#Cass: says you were seventeen
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It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader
Requested: yes!
Warnings: insecurity
Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.
Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone
“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.
“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.
“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.
“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”
“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”
“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel.
Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.
Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.
The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.
“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”
“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”
Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”
“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”
You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”
Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?
As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.
“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”
He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.
“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”
“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”
He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”
“But the media…”
“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”
You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”
“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”
“Miss you too, Westley.”
You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.
“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”
Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.
The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.
And it was Nightwing blue.
“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.
“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.
“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.
“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.
Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @bunny-kawa @khaylin27
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Past Mistakes Part Twenty: Bad News - Mike Duarte x Reader (feat: Joe Velasco)
Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @resonmalvo @@littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @rosaliedepp @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx
Past Mistakes Series:
Part One: Try - Mike turns back up in your life after three years apart.
Part Two: Hope (NSFW) - Mike and you get reaquainted.
Part Three: California - Mike and you discuss the past.
Part Four: Favours - Mike asks Liv for a favour.
Part Five: Choices - Mike comes face to face with someone from his past.
Part Six: Truth Hurts - Mike begs you to tell him the truth about what happened three years ago.
Part Seven: Sharing - Mike and Joe have a conversation.
Part Eight: Buried - Mike discovers that McGrath’s misdeeds go far futher than he thought.
Part Nine: Complicated - Mike discusses moving forward.
Part 10: Feral - Mike returns to the apartment to find you’ve disappeared.
Part Eleven: Torture - You wake up in the basement.
Part Twelve: Fire - You and Joe discuss moving forward.
Part Thirteen: Lost Time - You and Mike get real on his porch.
Part Fourteen: Plan B - Mike always has a plan B.
Part Fifteen: Proud - Mike tells you how proud he is of what you’re doing.
Part Sixteen: Mattituck (NSFW) - You show Mike how much you love him.
Part Seventeen: Seven - Joe makes a discovery.
Part Eighteen: Patterns - Benson and Murphy discover the reality of McGrath’s misdeeds.
It’s done.
The case has been handed over to Carisi and the indictment comes down tomorrow. All of the work they’ve undertaken over the past few months finally comes to fruition. There’s no more subterfuge or embargoes there’s just the reality of the situation laid out on a whiteboard in the incident room they’ve been working out of since this whole thing started.
Joe stands before it with his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze studying each picture of the victims. There are eight of them including you.
You’d assumed you were just another victim in the long line of women that McGrath had assaulted but you weren’t, you were the catalyst, you were Victim Zero.
Yours was the crime that McGrath emulated over and over again, perfecting his technique because he hadn’t managed to succeed the first time.
Joe’s eyes come to rest upon McGrath’s final victim.
Number Eight: Detective Cass Matthews.
She’d committed suicide by overdosing in a motel in Bronx last month, because she hadn’t wanted her sister to find the body. Laura had come forward not long after Cass’s death, submitting a complaint because Cass had told her she was being repeatedly assaulted by one of her superiors, she just hadn’t said which one.
The thing is straight after the first attack, the one where McGrath had injured Cass so badly, she’d had to tell her Captain she was mugged, she had gone to the hospital. She’d had a rape kit completed, there were photographs of her injuries. She hadn’t wanted to press charges, so Bronx SVU had let it slip through the cracks.
Cass’s sister had given Joe permission to run the kit. He wasn’t surprised when the results came back to McGrath. He hadn’t bothered using protection, he’d had a vasectomy years ago, Joe remembers him complaining about it after he’d knocked his wife up for the third time.
Joe doesn’t say anything when Murphy enters the room. He’s too busy thinking about all the lives that have been destroyed by his former mentor, how McGrath had sat there and told him it was all consensual, that each and every woman had wanted him. He’d seen the pictures of what he’d done to Cass that night, the bruising on her arms and legs, her throat, her mouth. He knows what violence looks like.
“I’ve called Duarte, let them know the indictment’s coming down tomorrow.” Murphy informs Joe, his hands coming to rest on either side of him as he leans back against the desk.
