#ikea verse

[batsandbugs]

Bruce Wayne’s Headache Classification System Chapter 3

IKEA Verse

A/N: The author shows up a month and a half late, with Starbucks: S'up, here's 7500 words of pure chaos. Feast! Y'all are the best, thank you for the amazing comments in the last chapter. I love seeing your excitement for this crazy little world I've created. I have a new fic that I'll be adding eventually, called: "The Stalking of Daminette: A Treatise by Steph and Cass" it's still in its baby stage, so we'll see how long that grows before I post. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it because I have not started on the next part and I'm moving in less than a month, so maybe the next chapter will be out sometime in October, but I'm not making any promises. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Bruce narrows his eyes and pins his children with an unimpressed stare. “What did you do?

“He was totally willing!” Dick insists with an innocent grin.

“Coercion.”

“Manhandling.”

Dick’s grin disappears evilly side-eyeing his brothers. “Both of you suck at being back up.”

“He didn’t want to at first,” confesses Tim. “But they held my computer hostage to convince me to agree.” Tim rubs a hand over the top of his laptop in a soothing manner. “So, I stole all his knives so he couldn’t stab us, while Jason and Dick wrangled him into the car.”

“Little demon was spittin’ nails, but we persuaded him not to throw himself out the car, so he was trapped.”

“By the time we arrived, I convinced them how a game of hide-and-seek would be a fun, non-disastrous way to spend time together,” says Dick, his face one of ruined hopes and dreams.  

“Mostly through bribes, blackmail, and calls to our innate competitiveness,” says Tim.

“Dickie kept the keys so none of us could leave, and declared himself seeker first,” Jason continues. “He found me-" 

"In the food court," says Dick.

"Then Replacement-"

"At the Starbucks."

"Didn't even get to have that coffee," grumbles Tim.

"So we joined forces and decided to search for Damian together. We spent an hour chasing him in circles. Swear I almost caught him too.”

Tim scoffs, “Yeah no, he had us good. We had no clue where he was.” 

Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up Tim.”

“You shut up,” Tim shoots back.

“Boys…” warns Bruce, already regretting bringing all three of them into this sitrep.

“Okay, so he evades us long enough to team up with a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng-” starts Tim.

Jason growls a bit. “Lying bitch.”

“Jason…” Dick sighs but doesn’t refute the insult. This only serves to deepen Bruce’s headache which now strongly veers out of the I-am-not-mentally-or-emotionally-prepared-for-this category and straight into Ongoing-dumpster-fire territory.

This was fine.

Jason slams a fist on the table. “She lied to my face multiple times! She said she was hired to poison Tim and Damian in order to steal Tim’s phone and if I didn’t find them in time, they were gonna die from brain damage!”

Bruce blinks. Did he hear that right? “Sorry, what?”

Tim sighs. “Okay, rewind, so Damian evading us like the little assassin he trained to be, hooks up with Marinette, who, as far as my research shows, is a civilian-”

“Yeah right, girlie ain’t a civilian. No way, not in a million years.”

“Shut up Jason, let Tim talk,” snaps Dick.

“She lied to Jason about where Damian was, and between her initial meeting with Jason and the incident in the food court, about an hour passed. Then she appeared in the cafeteria with Damian’s card, how we tracked her there in the first place. She panicked when she saw us and used her magic on the shelves in the warehouse to cause a diversion-”

“She crushed a fucking forklift, and we got blamed and billed for it.”

‘How?’ Bruce thinks in despair. Not over the money, of course. They had more than enough to cover costs, just in the general sense of incredulity. One would think, after being Batman this long, it would inoculate Bruce from bewilderment at all types of situations.

It has not.

Tim shakes his head. “No, I proved we had nothing to do with that."

‘Oh well isn’t that grand?’

"Didn’t manage to pin anything on her either considering how much electrical interference occurred whenever she performed magic, but we don’t have to pay.”

“Magic doesn’t cause electrical interference,” Bruce reminds them. “Not unless it completely breaks the system in the process.” All three boys – men really, his kids all grown up now, even if they pulled stupid shit like this – turn to him. Identical expressions of contemplation played over their faces.

“Shit, you’re right,” mutters Dick.

“Well, her magic does,” counters Tim, his brow creasing heavily, grasping past the sleepy, foggy haze that comes with being awake for three days straight. Grabbing a notepad he jots down the observation. “Her magic doesn’t obey any rules we know to be true.”

“It’s magic, dumbass,” Jason sneers. “It doesn’t have to make sense. I’m still on the fence about whether she enchanted Damian though. On one hand, demon-spawn shouldn’t be capable of smiling that much, and he defended her, deferred to her, fucking used her first name without blinking an eye. That ain’t natural for him. On the other hand, she’s the same brand of demented as he is, and maybe they want to be horrible little demons together.”

“I…” starts Dick before trailing off, his face flickers through a series of emotions. Mostly fragile hope, pragmatic disbelief, and good heaping of uncertainty.

“See, Golden Boy, even you can’t say this is a good thing!”

“He made a friend?” Dick offers with a pained wince.

“She’s a psychopath!”

Bruce cuts off the argument. As much as he would love to hear more in-depth detail about Damian’s newest… acquaintance, he wants a clearer picture of what happened at the store before he judges the situation. “Boys, behave. Tim, please continue.”

Tim nods. “Okay, so Marinette escapes the warehouse, and we track her back to their entry point into the vent system. We split up to cover more ground, I take the warehouse and keep myself from the worker’s sight but close enough to the vent I could spot them exiting. About forty-five minutes later they set me on fire-”

“Wait,” interrupts Bruce. “Fire? FIRE?”

Tim looks at him like he’s being particularly slow. “Uh, yeah, I said that a time or two now, keep up. To be fair, the fire was more around me. But I did end up singed.” He shows his arm sleeve again, and the singeing on the sleeve takes on a whole new meaning.

“I wasn’t sure what happened at the time, I expected to catch the little twerps, not engage in guerilla warfare. So, understandably, I’m off my game. The security guard dragged me into the office, and I’m ready to call for backup, only to find my phone missing. I talk down the manager in the warehouse, but then he yells at these poor workers. And Bruce, they were kids, couldn’t be more than fifteen, working in this busy warehouse with no clue about any rights they had, and then after the manager became… distracted I conversed with the other workers, and-”

Tim’s one-breath ramble was swiftly cut off by Jason. “Yeah, yeah you caused a worker’s strike through the power of charisma and rhetoric. So original. No one else in the world’s history has ever done that. Can we get back to the French bitch tricking me?”

Tim huffs, crossing his arms. “You can continue then because I wasn’t part of that.”

“Cool, I will. So, there I wait at my post, and it’s been like an hour and a half at this point. Timmy finally calls, but it’s not actually him it’s the French girl. She’s actin’ like a paid assassin slash company spy, and says she poisoned Tim and Damian through tricking them into eatin’ poisoned coffee and shit.”

“And you believed that?” Bruce asks. Jason glares at him with piercing green-blue eyes, and although his second son puts off an air of anger and annoyance, it’s a mask for a deep-seated fear that his brothers were genuinely in danger. That he would be too slow, too late to save them, like what happened to-

Jason flippantly shrugs his shoulders, years of practiced reticence covering his care. “With our craptastic luck, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take any chances. So, I go chasin’ and-”

“~It’s a trap~,” Tim gloats in a sing-songy voice, his grin wide and eyes unfocused. He’s going to crash soon, it’s just a matter of time.

“Shut up, you ended up set on fire and pickpocketed. You have no leg to stand on.” Tim rolls his eyes but slouches back in his chair. “So, it’s a trap, and demon-spawn is waitin’ there with one of those tricked-out trip wires Timmy made. He and Frenchie wrapped me up good, taunted me, and stripped me taking my wallet and phone. Bitch also took my knife. I insult the brat, and he fires back, but before he does anything else Marinette pulls him back and tells him to simmer down and he does.” Jason’s wide eyes drip with incredulity and, quite frankly, a little awe.

