in his seat, eyes tracking you intensely. There’s that same life in them from the last time you saw him- that same look that’s all softly-licking flames and absolutely no inferno. It makes you smile.

“Actually, no, you know what? I absolutely will not be stooping to your aggressive level.” You near him, making a point to press the water bottle gently into his waiting hand. “Not tonight, you absolute madman.” 

“Boring.”

“No. Not boring. It’s responsible.”

“Those are fuckin’ synonyms, leech.” 

“Wow, I didn’t think you even knew what synonyms were.” 

“You think I’m stupid? Fat fuckin’ chance.” He sneers, shoveling another forkful of noodles into his mouth. “Or did you just forget when I figured out how your shitty quirk worked before you did?” 

"No. I didn’t forget. And I’m still mad at you for that so let’s not bring it up, please.”

“Hell are you mad for, woman? Did you a fuckin’ favor.” 

“Hm, maybe because you figured it out within like, basically moments of meeting me?” You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted and the look on his face tells you Bakugou knows it is too. “Oh, and how, maybe I’ve always kind of had these weird symptoms my entire life, and you figured them out before I did?”

“Who cares who figured it out? Just fix your shit now and stop fuckin’ complaining.” 

“Fix my shit? Fix my shit? Bakugou!” You throw your fork down, sighing in frustration. “My shit is literally not being able to touch anybody without getting drained! My shit is basically not being able to function properly in every day life!”

“Yeah? So? Just quit being a bitch and figure out how to build up your stamina then.” He shrugs, sliding his empty container away as he sips at his water. “Easy fuckin’ solution.” 

“It’s not that easy. I can’t control it, it just happens.” 

“Really? You sure you’re not trying anything with it?”

“No?”

Bakugou just squints at you funny, something confused flitting across his features for a moment. “Really? Fuckin’ sure? Nothing at all?”

“No? Why’re you- what are you asking?” 

“When you brought me back, the first time, you were like, in my fuckin’ brain or something.” He grumbles, looking away. “It’s not gonna make sense, but I didn’t know it was you until you said shit. But then you opened your mouth and I could tell it was you pushing all the bad shit away.”

“Was it green?”

“Hah?”

“Green.” You worry at your hands, trying to gather your thoughts in a way that made sense. “My whole life, people have told me that it’s green when I help them. Not like, a color they can see, but that it’s just something they know. That somehow I’m green. In their head, I mean.”

“Yeah. Actually.” He mumbles, clearing his throat. “Freaked me the hell out.”

“Sorry. It’s- I normally try to warn people about that before I do it, you know? But obviously that wasn’t an option for you.”

“Yeah.” He agrees, then Bakugou is zoning out, leg bouncing under the table. He blinks, suddenly whipping his head around to you. “You ever try doing it till you pass out?”

“No? Well- I mean, no, not like, formally. Sometimes it just happens though. Why?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ threshold, idiot. A limit. How the hell else are you supposed to know if you’re getting stronger?” 

“I don’t- I don’t think my quirk is really a thing you can strengthen. Not like that at least.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Not your quirk, dumbass. You. You need to get stronger. Learn to work around your quirk.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” 

He turns away another moment, and the silence he leaves behind him baffles you. Bakugou’s got his eyebrows drawn inward, hand in his palm as he idly rubs at the bruise on his chin. You gather up his empty container from him, throwing it in the garbage with your own, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. Whatever he was thinking about, almost seemed to hold him captive. 

“Oi- Leech.” He says calmly, red eyes sliding over to yours lazily. “Touch a shit-load of people and fight though it. That’s how you do it.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” 

When you look at him, Bakugou’s mouth is set in a straight line, determined and steady as he crosses his arms over his chest. He really isn’t kidding.

“That’s not gonna work, I’ve been doing that practically my whole life and look where I am.”

“No, you’re not fucking listening, you moron.” He grumbles, rolling his eyes again. “I said just touch them. Not use your fuckin’ quirk. That’ll wipe you way too quick. You just have to touch a bunch of people all in a row, and suck it the hell up. Keep pushing. Eventually you’ll be able to touch way more people in the test setting than you’ll ever have to in a normal day. Problem fuckin’ solved.” 

“That’s-” You breathe out, beginning to wrap your head around it. “I’ve never done that. On purpose I mean. I wonder- I mean, I think that could work. Maybe.” 

“Of course it’ll fuckin’ work.” 

“Yeah, hypothetically, maybe. But where am I gonna get that many people? And for days in a row?” 

“Fuck should I know? That’s not my problem.”

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously.” He shrugs, standing up as he stretches his arms over his head. He yawns widely into his hand, regarding you with tired eyes. “You figure that one out. I already did all the other fuckin’ work.” 

“You thought of one solution.”

“One solution your dumbass didn’t fuckin’ think up.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Thank you very much.” You mutter in mock-offense, following behind him as he walks out into your living room. “You ready to sleep?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ hate listening to you run your mouth.”

You feel something hot and irritated rise in your throat. Then you’re looking over at him, at his smile and the way it crinkles his eyes. There’s no malice to his insult, and if anything he only seems thrilled when you rise to the challenge.

“And I hate having to clean up your blood pretty much every time I see you. Guess we’re both miserable.” You joke, curling your lips into a sneer to match his own. “And I won’t forget, asshole, you owe me a new packet of tissues.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put me to sleep already.” 

Then he’s collapsing onto your couch, settling into the pillows and grabbing the blanket off the back in one fell-swoop. There’s a fluidness to his movements that has you rolling your eyes, hardly even able to believe it was only the second time he’d been there.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, do whatever you want. Make yourself totally at home, Bakugou! My living room is obviously for you and you only.”

“Fuckin’ knew it.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“And? I’ll decide to take it however the hell I want.”

“You’re really irritating, you know that?” You half-laugh, pulling one of your gloves from your fingers. “Now, c’mon gimme your hand- wait, actually, I’ve got something else to say first.” 

“Jesus christ, what?” 

“I want you to come around more often.” 

He just shrinks back into the cushions, mouth twisting up comically. “What the hell? That a joke or some shit?”

“No. I’m serious. If you being tired is why you’re always getting hurt, then you need to come around more often. I promise I won’t give you shit for it.” You reassure him. “I’d just- I’d much rather see you here than in the hospital, you know?” 

He seems to just balk even more at your words, tilting his head to the side. “Why the fuck would ya go and volunteer for that?”

“Because, I care about everybody and everything. All the time, remember?”

Something must click for him then, because then he’s nodding, extending a hand towards yours. He won’t meet your eyes, but there’s something a little different about his expression. It’s softer, the tension in his eyebrows almost seeming to melt away entirely.

You grasp his hand, veins once again filling with subtle fire. You wonder suddenly, if using your quirk would afford him sleep for longer, but when you look down at him, you decide against asking. Bakugou’s already got his eyes closed, hand slipping out of yours as he goes completely lax against the cushions. It takes hardly minutes, but then his breath is slowing, and his eyelids are fluttering, but suddenly he jolts. His eyes are half-lidded and his voice sleep-drunk when he speaks.

“Your shitty quirk’s good at fuckin’ puttin’ people to sleep.” He grumbles suddenly, pressing his face further into the pillow. “There. ‘s a compliment. ‘m not burnin’ today. Eat shit, leech.” 

You can hardly hold in your giggle, but it doesn’t matter. Bakugou is snoring almost the second he finishes his thought, limbs stilling almost entirely except for subtle twitches. 

When you turn the lights out, walking back to your room, you feel it again. 

A faint fondness. A slow-burning warmth just barely settling in your chest. 

-//-

pls bc i havent edited this at all i was just excited to post lmaooo

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9

[grovyrosegirl]

Confrontation: MCSM Fic

Author’s Note: I’ve been replaying MCSM seasons 1 and 2 recently because I got nostalgic for those blocky dorks. Then I went through some old WIPs in my docs and found this Lukas and Aiden fic from a few years ago. I really liked it, so I spruced it up a bit and finished it for old times’ sake. Enjoy!

---

“Bring him in.”

The guards wasted no time leading Lukas into the small cobblestone room. Despite confiscating everything in his inventory upon arrival, including his weapons, they kept a tight, secure grip on both of his arms. It was only when his former friend, who leaned against the wall with the most satisfied smirk on his face, gave them a small handwave that the guards released Lukas and stepped back, still blocking the only exit to the room.

“Leave us,” Aiden then ordered the two guards, much to Lukas’ surprise.

Even with the wary looks he saw on their faces, the guards obeyed and left the room, shutting the iron door behind them. Lukas faced forward once again, now noticing the oak wood table resting in the center of the room, two identical chairs stood on opposite sides of the table’s surface.

“Take a seat, Lukas,” Aiden made his way over and sat down in the chair facing the door, casually resting his arms behind his head. “Let’s chat.”

Lukas didn’t speak, eyeing the other carefully. Despite everything that had occurred in the past year, knowing what Aiden was capable of, and how low he’d sunk already, seeing that look--that smile--on his face felt unsettling to him. Lukas recalled their theater days that felt like centuries ago, the days before the Witherstorm, before they even thought to call themselves the Ocelots. Aiden was never much of an actor, his specialty had always been the set production.

But clearly, Lukas thought to himself as he felt his eyes lower into a glare, Aiden was enjoying playing the villain.

Slowly, he made his way over to the other chair, sitting down and folding his arms.

“So, is this the part where you try to get me to talk?” Lukas curtly began before Aiden could open his mouth again. “Because you’re wasting your time. Even if I did know where Jesse was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Everything had happened so fast. The guards raced towards them all, closing in fast when they were revealed as the bridge-builders, an innocent act back home, but a crime on the floating island. His own capture occurred in a matter of seconds, he didn’t even see the guard coming until the very last moment. One minute he was watching Jesse sprint away into the alley, the next he was on the ground, pinned down by the guard. But those few seconds let Jesse and Petra escape, and for that, he took some relief in. By the time Lukas and Ivor were escorted to the throne room, the Founder was already getting the report from another guard that they’d lost sight of the “remaining criminals” as they put it.

He felt relieved knowing that his two friends hadn’t been captured yet. It meant there was a sliver of hope of getting out of this place.

Aiden let out an exaggerated sigh and sat up straight in the chair, leaning forward slightly and placing his arms crossed on the table’s surface, “Man, Jesse, Jesse, Jesse. Aren’t you sick of talking about her yet? Don’t worry, I’m not going to try and get an answer out of you. Like you said, it would be a waste of time. Besides, you already got plenty of that from the Founder.” He snickered for a moment before continuing, “No. This is the part where I throw you a bone.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Lukas said.

“It means I’m giving you a chance here, buddy,” Aiden said, “to join the winning team again.”

Lukas blinked, “What?”

“You heard me.”

He eyed Aiden suspiciously before saying, “You can’t be serious.”

“No games here, friend. Out of the goodness of my heart, I’ve decided to give you a second chance,” Aiden stood from his seat and began to walk around the table to stand next to Lukas. “C’mon, Lukas! It’ll be like the old days. Don’t you remember? We were the top dogs for years, and now, we can finally be on top again. But this time, it’ll be more than just winning some lame building contest.”

Aiden let out a deep chuckle, he wrapped one arm around Lukas’ shoulders and leaned in closer, a grin on his face.

“Here in this world, buddy? We can be kings.”

Lukas roughly shoved against Aiden’s chest, making the other man stumble back a few steps.

“I knew it,” Lukas said through his heated glare, “you’re planning to betray the Founder, aren’t you? It’s not enough that you want to steal the Eversource from her, you want her throne too.”

Aiden shot his own blazing glare back at Lukas, before regaining his composure and saying with that same grin, “Congrats Captain Obvious, you want a cookie?”

“Eat a slimeball, Aiden,” Lukas fired back, “do you honestly think you’ll get away with this?”

“I already am. But right now? That’s nothing you need to worry about,” He once again leaned back against the cobblestone walls. “The real question you should be asking is whether or not you’ll get to be a part of the spoils. It’s easy, Lukas. All you have to do is say yes and follow my lead. After that? Well, it’ll take a while, but I’m sure you can make up for abandoning your real team.”

At those words, Lukas’ boiling thoughts began to steam. He smashed his hands against the table’s surface and pushed himself up from the chair.

“Excuse me?!” He exclaimed. “You must’ve really lost me there, because last time I checked, it was you who abandoned me!”

At that reaction, Aiden almost seemed to shrink against the wall. However, he swiftly recovered his bravado and moved towards Lukas with gripped fists.

“We left because all you could think about was Jesse and her loser friends! It was always, ‘I’ve got to help Jesse build today!’ or ‘I’m going to visit Jesse!’” He clasped his hands together, held them close to his cheek as if he were hopelessly in love, and swung them back and forth while speaking in a mocking manner, “‘She’s my new best friend! We make cookies together! She’s sooo nice, and she’s sooo cool!’ You followed her around like a lovesick puppy. It makes me want to hurl!”

“I don’t get it all. Why?” Lukas shook his head in frustration. “Why do you hate her so much? Why have you always hated her so much? She never did anything to you! You always just got a kick out of torturing her and her friends, didn’t you? And when you couldn’t pick on her anymore, you start pushing Maya and Gill around. Anything to make yourself feel tall, is that it?!”

“Not like you ever tried to stop me,” he scoffed.

“Because back then, I thought it was all some dumb rivalry. But I was wrong. And I still kick myself everyday for not putting a stop to it. Maybe if I had,” Lukas paused, then let out a sigh that was flooded with a regretful tone, “maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Aiden scowled, “She’s a loser. And all she does is drag people down to her loser level. She did it with Petra, and she did it with you.”

“She’s a hero. And she’s my friend!”

“I was your friend!” Aiden snarled.

“Yeah, you were. Until you decided that your stupid, fragile ego mattered more than years worth of friendship!”

“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have chosen Jesse over me!”

“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have made me choose!”

At the end of his patience, Aiden lunged forward with an angry screech. He grabbed the collar of Lukas’ jacket and yanked the boy forward, dangling him slightly off the ground.

“I can do it, you know,” Aiden said through gritted teeth. His voice was low, but ever-so menacing, “I can throw you off this island right now. No one would blame me if I told them you attacked me. The people here believe whatever I tell them. You fall into the void forever, and all you’ll be remembered as is some villain who tried to attack this island’s savior.”

Lukas, amidst his struggle against Aiden’s grip, looked him directly in the eyes and said in his own low, fearsome voice, “I dare you.”

Aiden went still. All of the bravado, the threats, and the glares were drained from his face. His eyes went wide with disbelief, and in that moment, Lukas saw it. Fear. Hesitation. The thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d taken a step too far. Aiden opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. With only a sentence, Lukas was allowed to see the tiniest glimpse of the person he used to trust most in the world.

He saw the scared, insecure kid he’d met all those years ago.

Aiden’s grip on Lukas became loose, allowing the latter to easily push him away.

“That’s what I thought,” Lukas broke the silence with a sigh. He buried his hands into his jacket pockets, looking down to the floor, “You’re all talk, Aiden. Always have been.”

The anger returned as quickly as it had fled. But it wasn’t explosive. It was simmering. Aiden narrowed his eyes back into a glare, his fists, clenched so tight it looked painful, were trembling.

Another moment of silence passed before Aiden finally looked away from Lukas and exclaimed, “Guards!”