“I guess we won’t be the only ones losing sleep tonight.” Joe says quietly as he tilts his head towards Murphy. “What they went through… What they’re going to go through…”
Joe shakes his head because it isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to be raked over the coals by McGrath’s lawyer, you shouldn’t have to relive the most traumatic moments of your life in front of an entire courtroom because the bastard refuses to admit what he’s done.
“It’s a means to an end.” Murphy says knowingly. “It’s shitty and-”
He’s cut off by the sound of a gunshot. It erupts through the building with a loud retort, the boom echoing through the quiet corridors. Murphy’s already in motion, his hand on his own weapon as he rushes out of the door.
Joe doesn’t bother to follow.
There’s a heaviness in him because he knows where the gunshot came from, what Murphy will find when he steps inside McGrath’s office. He doesn’t want to see that, the brains of his previous mentor splattered across his desk. There’s a bitterness in his mouth because yet again McGrath has escaped justice and Joe just can’t stomach it.
It’s a couple of hours later that he picks up the phone, he watches McGrath’s body being wheeled out in a black bag as his thumb hovers over Duarte’s number.
It rings three times before Duarte picks up.
“Velasco,” He says, his voice rough from sleep. “I take it you have bad news.”
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#mike duarte#law and order svu#svu#law and order special victims unit#maurice compte#mike duarte x reader#joe velasco#mike duarte x you#captain mike duarte
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Besties
A/N: apparently this can't be considered a drabble cause it's like 1.6k words or smth like that, so I'm tagging people since some complained about not getting tagged
She kept her eyes on him as he paced her living room, a hand fisting his long hair and the other hidden in his jacket's pocket. With the way his feet were dragging on the floor every time he turned around to go back and forth, she thought he might reach the foundation of the building.
The picture was kinda comical and she'd have laughed at her best friend if he hadn't stormed into her apartment thirty seconds ago with a lethal expression on his face and seeming the most pissed off she'd ever seen him.
Nesta was waiting for him to talk, knowing full well that if she pushed him before he was ready to do so himself, they'd end up screaming at each other.
She sipped her tea, clutching the mug between her ice cold hands, her eyes never leaving his tormented figure, wondering why he had been ignoring her texts and call all day.
They were at an honest ten meter distance—her, sitting on a stool in her kitchen, him, digging a path in her living room—but she could still see the anger etched in his features.
Nesta arched a brow, glancing at the thermostat on her kitchen wall when a breeze of cold hair hit her, making her shiver. She was about to get up to turn up the heat when he exploded.
"What the fuck was that?!"
Nesta startled, almost dropping the mug in her hands. She frowned, sitting back down, but straightening her shoulders, readying for battle.
"What was what, exactly?"
Nesta kept a mellow tone, hoping her friend would take on her silent advice to calm his raging emotions.
Cassian was furious, though, and his eyes were blazing with something wild. His breathing shallow as he weighted his next words. Careful, then—scared of what her reaction would be to whatever he'd just unleashed on them.
That caught her full attention.
They didn't tiptoe around each other like this. They never had in their seventeen years of friendship.
Cassian breathed in through his nostrils, clenching and unclenching his hands.
"I saw you, after the game. At the party." He grumbled, his voice rough, as if it pained him to say those words.
Nesta slightly nodded, starting to play with the ring on middle finger. The one he had gifted her for her 18th birthday. His eyes traced the movement and quickly slid back to hers.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
He took a step towards, then halted and ran a hand down his face. Cassian looked at her and then covered his eyes, turning to the window as his body trembled.
"I saw you with Helion."
Nesta's heart stopped in her chest and started beating wildly the following second.
Cassian kept his back to her as he leaned over the desk she kept right under the window, as if he physically couldn't keep himself up.
"I saw you kissing him," he went on, his voice breaking.
Nesta opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Never, in their almost-twenty years of knowing each other, had they come this close to confess. And she had not seen this coming.