“I see,” Bruce says, a fake calm surrounding his words. He really didn’t. They were talking about Damian. Bruce loves his only biological son, he truly does. He loves Damian’s sketches, and care for animals, he loves his dedication to sword mastery and sly humor. The way his son has the same wrinkle crease between his eyes Bruce gets, and that Thomas did before them. The similarity soothes a small part of Bruce’s aching soul. He’s ridiculously proud of all the work and effort Damian went through, put himself through, to become a better person. To overcome the trauma his upbringing caused and come out stronger.

That being said, Damian was still arrogant, stubborn, and quick-tempered. He considered his opinions and plans more highly than others, and unless one could give a quick and compelling explanation as to an alternative option, he would be proceeding with his plan with efficiency; damn anything else standing in his way. Damian spared no sympathy to the average person and even less for fools.

This behavior was extremely out of character for him.

Which made the entire situation ring with alarm.

Jason shook his head. “I don’t think you do,” he says, calling Bruce’s lie out. “You’re gonna need to see it to really understand. Anyway, they leave me there for the police to find me, and the wire’s wound on tight, so I’m still struggling to get them off when security finds me ten minutes later.” Jason smirks. “Now those idiots had no clue who they were dealing with, and they loosened the wire round my legs, cause they sure as hell couldn’t carry me. By the time we reached the car I was out of the bonds and knocked one out and escaped from the other. Fat-ass bastard.”

“Language,” Bruce reminds him. Jason flips him off.

“Fine, the heavy-set bastard. Better?”

Bruce sighs. “Not really.”

“I scale the building, figuring the store entrances would be monitored. They had a nice handy dandy human-sized ventilation shaft up there - no wonder with the place’s fucking size - so, I shimmy down-”

“Like Santa,” Tim giggles, well past bordering on a manic state, and instead moved well into the capital of it.

The comment doesn’t appear to have fazed Jason though, who takes another long sip of his alcohol-soda mixture. “And like Santa, I have a knack for toys. I emerge out of a vent in the children’s toy area and snag myself a nerf gun.”

Sharp pain blooms on the side of Bruce’s neck. He doesn’t let it show on his face though. “Why?”

“Seemed like a good at the time, ya know?”

Bruce mentally counts to ten, takes a deep breath, and says, “Sure.”

“So, I head towards the play area to find Dick, because obviously, Replacement was a lost cause.”

“Geeze thanks, Jason.”

“But before I can get there, I spot Demon Spawn constructin’ a wacky ass Rube Goldberg contraption-”

Dick winces. “I saw the remains when I chased after Marinette. It was initially meant for me.”

“You were chasing the girl?”

Dick pouts. “She stole my phone!”

“Wait, so a civilian pickpocketed all of you?” 

“She was quick,” mutters Tim.

Jason raises a finger. “She didn’t technically pickpocket me, she frisked me after tying me up. I was fully aware of the stealing.”

Bruce reminds himself that he can’t strangle his children. He. Can’t. Strangle. His. Children. “I plan to make all of you go through awareness training, again. A civilian!?”

“Still not convinced,” Jason mutters, crossing his arms.

“I don’t care she certainly hasn’t trained with assassins and spent half her life mastering stealth and deception. I expect better from you all.” All three men mutter in acquiescence, to the extent that they would do better. “Continue.”

Jason’s demureness fades to be replaced with a gleeful grin. “Yeah, there wasn’t much left of the trap after I jumped the little bastard. I started shooting-”

“Jason…” Bruce’s headaches gain a specific twinge of exhaustion whenever Jason becomes involved. It’s a talent he possessed since the day Bruce found him hi-jacking the Batmobile’s tires.  

Jason’s hands go up in defense. “With the nerf gun, chill Bruce I ain’t trying to contribute to America’s public shooting crisis. I wouldn’t take a loaded gun into a shopin’ center unless crazies were already causin’ chaos.”

“I’d prefer you not to use guns at all.” It’s a pointless request, but maybe one day Jason would cede to it.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, you’re still gunna lose that one pops. I got a rep to maintain.”

Bruce reigns in a sigh. Expected.

“Anyway, everythin’ was fine, I’d managed to dismantle their little trap for ya, you’re welcome,” he says with a pointed glance at Dick.

His eldest crosses his arms, and with a total deadpan stare, replies, “Thanks, Jason.”

“But then a security guard interfered after I knocked down a display or two.”

“So, you strung him up and gagged him?” Dick asks voice rising into the hysterical range.

Bruce now understands why Tim looks exhausted, dealing with the fallout from a situation this unhinged for the past forty-eight hours.  

“No, I didn’t do that. Demon spawn already set the rig, waitin’ for you. The guard tripped it.” He pauses, cheese-covered chip in hand. “Although I did add the gag, he was shoutin’ too much and grabbin’ attention. It only took a second, but by the time I turned back, Damian had shot off like a rocket.”

“Don’t take your eyes off the target,” chides Tim, with a smug little grin.

Jason’s eyes flash a brighter shade of green. “Fire.”

“Shut up.”

“Boys…” Bruce warns.

“Fine, fine,” Jason mutters, as he takes another sip of his drink. “I chase him through the store and he’s barely keepin’ ahead of me. I keep shootin’ at him. Newer nerf guns have a range and a surprising amount of ammo. Bastard didn't even look inconvenienced; he takes a fucking phone call at one point.”

“That was when I was chasing Marinette and we found the remains of their plan,” Dick interrupts. “She panicked with the sprung trap and called someone, but I couldn’t hear a word.”

“Yeah, he jumps off the call when I manage a shot at his head, and I’m close enough to have him in reach. Unfortunately, he ducked into the employee-only entrance. We weave through security rooms and offices and shit, and of course, causin’ chaos there.”

“He was right there, and yet somehow, we’re the only ones banned,” mutters Tim.

Jason scoffs. “Yeah, don’t know how that happened. Pretty sure I saw him dump a pot of coffee on-” Tim groans in frazzled distress. “Bad Timbo, you can’t have any more caffeine until you take a goddamn nap!”

Tim slouches into the solid wood dining chair. “You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my dad.”

“Tim you can’t have any more caffeine until you sleep,” Bruce says.

Jason grins, sticking his tongue out at Tim, while Tim only glares and mutters something under his breath about ‘killjoys’ and ‘he’ll show them tired’ and Bruce really doesn’t want to see the result of that decision. This needs to wrap up soon. For both Tim’s sake, and his own as his headache has moved from Hassles-have-evolved-into-ongoing-dumpster-fires to Information-overload-caused by-dumbass-decisions-please-reboot-system.

“I get tangled in an office jam – literally, there were cords involved and by the time I scramble out of it, Damian’s already through a door and down a hallway. I haven’t a clue which way he’s gone, so I pick a direction and gun it because security is on my tail and there ain’t time to waste. I head down a hallway and lock the doors behind me to give me a second of breathing room. Then I spot the intercom system.”

“I wondered how you got close enough to use that,” Dick muses.

“I wondered what they did to piss you off so bad,” Tim adds.

Dick nods. “Same.”

“Yeah, so I call out Demon Spawn and French Bitch over the intercom, and I know they both must have panicked, but the guards broke through the locked doors, so I split. Now here’s the fucking miracle.” Jason leans forward, grinning. “I find the door that’ll take me back to the showroom area, the guards bearing down on me from all four sides. I don’t have a chance in hell, when the lights go off.”

“Blackout?” questions Bruce.

“Magic,” Dick says flatly. “It was Marinette.”

Jason slaps the table, snarling, “Damnit! Now I have to give credit to her.”

“She knocked out electricity to the whole store,” says Tim.

“And caused a display to collapse in front of me. I tripped,” admits Dick.

“You have fought off assassins while poisoned, and executed advanced acrobatic maneuvers with broken bones, and you tripped over a toppled Swedish store display because of the dark?” Bruce knows he’s trained his children better. Why in the world did this go so sideways on them?

Dick braces his arms against the table and roughly slides his fingers through his hair. ”I know. I know. I was right there. Any other day and I wouldn’t have blinked about jumping right over it, but this time it felt… off. Bad day?”

“You’re getting old Golden Boy.” Jason takes a sip of his drink, doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin as he teases his older brother. “I guess it’s all downhill from here ain’t it.”

Dick flips him off.