The same guards who’d brought Lukas here returned swiftly, entering the room and grabbing ahold of both of his arms once more. Lukas did little to resist their hold, only keeping a hard stare on Aiden.

“Get him out of my sight,” Aiden said in a low growl. “He’s useless.”

The guards obeyed and led Lukas out of the room. With a slam of the iron door, Aiden was left alone.

[mndvx]

please enlighten me as to how much this episode sucked 🤭 bc from what i'm reading, it was even worse than last week

Turns out we finally found which episode of Titans is the worst!! (So far, at least.)

I have a feeling that the finale will be the most absolute insane pile of dog shit this show has ever had. And it's had a lot lately!! They really baited us into thinking there was a slight chance of it being good with the first four episode. I'm so mad.

Last week was a filler episode. And it was bad. But they really outdid themselves with this one, it's... yeah it's the worst episode of Titans, so far.

The GCPD is incompetent, that we already knew. So it's not really surprising when Random Nameless Cop #4 ends up being easily bought by Jason/Crane after we saw him have a little feely chat with Barbs about someone he knew dying from the fear induced riots or whatever

but before that, Crane sends all of gotham a little fanvid he made in his garage using footage from episode 1, not in any way shot differently, it's just episode 1 intro fight against Gizmo Guys copy pasted with a few flashing random buzz words, like "thief" "con-man" or whatever and him narrating about how the titans are bad guys and the reason why gotham's water is poisoned and says he put a bounty of 500K on the titans dead or alive. We get a little montage of every main character seeing the vid. With Conner and Komand'r spooning together in the living room d'aww and Gar reading up on Lazarus Pits then having a little DCney Prince moment with the bats in the cave before Kory comes in to tell him about the video.

So with that, what does Dick do? First he tells Barbara he's gonna fix this(tm) then he goes back to the batcave (off screen) and i guess tells the rest of the team (off screen) to get into a parking lot or something?? where they get surrounded by dozens of people and like... Fight four of them before Dick tells them to come back??? Also, at some point during this Dick is like "Me staying here, it's a mistake I should be with you guys" and Kory tells him "No! You got a bounty on your head, it's safer" so why is Gar not staying in the cave with him, he's not invincible either!!

Meanwhile, Donna is taking a taxi to get back to Gotham, because I guess she can't teleport anymore, that must've been some of that Purgatory juice that sent her from Themyscira to that other Wayne Manor to save Bruce (who we hear NOTHING about. I mean good, we're not here for him, but she literally just stopped him from kiling himself in another country and now she's on the way to Gotham all alone... That's weird

Same thing about Tim, we saw him come back from the dead last week, but he's nonexistent in this episode. No one, not a single person all titans included, even speaks about him or even vaguely mentions him being shot or asks if he's okay or anything.

and then that random Lydia amazon shows up saying she's been following Donna "for 10 minutes" which is really weird, because Donna definitely was moving for longer than ten minutes, i mean she was IN ANOTHER COUNTRY, so how the fuck did you show up specifically on that road to Gotham just ten minutes ago, CAN YOU TELEPORT LYDIA??? I guess she can because then she slams Donna down and she wakes up in some random woods she calls "The Training Grounds" like it means something. blablabla this is the B Plot i guess? It's dumb, it's pointless. It's Lydia fighting Donna for way too long, some random shit about Lydia's daughter Angela dying and how she's sad or whatever who cares, then telling Donna she has to rise, she was born to lead people etc etc (can you tell how hard they're trying to make a spin off happen?) before Donna can finally go back to going to Gotham (no she doesn't get reunited with the team.)

Dick and Babs meet in a bar for some reason, random pointless and annoying reminiscing about their past before Dick tells her he's gonna turn himself in as Nightwing, pay bail then vanish from Gotham so the people can supposedly keep faith in the GCPD and not turn against them?? idk, if Nightwing vanished like that right after being caught by them, I wouldn't trust them to protect me but that's just me!

Jason and Crane have a weird and cringey chat (again. they had one before as he prepared his fanvid, talking about... Breakfast?? Jason was annoyed and didn't get the point of it, same) and he goes on this rant about how Jason needs to believe in himself and all that, makes him go "Red Hood!! Say it with me! Red Hood!" for like... what felt like at least a whole minute before he suits back up and goes back to being the murderous little shit he CHOSE to be, Molly calls him and asks him to stop he says no i have to </3 (you don't dumbass)

Dick tells everyone his plan, they all eventually agree because that's totally not gonna go wrong 🙄🙄 so they suit up and go to the GCPD to make a little show of their surrender. The cop that was bought out apparently has a lot of friends bc most of the cops present during the thing start acting up and one of them pushes Komand'r first (geoff johns, i'm in your walls with a knife) which is only so Conner can go "HEY BACK OFF 😠😠" before they then start attacking everyone. You already saw Kom gets shot, so yeah... That happens. Con stopped one bullet and stood there just 🖐🏻😠 while another was shot and hit Komand'r in the stomach or something, the most boring fight scene ensues (gar gets shirtless yay! sorry.) Barbara kills the cop who had his gun drawn on Dick and she's later on arrested by Vee for it, which... what the fuck??

so everyone left after the whole boring fight, separating and hiding. Kory and Kom go to a church where Kory decides to use her powers to try and heal the bullet wound that is KILLING her sister, and Komand'r somehow (unconsciously) absorbs all of Kory's powers, which makes Kory mad and go on a whole thing wondering if this was her plan all along, making Kory care for her so she could betray her or something. Komand'r says it's not the case and asks what will it cost for Kory to trust her etc. (honestly this whole episode is badly written, but 🥺🥺 Kory admitted she cared about Kom). then they have another argument, because Kory wants to return to the Titans and help them, but Komand'r tells her they should leave and go somewhere alone the two of them, and that Kory is a queen and was never meant to be fighting a war that's not hers and they then separate because Kory is not going anywhere. Komand'r then leaves, Kory asks where she's going and Kom tells her she's not "the only one with unfinished business" which... what? So yeah, now Komand'r has Kory's full set of powers and Kory is COMPLETELY depowered. 

And then we have a little montage of the city going to shit and full chaos, with Barbara being arrested for killing that other cop. Donna beats up a soldier who wouldn't let her come in Gotham. Because of course she comes back when everything's gone to shit, how convenient.

Gar is all alone in an empty warehouse type of place, after having been shot with a tranquilizer dart while the whole fight in the GCPD happened, (which was like half a day ago, idk how animal tranquilizer work but that must be strong stuff because he's still a little knocked out from it) he sees a raven that then turns into our beloved little Rachel!!! She tells him she found him because she felt his energy, and they have a quick recap chat where he tells her Jason and Crane turned the city into chaos she doesn't react in any particular way, so i guess she knows Jason is evil? whatever. the good thing about this scene is Rachel using her powers!! (and Ryan Potter's abs)

Then we see Dick and Conner on their own, with Conner insisting they need to go out there and help people but Dick being the dumbfuck he is tells Conner they can't, that they need to stay hidden and not be caught, so going back to Wayne Manor is also out of the question. But CONNER IS INVINCIBLE!!!!! FOR FUCK'S SAKE GRAYSON!!!!

And for our last scenes, Jason and Crane are in Wayne Manor. He makes Jason destroy a painting of Bruce and his parents because of course you have redecorate the place now that it's yours, Jason has quick flashbacks of his conversation with Bruce in Crime Alley in the shitty episode all about Jay and angrily stabs the painting like 20 times?? And Crane actually says "Welcome to Crane Manor", it wasn't just the synopsis being cringe!

ANYWAY. TERRIBLE FUCKING BAD EPISODE.

[maladjusted-nerd]

Starsky and Hutch’s Girlfriends (and Their Hair Color)

[PBS announcer voice] This post is brought to you by the time I was reading The Ollie Report for Bounty Hunter and came across the memorable line: “Again, Starsky is drawn to the dark-haired girl, Hutch to the blonde. Exogamists they are not.”

These are the two ladies in question, respectively:

I thought of this quote a lot as I continued watching the show, because it was quite often relevant. But then I got to Starsky’s Lady, and suddenly Hutch’s date wasn’t a blonde! I began to wonder about the quote, and the truth of the sentiment behind it (which is by no means specific to that one blog). Did Hutch really tend to go for the blondes, and Starsky for the dark-haired women?

So like any sane person, I decided to spend a billion hours of my life making a long-ass photo-heavy meta post that hopefully someone will care about. If anyone actually finds this information interesting or useful I will be happy, buuut I guess if nothing else it gives us an excuse to look at a bunch of pretty ladies.

How did I decided who’s here: I started with the list of women from the Canon Compendium’s Girlfriends and Dates page, added anyone whom I felt the boys made a “concerted effort” to flirt with, and then threw out a few people I didn’t think belonged. I tried my hardest to be objective, but making this list was by no means an exact science and several times it really just boiled down to “do I personally believe she should be on here” so like people will have different opinions on that and it’s fine! Spice of life or whatever.

As for the actual contents of the list: I will state each woman’s name and the episode she’s in. (If she doesn’t have a name she’s listed as Jane Doe. This is a cop show, after all.) I will state her hair color-- for Reasons and also My Sanity the only options are “blonde” or “darkhaired” (not blonde), but hair color is fucking weird and sometimes it was a guess so feel free to think otherwise. I will also state the reason that she’s here, aka the nature of her relationship with Hutch or Starsky (or both)-- so spoiler warning for pretty much everything, I guess.

Also fair warning that sometimes I was too lazy to get a good picture, or it was just actually impossible (newsflash: discos have bad lighting). Rip to any women I may have made look bad, you’re all beautiful queens and I love you.

Pre-Show

Vanessa (Hutchinson Murder One)- Darkhaired. Hutch’s late ex-wife and all-around terrible person.

Laura Kanen (Deckwatch)- Blonde. Hutch’s ex-girlfriend.

Helen Davidson (Lady Blue)- Blonde. Starsky’s late ex-girlfriend.

Kathy Marshall (Fatal Charm)- Darkhaired. A stewardess friend of theirs; it’s never said she’s an ex BUT she kisses Hutch square on the mouth in greeting and is Starsky’s date for dinner/disco. And she dances with both of them. Good enough for me!

Season 1

Hutch

Jeannie Walton (The Fix)- Blonde. His girlfriend at the start of the episode but not by the end! (Rip king)

Molly (Pariah)- Darkhaired. Stewardess friend/one-night stand? Something like that. Also his date at the end.

Jane Doe (Deadly Imposter)- Blonde. His date at the party.

Abigail Crabtree (Deadly Imposter to Vendetta)- Blonde. The only girlfriend we see in several episodes!! (The only girlfriend that lasts several episodes, whoops.)

Starsky

Jane Doe (Pariah)- Blonde. His date at the end.

Jane Doe (Deadly Imposter)- Darkhaired. His date at the party.

Amy (The Hostages)- Darkhaired. She works at a café that he’s going to for a second time, to let her know he’s ~available.

Sharman Crane (Running)- Darkhaired. They had a semester of woodshop together in junior high and then they kind of fall in love while he’s helping her dry out.

Season 2

Hutch

Abby (Deadly Imposter to Vendetta)- Still blonde. Miraculously still his girlfriend. (Until she isn’t.)

Gillian Ingram (Gillian)- Blonde. His now-late girlfriend who fucking deserved better.

Jane Doe (Gillian)- Blonde. Lady at the bowling alley that Starsky discreetly tries to set him up with.

Christine (Starsky’s Lady)- Darkhaired. His date of the episode.

Starsky

Vicky (The Las Vegas Strangler)- Darkhaired. They don’t really get a chance to go on an official date but they kiss a bunch and he’s really sweet on her and it’s cute.

Andrea (Vendetta)- Darkhaired. His picnic date.

Nancy Rogers (Gillian)- Darkhaired. His bowling date.

Terry Roberts (Starsky’s Lady)- Darkhaired. His now-late girlfriend who, like Gillian, also fucking deserved better.

Laura Stevens (The Velvet Jungle)- Blonde. They’re on a date at the end, but it should also be noted they meet when she accidentally knocks him into a dumpster. You know, like the start of any good romance.

Sharon Freemont (Starsky and Hutch Are Guilty)- Blonde. His evil lawyer girlfriend. (Not that he knows she’s evil.)

Both

Jane and Bobette (The Vampire)- Jane is the blonde on the right, Bobette is the darker blonde on the left. Starsky and Hutch mix up their names so it’s hard to tell which girl they actually like better, and also they’re twins so like does it even really matter?

Officer Sally Hagen (The Specialist)- Darkhaired. Starsky kisses up her arm in her first scene (someone please file a workplace harassment suit against him), and then at the end he and Hutch keep wrapping their arms around her waist. But she does get to flip both of them over her shoulder, so it kinda evens out.

Season 3

Hutch

Dianna Harmon (Fatal Charm)- Darkhaired. His possessive, violent nurse girlfriend. (You can really pick ‘em, Hutchinson.)

Dr. Judith Kaufman (The Plague)- Darkhaired. He tries so hard, but twas not meant to be.

Molly Bristol (The Collector)- Darkhaired. His girlfriend du jour.

Anna Akhanatova (A Body Worth Guarding)- Blonde. He’s technically her bodyguard and then they spend like two whole days making out. Good for them.

Mary (Class in Crime)- Blonde. His fishing date.

Starsky

Jane Doe (Murder on Playboy Island)- Darkhaired. Undercover agent he flirts with at the bar.

Rosey Malone (I Love You Rosey Malone)- Blonde. The entire plot revolves around him falling in love with her and it really doesn’t end well.

Jane Doe (The Collector)- Darkhaired. His date at their late-night deli party. (Bonus Starsky in the picture, hi Starsky!)

Sharon Carstairs (The Heavyweight)- Blonde. Their canoodling on his couch gets interrupted by Important Case Matters, and she winds up getting re-engaged to her ex-fiancé (ex-ex-fiancé?). Rip to a king.

Rachel (Class in Crime)- Darkhaired. His fishing date.

Caitlin (Class in Crime)- Her hair almost has a red tint but it’s otherwise undefinable. Car saleslady/one-night stand.

K.C. McBride (Quadromania)- Blonde. They have a nice taxi date (although he’s been sleep deprived all episode, poor boy, and falls asleep).

Both

Christine Phelps (The Heroes)- Blonde. She makes them lose all their braincells, it’s painful to witness. This episode hopes you will forget the actress was Gillian last season.

Julie McDermott (The Action)- Blonde. Starsky wins the kerfuffle for her but Hutch definitely makes a good go of it.

Lisa Kendricks (Foxy Lady)- Blonde. They drool and fight over her for half an episode like they did with Christine and it’s embarrassing.

Season 4

Hutch

Paula (Photo Finish)- Darkhaired. He’s like her date at the party, and also the end.

Kate Larrabee (Cover Girl)- Darkhaired. An old friend of his. It starts out just as a comfort thing but they quickly become very friendly.

Marlene (Starsky’s Brother)- Darkhaired. Starsky steals her from Nicky as a Big Brother Power Move but Hutch winds up with her at the bar.

Marianne Owens (Ballad for a Blue Lady)- Darkhaired. I don’t really know what’s going on here but there’s Something (and there’s a lot of parallels with Rosey Malone, so).

Starsky

Sergeant Lizzie Thorpe (Discomania)- Blonde. Technically Hutch talks with her more, but Starsky does most of the flirting.

