#meanwhile the joker was fucking off and having the time of his life

[wait-whos-batman]

[kiyoomi-levin]

villain pt.1 (bakugoxf!reader) [NSFW]

a/n this was originally supposed to be a single fic but i wanted to see how ppl liked it lol. pt 2 is already in the making (and i promise it's more spicy than this one)

summary: harley (you) realize that joker (your boyfriend) is in love with batman (bakugo). If only harley also knew batman’s obsessed with her. —> inspired by this short  word count: 4.9k warning(s): bakugo’s literally just a horndog

“I swear, Ren, if you pull anything like that again…”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your grip. 

“Enough, y/n. I always get you out, don’t I?” 

You frown, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. 

“You try getting caught and being put into jail multiple times in a single month. It’s not funny,” you sigh. 

You don’t even know what it’s like to be tied up by Bakugo fucking Katsuki, you want to add. 

But you keep your mouth shut. 

Ren’s already in a bad mood, jaw clenched tight as he walks faster. You’re almost jogging at this point just to keep up with his pace.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath. 

Ren hardly glances at you as the two of you enter your cheap apartment complex, walking silently up the two flights of stairs to your front door.  

You cringe as you round the corner—on your front door is a familiar piece of white paper, the contents of which you already know by heart.

Late rent notice: Dear tenet, your rent was due on the 7th of February. As of the date of this letter, your payment is 4 days past due. 

Frustrated, you rip the paper off of the metal door as Ren reaches over and enters the pin. 

Your jaw drops as he walks inside carelessly, unbothered with the notice. 

The two of you have been dating for almost a year now; you’re long used to his carefree nature. 

That’s what first drew you to him. 

Now it merely disgusts you. 

“Ren,” you cautiously call out as the door shuts behind you, “I think it’s time to give it up.”

Your boyfriend tosses himself onto the wrinkled couch, pointing towards the fridge. Frowning, you head over and grab him a cold beer. 

“Thanks babe.”

You collapse next to him, relishing in the fluffy texture. After being in a holding cell for a few days, you’ve definitely missed the warmth of your home. 

“I know you’re mad, and I understand. But we learned something new from last time, didn’t we? Dynamight was literally showing off his weaknesses! If we just—”

“Ren, stop it! That was the last time. I’m done. Seriously.” 

Your boyfriend is pouting now, reaching over to hold you in his arms. You want to fight back, you should. 

He jumps into his usual rant about how much he hates Dynamight; that asshole, always flaunting his wealth and looks. He’s just a shitty hero with a shitty quirk.

Meanwhile, you’re fighting back tears of frustration. 

How had you gotten here?

A year ago, you had seemingly met the man of your dreams at the villain rehabilitation center (looking back, maybe that hadn’t been the best idea). 

You had been working there as a volunteer and was popular with all of the residents as a bright psychology student and aspiring therapist.

Despite the havoc these wannabe villains had wreaked across Japan, you had treated all of them with kindness and respect, hoping you would be able to make a positive difference in at least a single person’s life. 

How naive you had been. 

“Hey, y/n,” Ren smirks as you gently open the door to the small office. 

You exhale— this one villain has been bothering you more often recently, and he was just too cute for his own good. 

“Takanashi Ren. Your counseling appointment isn’t until later this evening.”

“Aw. I can’t give my favorite therapist a visit?” 

You grin at him, pushing your dark rimmed glasses up your nose. 

“I’m not a therapist yet,” you retort, stepping back as Ren pushes back from his chair, striding over to you. He has you cornered to a wall, and the muscles of his arm flex dangerously, reminding you of his crimes. 

Despite this, all you can notice is how bright his eyes are— gosh, you just love the way they twinkle.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you’ll achieve all your academic dreams. I just hope I’m out of here on time to watch you cross that stage.”

And with that, you’d fallen head over heels for a cringy, third-rate villain with no plans for the immediate future. But the more time you spent with him, you truly felt as though you’d met your match. 

He was intelligent. Witty. Funny. 

Most importantly, he was different. His ideas for a liberated world— where all quirks were considered equal and everyone had the freedom to use their quirks as they wanted— was just unlike what you’d ever considered. 

If only you had paused for a moment and asked him just how he would create that world. 

It had been too late when you had realized what you had gotten yourself into. Now, you spend your days as a college dropout, supporting your boyfriend in his schemes that always end in failure and with you in handcuffs. 

But you had already sworn to devote yourself to him. 

Question. Would you die for me?

Yes.

That’s too easy. Would you live for me?

… Yes.

“y/n, are you listening? We’ll stake out at his condo. I’ll do all the work, babe, you just have to stand watch. I’ve already planned it all out. ”

There it is, that strike of pain in your heart. 

Dynamight. 

That’s all your stupid boyfriend cares about. 

You’re already shaking your head, refusing furiously— but he’s begging, begging! 

… And you sigh and look away. 

“Last. Time.”

You peek out of the corner of your eye to see Ren’s face brighten. 

He really is just as pretty as when you first met him a year ago. 

“I promise, y/n. Last time.”

Fuck Ren and his promises.

From the moment you had scaled Dynamight’s luxurious condo, you had known your boyfriend had skimped on doing his research again. 

There’s no way we’re gonna get away with this.

Stuffed in a large delivery box, you only pray that Ren’s mailman cosplay is good enough to get through the lobby. 

Nervously holding your breath, you cringe as your boyfriend flirts with the ladies at the front desk and wheels you into the elevator. 

Tap tap tap. 

Three gentle knocks on the front of the box and you know it’s your turn.

“I’ve just disabled the hallway cameras,” Ren whispers as he pulls the box open. 

You step out eagerly, stretching, before turning towards the door. 

The corners of your mouth twitch as you suddenly remember why you hate rich people. 

Dynamight’s door just screams narcissism— who really needs a gold plated front door? 

Bakugo, the nameplate reads. The dreaded name you hear on a near-daily basis. 

You scoff as you reach into your pocket and pull out your decoding tool, placing it on the keypad in a single, practiced motion.

Ren taps his foot impatiently as you work with the machine— you only let out a breath of relief as the door buzzes and swings open what feels like an eternity later. 

You’re already sweating as your heart thumps with discomfort and fear at being at the hero’s homebase. 

Comically, it feels as though the two of you have just broken into a villain’s lair. 

“God, babe. You’re the best,” Ren murmurs, pushing you aside. 

He’s a little too eager to ruin his nemesis’ life. 

Ren rushes inside of Dynamight’s home, barely holding back his immediate laughter as he spots the marble dining table. 

He’s already poking around as you carefully close the door quietly behind you, tiptoeing into the large house. 

“Can you believe this man? He’s so fucking full of himself,” Ren spits as he stares at the various newspaper clippings of Dynamight adoring the bookshelves.

Forget that— if you were Dynamight, you’d be living like this too. 

This is life you had envisioned for yourself. 

Gorgeous white pillars uphold a high ceiling and there’s a leather couch in the center of the room. A giant television sits in front of it, almost mocking you. 

One day… When this was all over, would Ren want to live like this with you?

“Come on, babe. We gotta find the data,” Ren says, heading towards the closest door to him. 

The initial excitement has worn off and he’s now refueled by hatred. 

Right. The data. 

If you could just get your hands on the data of all of the current Japanese heroes, that would be the biggest data breach in the history of the World Heroes Association. 

You and Ren would go down as super villains— a title you still weren’t sure if you wanted. 

You repress these useless thoughts, though, and trail Ren around the large home as he throws open doors. 

“Are you sure he’ll even have it?” 

“Yeah, there’s no way a top hero wouldn’t have access to this— Damn! A basement. You think he’d keep his PC down here?”

You think back to your encounters with Dynamight, shivering as you remember his piercing red eyes meeting yours. 

Your boyfriend heads down without hesitation as you follow him, nearly jumping when he yelps in joy. 

“His computer’s right here.” 

You swallow as you turn your head around the dark basement, eyes not yet adjusted to the dark. 

Ren presses the power button of the computer and the entire room lights up from the bright screen. 

Couch, television, gaming consoles, mini fridge— this must be his man cave. 

“Alright. Get on it, babe,” Ren says, stepping back as the flickering monitor. 

Sighing, you lean down, plug in your trusty usb stick into the PC. This was going to be a long day. 

WARNING. 

You jump for real this time, letting out a surprised shout as the machine blares a loud alarm. 

Holy fuck, what’s going on? 

Before you can move, the heavy door to the basement suddenly slams shut— you hear the metallic locks clicking in place.

You glance at Ren in desperation, but he’s not looking at you, only frowning at the computer.

“Get on with it. We have at least 15 minutes, I’ll find a way out by then.”

You don’t bother protesting. Despite his easy going demeanor, you know Ren cares about you.

“Don’t worry, he’s in Korea for a conference,” he reassures you as he steps towards the staircase.

BOOM. 

You scream as you’re pushed back by an explosion, groaning in pain as you strike the side of Dynamight’s large desk. 

Collapsing on the ground, dust arises on either side of you. 

Your ears are ringing and your vision is hopelessly blurry.

When you muster up the strength to touch your stinging face, you wince as your hand comes back bloody. 

Ren. He was closer to the door. 

Your eyes widen as you roll yourself onto your side, trying to reach up to the chair next to you for help—

“Fucker!” 

You gasp as your vision clears and you take in the sight in front of you.

Dynamight has your boyfriend pressed onto the floor and strikes him in the face, once. Twice. Three times. 

Ren tries to fight back, but he’s basically hopelessly laying there, taking in the blows. 

It’s clear you’ve caught him off duty— Dynamight’s clad in nothing but a tank top and shorts. 

Despite that, he dominates your boyfriend easily. He’s kneeling on Ren’s stomach, one hand pinning down your boyfriend’s shoulder and the other punching his face at a sickening rate. 

You do nothing but watch as you watch Ren’s eyes flicker, then shut. 

Adrenaline courses through your veins, taking away the remaining rationality in you.

Pushing yourself onto your feet, you throw yourself at Dynamight, whose eyebrows merely raise as he registers your face.

You pull out your knife, swinging for his neck— Dynamight throws up his arm, blocking your attempt— before you can react, you’re pinned to the ground next to your boyfriend. 

“You… asshole…” you hiss, airflow momentarily cut off.

You struggle against Dynamight's strength, grimacing. You’re on your stomach, hands pinned behind your back. You try to kick him, but the strength in your legs fails you. 

Dynamight lets out a small laugh as he sits on your ass and your eyes widen as you feel his dick through his pants grinding on you purposefully. 

Fucking pervert. 

You turn your head to your side, glaring into Dynamight’s blood-colored eyes. The corners of his eyes are pointed upwards, he’s grinning madly. 

Leaning forward, Bakugo rests his right hand next to your face. Your immediate reaction is to lunge at it, trying to bite, but he pulls back quickly, yanking on your wrists. Your body arches upwards and you wince at the slight pull. 

“Easy. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Despite your slowly subsiding anger and hatred towards the man on top of you, you feel yourself blushing against your will. 

You hate how he talks to you. You silently remind yourself to take a recording of it next time and report him for sexual harassment. 

While you’re fuming over your current situation and mumbling profanities at him, Bakugo leans back and admires you.

You look really good like this— actually, you look perfect. Your eyes are slightly moist, cheeks flushed and lips a delectable pink. Bakugo’s mouth is watering at the sight. 

He’s already hard. He’s been aching in anticipation since he first got the alert that you broke into his home. 

What would happen if he were to just… 

You’re staring up at Bakugo again, watery eyes meeting his narrowed ones, and he feels a shiver run down his spine as he admires his reflection in them. 

“Can you let me go already? You’ve won, we get it,” you huff, cheeks inflating. 

He wants to stuff them full with his cock.

Easy, Dynamight. You’re a hero. 

He glances down at you apathetically, although his cock is throbbing. 

You ignore it the best you can, although you’re turning pink again.

You shift from side to side, hoping you won’t have to beg him to let you go. 

You’d rather die than do that.

Smirking, he clicks his tongue as he reaches forward with his right hand and strokes your face. 

“Give me a reason. You’re imposing on my home, doing who knows what?” 

Your teeth find his hand this time, sinking into the hardened flesh.

You bite down as hard as you can, wishing he’d just let go of you. Your jaw is just beginning to ache as you muster the courage to look back up at him.

Your blood runs cold as you notice his unchanging expression— he looks almost bored. But something flashes in his eyes.

Fuck, maybe you shouldn’t have done that. 

As you pull back, you squeak as he grabs you by your hair, sliding forward to sit on your wrists.

One hand holds your head upwards, while his other holds your face. His hand engulfs your entire jaw as he forces you to look into his eyes. 

“I could take you right now, but I’ll save that for later.”

From a distance, you hear the shouts of policemen and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Bakugo lets go and watches as your head falls back onto the floor.