Jason sticks out his tongue.

Bruce’s headache takes on a twinge of my-children-are-immature-brats feeling (generally categorized by a sharp sting right at his temple) and holds in an exasperated sigh.

“So, after magic girl shuts the lights off with her mind or whatever, I escape the security guards by an inch. One emergency exit later, and I’m back in the store proper. People are freakin’ the fuck out about the lights. By the time they turn on again, I’ve lost Damian for good, and now I just try to stay off security’s radar. I settle in a nice little blind spot right outside the children’s toy area and keep myself out of any trouble.” Jason looks over at Dick, fighting to keep a smug grin off his face. “Course I did see a woman go off on a poor employee. I kept my nose clean of it ‘cause it wasn’t my business.”

“Oh, ha, ha very funny. That woman was a menace,” groans Dick.

“Woman?” Bruce questions, almost scared to ask.

“Jessica Merope-Laverne, fifty-five, resident of Pleasantville. Married twice, has two children, a restraining order, and a police file with multiple notes about disturbing the peace,” Tim rattles off. “Thoroughly unpleasant.”

“That’s an understatement,” mutters Dick.

“Practically dragged Dickie Bird away by the ear.”

“Right as I was about to nab Marinette too. She’d hidden in one of the wardrobes in the room, and I was this close-” Dick positions his fingers scant centimeters apart from each other, “-to cornering her, and I got dragged away.”

“Shit, would have loved to know that,” mutters Jason. “Anyway, I stood around, making sure nobody was on my tail, soon I heard rumors about a ruckus in the atrium-”

“That would be me,” Tim admits with a grin.

“Well, I didn’t know that. I was hoping demon spawn and Frenchie were involved somehow, so I headed over, and then-”

“Oh, I know what happened from there. I saw the video.” Bruce pins Tim and Jason with a stare. “I respect both of you have opinions-”

“Opinions? Opinions? I have justified grounds for calling out his revolutionary bullshit! His entire life embodies nothing but the anthesis of systemic poverty, and he argues for class cooperation!�� shouts Jason. Bruce always marvels at how eloquent Jason becomes when angry.

“Violence isn’t the answer,” counters Tim. “You would harm the very people you try to uplift in the process.”

“Sure, it is! It’s the natural response to a gluttonous, greedy, overburdened, bureaucratic system that’s leeching off the populous and perpetuating its own supremacy.”

Tim slams a hand against the table, raising to his feet, exhaustion clearing from his eyes. “It’s an option, not the option. We can do better than violence if we work at the cause's root problem without pulling out a fucking guillotine.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh of course you would argue for that, you’ve never had less than six figures in your bank account in your life.”

“So says the self-proclaimed drug lord!”

“That was ten years ago!”

“A bag of heads on the steps of the GCPD!”

“Oh, get over it!”

“If it matters,” interjects Dick. “Probably doesn’t, systemic economic issues are hard to fix when we have bigger problems like an actively insane criminal population that likes destroying important city infrastructure on a monthly basis.”

“Which Wayne Enterprises does its best to counter,” adds Bruce, not bothering to chide his children back on track. This particular topic turned them into a bunch of unherdable cats.

“Funneling more money into the one percent’s hands!” Jason’s bordering on manic at this point.

“We are the one percent, Jason!” counters Tim. “And we stay that way, despite the copious amount of infrastructure projects, that we hire Gotham citizens for, and pay at least a living wage to all of them. Not to mention every other single employee we hire who also are paid a living wage, with benefits, and support. I know I am privileged. I am trying here.” The last sentence came out as a distraught cry, as he collapses back into his chair.

“Are… are you okay?” Dick asks tentatively, ready to cross the table to comfort his brother.

Tim shoves his hands into his hair and mutters, “I need an espresso.”

“No, you need sleep,” says Bruce, mentally calculating where all the caffeine in the house is so he can hide it. “Can we return to the recap, so your brother can go to bed?”

“My side of things is much shorter in comparison to Jason’s,” says Dick. “As long as nobody interrupts.” Casting a pointed glare in Jason’s direction. Jason shrugs casually and crosses his arms.

“I waited at the children’s play area. Now, a man my age would attract attention without a need to be there, so I’d ducked into the employee-only area, and grabbed a shirt to disguise myself. I hung out in the Starbucks for a good forty-five minutes trying to look like I was on break while observing the play area. Although I couldn’t tell where the vent entrance was, I figured two adults Damian and Marinette’s size would be easy to spot coming out of an area meant for children.

“When an hour and a half passed by, I’m nervous, because neither Jason nor Tim has sent any word. I called them both. They didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, 'cause the French phone napper took our phones,” mutters Jason.

“So, I decided to do some reconnaissance. The lady at the front desk looked bored enough, and so I went over to… chat.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “You mean flirt.”

Dick glares. “Shut up. So, I hang around the front desk for half an hour at most, before the kids went crazy. Like plastic balls being thrown everywhere, kids shrieking, this one little girl, later we learn her name is Abby, she’s doing this whole speech about a revolution-”

“Tim…”

“Not me, I’m not here at this point.”

“I stand there in shock, wondering what the heck set it all off. This one little girl runs up to the daycare worker, Melinda? Melody? Something. I don’t remember. And the little girl’s nose was bleeding, so there immediately goes my peaceful cover. I back up into the crowd, which at this point has gathered around pretty thick.”

“You know I wondered why there were so many people hanging around in that front lobby area,” says Tim.

“I’m almost sure the commotion has something to do with Marinette and Damian, so I keep my eyes peeled waiting for any adult-sized figures to emerge from the play area.” Dick sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. “I was right of course, but I missed Marinette slipping out, and she approached me from behind.”

“This is where you get pickpocketed too!” crows Jason.

“Really, Richard?” asks Bruce with a raised brow. This is ridiculous.

“Okay, look, I was distracted, off my game, there was a ton of screeching, and it had been a long day. And she was very good. The technique was flawless, minus a bit of overacting and a touch of obviousness. Which was her goal because-”

“~It was a trap~” Jason and Tim sing together.

“It was bait,” Dick corrects. “Leading me to a trap, that didn’t even work. So really, I did the best between the three of us.”  

“You all will complete remedial awareness training, so a situation like this never happens again.” Bruce massages the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh. “Just… just please continue.”

“I can’t full-out chase her or anything, but she keeps out of reach through the store, until we reach the place where they set the trap. Obviously, Jason already tripped it, so she turned face and ran in the opposite direction. I followed, trying to convince her to stop and talk. But at this point, she’s full-on outpacing me and doing well too. I’m hesitant to say trained, but she had practice.”

“She’s gotta be a spy, or maybe she’s working for the League?” muses Jason.

“Damian would see right through that,” interrupts Bruce. He knows his youngest son has an instinct when sniffing out undercover League members. Talia certainly sent enough of them over the years.

“Maybe she’s just that good?” says Tim. “I certainly can’t find a damn thing on her, and being a League plant would explain that.”

Dick shrugs. “We’ll figure out her deal later. She calls Damian, and they talk briefly, but I couldn’t hear the conversation. Soon after Jason does his whole intercom takeover Marinette pulls out her little magic electro bursts and short circuits the electricity to the entire store.”

“And then caused you to trip.”

Dick wearily nods. “And then caused me to trip. By the time I detangle myself, she’s long gone. The lights come back on, and I’m stuck wondering where the hell she’s gone. I try to avoid getting clocked by security, so I keep to blind spots, which is how I eventually spot her doing the same.”

“Suspicious,” mutters Tim. “More evidence for the ‘League plant’ theory.”

“Or she could know security is looking for a woman of her description and she’s smart, either way, I tail her and corner her in a display room, no idea why she chose that one, but when I walk in it’s empty.”

“She teleported, or vanished like a ninja,” gasps Tim, eyes wide, pupils smaller than pinpricks. Bruce is now counting the seconds until he passes out.

Dick shakes his head. “No, she hid in the fucking closet. Tim, you need sleep.” Tim sticks out his tongue.