Jane Doe (Discomania)- Darkhaired. He spends literally five minutes dancing with her. Is it relevant to the case? No. Does he care? Also no.

Emily Harrison (Blindfold)- Darkhaired. He accidentally blinds her during a case so he starts hanging out with her out of guilt but I feel like he also kinda falls in love; they kiss at one point anyway.

Marcie Fletcher (Photo Finish)- Blonde. His photographer girlfriend.

Officer Dee O’Reilly (Strange Justice)- Blonde. His meter maid girlfriend. They have a date at the end!

Jane Doe (Dandruff)- Darkhaired. He’s making out with her at the beginning.

Detective Joan Meredith (Black and Blue)- Darkhaired. It’s Heavily implied they slept together. (Side note love u Meredith!)

Melinda Rogers (The Groupie)- Blonde. He has a date with her at the end. (Yeah she slept with Hutch, but he was undercover and proceeds to lowkey rebuff her in the tag, so I’m not counting it.)

Katie (Starsky’s Brother)- Blonde. His date at the nightclub.

Both

Allison May/Laura Anderson (Targets Without a Badge parts 2 & 3)- Darkhaired. They both try to court her before Starsky realizes she’s his childhood friend (although they do make another go of it in the tag).

Kira (Starsky vs Hutch)- Blonde. Starsky’s girlfriend, although she says she’s also in love with Hutch so then they sleep together which Starsky is NOT thrilled about and it’s a very ugly mess.

Totals:

Hutch:

Pre-show: 3 (1 blonde, 2 dark)   Season 1: 4 (3 blonde, 1 dark)   Season 2: 6 (4 blonde, 2 dark)   Season 3: 8 (5 blonde, 3 dark)   Season 4: 6 (1 blonde, 5 dark) Overall: 26 (13 blonde, 13 dark)

(If the math looks weird, it’s cause Abigail counts for both seasons she’s in but only once overall.)

Starsky:

Pre-show: 2 (1 blonde, 1 dark)   Season 1: 4 (1 blonde, 3 dark)   Season 2: 8 (3 blonde, 5 dark)   Season 3: 10 (6 blonde, 3 dark, 1 ??)   Season 4: 11 (6 blonde, 5 dark) Overall: 35 (17 blonde, 17 dark, 1 ??)

(Thirty-five?? Calm the fuck down, Starsky.)

  In conclusion:

“Exogamists, they are not” might have been true back at the end of season 1 when it was said, but it’s certainly not true by season 4/the end of the series. Hutch now seems to favor dark-haired women, and Starsky’s about half and half, although they both wind up with an equal split overall.

Do with that information what you will; I’m outta here.

[dadweebking]

Train Yard Meetup

Hallooooooooooo peeps! It has been forever since I posted something I wrote, BUT ALAS, I have been motivated to write something about Dewey and Gosalyn. Hope you all enjoy it. ^^

Word Count: 4522

“Thanks for coming over when I needed you, Launchpad. Would’ve been a long day to stiff through this yard with only Gos and me.”

“Hey no problem, DW. I’m always happy to help you guys out whenever I can; even when I can’t!” 

As the sun had already been setting for the past twenty minutes, Darkwing Duck, Gosalyn, and Launchpad were investigating the massive train yard at the edge of St. Canard. Earlier in the day, Darkwing and Gosalyn had managed to catch a couple criminals who were working for an up and coming crime boss wanting to wreak havoc in St. Canard. While under interrogation, they fessed up to a delivery that had been made recently by rail and stated some goods that would be used to commit more crimes were in a few boxcars that were surely spread out at random in the yard by now. 

DW phoned Launchpad if he wanted to help, since it was only him, Gosalyn, and a couple grumpy yard officials that would scope out the area. As per usual, Launchpad happily accepted. 

The three met up with the yard officials and the yard manager at the entrance, where they stood there, patiently awaiting their arrival. 

“Ah, glad to see you’re here, Darkwing. Thank you for arriving on short notice.” The manager greeted. 

“You’re welcome citizen!” He saluted. “I’ve brought two extra sets of eyes to help cover more ground so we can find these cars more swiftly.” He moved aside to show Launchpad and Gosalyn, who saluted and just waved nonchalantly respectively. The yard manager seemed pleased with this idea.

“Oh how lovely!” She beamed. “I’ll leave you to it then.” She began to walk away, but then turned back towards them suddenly. “Oh, just keep in mind, you might want to steer clear of line 4. We’ve got an incoming train that’s delivering half its load tonight. Shouldn’t be too long now until it gets here.” She warned them.

“Thank you madam, we shall be extra vigilant!” He struck a dramatic pose and shifted his pupils side to side with a glare. 

With a final thumbs up, the yard manager headed back towards her office. 

As she left, the two officials lazily walked up to them with little emotion on their faces. Holding their hands out, they passed a couple radios to the three visitors. “She told us to give you these since we’re splitting up. She’ll also be able to monitor our progress.” 

Everyone took one radio and then DW wasted no time in sending everyone off. 

“Right. We’re all here, and we have the radios to contact each other. Launchpad, you take the farthest end, you two take this side, and I’ll cover the opposite side of LP.”

“I guess that means I’m taking the lot closest to track 4.” Gosalyn finally spoke up. 

“Correct. Just be careful once you hear the train coming. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can head back, alright?”

She nodded and with that, the 5 split up to their respective points. 

At this point, one could say Gosalyn isn’t being her usual self. Right now, she doesn’t have as much energy as she normally would for this kind of adventure, though to be fair, chasing those two crooks on foot for over forty minutes through the back alleys of St. Canard earlier today was pretty exhausting. Not to mention the physical fight once the crooks were cornered, and even they were tired at that point. Darkwing decided to check out the yard literally right after they confessed to the delivered goods as to not waste any more time. 

So yeah, Gosalyn kind of wants to call it a day right about now. 

She still decided to press forward because she knew that once she put all the work in today, the night’s sleep will be even more rewarding. Besides, she’s got four other people scouring the yard. This shouldn’t take too long right?

Wrong. 

The sun had fully gone down now. She groaned as she opened the door to what felt like the hundredth car that night for her but when she looked back, she could see she just passed the 1/3 mark on that one line of cars she started with on track 3. Each car so far had nothing in them and she was tempted to just skip a few cars here and there to clear this line easier, but the manager piped in through the radio advising everyone to check each and every single car because she didn’t know which car had the material. 

She wanted to open her mic and ask if the materials and the car they were in should be in the manifesto she had, as was protocol for train yards, but she decided that if it was materials for committing dastardly deeds, they might’ve just smuggled it in the car without anyone’s knowledge. Shaking her head from thinking too much, she picked through the car only to come up with nothing once again. With a defeated sigh, she put the produce she had back into the crate and was about to hop out of the car before the manager’s voice piped into the radio again. 

“Guys heads up, the train’s coming on track four.” 

“We’re far from it, so we’re good.” The guards radioed back. 

“Same here, I’m just about done with this line of cars on the other side of the yard.” Darkwing chipped in. 

“Hey DW I see you!” Launchpad chimed in happily. “Yes, hi Launchpad, I see you too.” Darkwing chuckled, amused. 

With a slight giggle, Gosalyn opened her mic and spoke into it. “I’m on the line of cars on line three, right next to it. Thanks for the heads up, Miss.” She poked her head and looked to her left to see the headlights drawing closer, but still not in the yard yet. At the corner of her eye, she could see a line of oil tankers separating her from the next boxcar. In her haste to get some shut eye at home, she hopped off the car and sprinted towards the next car, but the train was still moving fast, blowing its horn as it got closer to the line of cars she was at. With the rails grinding next to her by the oncoming train fast approaching, she dove between two tankers and waited a few seconds before the locomotives finally roared passed her and immediately applied the brakes to stop before it reaches the other end of the yard. 

With the train still going at a fast pace, Gosalyn thought it better to wait in her spot until the train reached a more suitable speed for her to walk besides. After about two minutes, that time had come and she finally moved from her spot and walked to the boxcar, still panting from her spur of the moment sprint. However, she heard what seemed like someone else sprinting on the other side of the moving train. She looked under and sure enough made out a pair of webbed feet planting themselves and pushing off of the ballast past her. She couldn’t see the upper half of the person though and made the impulsive choice to follow them. 

She kept pace with the person for another minute before she saw their feet make a sudden turn into the line of cars on line five. It caught her by surprise as she immediately skid to a halt. Running back to where she saw them turn, she tried picking up her radio again but couldn't feel it in her pocket. She mentally face-palmed herself; in her effort to keep up with the freight hopper, the radio must’ve bounced out of her pocket a while back. Sure enough, looking back, she could see the stationary red glowing bulb just a little ways away from where she began her chase. 

However, she made the split second decision to keep pursuit, and ran a little bit down the passing train. She then grabbed onto the rail of one of the dirt hoppers and gingerly made her way across the narrow front walkway and then hopped off on the other side, and then climbed past the cars on line five. She was so lucky to see the figure climb up the line of cars on line six about 5 cars ahead. In an instant, she hopped over the cars next to her and caught the figure off guard as they had been running in her direction this time. He skid and stumbled to run in the other direction and Gosalyn once again gave chase. 

“HEY!” She called out, but the figure ignored her. She tried squinting to see who it was, but with little lighting in the yard, she couldn’t make out any color. They then hopped back over the line six cars, and then again over line five, and Gosalyn followed suit. The moving train had slowed to about snails pace, and the figure ran in the opposite direction of the moving train between lines four and five. However, Gosalyn hopped the moving train again, this time running next to the train between lines three and four. She pushed herself to keep going, as she felt like her lungs were about to explode with all the running she endured today.

She could see the figure’s feet slow its pace and Gosalyn smirked. The end of the train was finally coming up and she put whatever effort was left in her to keep running, and she had caught up to the figure. Once the end of the train had past, she wasted no time and dove across the track, tackling the figure and causing them both to roll across the hard ballast with grunts. Once they came to a stop, she pinned down the person and was finally able to see who it was. 

What she saw shocked her to the core. 

There, with his back digging into the hard rocks underneath, lay Dewey Duck. They had landed in the halo of a lamppost so she knew her eyes can’t be deceiving her, but she blinked hard just in case. It was him alright. He was struggling to remove his wrists from her grip, but let out a gasp when he finally opened his eyes and saw who was on top of him. The struggling stopped and both ducklings were trying to get their breaths back after running for what seemed like forever. He then smiled. 

“Oh hey Gosalyn! What’s up?”

That question threw her off guard. Not only the question itself, but the way he asked it like it was some friendly outing and that nothing was out of the ordinary.  

She let go of his wrists and they fell onto his chest as she staggered back, still in shock.

“What are you doing here?!” She spread her flailed her arms as she continued to breathe in and out heavily. “Duckburg is so far away! Why are you hopping a train this late at night!?” 

Dewey grimaced as Gosalyn screamed in his face, his now free arms protecting his face. He cracked open a single eye as she finished but before he could reply, he could hear some mumbling just a little ways from them. Gosalyn got up and walked away, leaving him dazed and confused. He slowly managed to get himself off the ground, his body sore all over. As he fixed his zoosh, Gosalyn picked up the radio from the ground, where a worried Darkwing’s voice blasted through the speaker. 

“Gos what’s going on?! I heard yelling, are you ok?! We told you to steer clear of-!”

“I’m fine!” She cut him off. She screamed it since she pressed the button as he was still rambling, meaning there would’ve been a two way interference and they couldn’t hear each other. That seemed to do the trick, as she let go of the button and he stopped talking. Soon he came back on, his voice more gentle this time. 

“What happened then?”

She began walking back towards Dewey, who was still trying, and failing, to fully fix his zoosh. “Is Launchpad there?” 

“Yeah I’m there. I mean, I’m not with DW, I’m on a different line of cars now.” She rolled her eyes in slight amusement and looked to see that she now had Dewey’s attention, although he was still messing with his zoosh. 

“Uh, can we meet at Launchpad’s location. I wanna show you guys something.” 

The guards piped up the radio again, sounding confused. “You can’t just say what it is over the radio, kid?” 

“No, this is something I want the other two to see. It’s unrelated to our current issue, but it’s still important.” A few seconds of radio silence went by as everyone seemed to contemplate. Dewey was staring at her with a blank look as he was completely disconnected with the whole ordeal. 

“I don’t know, kid, if it’s not related...” The guard trailed off but before he can pick it back up, Darkwing came back over the radio in support. 

“If she says it’s important to Lp and I, I’m sure your boss wouldn’t mind if we spare a few minutes.” As if right on cue, the yard manager’s voice echoed through the speaker. 

“I do not mind at all, Darkwing. I’ll keep you on your ‘few minutes’ claim though; don’t be too long please.”  

“Will do, madam! Gos, I’ll see you with Lp.”

Gosalyn only let out a hum of agreement before looking to see Dewey just checking his surroundings before his eyes locked with hers. She motioned for him to come towards her and he playfully waltzed to her side. Once he got there, she held his arm for a brief moment to instruct him. “Follow me, and please don’t wander off.” She begged as he nervously scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. 

“Hey... I don’t do it often.” He said in a low voice. 

“Your family told me you do it almost every crazy adventure you guys go on together. I oughta hold onto your arm the whole way to where we’re going.” She grumbled

“Alright fine!” He exclaimed. “I wasn’t planning on running off anyway, my body’s too sore for more adventures today, and that’s saying something!” 

Gosalyn immediately released her grip on his arm and he moved it around to try and dampen the soreness. While doing that, she could see all the dirt and dust that was still on his clothes and feathers and felt a small rush of guilt sweep through her. She cringed when she saw some scratches that she deduced he must’ve gotten from their tumble when she tackled him. 

“Hey, um..., sorry for... ya know. That.” She said as she pointed to his battered form. Looking down, Dewey tried to dust himself off again, though he still looked the same as a few seconds ago. 

“Ah, it’s fine. We couldn’t really see who each other was anyway. I thought you were one of the yard guards chasing after me; it was pretty scary.” He chuckled. 

“Yeah, you’re lucky I wasn’t. They would’ve probably locked you up by now for trespassing. What were you doing on the train, anyway?” She asked with genuine curiosity. 

The mood on Dewey’s face instantly fell and he looked down at his feet as they continued walking. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to ride the train all the way from Duckburg to St. Canard. This is St. Canard, right?” He asked in an uncharacteristically timid fashion. 

“Of course it is. Where else did you think we were?” She questioned him with a puzzling look. 

“I don’t know! I couldn’t read any signs I passed, and since you guys are here, I made the assumption.” He had a bit of frustration present in his tone and face, prompting her not to pry any further allowing him to continue.

“I had a fight with my family at home.” He finally said dejected. Gosalyn looked up at him with concern as they both stopped walking by this point. He sat up on a stationary car’s walkway as Gosalyn leaned on the frame of the car next to him. 

“On our adventure today, I accidentally started a landslide. It was pretty boring at that point, and I wanted to see if I could find something more exciting around us. I wasn’t even by myself for more than ten minutes before the ground gave way and almost swept everyone off the mountain. We all made it, but everyone gave me a piece of their mind the whole plane ride back. I ruined the whole trip for everyone and I already felt super bad about it. I didn’t need everyone else to make me feel worse.” He picked up a rock from where he was sitting and threw it as he stopped talking for a brief moment. Gosalyn could agree with that last little tidbit when she first met him, Drake, and Launchpad. 