Not today. Not ever.
"And I know– fuck," he brought a hand to his face, pinching his eyes. "I know we're not– I know whatever we're doing isn't exclusive or anything like that. Shit, I know it, okay?"
He still wouldn't look at her and even if Nesta though she was a pro at reading him after all this time, it came hard to her to do so when everything he was saying made no sense to her.
"I guess I just thought this time," Cassian stopped again, took a deep breath. Another one.
When he turned to lean against the desk with his hip, Nesta was stunned to see his eyes red with unwashed tears.
Stunned, to recognize those same feelings flickering in her chest mirrored on his face.
"Cass," she whispered, putting her feet down and standing up.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, "I think I believed this time things were different. And seeing you kissing him... it broke me."
That's why he'd been avoiding her. He hadn't been nursing a hangover. He hadn't been hanging out with his team, as he normally did after a big game.
He'd been actively ignoring her calls.
"I don't..." she said, eyes bulging as words failed her once again.
Cassian smiled sadly at her, shaking his head.
"I know you don't," he whispered as they looked at each other. He held her stare for a tiny bit longer, as if trying to imprint her image in his brain.
As if he was scared this was the last time he got to look at her.
When he closed his eyes and turned to the side, Nesta felt sick to her stomach.
She didn't really hear herself talk when she said, "No."
Cassian's eyes snapped back to her. And this time, they gave her strength, and she let him see.
See, for the first time, what she felt for him.
She tentatively stepped closer to him, a hand on the table to help her keep her balance.
"No, you don't know," Nesta murmured. "You don't know shit."
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Her words, from just mere minutes ago.
They were such clueless motherfuckers.
An unexpected, disbelieving laugh escaped her control and she was surprised to feel tears gather.
"Oh my god, you really don't know shit, Cassian."
He was getting visibly frustrated by the second.
She smiled, bringing a hand to her chest, "I only kissed him cause I saw you dancing with Danika."
His lips parted.
"He offered me a shot, cause he knows what seeing you with her made me feel. I got tipsy. I kissed him because I couldn't stand looking at you with someone else." Realization dawned on her then and she took a confident step forward. "And he pushed me away, saying I was being an idiot. Cause he has to know what you feel for me."
Cassian gaped, his forehead wrinkled.
She breathed out a laugh, placing her trembling hands on his chest, and his own, instinctively, reached for them, holding her there.
His heart was beating impossibly fast. Matching hers.
Nesta's words came out wobbly then, "We're so fucking stupid."
"I'm not sure I understand what's going on here," he said.
She smiled, "I think this is the moment where we realize we love each other."
Cassian heaved, sagging. His eyes filled with tears and he closed them, leaning down. His lips brushed her forehead, tentatively, seeing if she'd back down.
Nesta only pressed against him, pushing her face into the crook of his neck. Leaving a kiss there.
His entire body shuddered at the contact.
"Nes."
"I'm sorry," she said.
He shook his head, "I'm sorry."
She pulled back enough that she could look him in the face and when his lips turned up, she took it as an invitation.
The kiss was soft, gentle.
Two best friends that had waited way too long for it to happen.
His lips caressed hers and her tongue ran over his mouth, making him moan. His hands went to her waist, clutching her tight. Hers slid up his chest, framed his face and pulled him down firmly to her.
Cassian mumbled something in the kiss and she detached herself shortly just to ask, "what?"
She went back in, more fiercely than before, not really giving him the chance to repeat himself.
When he chuckled on her lips, pulling away, she let go of his cheeks, slipping her hands in his hair, scratching at his scalp. His breaths came out shaky.
"I said," he kissed her again. "I said, I hate you so much."
The words gave her whiplash and she pulled away, searching for his eyes.
That wasn't really what you expected your brand new boyfriend to whisper during your first kiss.
His hands didn't let her go too far as he fastened his hold on her. Not that she had intended to go any further than this, anyway.
She'd heard the irony behind his words, but still she couldn't ignore the hint of truth there.
"What? Why?"