“I was this-” Dick places his fingers centimeters away from each other “-close to nabbing her, and then the whole Jessica situation happened.” He rubs a hand through already messed up, fly-away hair. “She drags me away screeching about lawyers and customer service, and it had been a very long day, so the second her back was turned I bolted. I couldn’t risk heading back to the display room, although if I were Marinette I’d be long gone, so I backtracked to where I stuffed my actual clothes and headed towards the atrium.”

“Yes, I saw your arrival as well,” Bruce confirms with an exasperated drawl. The videos spread out across multiple platforms gave an all-around idea of what happened in the atrium. “You all know better than to escalate things in public. We have an image to maintain after all." The boys nod, cowed and guilty. "That being said, things wrapped up rather neatly.” He eyes the boys with a paranoid weariness. “Too neatly.”

All three sag into their seats and gaze at each other with sheepish grimaces.

“Yeah, B, we noticed that too,” says Jason. “But at the time…” he trails off.

Tim continues, his speech sluggish. “It felt normal, to accept what was going on. The fight, the crazy lady, the little kid with the ball pit balls, her uncle being Dick’s old friend, and the store manager, and they let us go. It was easy to go along with it.” Grimacing, he gestures to his assorted piles of papers. “You know, besides for all the work I have now.” Crossing his arms on the table he lays his head in the middle. “Too many people, so little sense.”

“Damian hasn’t said a word about any of it.” Dick slouches lower in his chair.

“Kid was all smirks when he and the little liar approached us after we left the store,” grumbles Jason. "Had fuckin' ice cream and everything." He spins the almost empty bottle of alcohol coke on the table. “Of course, they made us wait, because after we left and booked it to the car, Dickie realizes his keys are gone too. So there we are standin' in the parking lot, Timmy doesn't have his shoes, and all we got between us is one nerf gun, no phones, no keys, and no fucks left to give.” Bruce, too tired from the absolute rollercoaster of emotions and information his children just sent him on, can do nothing but muster up a stern and disappointed glare. He trained them all better than to let a civilian pull one over on not just one of them, but all of them.

“Yeah, yeah, I know situational awareness. We’ll work on-” Dick breaks off his sentence, and sighs softly. A small soft smile overtakes his face, and he raises a single finger to his mouth. He nods in Tim’s direction.

Tim’s head, previously cradled in his arms, now lolls to the side. Neon blue light from his laptop highlighted his closed eyes, and the purplish bags underneath.

“Finally,” Jason mutters. “I swear he has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag. He’s been up for way too long.”

Bruce is just grateful he won't need to physically drag Tim off to bed and force him to get some desperately needed sleep. “Now we just need to get him to his room.” He would have done it himself if his ribs didn’t spasm the second he thought of the idea.  

“Not it,” Dick whispers so quickly it’s practically a rush of air.

“Not it,” says Jason, barely a millisecond behind.

“Ha!” Dick impishly grins. “You do it.”

“But-”

“Nope, I said it first. You got to carry him.”

Jason turns his head towards Bruce, big bluish-green eyes looking for support.

Bruce doesn’t get himself involved in the decision-making games his children play. “He said it first.”

Jason’s hopeful glance turns into a disgruntled snarl. “I hate both of you,” he spits.

“Love ya too, Jay.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose. Jason pushes back his chair, and although he’s annoyed, the solid wood chair doesn’t scrape against the floor, so he can’t be too mad. Despite drinking his entire liter of mystery-alcohol-diet-coke mixture, his footsteps pace steady and strong. “Come here, ya little coffee-addicted gremlin.” Jason slips his arms around Tim’s body. It’s a testament to how exhausted his son must be, that Tim only flutters his eyes and protests incoherently at being lifted out of his chair.

“Quiet down, Replacement,” Jason murmurs, his voice soft as he speaks to his sleep-deprived brother. “All your calls and research will be there when you return from the land of nod.”

“But…”

“You can go willingly, or I can grab sedatives from the med bay and forcefully put your ass to sleep. I’ll put a bet on who’ll win that brawl.” Jason stands a good six inches taller than Tim, who looks like little more than a bedraggled rag doll in his older brother’s arms. Bruce knew who would win that fight too. Tim sighs and relaxes another inch into Jason’s arms. “There ya go. You can go back to bein’ insufferable once you’ve had some fucking sleep.”

“Hmm…” Tim's eyes fully flutter shut. Jason shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but softly traverses the room so as to not jostle him. Looking back over his shoulder one last time to shoot an I-can’t-believe-I’m-doing-this look at Bruce and Dick, before walking out of the room.

Silence overtakes the grand dining room as the last of Jason’s footsteps fades into the echoing halls of Wayne Manor. A light rain drizzles outside, the faintest patter hitting the tall arched windows letting in a soft grey light.

Dicks groans, pulling himself out of his slouch gracefully and into more of a respectable position. “I’m getting too old for that.”

“If you’re old, I must be ancient,” Bruce responds. He’s not, really. Only forty-seven to Dick’s thirty-two. What he’d been thinking taking in a ten-year-old at twenty-five, he couldn’t really quite say. The only thing that mattered at the time was the aching echo of loneliness reflected in the eyes of a child who had just lost their parents.

Now, look at them, all these years later.

“Nah, you’re not ancient, B. We’ve just been through enough shit in our lives to age a person twenty times over.”

Bruce gives him a look of high disappointment. “Stunts like this do not help, Richard.”

Dick has the decency to look properly ashamed. “I really didn’t mean for the situation to get so out of hand,” Dick insists in a soft, quiet tone. Bruce doesn’t quite believe it. His sons thrive off of chaos. Even if they didn’t mean for things to get out of hand, they tended to actively encourage it once in the middle of the undertow. “I know, I know, but how was I supposed to anticipate Damian teaming up with a… witch? Magician? Whatever she is.” Dick mutters the last sentence, but Bruce hears it clearly.

His sons certainly think the young woman is dangerous. Tim is thoroughly confused and stressed by her existence, although deciphering his third son’s emotions through his fog of exhaustion is a vexing endeavor Bruce still isn’t sure he accomplishes all the time. Jason clearly hates her or at least is holding a very large, very deep grudge against her. He wonders what exactly the content of the conversation was when she threatened Tim and Damian. He wonders if she knew the effect it would have on Jason.

Flickering light from the chandelier above pierces his eyes like a particularly vicious game of stab-the-vigilante, but this conversation is important, so, despite the full body ache accompanying his you’ve-pushed-too-far-and-now-you’ll-suffer-the-consequences migraine, he pushes through to ask, “What do we actually know about her?”

Dick sighs heavily, rubbing a hand across his face, and suddenly he looks every inch of his thirty-two years. “To be honest? Only a little. Tim wasn’t the only one to look her up. I did my searching too.”

“And?”

“Practically nothing. Basic info, but school records sealed tighter than Fort Knox, and firewalls grow tighter every time I try to hack ‘em. School activities, online media presence, and even pictures; all of it is whisps in the wind. Every time I try to look deeper, something...” Dick shudders as if shaking away a bad feeling. “I come up short and I can’t find a reason why. Even trying to think about Paris as a whole feels off and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I can see if there’s anything in the League’s database about the city the past few years. It was Diana’s home base for decades until…” Bruce trails off, his mind an unexpected blank. Diana moved to the US from Paris eventually. Sometime within the last decade, but he can’t quite remember why. Surely, she must have told him at some point.

“She’s a fashion designer, I know that much. She has a website but it’s very bare bones. Commission work only. And her current course of study at Gotham U is Fashion and Business Management. But-” Dick’s hands flail into the air. “She’s from Paris! What on earth possessed her from moving from one of the fashion capitals of the world to here, to study fashion is beyond me.” 

“Hmmm…” Bruce’s brain whirls at a million miles a minute. Connections forming and rearranging on his mind’s case board. The incongruency is so stark, there must be a reason. They haven’t found it yet.

“As for her magic…” Dick shrugs. “She said her powers mostly affected situational outcomes, and from the incidents I saw, she told the truth. But I’ve never seen magic like that before. Magic that just… happens. She didn’t say words, she didn’t make hand gestures. She used tiny little - I want to call them mechanized balls, but we never came close enough to tell – to kickstart the magic.”

“A techno-mage then?”