“After an early dinner, everyone went their own separate ways in the mansion so I just walked out the door and wandered around town before coming to the railroad. I threw some rocks around, blowing off some steam before I heard the train about to pass. I’ve hopped on trains before but only rode them for a few seconds when they were going slow enough for me to hop on and off with ease. Heck, I even climbed the signal bridge before many times. 

“I saw a boxcar that was unlocked and I felt super lucky because I’ve always wanted to see what was inside one. I climbed in and just wanted to get a glimpse before getting off, but the train started to move faster and faster. I didn’t notice until I turned around, wanting to jump off but it was going too fast and I didn’t want to fall flat on my face. I felt even worse then because I didn’t know where I was going. I was hoping the train would slow down soon, but once it passed the city limits, I just stayed put until... well until I reached here.” He spread his arms out, emphasizing the whole yard with the “here” comment. 

Gosalyn, fully into the story, finally blinked and let out a simple “Wow.” 

“Yeah.” came the remark from Dewey. “The train was way too loud, I had to cover my ears almost the entire trip. It wasn’t all bad though, I passed some scenery that was oh so beautiful! Seriously, the freight lines have way nicer scenic backdrops and locations than the passenger trains.” His mood seemed to do a complete one-eighty, causing Gosalyn to giggle at his sudden mood shift. Her giggle seemed contagious as now Dewey giggled too. He hopped off the car and they both continued to walk non-stop towards Launchpad and Drake. 

“Man, that must’ve been one heck of an experience.” Gosalyn commented, nudging his arm. 

“It really was, though I doubt I’ll be able to do it again. Uncle Donald’s gonna preeeeeeetty fumed when he hears about this. Cannot wait for that.” He cringed. It wasn’t just Donald who’d he hear from, but everyone else as well. Again. He was absolutely dreading it. 

“What are you guys doing here, anyway?” He asked Gosalyn now, wanting to change the subject. She just shrugged.

“Ah you know, typical Superhero biz with Drake and Lp. This thing, though, is pretty mundane. We’re just looking through car after car looking for some equipment that would’ve been used to commit a lotta crime in St. Canard. New wannabe crime boss and all that.” She explained with a carefree attitude, although she let out a yawn straight after. 

For the next two minutes, they just conversed about anything until Launchpad and Drake’s form came into view. 

“LP!” She called out. The two looked towards her and he waved as Darkwing looked slightly relieved. 

“Hey Gosalyn! What’d you find that’s so important.” He asked with a bounce in his step. 

“Not ‘what’, Launchpad. ‘Who.’” She corrected, causing both adults to look puzzled before stepping out of the way to reveal Dewey standing behind her. With a small wave, he smiled sheepishly. 

“Heeeey Launchpad.” He quietly sing-songed. 

“DEWEY!!” Launchpad wasted no time in grabbing the duckling and swinging him around in a massive bearhug. “I didn’t know you guys were here!” 

“T-They’re NOT..., Launchpad.” He grunted, barely managing to utter those words. He stopped and gently held Dewey in front of him to let him explain. “It’s just me. They don’t even know I’m here.” 

Gosalyn cringed next to Drake, who had a concerned look of disapproval on his face. 

“Oh.” Launchpad let out. He seemed to think for a moment before setting him down. “Well that’s not good.” He said with the utmost sincerity. Dewey just rubbed his arm in shame. 

“He had a fight with the family, hopped a freight train, didn’t mean to stay on but got stuck, and I tackled him when he got off thinking he was just some random shmuck.” Gosalyn explained to the adults. 

“Yeah, thanks a lot.” Dewey said with a tiny smirk, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“I said I was sorry!” She fired back. 

Not a moment passed before Launchpad’s cellphone started ringing. The caller? 

Scrooge McDuck. 

Dewey felt a sense of dread flow through his body as Launchpad answered the call and put it on speaker. 

“Launchpad! We need you back at the mansion as soon as possible!” Scrooge’s voice boomed through the phone’s speaker, a demanding tone laced with a bit of panic trying not to be shown. 

“Why?” He asked. He may not be the smartest tool in the shed, but Launchpad knew what he was calling about. He just felt like Dewey needed to hear what he had to say. 

“Dewey has seemingly disappeared! We’ve searched the entire mansion and the neighboring areas, but he’s nowhere to be found! We’re all gonna look in the city so we’ll need all hands on deck! We might even pay the Beagle family a visit.” He said with venom in his voice. 

In the background, the four could hear everyone making a game plan and Donald rambling away. 

Dewey was slightly taken aback by how everyone sounded. While a part of him was a bit relieved they still cared, he became more scared of how they’ll react once he gets home. Gosalyn only smiled seeing how much his family cared for the blue duckling.  

“Hold on sec, Mr. McDee.” He pressed the speaker button again, turning off speaker mode and handing the phone to Dewey. 

“HOLD ON?!” His voice blasted through the ear speaker, causing Dewey to almost drop the phone. Scrooge started angrily shouting at the phone, berating Launchpad for seemingly putting him on hold during a family crisis. 

“U-Uncle Scrooge?”

That shut him up immediately, causing everything to go silent for a second. 

“DEWEY!” His uncle exclaimed with jubilance, causing him to instinctively hold the phone away from him at arm’s length to keep his ear from hurting. In doing so, he accidentally hit the speaker button again and everyone he was with could hear the gasps and shocked exclamations of the other family members as they seemingly crowded around the wealthy duck and his phone.

Gosalyn’s smile only grew. 

“Hey...” Dewey murmured into the mic, mimicking the same tone he gave Launchpad when they first saw each other tonight. 

“Lad what are ya doing over there?! Ye nearly gave Donald a heart attack! Myself too! Everyone here’s been worried sick for hours and-”

 “I know!” He cut his uncle off. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worried. I just...” He contemplated on lying, but decided that’ll only make things worse. That and he couldn't think of anything else to say. “I got onto a train but got scared to get off because it was going too fast for me to get off without hurting myself badly. I rode it all the way to St. Canard and found Launchpad by some miracle. I’m so sorry you guys, I really am!” He was on the verge of tears at this point. He really didn't want to be reprimanded and scolded again, especially since he’s well aware of how much trouble he had caused today. 

“Lad, of course we’re disappointed but we’re not angry with you. We’re more relieved than anything else that you’re alright and safe with Launchpad at the moment.” 

They could hear the phone moving around, and suddenly Huey began speaking. 

“Look, Dewey, we all realized we were a bit harsh towards you. You’re not the only one to wander off and start something crazy on an adventure; I’m guilty of it, and so are Louie and Webby. I, for one, am sorry about today.” Voices of agreement came from the aforementioned green and pink ducklings. Dewey wiped his tears and with a sniffle, began talking once more. 

“Thanks guys, and I’m really sorry for everything today. Really.” 

“Dewey, we forgive you.” Came the voice of his Uncle Donald. “We’re just glad you’re safe and hopefully learned your lesson.” 

Dewey let out a small chuckle. “I definitely did, Uncle Donald. No more free train rides, I promise.” 

“Just come home with Launchpad, alright?” Scrooge commented. “We’ll talk a bit more when you get here. Sounds like you have quite a story to tell.” 

“Ok Uncle Scrooge. I really love you guys. See ya soon.” A chorus of byes all came from the phone as he hung up and handed the phone back to Launchpad. 

Gosalyn strode to him and put an arm around his shoulder, offering a bit of extra comfort. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She asked him sincerely. He only shook his head and held the hand on his shoulder in his hand. 

During the call, he saw her smiling at him and his family’s conversation and it made him feel better throughout the conversation. He looked back to her with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He whispered with the utmost generosity. Using her free hand, she patted him on the other shoulder, whispering back, “You’re Welcome.” 

They let go of each other and looked to the two adults, both with smiles on their faces after witnessing their exchange. 

Shaking his head back to reality, Darkwing went back to business mode. “I guess since we have an extra set of eyes at our disposal, I suppose we can make up for lost time, right?” 

“Pleeeeeease! I’m so tired!” begged Gosalyn. 

“You didn’t seem tired just now with Dewey.” Launchpad commented obliviously. 

“Launchpad!” She exclaimed. This caused Dewey to snicker and Darkwing to raise an eyebrow. Launchpad just blinked. 

“I’m going back to my line of cars with Dewey. The sooner we get done the better. C’mon Dew.” She grabbed his hand, and the two set off back to where they first found each other tonight, but not before Darkwing called out, “Be careful you two!”

Whatever he meant is anyone’s guess.

[supersilversleuth]

I Know You Won’t Believe Me (But Sometimes I wish You Would) by SuperSilverSpy

Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types  

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Roman Sionis, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Whumptober 2021, Angst, Dick Grayson DID NOT fake his Death, I know I’m not really touching on it in this fic, but it’s important I say that, Post-Spyral, Miscommunication, Betrayal, I mean, Perceived Betrayal, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson, SilverWhump, Protective Dick Grayson, injuries

Summary:

“Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.

“Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”

Dick resisted the urge to laugh, or explain himself. There wasn’t much to explain anyway, not without revealing secrets that he would rather die protecting. Instead, he forced his expression into something more like shock, and resignation, deciding to play this role to the end. He could feel the instincts of manipulation and deception settling back over him like a very familiar blanket. Playing spy for a while had given him the opportunity to hone those skills. If there was any beneficial thing that could be taken away from that whole experience, it was what good he could now do with the abilities he’d enhanced during that time.

OR Dick is forced to pretend to betray Jason in order to protect the Red Hood’s identity

No. 5 - I’VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER betrayal | misunderstanding | broken nose

Part 5 of 2021 Most Whumperful Time of the Year - Dick Grayson-centric

Language: English Words: 3,462 Chapters: 1/1 

Dick was tracking down a lead in the northern part of Blüdhaven, snooping around in various warehouses. It was the part of Blüdhaven that was closest to Gotham, so really Dick should’ve known better than to think his day would be uneventful.

 As it was, he was surprised by the sight of the Red Hood tying up the exact criminals Dick was looking for.

 Jason had tensed, glancing up, hand going for his gun—when Dick pushed the creaky warehouse door open to take a peek inside—and then, when Jason realized who it was, the hand went away from the gun, and the eyes away from Dick, but the tension remained. Jason continued about, tying the criminals up, studiously ignoring Dick’s presence as he did so.

 “Hood—” Dick started.

 “I’m just finishing up, Officer ,” he said mockingly, “They’re all yours when I’m done.”

 “I—They’re Black Mask’s people, do you have any intel about what they’re doing in my city?” “Not much,” replied Jason, tone clipped. “You?” “I have a little, maybe we could arrange a time to go over it? This case is clearly turning out to be a problem for both of us—”

 “Nope, that’s not how it works,” Jason cut him off, “You haven’t been forgiven for your last f*** up yet. Maybe we can trade information later, if I ever decide to trust you again.” Dick winced, stepping back. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair then, Hood. I’ll have some people come this way to put these criminals back where they belong.” “Where they belong is a big, ugly a** community grave,” Dick heard Jason mutter behind him just as he walked out the door.

-- A few days after the Hood incident, Dick was heading home after a long day of writing reports and studying casefiles. Being a detective was certainly not all excitement 24/7. Most of the time he was sitting around, wishing for more time in the field.

That particular day, he was distracted, thinking about a very complicated case that had been stumping him for longer than he’d like. He should’ve known better than to take that route home, though it probably wouldn’t have mattered—whoever wanted him was professional enough to have all the streets around the precinct covered.

 Ah, chloroform, he didn’t miss it. It’d been a while since he’d last had it pressed against his face. He supposed he was due for a run in with the stuff. The chloroform appeared at the same time as the wrenching of his arms behind his back, and the restraining of his legs. Dick tried not to fight  too  hard, he was still Detective Grayson, a civilian by vigilante standards, afterall. He had to keep up appearances. For that reason, he also pretended to fall unconscious long before he actually did. He’d built up an immunity to the drug of course, but that could only work with him as Nightwing.

 When Dick woke up, he found himself face to face with Black Mask. The man sat behind a desk, with Dick, sitting, bound to a chair in front of him. With a start, Dick realized that Roman must’ve been watching him while he was unconscious. Dick suppressed a shudder. 

 “Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.

 “Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”

Dick resisted the urge to laugh, or explain himself. There wasn’t much to explain anyway, not without revealing secrets that he would rather die protecting. Instead, he forced his expression into something more like shock, and resignation, deciding to play this role to the end. He could feel the instincts of manipulation and deception settling back over him like a very familiar blanket. Playing spy for a while had given him the opportunity to hone those skills. If there was any beneficial thing that could be taken away from that whole experience, it was what good he could now do with the abilities he’d enhanced during that time.

 “I don’t know who the f*** that is,” Dick said, thinking about the actions of several of his coworkers for reference on how to act like a dirty cop.

 “Don’t lie to me,” snarled Roman. “My people know you spoke with him at the last operation of mine that he busted.”

 Ah, so that’s how he knew. One of the thugs must not have been fully unconscious during Dick’s conversation with Jason the other day.

 “Look man, I’m just his source guy sometimes, and he doesn’t even like me very much lately. So I don’t know what to tell you. Just let me go, and we can call it a day.” Dick made himself fidget, as if he was nervous about the threatening crime boss sitting across from him.

 “So what? You don’t have anything for me? Maybe I should just torture you until you die, how about that?”

 “N—No,” Dick made himself stutter, “I—I can still help you...for a price.”

 “Even now, you argue for your checkbook,” Roman chuckled, “The world goes ‘round, and dirty cops never change.”

 “What can I say,” Dick smirked, “The Hood didn’t pay me enough. I’m sure  you’ll be different…”

 Roman smiled at him, a dangerous smile that said he couldn’t wait to use him up and leave his body in a ditch.

 Dick smiled back.

--

Jason got an alert that the alarms at one of his safehouses had been tripped. It wasn’t one of his favorite safehouses or anything—in fact, it was due for a restock, but he knew it would be better to check it out as soon as he could anyway.

 He swung through the air, making his way through Crime Alley to where he knew the safehouse to be. Any intruders in his territory would be dealt with, crappy safehouse or not. 

 He found that much of his security system had been quietly disabled…except for a single, simple sensor. Whoever did this wanted him to come here.

 The door to his safehouse was ajar, and Jason carefully pushed it open, peering through the crack.

 His lights were on, and there were the sounds of ransacking and breaking glass.

 Jason grabbed the guns from his hips, and slammed open the door.

 There stood Dick, out of uniform, surrounded by several of Black Mask‘s people. 

 Jason snarled at the sight, thoughts of the man’s betrayal swirling through his mind. 

 Dick’s eyes widened, shooting a pleading look at him as if trying to convey something. Jason ignored it in his anger.

 “Let’s go! He’s here!” yelled Dick.

 “Traitor.” He growled darkly.

 Something flickered in the traitor’s expression, before smoothing out as if it had never been there.

 Jason didn’t think. He just lifted his guns, and fired.

 Unfortunately, they were rubber bullets, and he’s pretty sure he only managed to clip the lying b****** in the leg.

 He did manage to take down at least three of the others before the rest escaped quickly through the window.

--

“So, I guess Hoodie really isn’t on your side after all,” said Roman, pacing.