You’re so caught up in the commotion you don’t catch his next words.

“You’ll be begging for it soon, anyway.”

You can do nothing but watch in handcuffs as Ren’s eyes open hazily and focus on you. 

“y/n, I’m so sorry,” he starts. 

You shake your head, smiling sadly at him. Was it really over? 

No, you promised you’d always be with him—

“Dynamight.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes have shifted from you onto Dynamight, the one person that has been on his mind obsessively for the past few years.. 

Ren’s shouting at Dynamight now, who merely laughs in response. 

You don’t even notice that Dynamight’s staring at you.  

All you notice is that you’re not in Ren’s line of sight anymore. 

The words of policemen and Ren start swirling together as your heartbeat slows.

He’s not in love with you, is he?

You can hear your heart physically shattering.

He’s in love with Dynamight.

Bakugo’s still embarrassingly hard as he readjusts himself, sighing as he looks around his ransacked home. 

The police have taken longer than he’d hoped, making sure to photograph everything.

Even more irritatingly, the medics had tried to heal your teeth marks imprinted in his arm, which he had pulled away quickly. 

“I’m going to save this as evidence during the trial,” Bakugo had quickly lied. 

The young medic had blinked in confusion, but nodded eagerly, not wanting to defy the number one hero’s demand.

When his agency had first received the tip that you and Whiplash would be attempting a data breach, Bakugo had rolled his eyes and hesitated on flying back in early from his vacation.

You and Whiplash were shitty, third-rate villains, if you could be even labeled as such. 

You would always be deserted by your boyfriend, who’d dip the moment Bakugo stepped close to the crime scene. You (with your gorgeous, angered face that turns him on so fast) would be left behind for Bakugo to handcuff. 

Bakugo still remembers the first time he’d been called to a scene with you and Whiplash. 

One year ago, two petty, new criminals had attempted to rob a series of homes in upper Tokyo. 

Bakugo had been whisked away from his date with a pretty newscaster and was irritated to hell— he had been working all night sweet talking to the girl and was surely going to get laid— but when he had gotten to the scene, still pulling on his gloves, all thoughts of regret flew out the window.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” 

The female villain is shouting as she kicks her legs. 

The scene is laughable— her upper half is tapped in the tights washing machine and Bakugo takes his sweet time striding over to you, admiring the curve of your ass and the way you shake as you try to free yourself. 

“What happened here?” 

Bakugo smirks. He’d heard that the male villain had gotten away but the female was still somewhere on the premises. 

He’d been incredibly lucky to find you first. It’s hard to hold back from slapping your ass and ripping those black tights off of you, but Bakugo swallows and moves to touch your hip instead.

You squeak in surprise as you feel two fingers tracing a triangle onto your upper thigh. 

“Stop touching me, pervert! You sick freak! I have a boyfriend! I’ll kill you if you try anything!” 

Your scream is slightly muffled as you bang your hands on the sides of the circular machine.

Your back is aching from being bent over for the past ten minutes and you arch your back, holding back a pained moan. Whoever this asshole was, you were gonna rip him a new one when he freed you. 

Bakugo frowns as ‘boyfriend’ echoes inside his head. 

Were you being truthful or were you just trying to scare him off? 

It’s taking everything in him to not grind against you and with every passing second Bakugo feels closer to losing the battle with his sex driven core.

After another moment of deliberation, Bakugo reaches out, yanking you effortlessly out of the machine. 

God. 

You were just as pretty as he’d hoped. Face flushed and sweaty from being inside a confined space for so long, you collapse on your ass and fan yourself dramatically, taking in big gulps of fresh air before looking up to glare at him. 

“Fucking freak! What sort of perverted police officer are you?” You demand, frowning as Bakugo silently holds his hand out. 

A few seconds of silence pass before you awkwardly take it, allowing him to help you up. 

“Thank you,” you mumble as you wipe your hands on your shirt. 

Your eyebrows are still furrowed with frustration as you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Ugh… you’re so adorable, Bakugo wants to just squeeze you to death. 

Now he really wishes he hadn’t helped you out. You were helpless, bent over just perfectly, practically inviting him…. As his imagination runs wild, he feels the blood rushing towards his groin. 

Oblivious, you stretch your sore body, letting out a soft moan. You’re strangely relaxed, as if you were simply meeting an old friend. 

“I’m going to be arresting you now. Turn around,” Bakugo sighs, shifting his balance from foot to foot. If only he wasn’t an up-and-coming hero.

Your eyebrows raise and the ends of your lips quirk upwards. 

“Isn’t there something else I could do to get out of this?” You tease, turning around and holding your wrists behind your back.

Fuck. Is that you wiggling your ass or is he just seeing things? 

Bakugo’s breath hitches. The cold cuffs in his hands are only furthering his imagination. He’s about to pounce on you, but as he’s deciding which piece of your clothing he’ll rip away first—

“Don’t get any ideas, perv. That was a joke.” 

You giggle at his silence, looking back to glance at his face, which pales in humiliation.

You’re still laughing as Bakugo curses under his breath and shoves you harshly into the police car. 

You wouldn’t be laughing when he fucks you silly—which, he swears, he will one day. 

Since your destined meeting, you had been on Bakugo’s mind. 

Every. Single. Day. 

Your pout. Your delicate hands. Your arching back. Your whines and the way you try to fight back every time he walks you to the police van.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just a phase.

To Bakugo’s horror, when he met up with the same newscaster from that night, he found himself unable to get hard, no matter how much she sucked him off. 

He could have waved that off as an anomaly, but six girls later, Bakugo finally had to admit he may have a problem on his hands. 

Bakugo knew the solution to his ED and meaningless infatuation with you.

He was sure all he had to do was fuck you. Easy enough— he’s confident in his sex appeal.

But you were also an impossible target.

You and your villain boyfriend moved around constantly, living under various aliases. 

And when Bakugo could finally meet you (about once a month, when your boyfriend’s plans were foiled once again) you were whisked off into police custody before he could even bring up sex. 

How was he even supposed to get to that topic, anyways? 

Hey, y/n. I only get hard when I see you cry. Or, actually, when I just think about you at all. 

Wanna bang?

Bakugo halfheartedly (almost unconsciously, this is just an immediate reaction to seeing you) discards his shorts and briefs as he leans against the back of the couch. 

Staring up at the ceiling, he’s now regretting letting his agency call for backup. 

He’d had you under him, in his own home. He even had a condom ready in his shorts— something he’s started carrying around since last year in hopes he’d get ambushed by you randomly.

It’s unfortunate he couldn’t take things further with you, but for tonight, his imagination and thoughts of you would have to suffice. 

He almost saw you cry…

Bakugo’s almost drooling at the memory of your teary eyes as you stared at your boyfriend, who was dragged away into the back of a van despite his protests.

Fuck. What does he have to do to make you cry? 

He throughout beating up Whiplash would be enough, but maybe you didn’t like your boyfriend as much as he thought— that makes him smile. 

“Ugh…” 

Bakugo can barely hold back a soft moan as his cock hardens quickly, now standing in his hand. 

It’s hot, and typically Bakugo would shed all his clothes, but tiny specks of your blood decorate his white top. It’s like you’re basically touching him.

He admires the bruising teeth prints on his right hand, the one that’s now slowly stroking his dick. 

Your mouth was on his hand. His hand. The thought alone makes him want to cum.

Bakugo allows himself a full stroke, groaning as he presses himself deeper into the couch.

It almost feels as if he’s simply overstimulating himself, as if he’d already cum— that’s how strong you were as a stimulus. 

With how much you tease, you’d start with the tip, wouldn’t you? 

Bakugo gently holds his cock at the base with his left hand and thumbs the tip, rubbing his rough thumb against the wet precum. 

He’d manhandle you, he’s imagined it countless times, it’s what a girl like you needs. 

In his imagination, you’d be a pillow princess. He’s confident about this. 

Your attitude, the way you demand he frees you… it all points towards you being a menace in bed.

You would saunter into the bedroom, wearing nothing but thin lingerie (in his favorite color, dark orange, almost red). You’d smirk as you climb onto his bed, making yourself comfortable. 

Your pretty eyes would narrow as he walks in shirtless with a raging boner. 

You would be sitting there, legs outstretched for him to grasp. 

Bakugo would grab your ankles in each hand, focusing on kissing your precious feet before moving upwards. 

He’d press his lips against your shin, your knee, then suck your plush thighs, savoring your taste. 

He’d maintain his eyes on you throughout, admiring the way your lips part slightly and your heavy breaths. You’d glare at him when you notice him staring at you— you’re always fighting back, aren’t you?

But in bed he’s the one in control. 

He’d get to your panties and give your clothed clit a lick, pinning down your legs that threaten to close. 

Bakugo would suck, embracing the taste of lace and your juices leaking from across the other side of clothing. 

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugo wasn’t that full of himself. 

In bed, he only has one priority— your pleasure. 

Bakugo allows himself to slightly loosen his grip and start stroking his entire length slowly, just like how you’d do it. 

Just a few singular strokes feel so good, his entire body lights up, electricity running up his spine. 

He runs his thumb along the one long vein from the base of his cock, shivering. His cock is getting heavier in his hand and a familiar pressure is slowly building in his stomach. 

After a few moments, Bakugo would finally push aside the flimsy fabric, licking your clit directly. 

He’d be fisting his cock while doing so, like he’s doing now, stroking to the rhythm of his flattened tongue. 

He’d be almost drooling at the taste, sometimes letting himself wander to your hole and slip his tongue in your tightness. He’d continue alternating between sucking and licking, relishing in your increasingly loud moans. 

Your legs would begin to tremble beneath him and you’d start begging quietly despite your stubbornness.

Your eyes would start to roll to the back of your head— and that’s when he’d stop, pulling away entirely, still stroking himself, tightening his fist around his heat if necessary to prevent himself from releasing. 

You’d whine and maybe kick him, legs weakened from your ruined orgasm. 

A little edging never hurt anyone. 

It only makes the pleasure of a shared orgasm stronger. 

Bakugo would tease your hole, nudging at the entrance with the tip of his leaking cock. 

Without warning, he’d thrust— you’d groan from the intrusion, grasping the sheets. 

He’d start moving mercilessly, pulling out his length to the tip before slamming it back in, over and over. He would quicken with your moans fueling his pace. 

He’d lean over to capture your pretty lips with his, intertwining your tongues. 

Fuck, Bakugo really isn’t going to last, especially with his new favorite mental photograph—you lying on your back helplessly. Bakugo’s mind does the photoshop for him, removing the debris from the explosion and placing the two of you on his bed.

He’s stroking himself fervently now, at the same pace he imagines himself fucking you at. 

You’d be shaking under him, holding back your tears. And, in typical y/n fashion, your pride would force you to hold your moans back. You’d be pressing your trembling hand against your mouth, wouldn’t you? You would be biting down on it, with the same teeth that were clamped down on his own hand earlier.

You’d cum as he rubs his thumb roughly against your clit, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth dropping open. 

Bakugo would make sure to ride you out throughout the entirety of your orgasm before allowing himself to fall into how tight and wet you are and reaching his peak himself. 

“y/n… I’m cumming…” 

Bakugo bites back a groan as his eyes close, lips almost breaking from how hard he’s clenching down. 

Continuing to pump, Bakugo’s hips lift as he thrusts into his fist one final time—his orgasm is so strong, it feels as though he’s losing control of his entire body, shaking as he feels his cum squirt and his cock pulsing from the base. 

When Bakugo finally gathers his energy, he opens his eyes, blinking uncomfortably at the harsh lights of the living room. There’s warm cum now cooling all over his hands and the coffee table in front of him, only adding to the list of things he has to clean up after your little home invasion. 

Sighing, Bakugo stands up, grabbing a tissue and wiping the traces of his release away. 

It’s a little humiliating.

Yet another day of having to imagine you writhing under him to get off. 

Bakugo won’t admit it— he never will— but honestly, it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be.

But he knows the real thing will be better. 

Now, if only he could get his hands on you… 

a/n yeah so i rewrote this whole thing on 4 hours of sleep so its prob shit and the formatting is wonky but whatevs.

STAN ENHYPEN STREAM SWEET VENOM (ENG VER)

[sunny44]

Joker

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Max and the others celebrate the end of the racing season at a club. And obviously he and Y/n will discuss.

The pulsating music filled the club, creating an upbeat atmosphere as Max, Charles, Carlos, Lando, Daniel, Pierre and Y/n celebrated the end of the racing season. The dance floor was crowded with people having fun, and the group found a quieter corner to chat and enjoy the night.

Max, always the joker of the group, couldn't resist making a tasteless joke that ended up irritating me for how inappropriate it was. I shot him a furious look and began expressing how idiotic that joke was.