Dick contemplates the idea for a moment before saying, “Could be. But it felt more than that. As soon as she became involved the whole day felt… left of normal. Which I suppose aligns with situational outcome manipulation. The day certainly went their way…” Dick shrugs. “I just don’t know.”

Bruce hums, finally asking the question that had swirled in his mind since the girl was brought up. “Do you think she’s a danger?”

Dick leans back in the chair, his face an avalanche of flickering emotions. Wind lightly howled outside the dining hall filling the intervening silence. Finally, he sighs and says, “No, I don’t think so. She was chaotic sure but genuinely enjoyed the game for what it was. Damian probably encouraged the more unhinged ideas. And yes, she has magic, but so do a ton of other, far more obviously dangerous people. Our system is tricked out for all types of magic users, and even if she can bypass them due to her own unique magic, we’d at least receive a warning. And as for our identities…” Dick half-smiles. “She didn’t even know we were the ‘Waynes’ until we were just about to leave, and she didn’t appear particularly star-struck. I doubt she’d make the jump from chaotic billionaire’s kids to vigilantes.”  

“As for Damian…?” Bruce hardly knows what to make of his youngest’s out-of-character reaction and hopes to receive some cohesive read on the situation from his eldest.  

Dick, being quite unhelpful, shrugs. “I think you should talk to him. Get his side of the story. Things may have been chaotic on our end, but he did genuinely have fun. And, yes, he’s acting out of the norm.” Dick pauses. “Way, way, out of the norm for him, but I don’t think he’s enchanted. I think he just has a crush.”

Bruce blinks. Isn’t that a hell of a thought?

Damian.

With a crush.

He doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with these kinds of realities. Reflexively he massages his temple with the tips of his fingers trying to relieve the paining, aching pressure.

“Headache again?” asks Dick with sympathy. After twenty years his son knows his tells well, and Bruce has always had headaches, although his reasons for having them have certainly increased over the years.

“Yeah, is what it is though. We’ll keep an eye on Damian, have you run him through the influence-affected protocols?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Dick shrugs. “Nothing, it’s mostly why I think he’s fine. She may be a danger, or powerful, but I don’t think she’s doing anything to Damian. Besides making him run up the data plan on his phone. He really hasn’t stopped texting the past two days.”

They’ve spent plenty of time talking about Damian, but Bruce hasn’t seen a glimpse of him since he woke up this morning. “Where is he?”

Dick pulls out his phone. “On a date, according to Stephanie.” Pulling up a photo that’s taken in a long-distance setting. Damian is pictured, seated at a cafe table, drinking out of a white coffee cup. Across from him sits a girl, Asiatic features, black hair, clad in a colorful sundress. They’re both smiling at each other.

It’s normal and adorable. And slightly worrying. Damian doesn’t smile like that unless looking at a fluffy four-legged creature.

“Stephanie trailed him?” 

Dick flips the phone away. “Actually, she and Cass both followed him when he left this afternoon. Not sure what they planned, but they’ve sent some nice pictures.” He pauses for a moment and smiles fondly. “If she’s not a danger, or a League plant, this could be really good for him.”

Bruce hums, unsure, and hating himself for that unsurety. He’ll make a call when he has more information, and less of a migraine. “Go wash up and grab some sleep. I’m out until my ribs heal, so I’ll need you to take point on patrol.”

Rising from his chair, Dick stretches and shoots him a grin. “It took you twenty-five years, but damn, you’ve finally learned to call it quits when you need a break. Proud of you B.”

Bruce doesn’t bother to disguise his roll of the eyes. Dick would know he did it regardless. “Get on.”

Dick shoots him a lazy salute. “Sir, yes, sir.” He ambles to the door, and Bruce calls out again before he’s gone.

“And next time, Dick, please try to keep the antics out of the paper, and off the internet.”

The shit-eating grin betrays Dick’s real thoughts when he says, “Of course Bruce, won’t happen again.”

Liar.

Bruce shakes his head in reluctant bemusement – should he honestly have expected anything else – and Dick ducks out of the door without another word. Finally, the dining room is quiet, except for the pitter-patter of rain on the window panes, and the soft hum of Tim’s computer.

Carefully, Bruce rises from the chair, his side twinging, head throbbing in what is now a full-on migraine.

He should have stayed in bed.

Ah, well, he’s suffered worse, and now he has a good idea of what happened with his sons that caused a headache so insistent he felt it halfway across the galaxy.

Gently closing Tim’s laptop, he doesn’t bother to touch the articles and paper, knowing his son’s organizational system may appear a mess to outsiders – even him on occasion – but that it has meaning for him. He observes the rest of the room; collecting Tim’s coffee mugs, and Jason’s empty plate and coke bottle – no need to have Alfred do it if he was right here – and ambles slowly to the kitchen taking care not to drop the dishes or disturb his ribs.

Placing the dishes away, Bruce leans heavily on the counter. Mind whirling, analyzing, and connecting the information as he has always done, however, it battles for dominance over the present, persistent, migraine. His body screams for more rest, and as much as he wishes to dig to the bottom of these problems right now, he trusts Dick has given him an accurate read of the situation. Later he can pry information from the girls, maybe they’ll have a less biased view of Damian’s… friend than his sons do.

He flicks the lights off in the kitchen, for now though, he’s heading back to sleep.

-line break-

A nap, a full meal, and hours later, the pitch black of the night concealed a heavier storm than the light drizzle which draped over the manor earlier in the day. Bruce, knowing damn well he wasn’t fit for patrol, sat in his office, a bottle of forty-year whisky perched next to a crystalline tumbler and a box of chocolates. A minor indulgence, especially as he should stay far away from alcohol at the moment. But if he hadn’t died from insane nutcases, aliens, or his children’s antics, mixing medicine and alcohol probably wouldn’t kill him.

Bruce snapshots a picture of the newspaper Alfred gave him this morning.

The front-page cover contains enough of the story to showcase the significant amount of drama his children had caused.

He texts the images to both Diana and Clark.

All he adds is, ‘I always know, and I’m always right.’

He pours another finger of the amber liquid into his glass and swirls it around as the computer turns on. Just because he wasn’t out and about, didn’t mean he intended to take the night off. Bruce stretches his fingers and opens up a blank case file template.

Time to find out who exactly is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

[pandadrake]

Shots fired by the Spider-man sequels.

Was ruminating on how Miles and Miguel are technically both 'Spider-man 2' in their respective universes. Got me thinking about the other Spider-successors in the cast, and also what if they all got matching T-shirts or something.

[addictreaderr]

Yeah that sounds like the Wayne boys alright

@batsandbugs

[mister-eames]

Rules: List the First Line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by the lovely @lolahardy and the darlingest @strangegeology - thank you both my talented friends!

----

1. Arthur is halfway through a bottle of whisky and smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes when he gets the call.

2. The alarm rouses Dom from his sleep, but it’s Mal's cursing and shifting to silence it that truly wakes him up. 

3. It took a handful of years, but they finally arrived at this moment. 

4. Nash is deeply regretting signing on for this particular job. 

5. “Where are you headed?”

6. It happens at the end of a three-month job.

7. Today is not Arthurs day. 

8. Spiritual.

9. “It’s Arthur. This is the third voicemail I’ve left you this week - can you pick up your damn phone? Or are you too good to take my calls now?"

+ 1 WIP: Barring exceptional opportunities, Eames tries to avoid taking work anywhere within Europe. 

Tagging: @stormofsharpthings @iamanonniemouse @kardashevscale @seleswrites @piratefalls @roosterbox

[the-lorekeeper69]

I 👏 WANT 👏 A 👏 SPOT 👏 REDEMPTION 👏 ARCH 👏

[bomnun]

231010 Kino will be meeting fans at IKEA?

svantaes

[spynorth]

go here and write w/ me in AUs.

[sxmnus]

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · small starter for @indigodreamed​.

      ❝ no, you’re absolutely doing it wrong. the instructions say you have it backwards         oh my goodness. ❞ 

[thevalicemultiverse]

...Wow. This is like being in a house built by a child using nothing but a hatchet and a picture of a house. It's like a salad recipe written by a corporate lawyer using a phone autocorrect that only knew Excel formulas. It's like someone took a transcript of a couple arguing at IKEA and made random edits until it compiled without errors.