“I—I don’t understand what happened,” Dick sputtered, feigning fear, “I disabled all of his security, he wasn’t supposed to show.”

 “That’s because I had one of my people purposely sabotage you. I needed to make sure you weren’t still on his side. This,” he said, putting his hand on Dick’s leg where the bullet hit him, “is the proof I was looking for.” He pressed down, Dick gasped as if in pain. It really didn’t feel nice.

 “W—What?” He said in indignation, “Of course I’m on your side, that guy hates me.”

 “So I’m told.” Roman said, uncaring. He dug his fingers in.

 “Stop!” Dick strained against the ropes binding his hands behind the chair.

 The man let up, briefly, “You got the package I sent you to get?” 

 He was referring to the fake intel Dick had promised was stashed in Hood’s safehouse, intel that he had planted while no one was looking. The moment Roman plugged that thing in, Oracle would have complete access to all of the crime boss’s servers. “Yes, of course! Don’t forget to plug it into a high powered computer, I’m sure it’ll require a lot of decryption…”

 Roman waved his hand, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, my people have it covered.”

 “I’d like my payment now,” Dick said, glaring at him.

 The man grinned malevolently, “You’ll get your payment, when I let you go and the Hood goes after you. The people he captured have  quite  the story to tell.” 

 Dick slid a look of fear onto his face.

--

Jason didn't even give him the chance to explain.

Not that Dick was surprised about this, of course, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

Roman had released him onto Gotham's streets, and sent several of his people to tail him.  Dick of course, was not supposed to know about that particular detail, but it's not like the low-level thugs had any actual expertise when it came to anything, least of all properly tailing a person.

Ah, so this was one more test, to confirm that he was truly against the Hood, before Roman dared plug in the USB. So it was best that Jason's first reaction upon seeing him was to lash out anyway, and Dick didn't even get a moment to get a word in before Hood was slamming him into the ground.

Well, it seemed these days the only reliable fact was that his family no longer trusted him. It was a good thing he needed Jason to beat him up for the operation, then. Internally, Dick sighed, he wished it didn't have to be like this. He hated lying, detested spying, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes there's no time for debate, and often the situation called for the best solution, not necessarily a good one.

Jason always acted on his emotions, it was something about him that never changed. It was reliable qualities like that, that Dick had been trained to notice, to exploit when needed. Dick did what he had to do, Jason did what he wanted to do. Many times, Dick had had to shoulder the burden of doing what was needed, even if it hurt those around him. He would gladly carry these responsibilities for the rest of his life, if only his siblings didn't have to, if only his family  lived.

And so, Officer Grayson fought with the Red Hood in a back alleyway as the man spewed curses about him and how he couldn't trust someone who'd betray him just to meet their own ends and not even think to tell him about the undercover op—

Dick, of course, was still being watched. So he fought like a random inexperienced police officer, not like Nightwing, professional vigilante. 

Jason didn't seem to notice. 

"Is this the new you then? Huh? You stab us in the back at every chance you get, all for a supposed “mission”? Is this Dick the spy then? Is that who you are now?"

Dick dodged a fist, got kicked in the knee.  It’s probably just the pit rage,  he reminded himself,  another thing I can count on.

"You know, I didn't think you of all people would pull something like this the first time, I don't know why I didn't see it with this one, you'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now."

Jason punched him in the stomach, causing him to sink further to the ground.

"I don't even know if I'd grieve again, if I found out you were dead. How would I know it wasn't just another lie that you failed to mention to me?"

Dick was just glad his tails were too far away to hear what Jason was saying.

"Do you have any idea what Black Mask is capable of? Have you  forgotten  who the f*** he  is  ? You can't just go undercover to work with him against  me, without telling me!"

His little brother sounded so upset, Dick only wished he had time to explain.

"Whatever happened to communication? Is that a foreign concept to you  spies? And here I thought we were actually family."

Jason headbutted him right in the face, breaking what Dick was pretty sure was his nose. He could feel the sticky warmth of blood on his face, flowing over his lips, past his chin to drip to the ground. Dick's vision blurred, and he collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself, he had to play it up, afterall. Even though the wounds inflicted were mostly just surface ones. They had an audience, and Dick could not fail to perform.

Above him, Jason scoffed, as if he could see through Dick's pretending. Still though, DIck could see his hands shaking, could see as the pent up energy within his little brother's body drained, tension leaving his shoulders. In a moment, Jason was gone, and Dick closed his eyes, giving into the exhaustion of having had to pretend to be someone he wasn't under very stressful circumstances for the past few days. It was alright, nothing...Dick...couldn't handle...

--

Jason felt drained. He hadn't felt that angry since well...the last time Goldie had pulled something like this.

The feeling of Dick’s face against his fist was quite familiar by this point. Each time he’d done it blurred together, echoing in his mind as green tinted his vision.

Jason made it back to one of his safehouses, somehow. He wasn’t sure when he got there, or how, but when he finally came back to himself, it was to the sight of a familiar kitchenette.

He felt too restless to sleep, but too exhausted to do anything productive at the same time. He didn’t trust himself to go out as Red Hood. In this state, he was a danger to anyone around him.

Jason’s mind raced, even as his body collapsed on the couch. He turned the tv on, letting himself get lost in some random sitcom.

He needed to calm down, probably do something like think things through. Though Jason knew that he was most likely going to just go about his day tomorrow, as if today hadn’t happened.

Always running away, still that same self-preserving street kid who only knew how to survive. Well, it’d worked for him so far, minus the dying part of course.

Hours later, technically into the next morning, Jason’s comm beeped. What could Barbie possibly want at this time of morning? Not even villains were awake at 6:00am, usually this hour was sacred.

“Hood?”

Well, apparently not anymore.

Sighing, Jason brought his finger to his ear, “Yeah? How’d you know I was awake?”

“Unimportant,” she said, all business, “I need you to check on Nightwing for me.”

Jason’s mind blanked, and then he scoffed, “You kidding me?” His voice was shaky. “What the f*** did he do this time?”

Oracle had no time for overly dramatic interbat-relations.

“A few hours ago, Black Mask’s servers went online, Dick’s code caught my attention. I was able to get every little bit of data ever entered into one of Mask’s computers. It was more than we’ve been able to get from him in years. Dick’s work really was genius. I tried to get in contact with him, but his trackers aren’t working, his phone’s out of the picture, and I can’t find him on any camera. I’m worried he went undercover without a backup plan for when Mask figured it out.”

Jason attempted unsuccessfully to tamp down his feelings of guilt and concern.

“Alright O, I’m on it.” He croaked, already heading out the door.

Adrenaline flowed through his veins, spurring him on. 

His earlier hate had fled, leaving behind nothing but cold determination. He was angry at his brother, sure, but he didn’t want the guy to  die… right?

And if what Oracle said was true, then it just might have been worth it for Dick to do what he did, just maybe.

Jason headed to where he’d last seen Dick. 

He found him about a block away from where they’d fought, being tortured in a rundown warehouse.

If it weren’t for the screams, Jason probably would have passed it and not even known.

Black Mask stood over Dick, who was bound to a table. Goldie was missing his shirt, and his torso was littered with burns and bruises. His feet were bare too, Roman was in the process of whipping them.

For the second time in twenty four hours, Jason felt the anger rise and the pit take over. 

The emotion was stronger this time, more powerful, Jason thought distantly. 

There were about thirty thugs surrounding Roman, guarding the man’s sadistic torture session.

Jason drew his guns, and tried not to think about the last time he’d used them to pistol whip Dickie across the face.

The first five thugs went down quickly, the next ten following right behind them. Jason reloaded. Some part of his subconscious aimed for kneecaps and non-lethal areas. The pit aimed for whatever was convenient. Nevertheless, if Jason had been paying attention, he’d have noticed that not one of his bullets missed a target.

By the time he’d made his way through all thirty of them, he had two loaded guns left, though they weren’t the same ones he’d started out with.

Roman had fled sometime during the action, like the coward he was. Jason was halfway out the door to find him when he heard a sound from behind him.

It was Dick.

Jason startled, hurrying towards his brother's side. The anger once again drained from his body.

Dick’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, they looked at him without seeing. But as Jason neared, something foreign came into them: fear.

Jason dropped his guns on the floor, trying not to think about how he’d never seen Dick look at him like that.

He bent to untie his brother from the table, and Dick flinched away from him, unintelligible noises stumbling out of his throat.

“Shh, Dickie, it’s alright.” Jason said frantically, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

He finished removing the last of the restraints just as Dick passed out from what was likely incredible pain.

--

Jason efficiently cleaned and bandaged his brother’s wounds, feeling numb. Dick’s body was covered in scars, the recent--but not too recent ones were what caught his attention. Jason didn’t want to think about when Dick must’ve gotten them.

Instead, Jason thought about something that had been bothering him before, little details here and there that he had missed. Namely: Dick hadn't been wearing his Nightwing suit during all of their interactions in the past few days. In fact, he'd been dressed quite like a detective.

 It dawned on Jason in a moment, and he felt horrified. Dick had been a detective that day in the warehouse with Black Mask's people. Back when this all started. 

 Jason's mind was racing when Dick groaned, eyes cracking open, "Wha—Jay?"

 "Yeah, it's me Dickie. I'm here."

 "What—What happened?"

 Jason sighed, "What do you remember?"

 Dick's brows furrowed in thought, "I...I had to go undercover..."

 "Why didn't you tell me?" Jason asked.

 Recognition flashed in his brother's eyes, He seemed to be getting his energy back.

 "There was no time, Roman kidnapped me, I had to play along."

 "But—there had to have been some time you could have explained the situation to me…"

 "Would you believe me if I had?" Dick's gaze was piercing.

 “I—yeah, okay, that’s fair.” Jason paused, “Were you going to tell me that you went undercover to save my a**? Or were you just going to keep letting me hate you?”

 Dick was silent.

 Jason continued, “I mean, sure. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed you. But maybe I would have. You weren’t even going to give me the choice.” Something occurred to him then. “We didn’t give you the chance to explain about Spyral…was that situation similar to this?” 

 Dick sighed, “I’m not up for having this conversation right now. Maybe later, after I wake up.”

 He burrowed further into the couch, closing his eyes.

 “One more thing,” Jason said, unwilling to let it end just like that. “Those scars…”

 Dick’s smile was bitter and darkly amused, “You didn’t think playing spy was all fun and games, did you? Everyone was out to get me. See here?” Dick half-heartedly lifted up his arm, “A cannibal took a chunk out of it. Congratulations, you’re the first to notice.”

 “I’m sorry,” Jason murmured to him, long after he’d fallen asleep. 

 The two words were long overdue.

[sproutsgcrden]

sentinel of naruhata | chapter two

mr. nice guy

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, one short scene implying sexual harassment (non-graphic), manga spoilers for my hero academia: vigilantes

word count: 3383

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If someone had told Koichi that he would get jumped, well, he may have believed them. That’s not too uncommon, especially around Naruhata. And it really wouldn’t be odd if it happened to him specifically. He just had that kind of luck. However, if they had also mentioned that a nine-year old would jump in and save him, he’d be a bit skeptical.

He honestly didn’t know if he quite believed what he had witnessed. One moment he was about to get hit by a guy he had managed to piss off earlier in the day, and the next some kid had shown up seemingly out of nowhere, threatening to steal his attacker’s quirk. Koichi didn’t think that was possible. Sure, there had been copying quirks, and erasure quirks were rare, but a quirk that allowed a person to take another quirk? That didn’t seem right, at least, it didn’t seem too entirely possible. A quirk is an integral, unique part of each individual- there’s no way somebody can take that, right? He could be wrong, it wasn’t like he was studying quirk theory.

As soon as the kid hightailed it out of the store with his strange assortment of items, Koichi knew he’d been in for it. He had already been late to work today because of the whole fiasco from earlier. He didn’t mean to run into Spiky Dude- it had just happened! Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have been using his quirk in public, but he was running late! And then, of course, Spiky Dude just had to show up at the same convenience store Koichi worked at, and had to rough him up on the same day he was late. His manager was already absolutely pissed, and Koichi really didn’t want to stick around any longer than he had to in fear of a lecture, or something worse.

Luckily for him, he was nearing the end of his shift by the time Spiky Dude had entered the store, and the kid had helped him waste a lot of time due to the insane amount of items he was purchasing. All he had to do was clock out and sneak out of the door, which should be fairly easy. After punching out on the system and closing the register, Koichi grabbed his bag and began to get ready to leave.

“Haimiwari.” Koichi closed his eyes in disappointment, sighing before turning around with a fake grin.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

The angry tapping of the shoe really should have been enough warning, in hindsight.

------

The streets of Naruhata were busy for the late hour, not too unusual but it was something that Koichi didn’t want to bother with after the night he had. Of course that stunt had gotten him fired. Perfect. It wasn’t like it was his fault! He was the victim in all of this! What, did his boss really think that he wanted to get dragged into an alleyway and get beat up? Koichi grunted as he walked around a slow-placed couple. He would have to find another job and fast. Rent was coming up, and he still had payments due on his tuition. His left hand adjusted the strap of his backpack while his right passed over his face. This was too stressful to think about right now.

There was something he knew he could to help take his mind off of things for a while. Koichi’s eyes narrowed in determined concentration. Yeah, tonight was a good night for that.

------

The wind rushed through Izuku’s loose hair, tousling it beyond fixing. It felt wonderful, racing across the rooftops of an unknown city in the dead of the night. He was barely let out of his room and the training hall on good days- he could never hope to leave the confines of Kurogiri’s watchful eye. Which, unfortunately, meant that it was a rare opportunity to go outside… ever.

Izuku let out a harsh giggle, letting it echo in the air with a wide smile. He had never felt so free.

Slowing to catch his breath, Izuku pulled a wrinkled, old notebook out of his bag. Skimming through the pages, he stopped on the last entry he made. When researching Eraserhead, it wasn’t that hard to find out that the underground hero mainly patrolled in the Narahata Ward. However, it was a bit more difficult to find out specific times and locations of his daily patrols. He assumed that it changed quite frequently due to Eraserhead’s cryptid-like nature, but it was still frustrating to not know exactly where to find the hero. Especially since he wasn’t aware how much time he had before Tomura caught on to where he was.

However, Izuku did have a few locations that seemed to be promising. Most of them were hidden back alley’s, which made perfect sense. A majority of petty crimes took place during the day- they were a beacon to spotlight heroes, those who lived off the praise and popularity from civilians. But the nasty, evil villains? Oh, Izuku knew from experience that the worst of the worst were always found in the dead of night. Underground heroes always had to be on their toes, and it spoke volumes to Eraserhead’s vigilance that he’s remained pretty much untouchable and unnoticeable to those who wished ill intent.

Pulling up the map on his outdated phone, he inputted the first location he had written in his notebook. The specific alley was only about three blocks away. With a manic grin, Izuku pulled up the hood of his jacket and let Enhance swim through his veins once more.

------

The discs of air underneath Koichi’s palms lit up with a familiar burst of light, making the nineteen gleefully chuckle. The feeling of his signature All Might hoodie snugged tight over his torso provided him with an unexplainable comfort, as did the plain black mask covering the lower half of his face.

Koichi was inexplicably known for his plain nature at college (save for the rumors that said he was some creep that tried to lure girls into abandoned buildings. He really was just trying to make friends!), so it wasn’t like anyone would expect him to be the vigilante that ran around Naruhata at night.