"Max, you have no limits, seriously!" I complained, crossing my arms indignantly. "You have no idea how inappropriate that joke is."

Max just smiled, seemingly unconcerned with my reaction. He was used to the love-hate game they played.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know I can't resist a good joke.” he said, trying to calm the situation.

"But there's a limit, you have to stop with these senseless things in public, someday someone's going to hear and not like it at all. We might understand your sense of humor but eventually..."

But before she could continue complaining, Max interrupted her with a sudden kiss. He pulled me closer, silencing any protest she might have had.

Surprised by the unexpected gesture, she was momentarily speechless. But soon she surrendered to the kiss, setting aside her initial irritation.

Meanwhile, the other members of the group watched the scene with amused smiles. Charles laughed and shook his head, accustomed to the peculiar interactions between Max and me.

"These two will never change, will they?" Carlos commented, raising his drink to toast the couple.

Lando nodded, agreeing with his friend. "That's what makes life interesting. Never a dull moment with them around."

“They say they hate each other but they can’t be apart for too long.”

“That's built-up horniness, they need to get laid.” Pierre said.

“And what made you think they haven’t yet?”

“I’m sure they already have.” Carlos says.

“I’ll ask.” Lando says waiting for them to come back.

Daniel and Pierre just smiled, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of the night. They were happy to be there together, celebrating the end of an intense racing season.

As the kiss between Max and me continued, we gradually pulled away, smiling at each other as if we had shared a funny secret.

"You're impossible, Max.” I said, shaking my head with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

"But you love me anyway.” he replied, winking at me with a mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. After all, it was hard to resist Max's irresistible charm, even when he was being annoying.

“I have something to ask.” Lando says as they get close to them.

“What?” Max asked hugging her from behind.

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

“What kinda questions is that?”

“Yes.” They answer at the same time.

“You are so indiscreet.” She says.

“Oh cmon, no one is a virgin anymore.”

“But yeah, we fucked. Why you want to know?”

“Just curious.”

“Really? Or you want to participate next time?” Max asked.

“I mean, look at your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well than you won’t mind me asking her out right?” Lando says coming to get her hand and Max pushed her back.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend.” We stated laughing.

And so, the night at the club continued, full of laughter, jokes, and memories that we would cherish forever in our hearts. After all, that's what made life exciting: the moments shared with those we love.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“We for sure know how to party”

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Spider-Man!Reader x Gotham City ??!? like the poor reader just being a kid when they’re exposed to some sort of radioactive spider by one of the Joker’s schemes and begins being the friendly, neighbourhood superhero. some of the baddest of the baddest have watched this kid help old people cross the street or carry groceries home or help kids out with the most miscellaneous things and just declared them “off hands” in some sort of weird immunity thing as they just let him do his thing whilst taking turns watching over him. one time the Joker tried fucking with him and he ended up being jumped by life fifteen bad guys and one good guy all because they knew something was wrong when he didn’t show up for school.

All the big baddies and heroes alike know the Reader’s true identity but they keep their mouths shut and just leave them be like they aren’t any the wiser and totally haven’t stalked the shit out of the poor kid in their extremely invasive way of keeping an eye on them.

I love the idea of the villains going out of their way to tell their respective heroes about the Reader and getting them to take the Reader on as a sidekick. This way they can ensure their darling is in good and capable hands while also getting the best training possible to become an even better hero then they already are. Like, I could see all of the rogues (excluding Joker) pulling up on Batman along with a very nervous and shy Reader, telling Batman that he needs to take this kid under his wing. This totally backfires on them though and Batman and the batfamily grow extremely attached to the Reader.

Also, I totally see the big baddies taking it easy on the Reader whenever they have to fight (that is if the villain even decides to ‘fight’ the Reader), even Deathstroke is pretty chill and holds back on them to an extent. Although, the reactions to the Reader being able to hold their own no matter who they’re up against is great though, the amount of pride and

No doubt that other villains and heroes outside of Gotham come to learn about the Reader. Especially the fact that their apparently ‘hands-off’ to any and all villains. It definitely results in other big baddies testing the limits regarding the Reader and being the one to actually get to them. Meanwhile, other heroes are definitely forming their own attachments for the Reader. Especially Clark and Diana, they definitely want to steal the Reader from Bruce and the batfamily.

I could totally see the Reader given how pure and just overall optimistic and hopeful they are being able to convert quite a few villains into becoming more good than bad or full on rehabilitating them. Whether the villain is actually rehabilitated is debatable and depends on the specific baddie but at least they’re trying to go along with it for the Reader’s sake.

God forbid anyone hurts the Reader or worse, they will come to regret the day they were born if any of the heroes and villains have anything to do about it. It’s one thing for them to do something to the Reader, the baddies have an agreed on line they don’t cross no matter what regarding fighting the Reader but anyone who does cross that line, whether on accident or not, is in for a real painful experience they’ll never forget.

[sgnjimmy]

Hii, I begging u for Joker's crumbs 🙏🏻 I am wondering to know how would he act with having a crush.

Im whipped for this man ~

Sorry for my English and thank you for u writing 😘

*JOKER w/ a crush

≛ 𝙰/𝚗: thank you for requesting ☺️ (ignore the huge delay). also sorry for anyone who didn't recive their request yet, i just started fucking sch00l again... so I'm not really coming back on writing but have this 🥲🫶

joker wouldn't talk about his crush for sure, he wouldn't even talk to them for some time till he feels ready. that doesn’t mean he wouldn't let his presence known. he likes to help around, with anything and everything he can! he likes it even better when you ask for his help. it makes him feel good about himself, like you need him, and that makes him feel appreciated.

this man is so shy, but you wouldn't ever notice it, though. he always stands so glommy and tall that you forget he's just another human being like you, with feelings and crushes. you wouldn’t be capable of seeing underneath his facet if he didn't lend you some help.

joker is a huge soft for you, period. he wishes he could just pick you up and take you home like some cute puppy. he would treat you so well and make sure you're happy. but he can't just do that, so he waits and waits.

he hears you talk about what's on your mind, and ocasonaly about more personal stuff like your favorite tv show at the moment or favorite food. maybe even dreams that you feel comfortable sharing with him, he grabs every bit he can. no matter how small it might seem to someone else... he's an incredible patient man, so it doesn't bother him that much that this is all he's getting after three months of knowing you.

yet joker is human after all and he can get too greedy some times. so he tries to sneak himself more and more in your (personal) space and life. he thinks he's so smooth with it. and he actually is, you don't seem to have picked on it yet. but guess who does? wooin. and that's ten times worse than if you had.

joker immediately backs off on his plans when, one day, he sees wooin's hand holding your arm while he talks to you. as soon as wooin saw him, he made sure to keep eye contact. and joker knew he was screwed, because wooin knew.

the fear joker was under blows off in the next days when he noticed that wooin doesn't really want anything with you. wooin is just messing him. he's trying to make joker lose his cool so you would notice his feeling in the most embarrassing way. so yeah, the fear in no more, but anger? oh, boy. joker full of it.

he's talking even less, and giving wooin daggers eyes any chance he gets.

meanwhile, you don't know what the hell is going on. why joker don't seem to look for you anymore like he used to and why hyuk is having a blast every time he sees wooin and joker in the same room.

© 𝙨𝙧𝙜𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙮 2024

[distort-opia]

Finally watching the animated film for Batman: Hush and (while there's a lot of major alterations to the comic) it really sent me how Bruce nearly killing Joker went. In the animation it's Bruce making hilarious growling noises, Joker's voice actor making... an attempt (and I'm annoyed about it because "I want you to break your code, but for something I actually did" is such a good line, I want to hear Mark Hamill or Troy Baker do it so bad), while Jim Gordon comes from behind and goes "Batman THIS ISN'T YOU!!" and then Bruce stops.

Meanwhile, in the comic. It took three fucking people to get Bruce to stop. First Bruce fights off Harley Quinn. Then he injures and knocks out Selina, who he was having all those complicated feelings about, and merrily goes back to trying to kill Joker. And then Jim Gordon shows up and has to shoot Batman in the arm to let him know he's serious, to make him stop strangling the life out of Joker.

I actually like the moment as it is in the comic. Many alternate universes have established that Bruce is capable of killing Joker, and that it always happens after Joker goes too far and kills even more people Bruce cares about. But this time is the closest Bruce came to killing Joker with his own hands in main continuity-- not just stepping away and allowing for Joker to crash with a helicopter, or for Jim to take a shot at him during No Man's Land. And it's shown painstakingly that it isn't an accident; multiple people try to stop Bruce, to appeal to his sense of self, but his anger is too overwhelming. It takes a threat to Bruce's own life for him to stop.

And as usual, it's contextualizing it that makes it interesting to me... Whenever I go back to Under the Red Hood and Bruce's explanation to Jason-- not killing Joker because he knows he can never go back, I also think of the time he nearly killed Joker in Hush. Bruce doesn't just think he'd entirely lose it if he killed Joker, he knows. He had to forcefully be pulled back from the brink of entirely losing himself, and very recently. Which makes it all the more bonkers for him to choose to save Joker's life, doesn't it? And by slashing Jason's throat, no less. It makes it even more clear that in UtRH, just like Jason said ("I'm talking about him, just him") Bruce meant Joker-- he meant that if he killed Joker, it would spell out the end for him. Not if he simply killed.

So Bruce cannot kill Joker without losing himself. But he also cannot allow Joker to die by anyone else's hands, not even Jason's, whose murder had fueled his anger in Hush when he tried to strangle Joker. It's such a typically Bruce "It's fine when I do it but I draw the line at anyone else trying it!" way of thinking, betraying his need for control, but so much... worse, because it's about the Joker. Yeah, you feel entitled to kill the clown. But also you cannot kill the clown because you'd become the worst version of yourself. But also no one else can kill the clown, because he's your horrible murder clown who's pretty much defining the terms through which you understand your own darkness, and you selfishly need him alive.

[frikatilhi]

Jere keeps asking/informing Bojan about his OF ideas, sending different pictures and videos to get opinion if this is still fine or already too much. Meanwhile Bojan is sweating, jumping at every message ping and checking them while hidden in a corner, to the point that it pisses off everyone else in the studio. He can't say not to send them to Jere but can't ignore them either because the phone is burning a hole in his pocket.

Anon, I think you just wrote your own fic, this is perfect.

I got several prompts about Bojan's reaction to the OF, so here's a little something about that.

Bojan can’t believe it has come to this.

It used to be that musicians would make a living selling records and performing live. Nowadays you need to sell tons of merch to even break even, have an online presence and be accessible to your fans and be relatable and funny and flirt with your bandmates to keep them guessing and keep generating fucking content, all the time.

But he wasn’t aware that the hustle included Onlyfans now too, apparently.

Bojan can appreciate Jere trying to make the most of his success and fame. He has clearly done some Scarlett O’Hara type “I shall never go hungry again!” pact with himself, determined to strike while the iron is hot, and make up for his meager earnings by any means possible.

It is none of his business how Jere chooses to make his money. If posting cheeky little skits with Häärijä is going to make people throw their money at him, who is he to judge.

So there really is no problem for Bojan. 

The only problem is that he is lying awake, 1 am Slovenian time on December 1st, knowing full well that the first post of the calendar has been live for two hours.

It’s probably nothing too risque, anyway, he reasons. He has watched those two idiots film their stupid skits enough times to know that they like to joke around, shitposting their way through life. It’s probably just them in santa hats doing… the stuff they always do. Maybe a little suggestive, but nothing actually pornographic. 

But also, knowing those two, knowing what they truly are capable of, he wouldn’t put anything past them.

So of course he is curious. Who wouldn’t be?

He can’t just ask Jere. He just can’t. He’s been trying for days to craft a message that would convey the exact joking, teasing nonchalance that would make Jere share the stuff with him without him asking directly. But everything he comes up with is too transparent. Asking Jere would mean admitting that he wants to know. And Jere can’t know how much he wants to know. 

He also can’t join Onlyfans. He just can’t. Because that would mean… Too many things. Things Bojan is really not ready to prod or poke at.

It would also be totally icky. Watching Jere in… situations without him knowing that Bojan is watching, even though he is clearly okay with anyone and everyone seeing it, feels somehow wrong. If he can’t man up and talk to Jere and tell him how much he wants to see him naked, what right does he have to sneak around and pay money for it?

But also, he really, really wants to see what’s there.

So you can see his dilemma.

He holds off for two days. But then the online reaction to the newest one reaches him, and he sees a mention of the socks. It is the opening he needs. He taps a text.

me Watafak is this I hear about Joker Out socks making an appearance on OF???

Jere Did you like it?

me I haven’t seen it jesus christ

Jere No just us, Käärijä and Häärijä 😝

Jere You not subscribe? 😥

me Wtf you mean, of course not ☠️

Jere Bojan poor 🙁 🙁 

Jere Wait

In a minute, Bojan’s phone dings as a sign of a new email. The pop-up notification shows the beginning of the subject line:. You have been gifted a subscription to–

me You didn’t.