Victor: [spreading his arms sarcastically] Welcome to Aperture! I'm not entirely sure what some of the things you said are, but it all generally felt right.

[batsandbugs]

I just read through the entirety of the IKEA game in one sitting. I can barely breathe and I’m pretty sure I pulled a muscle from laughing so hard

Thank you so much! I’m glad it made you laugh, I’m working on a new installment of the IKEA averse and it should be out before the new year!!

[witchofthesouls]

Guys, what if the TFP verse didn't have grocery stores and supermarkets?!

If the Cybertronian diet is limited to liquid from crystal Energon, then they would be completely used to a great beast of a combination between Home Depot, IKEA, and Kay Jewelers. Like a build your own customizable personal fuel station or for the department. Maybe there's minor cultivation of different kinds of crystals that act as herbs and spices equivalent. Look at the displays of crystal decor. While it's Energon, the structures are too unstable or deemed unusable for consumption to be sold (different story for the lowest castes trapped in poverty though)

The 'bots are familiar with a job site providing room and board as well as picking up prepared food from restaurants at different price points. But if Team Prime actually looked into the history of agriculture on Earth, the immense scale and absolute variety would shock them speechless. Optimus would fall into a deep tunnel of botanical science versus the culinary arts and how a lot of veggies are basically the same plant that's been curated to enhance very specific features.

There's a new game at the base and road, it's called "Can you eat this?"

(This actually starts a lot of "lively discussions" between the kids because of cultural differences, family histories, and geographic/regional dishes and traditons.)

And if the kids ever needed to do a report on animals or plants or food, then they would receive full marks.

If the 'bots ever get enough fuel to use a holomatter, then the kids would get the delight of seeing:

Teaching Optimus how to select a good watermelon. The man is in deep concentration as he eyes for a "sun spot, a creamy other side, and a good-sounding thump."

June and Ratchet having a hissy and very heated argument over what's inside the shopping cart. The cart fills and empties between them.

Arcee staring down the produce that is and isn't organic, and then trying to figure out the difference between oranges and grapefruits without breaking them open

Bumblebee buzzing around the honey products and sweets to make puns and jokes. He's having a blast in the personal care aisles, especially with the masks and Burt's Bees.

Bulkhead is entranced by the inside Starbucks and the meat department. He's watching the baristas and counter workers deftly move to produce a new thing. He wants to learn to make a sandwich and a Frappuccino for Miko.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Three's Company (A Spellbinding-Verse Interlude)

Summary: A week before Christmas, (Y/N) and Loki help Peter maintain his secret identity and find themselves faced with a surprising addition to their happy duo.

Pairing: Loki X F!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi there! Today we've got a little holiday fluff for our favorite newlywed couple, and I'm not even joking when I say that this is pure tooth-rotting fluff lol thank you all so much for reading, I hope that you enjoy! (And happy holidays!!)

Three’s Company December 17th, 2016 Avengers Tower, New York City (Spellbinding Masterlist)

After drilling the last screw into the wall, (Y/N) set the heavy power tool down on an empty shelf and leaned back to admire her handiwork with a proud smile on her face. “There! Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder to see Loki saunter into their new shared suite, an impressed grin spreading across her husband’s handsome face when he spotted her fully assembled bookshelf. “Darling, while it’s commendable that you pieced together this infernal Ikea bookshelf all by yourself, why in all the Nine Realms didn’t you just use your Alf Seidr?”

“Because I wanted the satisfaction of having conquered this stupid piece of furniture with my own bare hands,” (Y/N) confidently answered back, drawing a chuckle from Loki as he moved to stand beside her ladder. “And besides, I lived almost all my life without resorting to magic to solve all of my problems; I hardly think it’d be right to start now, even if it meant spending an entire day assembling this damn bookshelf and missing out on-” At that exact moment, the shelf bearing her clunky electric drill collapsed and set off a chain reaction that saw each shelf fall one by one, the last of them slamming against the ladder’s leg and sending her toppling backwards into her husband’s waiting arms. “…Lunch.”

Taking note of the purple-hued glow beginning to emanate from the palms of (Y/N)’s hands, Loki hummed in sympathy and pressed a comforting kiss onto her furrowed brow. “You’ve lost this battle, darling, but you certainly won’t lose the war. How about I draw you a bubble bath and prepare dinner while you relax for a spell, and then the both of us can conquer the bookshelf after we eat?”

(Y/N) heaved an exasperated sigh but gave him a relenting nod, willing her magic away and giving her husband a thankful kiss before pulling back and flashing him a flirtatious smile. “Or…you could always order some take-out and join me in the bath? My arms are pretty sore, after all, and I might need a little help washing my back.”

“Are you trying to tempt me, darling?” Loki arched an inquiring brow as a mischievous smirk played on his lips, his emerald-green eyes alight with a burning desire that sent shivers of anticipation through her body. “Because if so, you should know that it’s working remarkably well.”

Giggling, (Y/N) looped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss, but a frantic knocking on their suite’s door caused them both to jump as the romantic atmosphere was shattered by the reality of their superhero lives. They exchanged matching looks of regret and once Loki carefully set her onto her feet, they both crossed the room to see who was on the other side of their door; when (Y/N) opened the door, her brows furrowed in concern when the panicked and pale face of Peter Parker was revealed. “Peter? Is something wrong?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Loki observed, throwing (Y/N) a worried glance as he opened the door wider and ushered the teenager into their suite. “You haven’t attempted to prank Romanoff, have you? Because I already warned you once that your young age won’t stop her from seeking swift revenge for whatever scheme you might dare to concoct.”

Peter shook his head as he began to quickly pace across their living room, and it was then that they both spotted the large cardboard box clutched tight in his arms. “No, no, of course not; if the God of Mischief himself warns me not to prank someone, then I’m definitely gonna pay attention.” The teenager carefully set the box down onto their couch and started to unfurl its lid. “I’ve got a pretty big problem that I could really, really use your guys’ help with.”

“Well, I’m sure that we can help you with…” (Y/N)’s reassuring words trailed off when a muffled bark emanated from the box and a moment later, the small black head of an excited dog popped up and gave Peter’s hand a slobbering lick. “A puppy?”

“While I was out on patrol earlier in Queens, I stopped a couple of jerks from jacking my neighbor’s car and beating him up and to thank me, he gave me one of his flat-coated retriever’s new puppies; I can’t keep him, ‘cause Mr. Rodriguez gave him to Spider-Man and if he sees me with this little guy in the apartment building, then he’ll start to suspect who I am and then he’ll tell Aunt May and then?” Peter sighed as he plopped down onto the couch beside the box and scratched the onyx-colored puppy behind his floppy ear. “Then I’ll be toast with a capital ‘T.’”

Taking a seat on the other side of the box, Loki confidently extended his hand out for the puppy to sniff and chuckled to himself when he began to lightly gnaw on his long fingers. “So, what would you like us to do?”

“Well, I texted MJ and she said she’d help me find a good home for him but she’s gonna be out of town for a week to visit her grandparents, so…could he maybe stay here until she gets back? Please?”

(Y/N) bit her lower lip in contemplation, torn between her desire to help the desperate teenager avoid accidentally revealing his secret identity to his aunt and entire apartment building and her uneasiness around dogs of all shapes and sizes; because of her aunt’s meager salary as a music tutor and their strict building manager, she never had a dog while growing up and very rarely had the opportunity to interact with one, leading to a reluctant but life-long wariness of them as a whole. But as she watched her beaming husband lift the puppy out of the box and cradle him in his arms while the puppy’s tail excitedly wagged in response to Peter’s ear scratches, her pursed lips softened into a small smile. “Well, since it’s only for a week…I suppose we can look after him for you.”

“Thank you, Miss (Y/L/N)!” Peter jumped to his feet and flung his arms around her in an overly-enthusiastic bear-hug. “I’ve gotta head home and finish up my Trig homework before Aunt May comes back from grocery shopping, so I’ll see you guys next Saturday!”