Cassian laughed, very little amusement in the sound.
"Why?" He repeated. "Girl, I've been taking you out for months now and you didn't even notice."
Nesta tilted her head, sincerely confused.
"No, you haven't?"
"Mh, yes, I have?"
She shook her head, "I swear, you haven't. Must have been your other bitch, I'm telling you."
He rolled his eyes, now glimmering with mischief, "I have no other bitch, dumbass."
Nesta bit her lip, "I still have zero idea what dates you're talking about."
"Oh, c'mon," he complained, brushing his mouth over her cheek. Then the other. Then her own mouth. Before she could catch his lisp in hers, he continued. "I took you to Lily's every Friday. And every time I thought I'm gonna kiss her tonight, I'll do it. But then you'd suggest we went to whatever party the others threw and we never really had a moment for each other at those."
Nesta wanted to punch him.
"Let me get this clear," she started. "You wanted me to somehow catch up on the fact that the very platonic outings we've been going on for the past ten years since you got your license, turned into dates—in your head—and when nothing really changed, in the way you asked me on them, in the way I accepted to come, you thought I'd just randomly know they were actual dates?"
Cassian blinked at her. And nodded. He had the nerve to nod.
"Oh, fuck you, Navarro," she laughed.
He smirked, fire lighting his eyes.
"With pleasure."
acotar taglist (if you wanna be added or removed, you dm me or send an ask)
@my-fan-side @superspiritfestival @simpingfornestaarcheron @the-regal-warrior @princess-rumi-blog1 @live-the-fangirl-life @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @ghostlyrose2 @bookstantrash @lordof-bloodshed @nahthanks @sannelovesreading @courtofjurdan @imagine-me @moodymelanist @dread3r @sv0430 @mariamuses @leiawritesstories @thewayshedreamed @duskandstarlight @letstakethedawn @perseusannabeth
#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#this was wayyyy shorter in my head#im sorry?#not that i think youll care#whatever#enjoy#please keep in mind im literally writing them on my phone and directly on here which never really happens#so if for whatever reason you notice theyre shit#its cause nobody read them before i pressed post#not even i
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Can you tell us more about Damian please?
Also, how is his relationship with Bruce?
Okay, so this is kind of complicated.
So Damian is well… Damian. I grew up with him as my younger brother. I became Batgirl when I was sixteen and Robin/Damian was already ten. He was still seriously struggling with his relationship with Bruce.
Damian and Bruce both have a lot of anger issues and is easily overwhelmed and frustrated. Bruce has dealt with it for years but still struggles a lot more with his anger. Damian has grown up with a much better support system than Bruce did, and therefore has been actually dealing with his trauma and anger more. So while they don’t always get along, they have that strained father and child relationship growing up. It wasn’t until kind of recently, now that Damian is seventeen, that he has been more forgiving and understanding, especially towards Bruce.
But Damian was still a little sh*t. Think youngest child but times three. Love him tho. But yeah, he has a much better relationship now with Bruce than he did as a kid. As a kid, it was always strained and kind of awkward with one another. Like they didn’t know how to act with each other or were low key mad at each other at all times. But it’s better now and they’re pretty close. Sorry I hope this helps. ♥️
If you have any specific questions about Damian, I’ll be happy to answer. I’m just not exactly sure of what to say. He’s a little brat, a bit spoiled. But really efficient and funny tbh. He’s super serious when it comes to dating or if anyone is dating any of his sisters (Stephanie, Cass, and I). Like he will go undercover/follow the dates. He has no problem threatening/embarrassing people if he doesn’t like them. He’s a great Robin, very stubborn about certain things. He has a bit of OCD, especially when it comes to his art supplies or animals (things he’s very extreme about). Loves tea, dislikes (but not hate) coffee. He prefers spicy food. He loves the colors of green and blue. He likes manga and comic books, (Jon and I introduced him to it). He loves hiking. He likes small gifts, like a book, pencils, small plants, etc. He named all the plants with me in my garden. Prefers sketching/drawing and painting. He’s grown up a lot and much more mature (less stubborn/more trustful) now. He’s one of my favorite brothers tbh. (Does gloat about that). Once gave him a small, green adventurine crystal (‘cause I collect crystals) and he threw it at Tim.