Jere This one on me! 😊

Jere And Boju…

Jere Tell me what you think after you watch 🤭😘😉

*

(okay sorry for ending it there, I know you wanted his reaction to the actual videos, but I don’t think I have it in me to write about him looking at those apron strings hanging between his buttocks and him imagining picking them up with his teeth, I am already hanging by a thread here)

[sailing-through-hawkins]

Buckle up Ronance (and general spicy six) fans i wrote this when i was super tired but we got a Superman AU laid out right in front of us ft:

Robin Buckley as the clumsy and rambling reporter starting her new job at the Daily Planet, using her wits, language skills and eager curiosity to scope out a fresh take on Metropolis' pristine coat of futurism hiding its own dark underbelly of corruption and political warfare; not to mention the fact that she is the Superwoman (i usually prefer finding alternatives to using "man" or "woman" in the superhero genre but I can't really think of an alternate to something as basic as Superman so here we are), capable of flight, lazer vision and rescuing pretty woman without so much as a stutter

Nancy Wheeler as the Planet's greatest reporter, her determination and scrutiny all she needs to crack any story wide open, making her quite the target for the rich and famous but she doesn't appreciate this rookie coming in to steal her front-page headline spot; now Superwoman, on the other hand, is the most intriguing person she's ever wanted to investigate right on Metropolis soil

Nancy visits Gotham on occasion to meet her ex-partner and current good friend, Steve "Stevie" Harrington, to catch up during any of his various charity balls or just to give Mike an excuse to hang with Dustin (Steve's first ward, followed by Max, with Lucas and Erica dropping by often enough people don't really think too hard about it)

She does have her suspicions about The Bat running around the shadows of Gotham with Steve's tendency for concussion-inducing accidents but the idea of Steve of all people as a vigilante just feels too far fetched even for her

Of course, Robin does eventually meet Stevie during a story she's chasing on The Bat but the guy is just so airheaded and shameless that she doesn't want to even bother trying to get statement out of him. When she meets The Bat as Superwoman however, they hit it off so well that Robin thinks she may have found a best friend for life. When they eventually reveal their identities, she has to take a minute to reconcile that her platonic soulmate is Stevie Harrington of all people

Jonathan is Nancy's photographer a la Jimmy Olsen, and the dude is just so exhausted all the time from Nancy's running around but he's done a better job keeping up with her than her old partner Fred Benson so Chief insists that they stick together. After Robin showed up, he figured things would be easier with someone else to help wrangle Nancy but Robin just encourages the chaos with her own ambitious methods so he ends up bonding with Stevie of all people over Nancy's head-first running into danger, thank god for Superwoman's timing on that

I also think it'd be funny if Argyle was just a random pizza guy from Gotham who got caught up in a major crime syndicate's grasp and he just...ends up staying at the Harrington Manor after that and nobody in the family even questions it and now he mans the Batcomputer under codename Oracle ("Dustin, you can't just keep giving everything a codename" - "Fucking watch me")

Jargyle meeting at a Harrington charity ball and have a whole doki doki strangers to lovers because they 100% deserve a meet-cute in this AU

Anyways back to Ronance, Nancy falling in love with the snarky and witty Superwoman that always comes when Nancy needs her and Robin panicking because she's realised that she's head over heels for Wheeler and can't do a single thing about it meanwhile Steve teases her about the Wheeler Effect:

"The what?"

"The Wheeler Effect: I used to be in love with Nancy, she and Jonathan used to date, hell even Dustin crushed on her at some point -"

"STEVE YOU PROMISED NOT TO TELL ANYONE -"

I guess Eddie could be The Freak (like the Creeper from the animated series, but less Joker venom and more clothes) in a Catwoman role? Giving Steve a run for his money (sometimes literally) while secretly mentoring the Robins, much to the Bat's annoyance

[astorythatwritesitself]

Hell why not I’ll roll again: shrios sorry brainrot + Only Poppies Grow Where I Last Saw You

Contemplating this as Halcyon plays, clearly this is supposed to be the angst mines, right?

... anyway this immediately puts me in the mind of my like - one of my little monkey's paw 'Thane Lives' scenarios for post ME3 - man's alive and well, but Adrian's.

Officially. MIA.

Realistically, presumed dead by virtually everyone except like a third of current/former Normandy crew, and Thane is... well, both channeling his grief and doing what he can to confirm things one way or another; he's on Earth, aiding the search for bodies, and perhaps, survivors. The blast from the Catalyst has severely fucked most tech, so it's a long, tricky job. Heartbreaking - but occasionally, almost miraculous, it can be like seeing the dead come back to life.

And yet he does not - cannot - believe the reports from a seaside camp, that they found Commander Shepard washed in with the tide.

That's what the dogtags say, anyway; and while lab tests against prior samples are a bust due to records getting scrambled, they do have both elder Shepards present to test DNA against, and it is a match. And - look, a full on clone couldn't fool Thane, he knows it's her.

Which, great! Cause that makes one of them!

Yeah, while there's a little bit of patchy recall - she recognizes her parents and Joker fairly ok & feels some empty recognition towards her crewmates- it's very quickly apparent that Adrian's lost most of her memory prior to like, her very early 20s. So, you know, very fun times for everyone involved, particularly the guy who's already been half mourning and trying not to totally lose himself in what memories were there - now she's there, but sees him as little more than a stranger. 🙃

And beyond that - the general consensus is, well, try to fix that, right? But there's a few members of the crew (Joker, Ashley & Tali, probably) who are hesitant - and Thane is trying to figure out how to articulate that forcing Adrian to remember would be straight up cruel, and yes it's painful but gods be damned, he loves her and knows what it's like to keep reliving the worst day of your life, if Shepard can finally have some peace, then let her.

Shepard, meanwhile, is like. Mostly focused on physically recovering and re-learning how to walk after having about half her body rebuilt again, and doesn't have any helpful answers regarding the mental part of her recovery. On the one hand: clearly she is Someone Important, these people hanging around seem to Mean Something, and even if she can't remember why... there's that hollow little ache every time she sees them, like taking a step without realizing you're going over an edge (to badly quote lemony snicket lol).

On the other: the bits she's picked up of Shepard's life sound like way more of a burden than she wants to bear. So, she politely yet firmly asks everyone to fuck the hell off for a little while and let her breathe for a few.

It could just end there...

but I'm a sucker lol. The setup lets Thane still be around as Adrian’s recovering, and as she has some time to just. Fucking rest for once without a bajillion nightmares, she decides... yeah, if things return naturally, fine, she'll take it. But if Shepard’s life was half as fucked up as it feels, just learning them as facts without the experience recall, she'd rather let that go.

That doesn't mean she's necessarily letting the people go, though; it becomes a sorta slice of life/recovery fic, Adrian slowly re-learning about the people in her life and how those relationships might or might not change -

But also a strange, sweet little journey with Thane. He remembers plenty of course, and tries to keep his distance at first because yeah he's alright at looking calm but internally his emotions are a wreck... but it's almost like the first time, quick talks that stretch a little longer, not-at-all subtle looks (Adrian may not recall much, but her tastes haven't changed & she's still weak for dark eyes and a cool coat lol); support when some things do start coming back - Akuze does return, a few scattered pieces through the first battle of the Citadel, some elements of Virmire - but relatively muted, compared to how they affected her before.

She never does remember their first courtship, but she likes spending time with Thane after all, especially once she's cleared to start getting some time outside - he's sweet, good to talk to, and she did very much appreciate that he seemed willing from the start to accept if she didn’t want to focus on recovering things. Idk man just increasing Soft moments, and yes it hurts Thane, knowing the Shepard who awoke him is essentially dead... but he's coming at it this time with a different perspective too, no longer expecting to die any time between now and next Tuesday, y’know? It's not like he's quite exactly the same man Shepard left on the Citadel.

So it's different - but maybe a bit of a gift, getting to fall in love all over again and dream of a future together from the very start.

[victimized-martyr]

1, 3, 8, 15, 26

1. where do you fall on the kyman scale? mountain, tie, or pine?

uhhh I’m assuming this is fandom-jargon for top/bottom?? or who’s taller?? more dominant ?? actually lol I still have no idea what these mean sorry, I’m a baby in this fandom. sorry i can’t answer this, idk 😭

3. where/when/why/how do they get together?

lol thats a whole ass fic just begging to be written. My opinion will probably change, and these two are so unpredictable fr so WHO KNOWS how they’ll end up together, if they ever do. Will be an absolute miracle fr. But here’s my attempt:

Where- somewhere private, just them two. Could be either of their rooms, stark’s pond, the woods, hell maybe @ a U-store it.

When- the EARLIEST I can see them get together, is their last years of high school. Otherwise, sometime after college. Not during college… I think the boys’ career paths will divulge and all 4 of them won’t be able to hang as often. They adjust from the definition of friendship from childhood to adulthood lol. So, it makes the most sense to me they get together as adults. I’m talkin, they’re in their early thirties.

why-follow up to above^ Kyle and Cartman are doing… fine in their lives. Bills are being paid, they each have a job, but Kyle stays in south park because firstly, growing up with the debt of the entire city fucks up Kyle’s credit, and also he stays out of obligation to his family (and hey! he doesn’t have to worry about buying a house), and on a deeper level… he doesn’t know what to do with himself. with the boys out of south park, he’s never learned how to live outside those relationships. What are his hobbies? Who is he? What does he want? Cartman, meanwhile, is a wild card. He could be in another country, maybe he’s working in denver as a freelance photographer, maybe he went to los ángeles to do something with his talent, maybe he got stuck in South Park too, taking care of Liane and feeling trapped because she doesn’t have anyone else in south park and damnit Cartman’s a moma’s boy through and through. No matter what Cartman does though, he feels hollow.

Kyle and Cartman learn from their time apart that outside of their fights, they value each other’s company. There’s a mutual intensity, a fierce competitiveness that stimulates their brains, a deep bond that they can’t shake off. They’ve been obsessed with each other since they were in diapers…. they don’t have a choice in staying together in SOME proximity to function. It’s vital to their survival.

how- it’s NOT over a peaceful dinner or a lazy day of hangin with the bros that’s for sure lol. It’s south park. They can’t get a moment’s peace and nothing will ever be mundane. I imagine that it takes a large scale event, laden with toilet jokes or a matter of politics, or some wacky hijinks, where they nearly lose each other.

Kyle has a realization he agonizes over for days on end “holy shit I need this motherfucker in my life like goddamn oxygen, no way, no fucking way, HIM???”

with Cartman, things just kinda click. It’s painful acceptance of what’s been there probably since the beginning. It’s a lot to handle. Prolly to the point he actually develops a fever over it and whines like a diva. “Oh.. all those sexual fantasies of Kyle make so much sense… I’m never going after anyone else that’s not Kyle. Kyle Kyle Kyle!!! Oh god, I want Kyle! It’s always been Kyle!”

8. who is the breadmaker? (follow-up question, who’s the stay-home dad?)

hm… their futures are very muddy to me rn. To paraphrase Kyle in Mexican Joker, the decisions the characters make *right now* affect the future…Post Covid and Future Me’s endings support this idea, that the slightest decision can like, alter an entire career path and character development.

With the direction Matt and Trey are taking Cartman and Kyle as of Streaming Wars, Kyle would definitely be the bread maker. not that Cartman’s lazy (he is, but Kyle would NOT let him be), but because his ambitions change from day to day. As a result his career path will likely not be as conventional (so in Kyle eyes, unstable lol). Cartman, as he’s acting right now, would be absolutely content as a stay at home dad. He’d get to tap into that hedonism left over from childhood “I hardly have to lift a finger! If I want the newest X-box, my hubby Kahl will get it for me 💞”

no matter what role Cartman will take though, he WILL want to be in a position of authority. Be it a Ceo, or director, head detective..even as a stay at home dad, he WILL fight the Becky’s and Karen’s to be THE director of HOA in his town. He WILL be obnoxious about it too and probably integrate aspects of that job into his personality like he did being a rabbi in PC jfjfkgk (seriously who on earth screams about their love of abraham while having sex. Fuckin Werido. He might’ve changed for the better but Cartman definitely let it go to his head hhfhfh he integrates his interests into every aspect of himself, even foreplay. like goddamn Mattrey u made a freak fr)

15. headcanon heights and body types?

basically what we have in canon!

Kyle is the tallest (6’2) and the skinniest, no matter how much he eats. his jersey side keeps him from ever appearing lanky. I imagine he’s got very nice toned legs.