Well, he supposed the word “vigilante” was a bit of an exaggeration. It wasn’t like he sought out and fought criminals, he just used his quirk to get around a bit faster and help out the common man. Koichi lost out on his chance of being a hero a long time ago, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t help people when he had a bit of free time. As Mr. Nice Guy, he was able to get a glimpse of what he had dreamed about being his entire life.

Koichi zoomed through the lit up streets of Naruhata, providing directions to the lost, helping find missing items, and picking up bits of random trash. Everytime he received a “thank you” his eyes lit up- it was nice to be appreciated sometimes. The chorus of grateful civilians echoed within his mind as he continued to do good deeds throughout the night. After a few hours, he found himself moseying down a side road in hopes of heading home.

“All that do-gooding sure does make a guy thirsty.” He slipped down his mask, mumbling mostly to himself as he readjusted the straps of his bag.

A water bottle was thrust in front of him, followed by a peppy voice. “Here ya go!”

Koichi took the water bottle without thanking, shouting a quick “thank you” to whoever handed him the drink. And then, once he realized what had just happened, immediately did a double-take. Wide eyes looked over to the side of the road, only to see a young girl with pink, puffy pigtails staring at him with a bemused smirk.

“Pop Step?!” Koichi straightened his posture. “What are you doing here?!”

Ignoring his question, she began to walk out in front of him, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. “So… you’re the guy picking up trash around town?” Her hand went to frame her cheek in wonder. “What’s your name again? Cockroach Guy?”

Wide, admiring eyes became downtrodden in an instant, an annoyed glare taking their place. “It’s Nice Guy!”

“Whatever! You’re the one who alerted me to the fuzz during my show, right? I wanted to say thanks, somehow!”

Koichi was the one who let her know the police were coming when she was performing her illegal street show earlier in the day. He didn’t care much for her music, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see her get arrested. Either way, he wasn’t sure why that provided an excuse to essentially stalk him. “So, you’ve been tailing me all day, huh?”

“Yup! I saw you almost get pummeled by those customers while you were working at that convenience store! I probably wouldn’t have stepped in either way, but wow! You were lucky when that little kid showed up, huh? Gotta admit, Cockroach Guy, that was pretty lame!”

“I don’t do well with violence, okay!” Koichi felt his eye twitch in annoyance; it was probably time to get out of this conversation before he lost his temper.

Pop Step’s face twisted with confusion. “Isn’t that dweeby hoodie supposed to be an All Might cosplay? And yet, you suck at fighting? That totally makes sense…”

“Sure, I look up to the guy. I wanna be useful to society however I can, just like he is! It’s got nothing to do with fighting! And the hoodie isn’t dweeby! It’s cool!”

“However you can?” Pop Step giggled, using her quirk to jump ust high enough to appear a little taller than Koichi. “So you know your place, at least!”

Koichi clenched his teeth in frustration, stepping around Pop Step to try and speed around her. “Stop getting hung up on the details! Knowing your place is important! If you keep playing at being some sort of pop idol, the cops will catch you sooner than later.”

Pop’s face scrunched up with a flash of anger, and if Koichi hadn’t had the night he had, he may have even been terrified. “Hey! I’m not ‘playing’ at anything! I’m the real deal!” She sped up, stopping in front of him as she pointed a perfectly manicured finger in his face. “You’ll just have to keep an eye out for the police! Also, I’ll need you to usher in my fans, set up the venues, and sell some merchandise!”

“Are you pissed off or hiring me for a job?!”

“Don’t you need one? Wouldn’t be surprised if you got fired after what happened!” Pop didn’t even take a moment to notice Koichi’s crestfallen glance towards the wall. “Anyways! If anyone can help me, it’s you- Know Your Place Guy!”

“Ugh. It’s Nice Guy!”

“Oh whatever!” Pop Step turned away from Koichi in order to run further down the alley, sparing him a glance backwards as she made her getaway. “I went through all of this trouble to express some gratitude… I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal, asking a ‘Nice Guy’ like you to do a little work to help a girl out!”

Koichi, good mood effectively ruined once again, went to bite back with a response. That was, until a familiar group popped into his view. He flinched as he saw Pop Step run straight into the leader, none other than the Spiky Dude who threatened to pummel Koichi into the ground just hours before. He could do nothing but stare as the group cornered Pop Step up against the wall, no doubt making her uncomfortable. Probably much more so than he was when he was in her position.

Now, if Koichi were a hero, this is when he would pull out all of the stops. He would crouch low to the ground, speeding to the men terrorizing the young girl and knocking them all on their asses. He would make sure he sped Pop Step to a safe location before coming back to make sure those bozos got arrested like they deserved. But, Koichi wasn’t a hero. And he would never be one. What could he do? His quirk was essentially useless in a fight. The only thing he was good at was running away.

But didn’t he have a duty to try and help? After all, if he couldn’t find the strength to help a young girl in this kind of situation, how could he try to help anyone else? With shaky legs and a determined glint in his eyes, Koichi bent low to the ground. The familiar pulse of his quirk activating below him provided little comfort, but he knew he had to push through this fear and go.

Mask pulled up, Koichi flew against the dirty pavement, locking eyes onto one of Spiky Dude’s lackeys. Now, if he could just get by unnoticed this time, he could knock this guy off his game and get Pop out of there. But of course, things never go Koichi’s way. That’s his luck.

The man caught him, large physique towering over him. The small tuft of flame acting as his hair cast an eerie shadow against the ground. “Well, well, well… look who we have here! Hey, boss! It’s the cockroach from earlier!” Still holding onto the back of Koichi’s hoodie, the large criminal threw him against the wall.

The pain of his head hitting against the rough edges of brick didn’t compare to the spikes slashing against his cheek.

“That annoying brat ain’t here to save you this time.” Spiky Dude’s eyes seem to glow in the dark night, and Koichi couldn’t ignore the sinister feeling pooling in his gut. “You ain’t getting away with just a small beating this time. I’m going to crush you. And I’m gonna enjoy it.”

The spiky criminal stalked closer to him; Koichi’s eyes immediately latched onto the blood dripping from the thick barbs protruding from the knuckles of his enemy. Shit. Shit. What could he do?! He really was going to die. Koichi shut his eyes in gruesome anticipation, hoping that at least Pop Step was using this opportunity to get away. A rush of air flew past his nose, and he blinked slowly. Looking up, Koichi locked eyes with Spiky Dude. The skewers had vanished from his knuckles, and the same, pale look of absolute petrification the criminal wore earlier in the night was on his face once more.

“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to warn you next time?” The familiar voice of the kid that had stepped in during Koichi’s earlier encounter with this group echoed through the street, venom and animosity clear as day in his tone. Even Koichi shrunk into himself in fear. His wandering eyes latched onto a figure leaning down from the rooftop above, All Might hoodie bright against the black of night.

“I was looking for Eraserhead, but maybe I can do his job for him tonight and knock you fucker’s out.” Holy shit, what was up with this kid?

Koichi had noticed earlier that the kid had bright green eyes, but they seemed almost electrified, bright green sparks lighting off in his pupils as his glare deepened. He jumped off the roof, floating just above the ground before he hit it at full speed. His hand was held out, and Koichi glanced at the numerous scars stretching against the palored skin.

While Spiky Dude was distracted, Koichi took the opportunity to get back on his hands and feet, and forced himself to crash into the lizard looking man that was still holding onto Pop Step. She used the momentum from Koichi along with her quirk to jump out of the way and out of the alley. In his happiness of the fact that Pop was able to make a getaway, he wasn’t able to stop his momentum. Koichi ended up crashing straight into the other wall, the force of it knocking out the criminal he held tight in his grip.

“There’s no need for that!” A deep, grudd voice echoed from the other side of the street, and before anyone could react, a large fist connected straight into Spiky Dude’s nose. “The name’s Knuckleduster. And it’s my job to take out the trash like you.” Koichi barely even blinked, and the next moment the other tone was conked out right beside the leader.

What the fuck was happening?!

------

Izuku sighed in relief as he felt the rubber band snap against the quirk he held in his grasp, sending it back to its original owner as some random old man knocked him out. He didn’t want to steal a quirk, but that dude really wasn’t going to give him any choice. Luckily some geezer showed up before he could make good on his threat. He watched the man with a careful stare, seeing as he checked each of the criminal’s tongues before standing back up. His red sneakers crunched against the pavement as he lowered himself back to the ground; he walked towards the cashier he met earlier and held his hand out for him to take.

The man sitting across from him scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner, choosing to take Izuku’s hand in order to get back up. “Uh, suppose that’s twice you’ve saved me, huh kid? We really have to stop meeting like this.”

Izuku chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. A cough sounded behind the two of them, and they both turned around to find the old man staring straight into their souls. Knuckleduster’s bandana covered his entire head, including the top half of his face, only leaving holes to see out of. His black trench coat was grimy, not to mention ripped on the hemlines. Everything about this screamed “homeless old man”, even down to the gritty way the man seemed to fight.

Izuku couldn’t help but think the man seemed familiar.

“You take quirks or something, kid?” The man’s eyes narrowed, his already gruff voice deepened.

“No! I don’t take quirks! I was just playing a bluff, really!” Technically, Izuku wasn’t lying. He hadn’t ever willingly taken a quirk before. “I have an erasure quirk! That’s why I’ve been looking for Eraserhead. I’m hoping he’s willing to train me.” Now, there’s the lie.

“Hmph.” Knuckleduster’s eyes stayed on Izuku a little while longer, tense silence following before he shrugged it off. “You both show promise. Gotta admit, when I heard about Naruhata’s newest vigilante, I wasn’t expecting him to have a sidekick.”

Both Izuku and Koichi stared at him in shock, making the old man laugh. It was a hearty laugh, scratchy and sarcastic. “People are gonna make that sort of assumption when you’ve got two kids helping fight crime in the exact same hoodie.” The two boys flushed, causing Koichi to shake his head.

“We just met today.”

“So? Doesn’t mean the two of ya don’t work well together. I almost didn’t need to come down here. If it weren’t for the threat of Trigger I probably wouldn’t have. Don’t know if it’s luck or not, but these thugs didn’t have a trace of the drug on ‘em.”

“Trigger?” Izuku knew what he was talking about. His father was one of the main benefactors of the production and distribution of the drug. Or well, he was before he got forced into a coma. He had originally thought the distribution would slow after the underworld had found out about All for One’s current medical status, but it seems that wasn’t the case.

Knuckleduster waved it away. “I can explain that later. After you two accept my offer.”

Koichi paled, backing away from the crazy old man. “What offer?”

A sinister grin formed its way onto Knuckleduster’s face, making the duo in front of him back away even further. “Let me teach you kids what it takes to do hero work, and how great it feels to pound some villains!”

Koichi thought this man was absolutely insane and would only lead him to more trouble.

Izuku thought that he had enough training from the villains themselves.

They met each other’s gaze before turning back to Knuckleduster.

“We refuse your offer.”

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘21 - Week Three: Crime

I decided to go with one of my favorite AUs, my Superhero/villain AU, and write a scene that I should have written a while ago, to be honest.  Namely, Ford convincing Stan to give up a life of crime and become a hero like he always wanted.

Shout-out to the ficlet “Farmer’s Market”, by @mythomagically-delicious, which takes place in an AU of the Superhero/villain AU.  I drew some heavy inspiration from it.  ;)

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              Stan made a mad dash for safety.  He ducked into an alley just before the police following him rounded the corner and crouched behind a dumpster.

              “Think he went in there?” one of the cops asked, nodding at the alley Stan was hiding in.

              Shit!  Stan took a deep breath, trying to steady his breath.  No, stay calm, Stan.  It’s fine. You have a backup plan, remember? As if on cue, said backup plan went into effect.  There was a loud bang in the distance.  Stan didn’t want to look and risk being spotted, but he knew from experience that his distraction was producing enormous plumes of ash-colored smoke.

              “He’s a pyro, that’s gotta be him!” the other cop said.  The two rushed off towards the planted smoke bomb and away from Stan.  Still, Stan waited a few minutes to be sure.  Once he was positive the coast was clear, he emerged from his hiding spot.

              “Damn,” he breathed.  His smoke bomb was still billowing, filling the sky with gray.  “I mighta souped that one up a bit more than I needed to.”

              Not long ago, Stan had discovered he could use his pyrokinesis to enhance the effects of smoke bombs.  That discovery led to him learning how to make his own. Unfortunately, the method he’d used to improve store-bought smoke bombs didn’t work for his homemade ones, so he had to develop a new one.  All in all, he’d invested a lot more time than he’d care to admit into his smoke bomb research.

              At least it’s paying off now.  The smoke bomb showed no sign of slowing down.  Damn, I might have accidentally caused more smoke damage than fire damage.  Stan shook his head, dispelling those thoughts.  Get back to your car, get outta dodge before the cops come back and get a look at your face.  Stan trudged out of the alley.  He seamlessly joined the crowds that had gathered to stare at his latest disturbance.

              As he mingled with the rubberneckers, Stan’s ears picked up on a nearby conversation that, for some reason, stood out more than the background muttering.

              “What could cause that amount of smoke?”

              “A fire.”

              “Well, yes, but they put out the fire already! And the smoke isn’t coming from where the fire was.”

              “My lil brother used to prank our older brother with smoke bombs…”

              “Could a smoke bomb be responsible for this?”

              “Only if there’s a pyro behind it.”

              Stan ducked his head and picked up his pace, hoping to get far away from the two men and their eerily accurate discussion.  He quickly arrived at the Stanleymobile and got in.  But not until the town had faded into the distance, did he allow himself to relax.

              Okay.  Back to the drawing board.  Can’t use a smoke bomb that attracts that much attention.

-----

              Stan finally straightened his back, stretching to dispel the kinks that came from hunching over a desk for hours on end. He was back in his crappy motel room, trying to do something about his overeager smoke bombs.  So far, he hadn’t had much luck.

              The news blared on the TV.  After a lot of trial and error, Stan had found that the news was just loud enough to provide background sound, but just boring enough to avoid being a distraction.

              “In another blow to peace in the Middle East-” the newswoman began.  Stan grabbed the remote.

              “Nope,” he said, turning off the TV.  He stood and stretched.  “I’ve got my own problems, lady, I don’t need to hear about other peoples’.”  His stomach rumbled.

              …I could use a snack.  Just as Stan was heading for the place he’d stashed his bags of chips, he felt a tingling sensation akin to feet falling asleep spread throughout his body, starting at his toes and gradually reaching his head. Though it felt familiar, it took him a moment to place it.  He blinked, and he wasn’t in the motel room anymore.  But the dorm room he was in now looked just as bad.

              “Oh, thank goodness, you’re not nude,” said the man standing in front of Stan.  “It’s been some time since I summoned a person, and I was worried I might accidentally leave your clothes behind.”  Stan crossed his arms.  He raised an eyebrow.

              “You say ‘thank goodness’ now, Ford?” he asked dryly.  Ford looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

              “I might have picked it up from my roommate.”

              “Good for you.  Now, tell me where the hell I am so that I can go back to where I was,” Stan said.  Ford blinked.

              “You’re not curious as to why I summoned you after all this time?”

              “Nope.”

              “Why not?”