After giving a bemused Loki a fist-bump and patting the top of the puppy’s head one last time, Peter dashed out of their suite and used his web shooters to close the door behind him. Her husband shook his head in amusement before looking over at her with a pleased smile spreading across his face. “That was very generous of you, darling; I know that you’re not exactly comfortable around canines.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Peter needed help, and I still owe him one. Nothing could ever repay him for saving my life, but working to keep his secret identity a secret for a little while longer seems like a good place to start.” A dark shadow crossed Loki’s handsome features as the abrupt reminder of her near-death experience in the wake of the Battle of Boston hung heavy in the air, and she leaned down to press a soothing kiss onto his cheek before moving to sit on the arm of the couch right beside him. “And besides, I was thinking that this might be a good opportunity to rectify my inexperience with dogs.”

“And you just couldn’t turn down this adorable little face,” Loki lifted the puppy so that their faces were side-by-side and playfully pouted, making (Y/N) roll her eyes at his playful teasing. “Could you, my love?”

A reluctant smile began to play on her lips and while her husband grinned in triumph, the puppy let out a joyful bark and licked the entire side of his face, causing his nose to scrunch up in displeasure as she giggled in amusement. “It looks like the God of Mischief has finally met his match!” Throwing caution to the wind, she stretched a hand out and ran her fingers through the thatch of onyx-hued fur around the puppy’s neck, her shoulders relaxing and her smile softening when she saw his tail vigorously wagging in response. “I think we’re all going to get along just fine this week.”

Loki, setting the puppy down onto the ground and wiping the dog slobber off of his cheek with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, chuckled to himself as he gently pulled her onto his lap and wound his arms around her waist. “It’ll certainly be an adventure; if this little one is anything like the hounds that Thor and I grew up around, then you and I won’t be getting much rest for the foreseeable future.”

“But he’s just a little puppy, sweetheart! How much trouble could he possibly cause?”

The sudden clatter of the ladder toppling over onto the ground caused them both to jump in surprise, and (Y/N)’s head whipped around just in time to see the rambunctious puppy speed by and clamp his small jaw onto the hem of their living room curtains. Loki’s emerald-green eyes sparkled with mirth as he glanced over at her, and his voice shook with barely-concealed amusement as he replied, “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come up with an idea or two.”

It was when (Y/N) and Loki were attempting to coax the puppy into letting go of the torn curtains and the puppy decided that it was the perfect time to relieve himself that (Y/N) started to realize that it would be a long, long week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m pretty sure I told you that the training bot was just for running your sword drills, Melisandre, not your Alf Seidr,” Tony joked as he yanked the dismembered torso of an Iron Legion droid out of the training room’s wall. “He’s only been rated to handle medieval-style combat; I haven’t figured out how to make him immune to Light Elf magic.”

(Y/N) tossed one of the droid’s legs into the pile of limbs and winced at the harsh sound it made. “Sorry, Tony.”

“What made you go all Cosmic Sorceress on the poor guy, anyhow?” Natasha asked, setting the fire extinguisher down and crossing her arms over her chest as her expression morphed into a look of concern. “Usually you have a pretty good handle on your emotions and your magic during your workouts and drills. Do I have to grab my Widow Bites and go have a little chat with that husband of yours?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not about Loki.” Giving the spy an exasperated smile, (Y/N) flicked her wrist and used her swirling purple-hued magic to repair the damaged wall before them. “It’s about that puppy we’re taking care of as a favor to Peter.”

The billionaire shrugged as he began re-assembling the dismembered droid. “Puppies are hard work; at least he’ll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow and you two’ll have a canine-free Christmas.”

“That’s sort of the problem…” Both Tony and Natasha frowned in confusion and (Y/N) continued. “He’s grown pretty attached to the little guy; he takes him for walks, plays with him for hours, and even cooks him fresh food for every meal. And look, this is what I woke up to this morning,” (Y/N) trailed off as she strode over to the nearest bench to retrieve her cell phone, opening her photo gallery and showing her friends the image on the screen; it showed a sleeping Loki sprawled out beneath their thick bedding, one arm tucked beneath her pillow while the fingers of his free hand were weaved around the onyx-colored fur of the snoring puppy that was curled up close beside him. “They’re adorable together, aren’t they?”

Natasha smiled at the photo. “I never knew that Loki was a dog-guy; I always figured that he’d get along better with cats.”

“Temperamental and aloof? Yeah, that’s our Reindeer Games,” Tony chuckled, tightening the bolts connecting the droid’s head to its neck and throwing (Y/N) an inquisitive look. “Sounds like the solution to your little problem is to adopt the pooch; the doggie gets a loving home with you two and Loki’s heart won’t be broken, so it’s a win-win.”

“Unless…” The spy tilted her head as she absentmindedly fiddled with the end of her long braid. “Do you not like the puppy?”

(Y/N) emphatically shook her head. “I absolutely love the puppy! It’s just that…well, Loki and I are Avengers with close ties to different realms; we never know when we’ll be assigned a mission or how long we’ll be gone from the tower, and we’re always traveling to and from Asgard and Alfheim. Wouldn’t all that combined make for an unstable and pretty lonely life for a dog?”

“If you and Loki were normal people with normal careers, yeah, but like you said, you’re both Avengers. You two’ve got a tower full of friends who’d love nothing more than to dog-sit for you, or do really anything for you, to be honest.” Natasha reached out and slung an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as she gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise you right here and now that that dog’ll never be lonely while we’re around.”

“And besides, you two’re pretty set on having kids someday, right?” A grinning Tony shrugged his shoulders in a playful manner. “Seems to me like getting a dog is the best crash-course in parenting to have before a little bundle of joy comes along.”

(Y/N)’s heart warmed in her chest at the helpful words of her friends, her earlier fears and reservations beginning to dissipate as she finally allowed herself to imagine their happy duo expanding into a more chaotic but even happier trio. “Well, in that case…it looks like Loki’s getting an extra Christmas present this year.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Christmas Eve, after they’d come home from the charity Avengers ice skating party at Rockefeller Center with the knowledge that they raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for a handful of children’s charities, (Y/N) and Loki bundled up in their coziest sweatpants, stockings and ugly Christmas sweaters and lounged on their suite’s couch together, where they basked in the bright glow of their illuminated tree and sipped their hot chocolate as they debated which Christmas movie to watch.

“It appears as though we’ve reached an impasse, darling,” Loki sighed dramatically, his long fingers fiddling with the fuzzy end of his Santa hat as he fought to keep the mischievous smile off his face; parting with the puppy they’d been briefly fostering earlier that day had been a subtle but significant blow to him, so it was nice to see that their evening of ice skating had helped to cheer him up. “It’s between a surprisingly faithful adaptation of Charles Dickens’ timeless tale of the true meaning of Christmas that stars the delightful Muppets, and a film that depicts the many misdemeanors and felonies that an eight-year-old commits after his rather neglectful family leaves him home alone for Christmas.”

“Mm-hmm. Decisions, decisions…” (Y/N) playfully pondered as she tilted her head to the side in faux contemplation, the colorful jingle bells decorating her reindeer antler headband sounding and making her husband’s eyes twinkle in silent amusement. “How about this: we can watch The Muppet Christmas Carol tonight, if…”

Loki arched a curious brow. “If?”

“If…you let me give you one of your Christmas gifts first.” She watched while he considered her offer, silent anticipation bubbling up within her as she continued. “There’s no catch, sweetheart; this is just the sort of gift I’d rather give you in private than in front of the others tomorrow morning.” His emerald-green eyes darkened with an all-too familiar desire and she shot him an exasperated look. “It’s not that sort of gift, Loki Odinson. So, how about it?”

“Well, I do enjoy receiving gifts and since you’re such an excellent gift-giver,” He grinned and shook her outstretched hand. “Then I graciously accept.”

With an excited smile on her face, (Y/N) extricated herself from her husband’s arms and hurried over to retrieve a small wrapped package from beneath their Christmas tree, plopping back down onto the couch and eagerly watching while a bemused Loki worked on opening it; when he removed the lid, he cocked his head and looked up at her with polite curiosity. “It’s…a tiny green sweater?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? This gift’s a two-parter!” Raising her hand, (Y/N) summoned her Alf Seidr and flicked her wrist, sending a ball of purple-hued magic across the room and using it to create a crackling portal, beaming as a familiar onyx-colored puppy dashed through and leaped onto a surprised Loki’s lap with a joyful bark. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“But I thought…? Didn’t Parker come by this morning to take him away?”