I do believe on some level Cartman IS big boned, so no matter what he might do to lose weight, he’ll always appear “big”. But of course, Cartman is nothing without his blubber, so he’s fat forever in my eyes. I think Cartman’s got a pear shaped body where a lot of his fat just goes to his mid section and ass (indeed, there is truth in his moniker), but was graced with the cherubic looks of his mom, so as he grows up, not a lot of fat goes to his chin. In fact, he’s got a well defined face. Any trace of chub is stored in is his cheeks. He’s a short lil guy (5’6)

26. why do you ship kyman?

Oh god… this is such a loaded question 😭 where do I begin?

in part, I truly can’t see them with anyone else. Does that make sense? Like, heiman arc and Cartman Finds Love showed us that Cartman and Kyle will sabotage each other’s romantic relationships and make it about each other. The gf becomes white noise, or worse, a prop in their fight. I pity any woman that dares come between them.

I also ship them because they have such an electric, rich and iconic dynamic. It’s one of the pillars of the show. There’s literally never a dull moment with them, all their interactions, be it simply playing a game and smiling at each other, teasing each other on the playground, running washington redskins, playing airsoft as a broship, is such a delight to watch.

As I said in the Why section of the ask, they complete each other in ways they might never come to terms with, but is super obvious to the audience nonetheless. They stimulate each other, there’s no one else that can bring out like, every single human emotion as intensely as kyle and cartman do with each other.

also, I ship kyman bc canon dumptrucked all this cosmic shit. They saved each other’s lives unknowingly, they’re the only ones in town to share the same fuckin blood type and kidney, like broh this shit is writing itself I’m just here for the ride.

[lex-munro]

[Suicide Squad Scrap] Princess pt. 18

self-indulgent batjokes-flavored SS/BvS/JL, installment 18. in this modern age of jacked super-heroes, i do wish they’d picked someone with a more convincing physicality for Wonder Woman (like some of those hella-ripped ladies playing assorted other amazons…i hated the Warrior Princess two-piece costumes until i saw the hammer-bearers smashing the stone columns, and then i was like ‘ohhh, it’s so we can see those rippling muscles’), but i adore Gal Gadot; her earnestness in the first movie really sold me on her, even if WW84 had…a lot of issues… i digress.

the piece as a whole is rated Mature for pervasive language, varying degrees of violence, use of controlled substances, sexual references, questionable ethics, and themes of mental illness. set from Flag’s POV, with references to Birds of Prey, but not compliant with The Suicide Squad.

***

It happens so quickly that Flag only understands the chain of events when they’re at a stalemate.

The second the plane’s rear hatch opened, they tased Joker and got a noose around his neck. Naturally, Flag and Lawton drew down. With Jones stepping to shield Ratcatcher, and Digger cowering with Turner (who at least has the excuse of being cuffed and unarmed), nobody had a clear advantage, so now they’re all yelling threats and staring at gun barrels and waiting to see who breaks first.

Waller slowly steps out with her finger on the killswitch for Joker’s collar.

“This gaddamn asshole,” Lawton growls as he and Flag holster their weapons.

Joker laughs until the guy holding his noose tightens it on him and chokes him (“Harder, big boy!” he manages to croak out, the contrary bastard). Belle Reve guards strap a muzzle on him first, then yank his coat and holster off.

“He can fuckin’ well get changed on his own!” Flag yells.

“Leave him the fuck alone!” Ratcatcher shrieks from behind him.

They strait Joker, every single strap cinched down tight.

When one of the guards reaches up, Flag grabs the guy’s hand and twists. “Don’t touch the hair. He will fuck you up over the hair. This is a guy who once waited four years to stab a mob boss’s son after the kid called him, quote, ‘a stupid little clown-ass fairy fuckboy.’” The guard pulls free with a resentful scowl.

Meanwhile, they’ve taken Joker’s shoes and got his ankles cuffed up.

“This is bullshit!” roars Croc. “You fine lettin’ us walk out here to go die for you, but now you got a problem lettin’ us walk back home?”

“I’m making a point,” Waller says mildly.

“What point? We save your life, we keep workin’ for you, and now your ungrateful ass gonna hogtie us and stuff us in a can?”

She shakes her head. “Just our little princess here. Let me make it clear to you and your squad, Flag, since you still haven’t figured it out… We stole Jay right out from under the Bat—he’s our leverage against Batman, not the other way around. He probably figured that out himself by the second visit. He’s been playing us all, ever since he saw that I’ll let him have pretty much anything he wants, as long as he gets Daddy to break down and ask for it. Hell, I’ll give him five star meals and luxury lingerie if he can get the Bat to debase himself by asking. The Justice League has definitely heard what a successful mission you just had. I give Batman the official call, and he’ll come running, especially when he sees that racy little scene in the lookout perch. Our drones had a great view.”

“Sick bitch!” Ratcatcher yells.

Waller slowly blinks at Joker. “I’m impressed, though—you’ve played your part impeccably, and you were almost a challenge. Be a good boy, and it’ll just be your old Arkham beddy-bye mix this time. But if you struggle, I’ll gas you with something really nasty. Our leashed mad scientist calls it his ‘fear toxin,’ and says it makes anybody who breathes it hallucinate very vividly about their worst fears. After all those downers, I’m not sure what it’ll do to that skillet scramble you call a brain.”

“Sounds fun,” Joker taunts behind his muzzle. “I’ll take what’s behind door number two, Satan.”

“Strap him in good,” Waller tells the guards. “Wouldn’t want him to hurt himself…I’ve seen people rip their own faces off after they puffed this stuff.”

Joker laughs as they get him into the transport chair, tied in from top to toes with padded leather straps. He keeps laughing as Waller holds up a little aerosol and sprays a hefty cloud in his face.

One of the guards is too close—he immediately starts screaming and gibbering, swatting himself and pleading for someone to ‘get them off.’

Waller rolls her eyes. “Better tranq him if you want him to live,” she tells the guard squad’s sergeant.

Joker is still laughing, but now he’s struggling against his restraints.

“Thing of beauty,” says Waller. “Prey respond to fear by running…predators respond by attacking. He wants to tear apart everything he’s seeing right now. That should be familiar territory for the lovebirds.”

“You’re treading shaky ground again,” Flag warns her.

“Bitch, please,” she scoffs. “If we successfully snag the Bat, your squad’s up for another major reward. Floyd, how’d you like to see your daughter more often? Digger, I know you must be missing that monthly sex toy subscription you had. Croc—Puffy has a new lounge wear line that would look great in your closet. Arcee, you could have all the pizza and peanut butter you and your furry friends can eat.”

Lawton glares at her. “You just trussed up and roofied the only guy who’s never lied to me or tried to use me, and then you admitted you’re doing it to get your claws in his boyfriend. But it’s all good, right? ‘Cause you’d let me see my little girl who I wouldn’t be able to look in the eye. ‘Yeah, sweetie, I know you begged me not to hurt Batman, so I just let my evil-ass boss do it for me.’”

Waller snorts. “Pussy. Stay in your cell, then. Anybody who’d prefer some more benefits, we’ll need some muscle on standby for this. The Man of Steel won’t sully himself by having anything to do with a freak like the Joker, but Wonder Woman has a soft spot for Batman, so there’s a possibility she might tag along, if they’re at their little secret clubhouse. His little birdies certainly won’t lift a finger for the clown after what he did to the second one.”

“Gotcher muscle right here,” Ratcatcher mutters under her breath, middle finger surreptitiously raised.

Flag can’t see a way out yet. Ratcatcher and the boys don’t have collars anymore, but Joker does.

Then again, it’s a double-edged sword…Batman makes a move, Waller kills Joker, Batman breaks all her bones but still has a dead boyfriend. It’s a really fucked up game of chicken. Who’s bluffing and who’s got the balls to follow through? Is the satisfaction of the deed enough to balance out the messy end Flag and his crew would give her?

“Task Force X, fall in,” Flag says.

“Are you for real?” Ratcatcher asks coldly.

“We got a job to do,” he replies. “Either we do it, or somebody who doesn’t give a shit about Jay and the Bat will do it.”

Lawton leans in. “I’m one job away from free-and-clear. I sure as fuck hope you know what you’re doing, Boy Scout.”

“Me too,” he whispers. “If shit goes down, they’re gonna need backup. I’m sick of not being there when Jay needs us.”

“Man, don’t you go getting us all killed ‘cause you feel guilty about Jay pulling a James Bond earlier. He handled it.”

“You haven’t seen what else she’s done to him to piss off Batman. And you ‘n I both know that piece of shit was gonna do it whether Jay said yes or not.”

Lawton leans away again. “Whatever, man, I’ve told you my reservations.”

“And they have been noted,” Flag answers in a louder tone.

They camp the courtyard around the cell. In the halls just out of sight, two ARGUS field teams have guns at the ready.

Boredom and hunger have just barely set in when they hear what sounds like a VTOL jet overhead.

Wonder Woman comes down on the cage like a cannonball, bending the bars with just the impact. She really is…extremely impressive. She stoically hammers her way in (heedless of arcs of electricity as the guards try to power up the bars) while Batman slides down on a rope.

“Oh, wow,” says Ratcatcher.

“Holy fucking ‘ell,” Digger mutters in awe.

(“I think I might be a lesbian now.” “Same.”)

“Jay,” Batman says, and Flag can hear the strain in his voice even through the modulator.

Joker screams, then laughs, struggling despite the straitjacket.

Batman gets the muzzle off him. “It’s me—I’ve got you. This is just a sedative; your pulse is too high.”

“Task Force X,” Waller’s voice booms over the intercom. “Move in.”

Flag curses himself for an idiot developing a hero complex. They go in through the gate, weapons ready as they surround the cage.

Wonder Woman assesses them all calmly; she doesn’t look worried. Why would she? She could snap most of them in half, and then turn Croc into a purse.

Batman looks at Flag sidelong, Joker wheezing and giggling his way into unconsciousness in his arms.

Flag curses himself again, and turns. “Sixteen Agency goons, twenty-two Belle Reve guards, potentially sixty-three inmates. The collar on Jay’s neck is rigged.”

And maybe he’s not the only heroic idiot on the squad, because the other four have pointed their guns outward, too.

Waller strolls out into the light. “Playing hero suits you buffoons about as well as a jellyfish running a popsicle stand. You think I give a damn if I have to shoot you? Think again.” And she gives the signal to fire.

Flag has just enough time to see a blur of red and blue and realize he shouldn’t pull the trigger—

Wonder Woman neatly deflects five shots meant for Flag, each one taking out a gunman.

“I can do this all day,” Wonder Woman says calmly. “I can kill everyone who attacks us. Or…you can let us walk out of here.”

“These aren’t heroes, Ms. Prince,” Waller tells her. “Most of them aren’t even decent human beings.”

“That doesn’t justify what you’ve done. Even the worst of humanity deserve humane treatment.”

Waller sighs and holds up a remote for the collars—Joker’s picture is clearly visible on it, along with the buttons for ‘stun’ and ‘kill.’ “All right, so we’re doing this the hard way. Batman stays, or I pop the top on his little toy clown. I won’t lose even an instant of sleep over that psychotic mass murderer, and neither should you. There’s a tattoo on his left arm of a knife through a Bat-symbol—commemorating the time he almost killed Batman. There’s another on his right arm of a dead bird—that’s for the time he killed a bunch of kindergarteners to lure out Robin and subsequently torture and kill him. And that’s just what he’s done to the Bat personally. Maybe ask yourself what kind of man falls in love with that kind of monster.”

Batman slowly turns and moves to the inner door. “Croc, take him. Wonder Woman, thank you for trying to help. Please get them out of here.”

So Croc breaks the door and takes the unconscious Joker over one shoulder, eyes still locked on Waller.

“I’ll stay,” Batman tells Waller. “But only if you let them go.”

“Deal,” she says. “Men, disarm him.”

“Up the rope,” Wonder Woman says to Flag.

“Digger, Arcee,” he says, gesturing with his chin but keeping his rifle trained on Waller. “Then Croc and Jay.”

“I’ll go last to cover us,” says Lawton.

“I’ll cover us,” Wonder Woman asserts. “Unless you know how to deflect bullets, perhaps?”

“No, ma’am. Second-to-last it is.”

They board her craft (or is it Batman’s?), some fancy thing with optical cloaking. When they’re all up the rope, she jumps in and closes the hatch.

“We appreciate what—”

“I’m doing it for Batman, not you,” she says, reaching over and breaking Joker’s collar like it’s made of cheap plastic. “The League has files on Deadshot and Joker. If the rest of you have a trail of bodies that wide, you really aren’t decent people. But I meant what I said down there—Batman showed me his visits, the way she’d clearly been toying with Joker, drugging him and mistreating him, psychologically torturing him. No one deserves that. If he’s truly so evil as she says, get it over with: give him a clean death. I don’t believe in her sort of wasteful malice.”