              “Look, Sixer, if you wanted a nice, brotherly chat, you would’ve summoned me back when Pops first kicked me out,” Stan snapped. He fought down the small amount of happiness he felt at seeing his twin again.  “But it’s been years.  Which means either someone’s dead or you want something from me.  And whichever one it is, I don’t care.”  Stan turned on his heel and stormed for the door.  As he put his hand on the doorknob, Ford spoke.

              “I know,” Ford said softly.  “You don’t care about me, about yourself, or anyone else.” Stan paused.

              “Why do you think I don’t care about myself?” he asked.

              “Because you’ve given up.”  Ford interpreted Stan’s continued silence as permission to continue.  “You’ve given up on the thing that gave you drive our entire lives.”

              “What?”

              “Being a hero,” Ford said simply.  Stan’s hand fell away from the door.  His heart pounded in his ears.  “I saw your latest arson on the news.  Actually, I saw it in person.  My roommate and I were shopping in the store next to the one you set on fire.” Stan looked over his shoulder.

              “You’re not gonna snitch on me, are you?” he asked.

              “No.”

              “Good.”  Stan fully turned around.  He let his hands burst into flames.  “It wouldn’t end well for you if you did.”  Ford didn’t react to the threat.  At least, not in the way Stan expected.  Rather than blowing up at him or scoffing, Ford just stared at Stan, evidently sorrowful.

              “Have you really gone that far astray?” Ford asked. Stan’s mouth went dry.  “Would you hurt your own twin?”

              “Where’s all this coming from, huh?” Stan demanded. “What, I set a building on fire and suddenly you’re worried about me?  After spending all this time pissed at me?”  He threw his hands, still aflame, up in the air.  “That was the secret all along!  I shoulda committed a crime in front of you years ago!” That got the reaction Stan expected. Ford’s worried frown twisted into a snarl.

              “I despise what you did to me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to throw your life away!” Ford snapped.  “Ever since we were kids, you wanted to be a hero.  You worked hard to follow in Mom’s footsteps. But now?  You’re perfectly fine with burning down stores and setting off smoke bombs?”

              “Why do you care?!” Stan roared.

              “Because I’m the reason you’re letting all your potential go to waste!” Ford shouted.  Stan stared at him in shock, the fire around his hands finally smothered. Ford’s eyes widened.  He looked away.  Stan stepped forward.

              “What do you-”

              “You heard me,” Ford said tartly.  He looked down at his feet.  “I- I hate what you did to me.  But I can’t deny my role in your current situation.”  Stan opened his mouth.  “And the reason why I summoned you now…”  Ford took a steadying breath.  “I started feeling guilty the moment Mom kicked out Pops for what he did. But I’ve been able to stifle that guilt under anger.”

              “Until today.”

              “Until today,” Ford repeated.  He took another breath.  “When I realized you had committed that arson, I knew you had given up on your dream of being a hero, and I couldn’t ignore the guilt any longer.”

              “Why?”

              “Honestly?”  Ford looked up at Stan.  He managed a weak smile.  “Because you’d be a damn good superhero, Stanley.  You could do so much, help so many people, save lives!  And that’s been your goal since we were children.”

              “Because I could help other people.”

              “Because it’s what you were meant to do.  Mom saw that in you, even before your powers manifested.  I saw that in you.  Hell, Pops saw it in you, too.”  Stan raised an eyebrow doubtfully.  “He saw it in you,” Ford insisted.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “He just didn’t care about supers.”

              “You’re right about that,” Stan said.  He cleared his throat.  “And you might be right about the other things, too.”  Ford perked up.  “Everything’s not suddenly hunky-dory, just so you know.”

              “I know.  I have negative feelings towards you that have yet to be resolved.”

              “Yeah.  Same for me, but in a less nerdy way,” Stan said.  Ford rolled his eyes.  “But…” Stan trailed off.  He sighed.  “I turned to a life of crime ‘cause I didn’t have a choice.  But I never felt that great about it.”  A faint smile quirked the corners of Stan’s mouth.  “Call it Mom’s influence.  I couldn’t quite shake the feeling I was meant to follow in her footsteps.”

              “Of course not.  You were meant to become a hero,” Ford said.  Stan’s smile grew stronger.  “We both have issues to work out, between the two of us, but I don’t want you to give up on your destiny.”  Stan let out a bark of laughter.

              “Destiny, huh?”  He grinned at Ford.  “Well, when you say it like that, I can’t really say you’re wrong, can I?” Ford smiled back.

              “So you’ll give up crime?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Not until after I fill up the Stanleymobile one more time, though.  She’s running low on gas.  Once that’s done, I’ll go back on the straight and narrow.  Just gotta figure out how to join the Defenders or whatever.”

              “There’s a newer team on the West Coast that I think you have a better chance at joining,” Ford said.  Stan shoved his hands into his pockets.

              “I’ll look into ‘em.”  Ford nodded in relief.  “Oh, by the way, remember our deal?”

              “Deal?”

              “Every time you summon me without warning, you owe me food,” Stan said.

              “Wh- we made that agreement when we were children!”

              “And I’m holding you to it,” Stan said.  “I’m guessing you brought me back into town when you summoned me?”

              “Yes.”

              “My motel isn’t too far away, so I’ll be back at 6 for dinner.”  Ford sighed.

              “Very well.”

              “See you then.”  Stan opened the dorm room door and strolled out, whistling.  As he walked out, Ford’s roommate Fiddleford walked in.  Fiddleford looked curiously at Ford.

              “Ya had a visitor while I was out?”

              “Yes.”

              “Was it a good visit?”

              “Yes.  It was.”

              “That’s nice.”  Fiddleford walked over to his bed and set his bag down.  “I found what I wanted at the library.”

              “What were you looking for, again?”

              “Blueprints.”

              “For?” Ford pried.  A devious twinkle appeared in Fiddleford’s eyes.

              “Haywood Hall.”

              “The building that all our school records are kept in?”

              “Yessir!” Fiddleford chirped.  He began to dig around in his bag.  “Surprisingly easy to get.”

              “I’m shocked that they even allowed you to check them out of the library,” Ford said.  Fiddleford hummed noncommittally.  Ford’s eyes widened.

              Wait, Stan doesn’t have the Stanleymobile.  How is he going to get back to his motel? Ford closed his eyes and focused. A surge of power flowed through him. There was a shout from outside.

              “What the fuck?!”  Ford walked over to the window and looked out.  Stan stood in the parking lot, staring at his red El Diablo. He looked up at the dorm.  After a moment, he lifted his middle finger.

              Ford snickered.

[thr-333]

Stand in the Shadows of Gotham

Part 1

Marinette, just another child abandoned on the streets of Gotham. She saw the horrors of Gotham, saw what could happen to her and lived it, she swore it would happen to no one else. If Marinette had to fight the shadows of Gotham, stand with them, or help them she will. Marinette will do whatever it takes to be the light to the night of Gotham.

---------

Marinette can’t remember not living on the streets of Gothams Crime Alley. She just remembers standing in an alley balling her eyes out when she realized her mother wasn't coming back for her. She doesn't remember a thing of her father, it not being outside the realm of possibility he had never known of her. It also wasn’t impossible he knew and didn’t care; it would actually be more likely.

She, like most the kids living in crime alley, had learned quickly how to survive. She could duck police and villains alike(although it was often hard to separate the two). It also helped that she had uncanny luck that her few friends always lamented over. If you could consider living in crime alley lucky at all. However, she often had trash cans fall in the way of people chasing her and occasionally finding a loaf of bread in the trash that wasn't completely covered in mold.

Like everyone else, she learned how to toughen up quickly. To send a glare deadly enough to have grown men cowering. To scratch and fight and make someone else bleed if it meant you got away. She learned not to flinch or feel sick when searching a dead body for anything of value.

However, none of that changed who she was. She was still soft and kind to her friends and strangers that meant her no harm. She would promise her friends she already ate when she gave them all her food. She would give her warmest coat to someone new to the streets or someone who had become so weather by them they didn’t have the strength to go on. She knew where to place her kindness and offered it freely to whoever deserved it.

That's why when one of her friends ran up to her, covered in blood and bruises, crying about how they couldn't save the other, Marinette did not hesitate. It was dangerous to go up against this mob, sure, but she couldn’t stand by and watch her friend be sold to become who knows what. Actually she knew exactly what and there was no way she would let it happen.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Marinette whispers to her ragtag group of friends and allies that had followed her.

“We know,” Butterfingers grins, their signature move was pickpocketing something worthless and dropping it right in front of the victim. Then someone else would swoop in and actually steal their wallet or something while they were distracted. It was a risky move and they only used it in emergencies. Butterfingers was brave enough every time to risk the police or a beating at being caught, letting them survive another day.

“You’d do the same for us,” Milo shrugs, they call him that because that was the only thing he would say to her after taking to the streets after his parent's murder. Apparently it was his happiest memory sitting down with his mother to drink a mugful wrapped in a thin blanket on a cold winters night. It had taken Marinette half an hour of running to lose the police as they chased her down for stealing a carton of milk and a tin of milo. Milo had been the newest after her to be let into their little gang. That night they drank milk (that was only still cold thanks to the snowy winter) straight from the bottle because they had no cups, using their hands to scoop up the milo. That was the best night in recent memory as Milo talked to them all for the first time and their family got just a little bigger that day.

“Plus you’re going to need us,” Knuckles had been there the longest out of all of them. Not because she was necessarily much older(not that they or she actually knew her proper age) but she had been living in crime alley much younger than the rest of them. Long enough she didn’t remember a thing and her name had long since faded leaving only her nickname of Knuckles. She had been the one to find Marinette and teach her how to survive. She was the first to raise a fist against anyone that would cross them and would sooner die than admit defeat, “let’s go get our boy,”

Stray, they had taken stray and for that Marinette vowed to destroy them. Stray was the kindest of all of them, even her. He had been on the streets for a long time but from the sounds of it liked the streets better than wherever he came from. He was the peacekeeper not only in the group but out of it. When they got into fights Stray would be the one to beg for forgiveness when no one else would sacrifice their pride. Honestly, he was the only reason they had lived this long and they needed to get him back otherwise they weren’t going to last long.

Marinette had too strong a sense of justice to even pretend to agree with older stronger people that they were wrong for getting in their way. Butterfingers would sooner use anger as a distraction to try and nick something than actually give an effort to say sorry. Milo’s apology would never be taken seriously as he smirks and gives thinly veiled insults. Knuckles simile wouldn't allow herself to stoop that low and would sooner die fighting than admit defeat. So yeah they needed Stray back to be their voice of reason. I mean just look at what they’re doing with him only been gone a day.

They stood on a roof across from where everyone in crime alley knew was a slave auction house but no one would dare say it out loud. Across from the was a window that was the best entry to the building, besides from well the door. A lot of places like this had an entry point less secured than the others, systems set on high alert, and designed to let Batman breakthrough. It was better to trick him into an entrance point far enough away from the auction the clients could get away and worth losing a few people to sell if it meant less property damage. Marinette had to admit it was a smart plan. It’s so much easier to trick people into getting you to do what you want when they think you’re dumb.

“Alright follow my lead,” Marinette doesn't attempt to dissuade them as she starts for the window. There's luckily a washing line that attaches to the other building just a few meters away from where they want to go. Marinette walks along the line like a tightrope, convincing herself it was no different from the chainlink fence she would play on in an alleyway they often hung out in. It dips under her weight but she cautiously marks he way across.

Reaching the building isn’t much of a relief as there is only a thin rim along the edge that leads to the window, a few heads higher than her. She takes a deep breath and jumps, fingers catching on the brick ridge, definitely scratching up the tips. She hauls herself up with just her arms using all the strength the few years spent in crime alley had given her. She sighs in relief, only slightly, as she has to hug the wall to keep balanced on the ledge. She glances back to see Knuckles swinging her way across the wire similar to monkey bars.

Marinette shuffles along to the window. She would have to disable the alarm before the others go there. Fortunately, she had once met a person form an ex-gang or mob or something who had delighted in explaining to her the inner workings of most security systems as they ate some stale bread she shared with them. She does her best with the few nails and wires she has stored in her jacket. However confident she is that the alarms are disabled she still holds her breath when sliding the window open. She stares into the dark hallway with bated breath for a miniature, waiting for someone to jump out and shoot her. When no one does she hesitantly steps inside.

Knuckles swings in seconds after her. They both help the others climb into the window. Lucky they did or Milo would be splattered against the pathway after he slipped on the edge. They only get a second to relax before they are tracking down the halls cautiously waiting for someone to come at them with a gun and try to sell them off too. The first thing they come across isn’t Stray but a series of lavish looking rooms instead. One has a desk and fancy chairs, Marinette is drawn to it and has learned better than to deny her instincts.

She creeps into the office against hissed protest. Marinette searches through the draws of the desk, jangling a ring full of keys in triumph. Her friends relax but she’s not satisfied yet. She noses around finding a cliche safe behind a painting.

“No, I know what you’re thinking, and don't you dare Lucky,” Knuckles says slipping into the room so no one walks by the hall and sees them. Marinette does dare, she really does. But she doesn't know the passcode and that's a problem. Luckily for her, the boss or whatever thought this through or really didn’t. There's a hidden safety latch that she pulls and it releases the safe from the wall. It must be a precaution in case they need to make a break for it but it suits her just fine.

Milo tells her off even as he stuffs the large safe into his ragged backpack. The corners tear the edges because of its size and they need to help Milo regain his balance when picking it up. They head down the hall again, going down the stairs to hopefully find Stray somewhere in the basement. They get downstairs and sure enough, there are people in cages and chains all around, Stray in one pushed off to the corner on the opposite end of the room.

They dart into the shadows behind some crates. There's a few tired looking guards and echoing sobs and pleads that go completely ignored by them. They try to track there way around the room. Hiding behind cages wherever the guards look over, hoping it creates the illusion of them being inside to a passing glance. It works, they just have to be careful to avoid them as they pace around the room.

“Please,” Marinette startles, Butterfingers thankfully pushing a hand over her mouth to stop the yelp as someone reaches through the bars to grasp at her clothes, “Please, Please , please get me out of here,”

“I- I can’t ,” Marinette’s voice breaks, tears pricking her eyes.

“Let me out or I’ll scream,” They warn, face grave and ashen.

“Please,” Marinette begs, the hands forming a vice grip around her arms and legs, “I can’t save you,”

“Yes you can!” and could she? They came here to save Stray but that didn’t mean these people didn’t matter. Why did they deserve to be left here while Stray got to go free? Who was looking out for them? If- if Stray didn’t have them would he be left here too? If they got caught would anyone come to save them?

No.

“What’s going on over there?!” A guard barks, the person freezes, and Marinette breaks out of their hold stumbling back. She freezes, breath only getting quicker as footsteps approach. They were going to get caught! They were going to get caught and no one would save them. There was no one looking out for kids like them, they only had each other.

“Hey!” The footsteps stop as someone bursts through the door, “Someone broke into the bosses office! The safe's gone!”

The footsteps retreat, running out the room and back up the stairs. She sighs, making her way to Stray.

“Lucky!” Stray smiles up at her, tears tracks trailing down his face.

“Hey, we’re here to get you out of here,” Marinette takes the keys sorting through them to find the right one.

“And the others?” Stray asks, and yeah everyone around them is yelling out, pleading to be let out. Kids their age and younger, adults that hardly qualify as such none of them deserving of such a fate.