Pleased that she’d managed to successfully out-trick the God of Mischief himself, (Y/N) smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I may or may not have called him yesterday to tell him that we were considering adopting him; after he left, he dropped him off at the lab so that Bruce and J.A.R.V.I.S. could keep an eye on him until tonight.”

Loki’s eyes went wide and filled with an earnest emotion as his long fingers scratched behind the happy puppy’s ears. “My love, I…I-I don’t know what to say. Are you certain about this?”

“Absolutely,” She replied and leaned over to press a sweet kiss onto his smiling lips. “…But I do have one little request, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything, darling.”

“Can we name him Mischief?”

Before Loki could answer, the sound of shredding paper caused them both to look down and they laughed at the sight of the puppy vigorously tearing into the wrinkled wrapping paper. “It would seem as though he’s already decided that for me, doesn’t it?” (Y/N) giggled when Mischief barked and licked the side of her face, and Loki grinned before kissing her forehead and ruffling the onyx fur of Mischief’s fluffy neck. “Welcome to our little family, Mischief.”

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A/N: See? I wasn't lying about the tooth-rotting fluff lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk?si=5fcb3ef04de544e7

“Spellbinding” Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva​​​​​​​​​​​ @ravenclawbitch426​​​​​​​​​​​ @cminr​​​​​​​​​ @confusedfandomwriter​​​​​​​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​​​​​​​ @nickkie99​​​​​​​​​​​ @austynparksandpizza​​​​​​​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​​​​​​​ @a-laufeyson​​​​​​​​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​​​​​​​ @itscomplicatedx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @0-artemis​​​​​​​​​​​​ @vivloki​​​​​​​​​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​​​​​​​​ @groovy-lady​​​​​​​​ @mostclevermiss​​​​​​      

[miniscrew-anon]

Miniscrews Masterlist

Yup, I finally got off my ass and put together a list of all my writing so that you guys can find things easier! Yay for lists and learning how to hyperlink! Now you guys can actually find all my stuff if you want (and I have an easy way of finding my old works too lol) The downside of being anon.

AO3 Stories:

You, Me and a Couple Loose Screws - Four is trying to work but Shadow just wants to be a bother, HSH

The Ace Space (is being invaded) - Four manually fixes everyones sex lives, LMTCOY

First Contact - Twilight calls up his uncle to see if he can move in, HSH

What I see my Shadow Sees - Shadow's point of view of HSH1, HSH

Like a House on Fire - Oops the house is burning down and everyone responsible is away, HSH

HSH: The Cold War - The house fights for control of the thermostat, HSH

It’s Something - A FourShadow exploration of their sex lives with an asexual, LMTCOY

180 Rupees Well Spent - The smutty Wartime sex swing fic by popular demand, LMTCOY

Old Car, New Roads - Four and Shadow talk shop, cars and future plans, HSH

Home Sweet Home: Oofs and Ouchies - My Febuwhump 2023 Collection, St0rmyverse

On Display, After Hours - Filthy Twark Smut taking place in an IKEA after hours, LMTCOY

What do you mean love is real? - Four realizes he's AroAce. While dating a bunch of people, HSH

He's Venting (seems kinda sus) - Time discovers Four's artistic hobby and has a bit of a problem with it, HSH

Add to Cart - The boys go furniture shopping and Four is forced to own his own room, HSH

Snippets and Other Things:

Perspective Flip on “You, Me and a Couple Loose Screws”

Ceiling Spider - Who wins: Shadow or a garage spider?

Dead on Revival - Shadow and Dark have a talk over Fours dead body, Count Darkula verse

Daddy Bram Stoker - Shadow and Dark discuss the father of modern vampires, Count Darkula verse

Silly Straws - Four and Shadow having a snack, Count Darkula Verse

A Dark and Shadowy Night - A typical night out for the skrunkly duo

Boys will be Boys - Just dudes being dudes

Ghost Kitchen - Four gets revenge on Wild, Funeral Derangements verse

Sex-Ed (or lack thereof) - A small collection of Hyrule and Four lamenting over the complete lack of safe sex and common sense the other links seem to have, LMTCOY verse

Measuring Stick - The boys have a literal dick measuring contest. As usual, Hyrule and Four suffer

What you find in the Dark - Time has a nightmare and Warriors is there, LMTCOY verse

Like and Subscribe - Yes Dark does and yes he will, LMTCOY Verse

Other Stuff:

HSH Castle Town House Layout - Not a story but a badly drawn house plan that I use when I write my stories.

A Small Exploration of my Blorbo (Four) - A small character analysis based on what I know about him.

These are in no order. I should have put them together based on which verse but I forgot and now I cant move them because hyperlink. oops lol. My life is in shambles.

Please let me know if any of these links are messed up. I am very bad at this and am a little high rn

[spynorth]

@theresastargirl​ canon dialogue s.c

“you’ve always underestimated yourself, Ophelia.”

[thepoisonroom]

hello sorry if you've been asked this recently but could you recommend some good adult trans books 👉👈 no worries if you don't!!

there are lots of good ones and i've fallen out of the loop since i left my bookstore job! there's sometimes this attitude that trans writers can only be successful in some genres but there are great trans writers in lots of genres! so have tried to include a mix of genres here to highlight some of that abundance, and because i don't know what you like so want to include many things that i think might spark your curiosity.

i'm leaving a lot of classics off that i'm sure you've heard of or have been told to read, as well as some stuff i read that i didn't love and don't feel i can vouch for. there's also lots of good stuff for younger readers (have esp heard good things about sisters of dorley hall and when the angels left the old country) which is really heartening when i remember furtively reading the one trans novel for teens at my library when i was little! and i like that there are trans characters for younger readers now who don't have tragic endings. but anyway:

i really like anything by casey plett, particularly her novel little fish! i loved ivan coyote's rebent sinner for kind of autobiographical vignettes as well as gender failure which they wrote with rae spoon. gretchen felker-martin and alison rumfitt are big faves if you like horror, they're both so smart and unsparing. your body is not your body if you want a good taste of lots of different trans horror authors. the seep by chana porter for meditative sci-fi. the fifth wound by aurora mattia which is hard to describe but v gorgeous. paul takes the form of a mortal girl if you want something kind of carefree and horny and fun and not devastating or upsetting. summer fun by jeanne thornton if you've ever been like what if velvet goldmine were based on the beach boys. i like confessions of the fox by jordy rosenberg but i think the ideal audience for this book is like transmasc grad students who are horny in a neurotic way so it's not for everyone. stone fruit by lee lai was my favorite graphic novel of 2022 and it's a really beautiful examination of breakups and caring for children as a queer person and also forgiving your family. gaylord phoenix if you like your graphic novels weird.

books from my own to-read list that i've heard good things about from people i trust (have included author names only where the title alone isn't specific enough to find the right book):

wrath goddess sing (if you like mythology remixes)

a natural history of transition (magical realist short stories)

manywhere: stories (unsettling also magical realist short stories)

chromatic fantasy (graphic novel, trans guy nun has sex with the devil and has a romance with a robin hood-type trans guy bandit)

finna (gay trans multiverse travel in an IKEA)

X by davey davis (bdsm psychological thriller)

idlewild (transmasc fujoshi tumblrinas have a toxic bestieship)

girlfriends by emily zhou (slice of life short stories)

boys weekend (graphic novel, bachelorx weekend turns into a cult murder mystery)

the boy with the bird in his chest (magical realist coming of age)

the call-out (gossipy novel in verse)

nettleblack (victorian transmasc hijinks)

the story of silence (medieval n magical french trans hijinks based on the historical poem)

unfortunate elements of my anatomy (horror short stories)

bad girls by camila sosa villada (magical realist coming of age epic)

apsara engine (south asian graphic vignettes)

future feeling (funny bizarre sci-fi)

everyone on the moon is essential personnel (cyberpunk body horror weirdness)