“Then I, at least, appreciate your assistance even more, ma’am.”

She nods. “You’re welcome. Where should I drop you?”

He hesitates.

“What’s the plan, Flag?” Ratcatcher asks.

“Yeah,” agrees Digger. “What’re we gonna do?”

Flag clenches his jaw. “You guys and the gear I’m wearing are all the resources I got that Waller can’t get her hands on first. Anybody else?”

“I got weapons drops in Coastal, Gotham, and Blüdhaven,” says Lawton.

“I’m in your boat, Flag,” says Digger.

“Same,” adds Ratcatcher.

“I am a weapon,” Croc says proudly. “But Jay here owns half of Gotham, so that could be useful.”

“Gotham City it is, then,” Flag tells Wonder Woman.

.End.

[ectonurites]

i think house of gotham had a much better take on the concept of "person who feels they were wronged by batman as a child" than robins

YES I 100% AGREE!

The unnamed boy in House of Gotham grew to resent Batman more and more over time, because Batman kept failing him or doing things he didn't understand (like cycling through Robins, from an outsider child's perspective him having that realization when seeing Jason in action that Robin's a different boy than before... would be understandably weird and confusing!) Azbats made this much worse by actively harming him which wasn't so much on Bruce, but still. The unnamed boy's story was so totally not the 'one bad day' concept put in action, it was the build up of many years worth of incidents that were out of his control, and when we watched all these events happen from his POV it was absolutely understandable to see how & why he'd feel the way he did about Batman.

Meanwhile A.J./Jenny Wren... well this anon articulated some of the logic problems well:

Like, I get that her shooting Cormac Dodge is this thing she did out of panic- and that Bruce freaked out at her about it. But she still shot someone (and it wasn't that he was even like, physically attacking her and it was in self defense that way, it was in defense of information about herself), that's something you do have to face consequences for! Bruce absolutely still would have tried to do what he thought would help her after that, it's just that... the ways he'd try to help definitely wouldn't be the life she wanted where he took her in. She destroyed the chance of that when she shot the guy, which was her decision. And yeah, faking her death literally did just make it impossible for him to even try to help her. She was angry at Bruce for a situation that she in large part caused for herself.

In House of Gotham when the unnamed boy has his final confrontation with Bruce, Bruce knows how he'd specifically let this boy down and how he could have maybe done things differently... and everything feels understood. We're watching this interaction and knowing each of their points of view, there's logic to each of their ways of thinking, even as they rehash the age old debate of 'fucking hell Batman can't we please just kill the Joker?'

But with A.J., it feels like she's supposed to be sympathetic but we're just left going "Wait what??" trying to understand how Bruce could have done anything all that differently, to try to understand what her perspective is here. Bruce acting remorseful about it after she yells all her "Why couldn't you fix me too?!" stuff at him... the "I was afraid. That you were too much like me. That I couldn't help you. That I couldn't break the cycle. You didn't fail Gauntlet Zero, A.J. I did." just makes NO fucking sense to me the more I think about it.

Like, she shot someone, in the words of Bruce in this very comic "She'd used the weapon of the enemy. She'd killed in cold blood. I couldn't accept someone like her." How is that being 'too much like' him?? If it had been Bruce feeling like he'd let her down by letting her stay involved in things (while taking down Cormac Dodge) to begin with? Totally. That could make sense. But the way it plays out here just does not add up. If the comic had the characters call her out on how irrational her entire premise was, then it could have worked! Villains don't need to be rational! But it's presented as if her whole thing makes sense, so it's just very ???

But anyways, yeah. I think House of Gotham definitely pulled off this sort of concept in a far more successful way.

[forestlingincorporated]

Teen Titans #29

So, one of my favorite types of fics to read is Different First Meeting fics between Jason and Tim. I looooove reading Enemies To Caretaker, of which I fed handsomely on fairly recently. Big Brother Jason fics give me warm fuzzies, and Tim Drake needs a hug, and I feel like if these two actually got to know each other and worked past their preconceptions, they’d get along surprisingly well. And Still A Jason!Robin Fanboy Tim Drake is just a fun concept. 

Also, it just FEELS right for the middle siblings to band together after Damian comes along, lets get those abandonment issues in the party. 

So, for mysterious and very secret TimKon Week 2021 reasons, I was rereading some Teen Titans, and I stumbled over the Original Tim+Jason First Meeting, and I just sort of wanted to talk about some interesting things I found in there rereading it after several years. 

First thing right off the bat, when reading fics, normally it’s either the Core Four at the tower that Jason puts to sleep, or it’s Tim alone for the night. In the comic, none of Tim’s close friends are even at the tower, Jason waits for Bart and Cassie to leave, and Conner actually hasn’t come around for an in-universe month, because this is after the Superboy’s Birthright arc where Lex mind controls Conner. 

The people Jason knocks out were his own teammates when he was a Titan. He specifically says he never got to work with Beast Boy or Cyborg directly, so he doesn’t feel bad electrocuting them, but he feels bad putting Raven under much more gently because she used to worry for him. 

Tim has just gotten off the phone with Bruce when Jason shows up. It seems like Bruce might’ve been picking Tim up, but something’s come up with Martian Manhunter going missing, so Tim tells him he’ll catch a ride with Cyborg. 

This is actually really interesting to me, because it’s a small moment of Bruce letting Tim down. It’s a conversation he’s probably had with his biological father many times when Jack’s canceled on him. 

Gonna acknowledge this abomination real quick. This is So Stupid, and I’m glad as a fandom we just all agreed Jason didn’t do this. It makes me ask so many questions. Where did he get that oversized Robin costume? Why’d he tear off his perfectly good clothes? Why did he do this? Why the yellow tights? WHY? 

A lot of things are actually happening here that are actually Really Interesting if you just look past the stupid fucking outfit. Because this comic actually flew really close to greatness, they just ended up dropping the ball by not continuing to do more with it. 

First off, Jason doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s immediately like “yeah, yeah, yeah, Red Hood, whatever, I’m Jason Todd, bitch! Fight me.” 

Secondly, Jason’s done his homework. He knows A LOT about Tim. He knows his name, he knows he has a dad, he knows he went to prep school, and he knows the story of how Tim became Robin. How he GOT that last bit of information, I’d honestly like to know. But even HAVING the information isn’t enough; he’s still letting his preconceived ideas get in the way. The surface level information about Tim’s life only served to fuel his jealousy and anger (thanks, Lazerus Pitt!). He’s so focused on Tim’s privilege that he’s looked past evidence of hardship; if he’s done this much research on Tim, he’s no doubt seen records of multiple boarding schools, lengthy travel records, news reports, a death certificate.... He can’t even bring himself to BELIEVE parts of Tim’s story that aren’t lining up with his world view, like HOW he became Robin. 

Jason has convinced himself that what he’s discovered about Tim and the period of time when Jason was dead - the fact that Bruce was spiraling after his death, that his family mourned him, that Tim had to step up to the plate at a weird suicide prevention buddy system - is all a lie. Despite the fact that he’s beating Tim’s ass, he speaks to him with the assumption that Tim’s a child who’s been manipulated and lied to. 

Meanwhile, it must be SO PAINFUL for Tim to hear Jason say these things: I bet he said the same thing to you he said to me, didn’t he? That you have the talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in his war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light in his darkness.

Bruce never said any of that to Tim. Bruce rejected Tim, he didn’t want Tim, and begrudgingly accepted Tim. 

Going back to Jason waiting for Tim’s other young teen friends to leave the tower before going in, only drugging his own former teammates, is much of his anger seems directed at THEM, not just Bruce. To Jason, it looks like they didn’t mourn him either, he has no statue. I find it interesting that he smashes Donna Troy’s statue, who died after him, and I believe she came back before he did. 

Unless he was keeping track of the news from the League of Assassins, to Jason, Donna never died. 

And most importantly? Tim shuts Jason down. Tim “Bitch, Please” Drake out here like: you’re a fucking idiot, he loved you to death, he barely let me audition for the role. 

Tim shows some deep resentment towards Jason in this scene. I mean... earned, Jason literally came into his house and starting hitting him, but Tim’s relationship towards the Idea Of Jason has gone through a few changes. At first Jason was ROBIN! THE BOY WONDER! And if maybe Tim thought Bruce wasn’t AS happy with Jason as he was with Dick, there was still SOME hero worship early on. But it only takes Bruce and Alfred and Dick using Jason’s death as a cautionary tale a few times to get Tim to see Jason AS a cautionary tale - the kind of Robin NOT to be. But the more Tim craved Bruce’s paternal attention and approval, and the more Bruce withheld it or made Tim work for it, knowing that Bruce did that, in part, because of his love and grief for his dead son (Tim having an actual living breathing father plays a part, too), and those feelings towards Jason have started to fester.

Jason can’t let it go, though, he thinks the concept of Robin was a mistake and had always been a mistake, and if he can hurt Tim, so can Scarecrow, Penguin, The Joker. 

This is a good time to bring up that one thing I think Jason probably doesn’t know is Tim is injured. It is a little over a month since since Conner shattered Tim’s right arm. Tim is still healing from a comminuted fracture in his forearm. And looking at this picture that is - ah, yes, that is the injured arm Jason is swinging Tim by. Tim is probably healed by now, the cast IS off and he’s a child, but bones don’t fully return to full strength for 3-6 months. 

Jason is conflicted. This is clearly, in part, a fucked up way of “protecting” what he sees as a manipulated child, to convince him to leave Bruce. But there’s also clearly some deep, deep jealousy thrown into the mix to complicate matters and cloud his judgement. Ultimately, Jason isn’t there to kill Tim. Tim would be dead if he was. He’s there to “beat some sense into him,” and he ultimately fails, and fails badly. 

Tim is found by the older Titans, awake by now, though it seems Jason knocked him out to, uh, fuck with the memorial chamber, and Tim... does not beat around the bush. No secret identities here just “yeah, Jason Todd beat the shit out of me.” 

And their reactions are HILARIOUS. 

One more little sidebar, in the comic, Jason gets in with a D.N.A. check that never removed him from its permissions. Usually in fic this is a unique pass code. I’m not sure which version I like better, honestly. There’s something about Jason physically inputting a code that accepts him even though he’s supposedly dead that I really like, and just feels better than a dna scan. A dna scan sounds SAFER, sure, but there’s something about the Titans leaving in an honest SECURITY RISK out of sentiment that I like. 

Lastly, I really like how it ends. Jason honestly thinks Tim IS a good Robin, and it seems like Jason’s done some research on the core four, mentioning Tim’s “real friends” again while the “camera” is on Conner and Cassie, suggesting that Jason KNOWS about them and possibly that targeting the tower while they were gone maybe wasn’t an accident or out of convenience, but fully intentional. And again, Jason’s real problem is highlighted: he feels alone, forgotten, unmemorable, no family, no friends. 

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. 

[sheepfulsheepyardinspace]

I posted 1,677 times in 2021

61 posts created (4%)

1616 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 26.5 posts.