“Everyone,” She promises, getting a surprised look from everyone else. She shrugs them off and hands off the keys to help get everyone out. All in all, there's around fifteen people and each gives her a hug, crying the way Stray had done when he got out.

They use their distraction of the safe to make their way out of the building. They find the doors this time, only two guards but both with guns. They could rush them but someone would definitely get hurt. If- if she ran along the wall she might be able to avoid getting spotted but what then? How was she supposed to outmatch two armed guards? She didn’t have that raw power. It wasn't fair that two random guys with nothing remarkable about them were able to hold her entire life in their hands. No, it wasn't fair and she vowed to change that if they ever got out of here. But first, she had to take a chance.

“It’s alright little one,” The person who had grabbed out at her puts a hand firmly on her shoulder, stopping Marinette from walking into the light, “I’ll take care of this,”

They were so young. Not as young as Marinette but still firmly in their teens. And here they were running at two fully armed guards with a war cry fitting of the mightiest warrior. The first guy is taken off guard, barely able to raise his gun before they are trying to grapple it out of their hands. A few others rush forward with the distraction. Marinette sticks behind the group with her friends running forward and sticking together. They trip up the second guard and someone starts bashing their head in with their fist, a pool of blood steadily growing.

A gunshot rings and they all freeze. Looking behind them, the grappling for the gun with the first guard is over now, it kicked across the room while the other stands over the guards' body. The person stares down in shock so Marinette grabs their hand and runs out the door as they all run to freedom. Most people break off, shouting their thanks over their shoulders as they run in opposite directions. Marinette leads their little gang and their tag-along into an alley far enough away that they can catch their breath without fear.

“That was crazy!” Milo yells, after a solid five minutes of silence.

“You guys are so cool,” Stray shouts right back, “How did you even get in there?!”

“There was a window and- are you ok!” Marinette yells, catching the person whose name she hadn’t even learned yet. She falls under their weight, shifting to try and lower them to the ground more gently than just crashing, “Whats-”

Marinette cuts herself off, pulling her hand away from their stomach red with blood. The gunshot hadn’t been for the guard. The gunshot hadn’t been for the guard! It hadn’t been for a man who chose to work to sell people into a horrible life of slavery for what? Some extra cash? Pathetic. How many lives had he ruined? How could he live while this person, this innocent person bled out in a random alleyway of Gotham on an unremarkable night?

“Stay with us, we’ll get you to the hospital!” Marinette exclaims trying to staunch the blood flow.

“It won’t work,” They just smile vaguely, staring vacantly up at the sky, “They don’t care about people like me, people like us,”

“I care, I care ,” And the tears flowing down her cheeks are proof enough, “So please just stay with me,”

“The stars are so beautiful tonight,” Looking up the night was full of smog and darkness the same way it always was in Gotham. Quite fitting for the city really not letting in even a sparkle of light. Looking back down their eyes were clouded over, Gotham has taken the light from their eyes as well.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 15

Science Gone Wrong

Ao3

-o-o-o-o-

It really wasn't everyday that Jason found himself teaming up with a bat. Let alone that bat being none other than Robin. But here he was, punching the noses of various villainous evil-dooers in the nose with Damian—the shortest stack to ever exist—fighting right beside him. 

Jason wouldn't be one to really complain about it though. He may not have the most lovey-dovey big-bro relationship with the squirt, but recently Damian could be known to be at least civil with him. They kinda got the sibling bit down, and Jason was alright with that, he didn't want to go anymore into that. 

And really, it wasn't like this team up was planned or anything. Jason simply ended up patrolling Crime Alley and happened across a group of gangsters cornering some poor hooker. He was in the middle of taking them down when Robin jumped in out of nowhere, saying it looked like Jason could use the help in his better-than-thou-but-joking-about-it tone of voice. 

Which whatever. Jason could handle the brat any day. As long as him being here didn't mean the big man was around, Jason was alright with letting the kid stick around. Damian wasn't all bad. He had his quirks, yeah, but can't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when that gift horse had two swords and knew how to use them. 

Jason ducked under the swinging arm of one of the gangsters, then propelled himself forward to punch them in the gut. 

The gangster went down like a crashing tree, but Jason didn't stick around long enough to listen. He turned around, looking for another opponent—which there was still plenty of—but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Robin involved in a furious fight with a rather large contender, focused on the task of hand and not noticing the thug coming up from behind with a tire iron raised in his hands like a baseball bat.

"Robin!" Jason called, but it was too late. With a loud thump, the metal bar was swung into the middle of Damian's back, causing the kid to call out and fall to the ground. Jason yelled angrily and ran forward, punching the man who hit Damian hard enough to where he probably saw stars dotting the cloudy atmosphere. 

Jason made quick work with the others, no longer somewhat enjoying the fight and now just wanting it to end. Soon enough, Jason returned to where Damian laid on the ground, curled up and not making any moves to get up. 

Confusion settled in Jason's gut at the sight of it. He knew the kid got hit pretty hard, but not that hard… right?

"Robin?" Jason asked, kneeling down and bringing his hand out to shake his shoulders. However, the moment Jason touched Damian, the kid whimpered. 

"Don't-" Damian gasped, his voice laced with so much pain that Jason pulled his hand back like he’d just burned the kid. Damian didn't move after that, just took staccato breaths.

Okay, now Jason was concerned. He left Damian alone for the moment and moved to turn on the comms. Spinal injuries were never something to disregard or ignore, no matter how badly Jason didn't want to deal with Bruce at the moment. 

"Hood to Cave," he said, "we’ve got a downed Robin."

Nothing replied for a moment, but when the noise did start, it was chaos. Jason realized just as it was too late that he should have worded that a bit better. 

"What happened?!" Came the first voice. Dick's, shockingly enough. Didn't know he was in Gotham. Huh.

However, before he could answer, the grumbling voice of Bruce interrupted. "I'm on my way to your location, stay where you are."

“-is he okay? Is he bleeding?" Dick sounded close to hysterical. "Should we get the medbay ready- can I talk to him-?"

"Wing," Jason snapped, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes. "Someone got a lucky swing on his back. I think something's wrong with his spine, so yeah, medbay would probably be good."

"His spine?" Dick squeaked.

"Robin's armor is heavily padded and nearly bulletproof," Batman growled, and that headache Jason was talking about earlier was spreading toward his temples now. "A hit with the swinging force of a human shouldn't have done that kind of damage."

"Yeah, well, you tell that to the kid who hasn't moved from the ground since he went down," Jason snarled. Damian hadn't moved an inch since Jason started this practically redundant conversation. 

Silence fills the line; Jason, because there wasn't much more to say. Bruce, because he was single-mindedly making his way towards their location, probably with the Batmobile in tow. Dick, because… why was Dick so quiet? 

"Big bird?" 

A moment of silence. Then an exhale. "Jay, you remember Eduardo Flamingo? Back when I was Batman?" 

Something cold slithered into Jason's chest cavity. Not because the Flamingo was any kind of particularly horrible villain, but because the whole entire fiasco that took place that short few years ago was something he wasn't proud of. At the time, Jason honestly thought he was simply doing what needed to be done. Flamingo came to Gotham looking for a fight. He shattered Jason's helmet, almost got Scarlet killed, and…

And shot Damian five times, as close to point blank as you can get, right into his back. 

Jason's thoughts roared as Dick explained to Bruce what happened. At the time, he hardly even noticed Damian laying in a pool of his own blood. He was too busy getting arrested and worrying about where Scarlet ran off to. He remembered feeling a little bit of confusion seeing the kid a few months after, flipping around and fighting the same as always, but he didn't really care at the time. 

"After that… Talia took Damian and surgically inserted a new, artificial spine-"

How far gone was Jason all those years ago to have noticed? 

"Turned out Talia had engendered some sort of remote into his spine. She had Deathstroke control him and use him to try to kill me-"

Protecting children and innocent people. Hadn't that always been his thing? Why didn't Damian ever count as a child? He saw him in that bloody pool, yet all he did was brag to Dick about how he dumped a tractor load of rubble onto the Flamingo, like it was something to be proud of. 

"But we got it fixed. Decoded. I broke the machine they were using to control him too."

"Why is it hurting him like this now?" Jason asked, his voice oddly level. "If Talia made him a new spine, it should be in mint condition."

"Spinal injuries never go away, Hood," Batman said, and as much as Jason wanted to argue he also knew he really didn't have any high ground here. Not when the man who said that had his back broken by Bane. "What I'm wondering is why Nightwing never told us."

Jason could practically feel Dick bristle. And as much as Jason would love to listen to Dick yell at Bruce about how he's never noticed, Damian was beginning to try and shift. Little whimpers escaped his mouth, which was such an un-Damian sound that he almost couldn't believe he heard them. 

"Kid?" He asked, ignoring Dick snap back at Bruce in favor of checking on the young boy below him. 

"I'm fine," Damian hissed through clenched teeth. There were tears escaping the bottom parts of his mask. Jason wondered if he noticed. "Sometimes… sometimes it's like this."

Jason frowned. "Hey, try not to move too much, okay? Your old man is on his way-"

"I said I'm fine," Damian snapped. His eyes flickered up to Jason in a very pain laced glare. "My mother constructed my spine and inserted it inside me with technology beyond our time. It's strong and- hnn- durable. B-but sometimes it just..."

Jason's never heard Damian cry before. And while Damian wasn't necessarily crying now, he still sounded close to it. That must be testament to how agonizing a spinal wound could be. It's probably one of the most important parts of your body… so of course once it got damaged it would never be the same again. Even if the spine was completely replaced with something new and stronger. 

"What…" Jason tried, guilt gnawing at the back of his mind. He might not have shot Damian, but this might as well be his fault. Flamingo was his problem. Damian shouldn't have been involved. He swallowed. "What do you need me to do?"

Damian bit his lip, his face scrunching up into immediate uncertainty. Like he knew exactly what would make this all a little more bearable but he was too afraid to ask.

Well… ask Jason. Because everyone knew Jason wasn't the world's best older brother. Points for trying though, right?

Then, shocking Jason, Damian opened his mouth. "Could you… play with my hair?"

Of course. Dick was rubbing off on the little tyke. Jason should have expected that they'd find similar preferred ways to be comforted. Well, maybe it wasn't the whole hair thing, but the need to be touched gently. Softly. And with Damian's spine aching the way it was, Jason doubted there was any place in his body besides his scalp that didn't pulse with agony. 

"Sure," Jason replied, almost shocking himself. It was awkward, initially, placing his fingers into Damian's hair and running his digits though the stands. Though, when he saw Damian close his eyes and release a shaky, almost relaxed breath, he decided he wouldn't stop no matter what. 

Jason had been an awful big brother for so long. He could do this much right? Like… this was all technically his fault after all. 

Okay, now he felt really guilty. He gave Dick and Damian so much shit back then. Yeah, he wasn't in his right mind back then, and honestly now he could see why Dick worked so hard to get him in Arkham. He killed a lot of people and constantly fought with Dick. He was problematic to the highest extent. Dick saw that and made sure Jason would go somewhere he'd be safe from others and himself. At the time, he hated it. He hated being in the same place they would lock the Joker up at, or Two-Face, or Killer Croc. Even though Joker wasn't even there he could still hear his laughter while laying in his private cell. 

But Dick did make sure Arkham was up to standards. He was anal about it. Jason was safe, comfortable, fed, treated well by the guards. The horrors of the prison were all in his head. 

And how did Jason repay him? 

By letting his kid get shot in the back five times. 

Jason never said sorry about that, hadn't he? 

There was the sound of shrieking tires from behind, and soon enough the Batmobile came to a screeching stop. The drivers door practically shot open as Bruce ran out, dragging a backboard similar to the ones lifeguards and paramedics used with him. 

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked, and Damian opened his eyes for a moment, before shaking his head ever so slightly and squeezing his eyes shut again. 

Jason could feel Bruce turn his gaze toward him, but he kept his eyes on Damian. He had never seen Damian admit to pain and weakness like that before. 

This was his fault. 

"Let's get him back to the manor," Jason said, clearing his throat. 

Bruce nodded and leaned down to explain to Damian what they were about to do, and how much it was probably going to hurt. Getting Damian into a neck brace and onto the backboard was a struggle and a half, ending up with Damian openly crying while on the road back. 

And Jason hated it. Damian wasn't supposed to cry. 

By the time they made it to the Batcave and Alfred rushed on to assist Bruce with x-rays, Jason's regret was practically eating him alive. He stood back near the bat computer trying to convince himself that he didn't care as much as it felt like he did. He should go, right? Go back to his home-base and pretend he didn't see and learn what he did tonight?

He was in the middle of planning his escape when Dick came up to Jason. He was on crutches, his left foot covered in a heavy cast. So that was why he was not only on Gotham, but working the computers. Jason… didn't know.

"Hey," Dick greeted, smiling. "Thanks for calling Damian's injury in."

Jason nodded sharply, but said nothing. Dick sighed and hobbled closer and placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. His face melted into sympathy and Jason remembered that Dick was the biggest empath in the entire world, second most to Raven, an actual empath. 

"Neither of us blame you for what Flamingo or Talia did, Jason," he said, "I know I said some harsh stuff to you back then… but neither of us were in the right place, ya know? I'm sorry for that. I should have-"

"You did the best you could do," Jason replied, surprising himself. Jason cleared his throat and looked to the ground. "I deserved you yelling at me."

A moment of companionable silence passed, and soon Dick had Jason's shoulder a friendly squeeze then let go. "Good thing we're better now, huh? Learn from our mistakes."

Jason nodded, this ooey-gooey emotion talk becoming a little too much. Thankfully, Dick didn't push him any further or heaven forbid hug Jason. 

"C'mon," Dick said, his face going back to a bright smile, "you and I are going to go to the nearest Walgreens and get some heat pads for Damian. There's also a Redbox near where we're heading, so we can grab a couple movies." Dick jerked his head over at the exit of the cave, "I'll let you drive."

"Fine," Jason grumbled, stuffing his hands into his jacket and glaring. He'd have to get dressed quick, but his old bedroom should have something stuffed in there. Jason hardly spent the night here, but Bruce did have a knack for being prepared for the impossible. "And it's not like I'll let ya drive anyway. Your whole foot is broken. How'd you do that anyway?"

Dick immediately began to launch into an exciting story about half human half ostrich hybrids that tried to take over downtown Blüdhaven and honestly? Jason didn't listen past that because of course Dick broke his foot doing something that sounded completely fake. He looked towards the medbay before he left and saw Damian laying in a cot, still curled up but looking a little more relaxed now that he's on something soft and being worried over by both Bruce and Alfred. Jason was about to walk away, but stopped in his tracks when Damian caught his eye. Green eyes stared at Jason with an intensity that had Jason keep the gaze.

Then something even more rare than Damian crying happened. Damian's lips twitched into a slight, thankful smile. A smile… directed at him. A smile that said thank you and I forgive you and don't blame yourself. Jason had never really seen fully what Dick was talking about when he said at his core, Damian was a kid like any other. He’d only catched glimpses of it. 

Damian could smile huh? 

Huh.

Dick called his name and he was knocked out of his thoughts. Jason cleared his throat, nodded, then broke eye contact with the kid. He walked away before he could do something crazy, like hug him goodbye. That would be too out of character for the both of them… but… maybe someday.