I added 4,551 tags in 2021

#sw - 1208 posts

#star wars - 849 posts

#space meme - 685 posts

#sw art - 529 posts

#darth anakin - 312 posts

#swtcw - 287 posts

#swtm - 255 posts

#ahsoka tano - 145 posts

#jedi - 144 posts

#mando - 137 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#will never convince me. becaus everything about padme’s character is that she is someone at 110% all of the time and that is classic anakin

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

[owen lars voice]: mr kenobi. mr kenobi please stop sobbing into my vaporators. there's a perfectly good patch of sand that u can lie facedown in. yeah. any other patch of desert that isnt my front door. please kenobi––yeah of course anakin called you that. that's ur fucking name. christ. god. please get off my lawn

1881 notes • Posted 2021-04-19 03:45:09 GMT

#4

yo nothing will EVER be as batshit in star wars as whatever the fuck was up with darth maul. no questions no answers. so he's split in half & falls down into a never-ending portal. ok, cool. following so far. & tHEN. not only does he miraculously SURVIVE THAT (???)––meanwhile, SOME sith have to have metal organs stuffed into their shellacked shells of life support slash body armor but maul gets straight up shishkebabed through all the important places in COMPLETE SEPARATE HALVES, & can just roll with it. ok. huh.––but THEN. he gets miraculously zoomed away from naboo like st. john's body flying through the winds to santiago de compostela all the way to a garbage dump ten feet underground on an entirely DIFFERENT PLANET, which. ok. inchresting. but NOT ONLY THAT, but maul SOMEHOW accumulates eight extra legs (8!!!! 4+4=8!!!! approximately six (6!!!!) more legs than he requires!!!!) to become some weird landfill mechanical spider amalgam with surprisingly great healthcare despite, y'know, the garbage dump situation. & AFTER TEN LONG YEARS OF LIVING IN A LITERAL HOLE, his long-lost brother (one of TWO long-lost brothers, may i point out) somehow FINDS him on this rando planet that is entirely garbage dump, in a hole, with eight legs, scrawling KENOBI!!!! on the wall in honest to god blood. ok so. one might think: well, where could we possibly go from here? perhaps a rehabilitation center? maury, to deal with the long-lost brother situation? a petting zoo? no. instead, darth maul spends a three-day weekend with a witch who does some bright green toxic joker sludge magic & is then raring to go and build a criminal empire with no after effects re: the vivisection, other then the whole frothing at the mouth KENOBI!!!!!! thing. did i fever dream this? maybe. possibly. what the absolute fuck

2384 notes • Posted 2021-05-13 01:08:46 GMT

#3

people keep saying "jedi r found family!!!" like these people chose each other. no. the infinitely more correct & funny thing is that the jedi order is made up of people who all grew up around each other from birth till death and all the awkward stages in between. this means that every single order member is simultaneously your best friend from preschool, your preschool teacher, that rando neighbor whose name u do not remember, your grandfather, your roommate, ur worst enemy from middle school, that group project member who u want to strangle, ur asshole math teacher, ur super cool older cousin, ur dad, ur son, ur brother, & ur grandfather. at the same time. why else do u think they’re all so bitchy

3040 notes • Posted 2021-07-25 05:38:15 GMT

#2

star wars: the clone wars drives me fucking nuts in a most magnificent way because it’s completely apeshit but also has to aggressively maintain the status quo. u’ve heard of “anakin can’t ever meet general grievous because of one throw away line in rots” but that bar is so low it’s in the center of the earth. nobody knows palpatine’s the sith lord until the final few minutes of rots, so goddamn it all no one will EVER know palpatine’s the sith lord in swtcw!!! palpatine could get on a twitch livestream and eat live babies while cackling maniacally and, miraculously, no one would notice. anakin has a brief, five-second blackout where he cameos as Thee darth vader while partying on mortis but as long as he’s mysteriously brainwashed at the end of the day it doesn’t count, right, dave? every single character not explicitly shown in rots has to be either a) killed b) disappeared into the void or c) personally launched into the sun by sheev palpatine. there’s not a man in a galaxy far, far away that can’t somehow fall prey to this looney tunes logic and/or phineas and ferb unbustable summer hijinks insanity. yoda’s gotta fuck off into his swamp vacay in shame while also somehow being a beloved pillar of the community so he has arcs like “clearly cannot read the room, feat. anakin” and “once again fails to comprehend the impact of trauma, feat. anakin” and “‘friends, are we not?’ feat. anakin”. here, in gffa circa swtcw era, Status Quo Is God. obi-wan could actually physically watch with his own eyes anakin descend into peak vadersanity, paint himself with blood, and declare himself sith lord supreme emperor of all bad things master of destruction & somehow still walk away with the conclusion that Anakin Is Stable And Doing Well! Better Than Great, Actually! anakin and padmé could fall through the roof of the jedi temple while having sex and shouting their marriage vows & it would turn out every single jedi had been sucked into the vacuum of space & conveniently missed the show. also, jar jar is there. welcome to groundhog day, space wizard style.

4425 notes • Posted 2021-06-17 12:12:10 GMT

#1

say whatchu will about the official jedi doctrine of Only Beige Tones and, believe me, i will. but the jedi really did rock the fuck out of beige. mace windu? who else can so eloquently say Don’t Fuck With Me in Premiere Pantone 15-1214 TCX Warm Sand™? can anybody else but shaak ti strut out in Entirely terracotta color palette yet still radiate Pure Working Single Mom Kick Ass Energy for millions of her clone sons? and who can forget obi-wan, who manages to be perfectly slutty—yet his v-necks are chastity-height and general style is mid-2000s suburban house demo? panache. pure, perfectly beige swag

6657 notes • Posted 2021-03-23 00:52:19 GMT

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[gellavonhamster]

ghost stories

Suicide Squad (2016) || characters: El Diablo feat. everyone else || post-canon, sort of a fix-it

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2016 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.  

Harley is the first to see him.

She catches the smell first. Something appears to be burning, and she checks cautiously if there is something wrong with the coffee machine. She doesn’t find anything suspicious – not that the appliances about to flame up smell like that anyway. Could it be that there’s a fire starting? That would be funny, but seems like there’s hardly a chance. It is the smell of a bonfire at the beach, of the fallen leaves being burned in the yards in fall, of a melting candle in the church; weirdly, all this at the same time. A smell that seems too pure for Belle Reve, for Gotham, for everything that makes up her life these days.      

Harley looks around once again – and springs to her feet like she’s been stung.

Chato Santana is standing next to her cage.

“Diablo?” she whispers, unable to believe her eyes. She would’ve thought she’s lost her marbles if there were any left to lose.    

“Harley,” says Diablo, and it’s his voice, his shy, sad smile, his eyes and his tattoos, and Harley squeals in delight as she rushes to him. The bars of the cage are live, so she only dares to stick out the tips of her fingers. He touches them with his hand – certainly alive, certainly not a product of her mind being tortured by boredom and monotony – and she laughs.

“You’re alive, alive, alive! How did you survive? And how did they let you in?”

“It’s a long story. And I don’t think I have much time,” Diablo looks guilty. He’s still holding her hand and looking at her so earnestly it’s almost worrying.  “Harley… don’t go with him.”  

“Huh? What do you mean, honey?”

“He’s coming here. Don’t leave with him, Harley, stay. It sounds strange, but this would really be for the best.”  

“Don’t leave with whom?” she can’t follow him. He gives her a melancholic look – and suddenly disappears. Without any smoke or flames or any other special effects. She can’t wrap her head around how it happened – it’s just that he was here a moment ago, and now there’s no one beside her, and she’s reaching out towards nothing.      

“Diablo?” she calls, and when she gets no answer, she decides to get things straight by asking the guards. What kind of cruel joke is this? Only one person is allowed to joke here, and that person is her. “Hello there! Mister jailer, yoo-hoo! Where’s my friend?”  

No one is in a hurry to respond. Finally, one of the armed-to-the-teeth guards approaches the cage.

“Why are you yelling, lady?”

“Where’s my friend?” Harley asks petulantly. “He was here just now, and we didn’t finish talking. Where did you take him?”  

“There was no one here.”

“What do you mean ‘no one’? I just talked to him!”

The guard examines her from head to foot. Looks like he’s chewing gum, which, combined with his empty apathetic stare, makes him look like a cow.

“Definitely crazy,” he sums up, and leaves. Irritated, Harley forgets to take caution, hits the bars and falls down on the floor right away, writhing in pain.    

“Well, well, well,” she whispers, playing the recent events over in her head. Chato was very much corporeal – not a ghost, then. Yet the guards didn’t notice him, and then he vanished into thin air. Harley thinks about the being Chato transformed into by the end of the battle – an ancient one, as if straight from the walls of some Aztec temple. Could some petty bomb kill such a being? Could the Enchantress’s brother have survived too?  

“I am friends with a god,” she informs the ceiling. “Incredible.”

About an hour later, her Puddin’ comes for her, and she forgets the advice Diablo gave her.  

  Croc sees him on the night of the same day. He knows for sure that it is night thanks to the TV listings – the only reference point for time and days of the week that he has. Not that it was bothering him too much, truth be told. Monday or Sunday, every day in Belle Reve is a carbon copy of the day before. However, Croc doesn’t complain. He has a roof over his head, water, food – even better food than he used to have in the sewers in days gone by – and a TV, and it is honestly not too hard to do without such extras as companionship and fresh experiences. Still, he is glad to see Diablo. Even though first he lunges at him with his fangs bared, because he doesn’t immediately recognize him and supposes that Waller and company are sick of feeding him and decided to kill him. Or to put someone else in his quarters, which would have been no less audacious.        

“Croc, it’s me,” Diablo hastens to say, and lights up a flame over his left palm – so unusual and out of place in the dampness of Croc’s cell. Croc freezes and watches the flame for some seconds. That must really be Diablo; there are hardly many people in the world capable of such tricks.

“Hey, man,” Croc says. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Just checking up on you.”

Well, that must definitely be Diablo. Croc knows that there are hardly many people in the world who’d care to check up on him, but that sounds like something El Diablo would do. Back then, during the mission, he was friendly, asked “You okay?” after each skirmish, and could clap him on the shoulder without shuddering. And there are definitely even less people in the world that would touch him willingly.      

“Did they just let you in like that?” wonders Croc. Diablo gives him a slight smile.

“They don’t know I’m here.”

“So you’re, like, a ghost?” Croc asks. It occurred to him from the very beginning, but it sounds particularly joyless when said out loud.

Diablo gestures vaguely. “I’m still figuring it out myself, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Croc glances over his cell. A bag of food on the cot catches his eye. “You want a burger?”

“Nah, I’m good. Save it for yourself.”

“They’ll bring more today, I’m telling ya.”  

“Then I want one.”

“Then you’re not a ghost,” grins Croc, and the fact that Diablo doesn’t flinch or try to look away also proves that this is the real Chato Santana, because most people don’t like seeing Croc smile.

And so he and Diablo, who kind of is a ghost but kind of isn’t, sit there eating burgers and watching some crap on MTV. Life has taught Croc not to be surprised by anything, so everything’s fine.  

“So what happened after the bomb went off?” Croc asks. Diablo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, apparently at a loss how to explain.

“I was smoke,” he speaks finally. “Then I was flames. Then I became myself again.”

“I see,” Croc replies, although, of course, he can’t see shit.

“Who are you talking to?” comes the guard’s voice from behind the door. “Hey, scum!”

Croc puts the burger aside.

“Wait a bit,” he tells Chato, gets up, and heads for the door.

When he comes to the bean hole, the guard already looks like he regrets calling him.  

“No one,” Crock smiles as widely as only he can, and the guard, who isn’t among the people able to watch him smile without blinking an eye, steps back reflexively. “But come inside, and I’ll talk to you if you wanna. How about that?”   

When he turns around, Chato has already disappeared, and Croc could have assumed he has dreamed it all, but there are two half-eaten burgers on the cot, not one.

  Digger sees him next, and he isn’t even amazed. The bastards keep drugging him with all sorts of shit to calm him down. Usually after the shot he just lies there, feverish, and can’t even move, let alone stand up, but who knows, perhaps they’re testing some new poison on him. Or they’ve started using something stronger because they noticed that a couple of hours after the usual stuff he’s already able to yell, bang at the door, and do everything he can to get the best of them while cooped up inside. Or it’s simply that there’s already so much of this shit in his blood that it’s impossible not to have any screws loose, try as he might to keep them in place. In any case, he’s not exactly shocked when, as he tosses and turns on the floor after another injection, he turns his head and sees El Diablo, large as life and twice as ugly.

“Fuck me sideways,” Digger says. He doesn’t have any energy to be mad yet. “I must be tripping.”

“You’re not tripping,” Diablo objects.

“You died. So I must be.”  

“I didn’t die either.”

Diablo sits down cross-legged on the floor next to him.

“Has it crossed your mind that if you stop getting on their nerves, they might start treating you better?” he asks.

“Go to hell.”

“Message received.”

There’s a footfall outside; a whole bunch of people must be running somewhere.

“They’ve turned the entire joint upside down,” says Digger, because it’s been ages since he has spoken to anyone who’d at least pretend to listen, so a hallucination will do. “Blondie escaped.”  

“I know,” Diablo replies gloomily. “I tried to warn her not to go with the Joker, but she didn’t listen to me.”  

“Why warn her?” Digger asks. Harley Quinn is no bosom friend of his, but she kind of tore out the heart of the witch who kind of tried to end the world, and anyway, teammates probably should take interest in each other’s lives. Probably. He’s never really made sense of that teamwork stuff. “What’s he gonna do to her?”    

“At best, what he always does.”

Two tiny figures of fire appear on Diablo’s open palm – a man and a woman. The man backhands the woman across her face, and she falls down. Digger watches the dancing flames with fascination, and meanwhile in his head, bit by bit, stroke by stroke, a plan starts to take shape. He wouldn’t be Captain motherfucking Boomerang if he fails to use any opportunity that turns up – even a ghost of one. 

“Listen, mate,” he begins cajolingly. “If you’re really here and it’s not just me tripping… help an old friend out, won’t you? I’m fed up with being stuck here, you know.”

“I’m not gonna help you escape,” Diablo says calmly. “How do you imagine that would even happen?”

“Can’t you just burn the entire Belle Reve to the bloody ground?”

Diablo smiles.

“I can,” he admits. “But I won’t.”

The next thing he knows, the son of a bitch is gone without a trace. Anger and offence must be giving Digger strength, because he manages to leap to his feet. Like a lunatic, he thrashes around the cell, looking for at least some kind of proof that someone else was here a moment ago.  

“Oi!” he shouts, knowing damn well that the guards have long stopped listening to what he has to say. “Grab the devil! A convict escaped! Hey, wankers!”  

But he’s feeling lightheaded, and this shit must be really strong, and he collapses, badly hitting his head.  

  Tatsu sees him next – late at night, in her apartment. She’s a light sleeper, and wakes up as soon as she hears footsteps. The sword is close at hand, and she grabs it instantly, blade swishing through the air.  

“Who’s there?” Tatsu asks, and then repeats in English. “Who’s there?”

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom. The only furniture is the mattress and the pair of chairs she uses to hang her clothes on. Everything is on the floor or on the windowsill – weapons, her laptop, the book she tried to read before going to sleep but could not concentrate on. It is an ascetic, comfortless dwelling that does not look permanent and is not supposed to become so. Fate and Amanda Waller, though, seem to have other plans in this respect.  

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom – but someone’s definitely walking in the antechamber; she flings the door open – and sees El Diablo, standing by the entrance and looking around. In a blink of an eye Tatsu is next to him, and the blade of the Soultaker is pressed to his neck.  

“Katana, it’s me,” Diablo says, unfazed. “Chato Santana.”

“Chato Santana is dead,” she says through her teeth. Chato Santana was a gangster who killed, albeit by a tragic accident, his own family – but she fought side by side with him, he sacrificed himself to save the world, he called their squad his family and died for them. That is enough for her not to let anyone use his name as a cover. “Who are you?”    

“I’m alive,” Diablo replies. He puts his hands up to show he’s unarmed, and forks of flame appear on his palms. “Or sort of.”  

Sort of.

Tatsu lowers the sword and looks warily at the man standing in front of her.

“How did you…”

“You’re gonna have a new mission soon. Demand that Waller tells you everything.”

“About what?”

“I couldn’t overhear that,” he says with regret. “But…”

Something knocks on the window. Tatsu turns around quickly, but that must’ve been just a tree branch hitting the windowpane. When she turns back to Chato, he’s already gone, and her apartment is silent.

It’s just four in the morning, but she can’t make herself fall asleep again. Having poured a cup of tea, Tatsu sits down on the mattress and thinks, think, thinks about what just happened. Tatsu believes in ghosts – her sword is teeming with them, so she wouldn’t say that her worldview is shaken. Still, this is strange, very strange. What did he want to tell her? Why did he disappear so abruptly? Like… a broadcast was interrupted.    

Colonel Flag calls her at daybreak and tells her that there’s a shoot-out between two gangs on the outskirts of Gotham, with metahumans on both sides. When Tatsu arrives at Belle Reve, it turns out they must have considered it to be not enough to ruin her Saturday morning, because she is asked – more like ordered, actually – to escort an inmate from his cell, an inmate who attacks anyone who tries to enter and has already injured three guards with his bare hands, and it’s not reasonable to sedate him before the mission, and “he’s likely to obey if it’s you, Katana” – the last is Rick’s argument, and if he told that to her face and not on the phone, she would have had to strain every nerve not to hit him with something.    

No one tries to attack her when she enters the cell of Captain Boomerang – Harkness is sitting on the floor quite still, his arms around his knees, and when he notices her, he even smiles with bruised lips.  

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says. “Am I hallucinating you too?”

“No,” the question is unexpected and confuses her. “Why?”

“Well, they keep injecting me some crap, and lately I’ve been seeing things,” Harkness explains peacefully, even eagerly. His voice is quiet and hoarse, which, combined with his Australian accent, leads to Tatsu being barely able to make out half of what he’s saying. To hear him better, she crouches down next to him, still gripping the sword hilt – there is no telling if he isn’t just making her come closer to take her down and bolt. “Saw the devil yesterday.”      

“The devil?”

“Our devil. Día… de fucking Muertos. Chato Santana.”

Tatsu gives a shiver and, having lost her balance, half sits down, half falls on the dirty floor.

She isn’t the only one to have seen him. She isn’t the only one he wanted to send a message to.

“Hey, luv,” Harkness frowns and reaches out to touch her knee lightly. “You all right?”  

“Same as you, more or less,” she wants to reply, which of course would mean she isn’t, not at all.

“What did he tell you?” she asks him instead.

  When Floyd sees him, he is hardly surprised, since the others have already warned him. Boomerang, Croc, and Katana tell him everything while they’re waiting for the helo, and had it been just Boomerang, who believes inexplicably that he has a sense of humour although he certainly doesn’t, Floyd most likely wouldn’t have believed his ghost stories, but it is even harder to believe that Croc, let alone Katana would agree to take part in such pranks. Which is why he listens to them closely and takes note: okay, then he doesn’t have to worry about his mental heath if the late Santana suddenly appears out of nowhere to give some advice or share some news or simply ask how he’s doing. So the four of them keep whispering to one another like kids at the back of the class until their transport arrives – just the four of them, which is a pity. If there is anyone on the team that he had missed a little, it’s Harley. Floyd knows some things about the Joker, for it isn’t possible, as they write in the papers, to belong to the criminal world of Gotham and not know anything about the Joker. Floyd knows what Flag had spilled to him when visiting him in his cell or escorting him there after a visit to Zoe. Floyd thinks that in his entire lifetime he hasn’t understood a thing about love – is it even possible to understand it, on the other hand? – but he feels like the mad and brilliant Harley, Harley the whimsical, Harley the loving deserves better.                

“What’s with the gossiping?” Flag inquires suspiciously.  

“Nothing!” Croc and Digger answer in unison, in unison, and Floyd facepalms because seriously, are they in some cheesy movie or what? They don’t tell Flag anything yet, but Floyd is almost sure that sooner or later Santana will visit him as well, because Flag is one of them too, after all. Not that he’s even trying to deny it; no one’s making him drop by Floyd’s cell every other day to chat about some nonsense through the steel door.          

So Floyd is hardly surprised when, as he makes his way behind the dumpsters loading one gun after another, he notices a familiar, head-to-toe-tattooed figure standing nearby.  

“There are snipers on the roof over there and around the corner of the shop,” Chato says instead of greeting. Floyd nods.

“I noticed.”

“Eight men in the drugstore on the other side of the street. Each with a machine gun.”  

“How do you know?”

“I’ve just been there.”

“Got it,” there’s no time for lengthy conversations. No time to say: glad you’re alive, man. No time to ascertain: are you alive, though? So he thinks over the plan of action, making a mental note to ask all these questions later, when there are no bullets whistling past their ears.  

People like them deserve no guardian angels, frankly speaking, but they may have managed to earn one for all of them.

[another-cancer]

Day 11, July 19th Enemy Mine

“What the hell Hood?”

“Let go Replacement, the enemy is mine.”

/// 

After they returned to the hospital they barely talked. Not because they didn’t want to, but because neither of the two knew how. Jason was so fucking terrified of anything that could possibly happen if he said anything. Meanwhile, Marinette was noticing a lot of changes and was too afraid to ask.

As days passed and Marinette was able to handle herself better, Jason started disappearing leaving her alone. It was in complete contrast to his watchful eyes when they first returned. She was no longer treated like a delicate flower, but as an independent person. Marinette truly felt she was somewhere in between. She still needed the help. She needed someone to communicate with. She needed Jason.

But he wasn’t there.

One night when Jason got home Marinette took the opportunity to ask, “Where’s Adrien?”

Jason’s eyes went wide. It had been eight days and neither of them had mentioned Adrien at all. He never told her what happened at the hospital, it was all too fresh.

‘ She is the love of my life.’ Adrien made it all complicated. Because Adrien cared too much for her and that scared him. Jason was terrified that Marinette still loved Adrien. Jason considered that maybe he is the second choice. And he didn’t want to lose Marinette, but that was selfish. He was selfish.

“I- I screwed up. At the hospital, I made him leave, he left the city. He left a note for you, I should have shown you it, but I didn’t want you to stress- But I was too busy being an asshole. It’s in my nightstand. I didn’t read it or anything”

“Oh,” that was all she was able to say in return.

But Jason had more to say, “He knows we got married, I told him, that’s how I was able to stay in the hospital, I’m sorry.”

Jason gathered himself and walked out the door.

Marinette stood there and watched wanting to stop him, but not having the words to do it. Instead, she made her way to the note. Finding it right where he had said, a tiny post-it tucked away from sight.

‘Dear Marinette,

I’m sorry I left so suddenly, during a time you probably need all the support. I had some things to figure out and your apartment probably wouldn’t be the best place to figure it all out. Knowing Jason he’s probably already taken the blame for me leaving. It wasn’t his fault. It was no ones.

I still love you, and I think I always will in some capacity. But I don’t want to drag my feelings in your path to happiness, I need to deal with them back in France. I’ve known you’ve loved Jason since the first time I ever visited you in Gotham, I’m not even sure you knew. Maybe I was selfish for not telling you, but I have a feeling you know it now. M’Lady you’re going to get better. And when you’re better you should tell Jason how you feel.

Do what makes you happy, Marinette.

The one and only,

Princess’ Kitty’

Before she even realized it the tears were rolling down her face right onto the note. Marinette curled up into a ball and sobbed. Finally feeling everything she had held since Hawkmoth's first attack. For the first time in over eight years, she felt safe enough to cry alone. Marinette allowed herself to mourn, be angry, and regret.

She missed her days in Paris moonlighting as a superhero, she regretted taking up the mantle. She was angry at Gabriel, Lila, Jason, everyone who left her. She understood why they left. She was conflicted. But she was at peace.

Sobbing violently on the floor she was finally at peace with the past eight years. And that was how Tim found her.

“Marinette,” he had entered the apartment through a living room window that had been left unlocked despite the paranoid humans living in the apartment.

Hearing Tim’s voice she calmed herself, “I’m okay,” she said.

“But you were just-”

“Yeah, I just- It felt nice to cry again.”

“I’ve seen you cry, that’s not it, that is sobbing.”

“I haven’t cried alone in over eight years, let me have my moment,” she said, wiping away the tears, “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Yeah,” Tim began, recalling an interaction he had with Jason earlier in the evening.

///

As soon as he left the apartment Jason decided to patrol. He had been increasing his patrol since Marinette left the hospital determined to make the city safer. Joker had already been caught, but there were still so many petty crimes around him that needed to be stopped. Robbers, muggers, traffickers, drug lords.

Jason had been even harsher on crime than he had in years.

He had a lot of anger to let out, anger towards the Joker, anger towards himself, and even anger towards Adrien. Patrol was a good way to let a controlled amount of anger out.

Until he saw it.

A man was trying to kidnap a dark-haired woman, and all he saw was green. He felt something he hadn’t since meeting Marinette, the pit. His anger was no longer controlled as he dropped down into the alleyway right on top of the man.

“Run!” Jason screamed at the woman.

He punched the man repeatedly. Blood was visible, but all he saw was the Joker's face. Feet thumped behind him and his punch was interrupting.

“What the hell Hood?”

“Let go Replacement, the enemy is mine.”

Tim heard it in his voice. It was terrifying, he left immediately.

///

“Fuck you should have started with that,” Marinette said getting up, “Where the fuck is he?”

Tim gave her directions as she rushed out of the building with him in tail.

“Wait, you're going to get a cold!” Tim shouted as he followed with her jacket in hand.

“I’ll be fine, Jay on the other hand is about to murder someone.”

The two ran through the streets of Gotham to Jason’s location. Marinette followed by Red Robin, thankfully there weren’t too many onlookers. When they found Jason the area was abandoned with the man he was hitting unconscious.

“JASON PETER TODD WAYNE,” her voice boomed, “you need to stop.”

When she was close everything was always better, he could feel the pit dwindling away. Jason was becoming more conscious about his actions. Pixie was standing there and told him to stop. He stopped.

Tim raced over to check for a pulse and breathing.

“He’s still alive. I'll call the cops you two get out of here. I’ll meet you back at the apartment.”

Marinette grabbed Hood’s bloody gloves and took off dragging him along, only stopping to make a quick costume change. Once back in the apartment Jason gave Marinette a big hug.

“I’m so sorry Pixie,” he sobbed into her.

“Just don’t do that again, okay? Seeing you over his body,” it sent a chill down her spine as she thought back to Paris.

“I think I need to get out of town for a couple of days, I need to get my shit together and then I’ll be back, for your death date and then we can just talk I promise.”

“Okay,” she cried a bit as he held her.

When Tim got back, he was gone.

“He’s leaving town for a couple of days,” she said.

“Oh, are you-”

“I think it’s a good thing, but um would you mind staying till he gets back? I just don’t want to be alone.”

Maybe it was a regression from her newly found peace, maybe she just wasn’t ready. But she didn’t want to be lonely.

“Of course Mari.”

He settled into the spot on the sofa next to her.

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