Please feel free to ask any more questions. ♥️
#reality shifting#shifting#shifting to dc universe#dc universe#shifting to marvel#shifting to desired reality#damian wayne#shifting to my dr#shifting realities
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Character: Ariel Cassidy
𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.
Name: Ariel Cassidy aka DJ Cass
Eye color: Hazel
Hair style / color: Toffee-auburn. Usually short.
Height: 6'2"
Clothing style: Athleisure
Best physical feature: Most people that have seen him shirtless say his shoulders/chest. The rest say his smile.
𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.
Your fears: “Being a vampire."
Your guilty pleasure: “Oral.”
Your ambitions for the future: “Tomorrowland.”
𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺.
Your first thoughts waking up: “Do I have food in the fridge.”
What you think about most: “My music.”
What you think about before bed: “What I gotta do tomorrow.”
What you think your best quality is: “My energy.”
𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻’𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹?
Single or group dates: “Depends on the person, don't it?”
To be loved or respected: “If my lover don't respect me, what's the point?”
Beauty or brains: “Beauty hooks but it don't keep.”
Dogs or cats: “Both? But I don't want any.”
𝑫𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼…
Lie: “Who doesn't?”
Believe in yourself: “Try to.”
Believe in love: “Most of the time I just see lust.”
Want someone: “Yeah. Definitely.”
𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑵…
Been on stage: “All the time!”
Done drugs: “Yeahhhh.”
Changed who you were to fit in: "Not really. I don't think so."
𝑭𝑨𝑽𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑺.
Favorite color: “Purple.”
Favorite animal: “Uh... I don't think I got one.”
Favorite movie: “Go.”
Favorite book: “Don't hate me, I don't have one.”
Favorite game: “MMA count? Resident Evil, then.”
𝑨𝑮𝑬.
Day your next birthday will be: “July 29th!”
How old will you be: “Twenty-eight.”
Age you lost your virginity: "Seventeen.”
𝑰𝑵 𝑨 𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵.
Best personality: “Being able to just let go and have fun.”
Best eye color: “I've dated people with all colors.”
Best hair color: “Same with hair.”
Best thing to do with a partner: "Rated G answer is dance."
𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬.
I love: “music.”
I feel: “dreamy.”
I hide: “what I am.”
I miss: “not having tinnitus.”
I wish: “I can see him again.”
Taken from: @violeteyedkiller
Tagging: @askprofessorx (Charles, Piper, Cadie) @thehighlandhealer (Bronwyn, Callum, and Rohan) @lady-llewellyn @mournus (Mai, Nachim, Sean) @sugaraddictedarchangel @batteredoptimist @musecaravan (Two of your choice) @beastbitten @itsanemptytomb @vampireadam
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In The Wrong Bed?
Daminette
Ao3
Part 8
“Oh, now you know where she lives!” Jason rejoiced. “So she won’t be able to run away from you.” He added approvingly. “Just to another continent, to which there are only a few steps through the Z-tube!”
“Have you met her parents yet?” Inquired Dick. “Then smiled at Damian’s dumbfounded face and his half-naked appearance with understanding. “Oh, right!”
“I would like to see how that girl kicked him out of her bed.” Tim smirked.
“She didn’t kick me out of her bed!” Damian protested. “For your information, she… she…” He trailed off.
Damian didn’t want to share Marinette snuggling up to him in her sleep with his nasty brothers. Besides, talking to them was like testifying in court. Anything you say can be (and it definitely will be) used against you…
“I told you they finally got along!” Jason exclaimed smugly. “Well done, Dami-brat, that’s my boy!” Then he added in a conspiratorial tone. “Is she a good kisser?”
“She’s not… We’re not… It’s none of your business!” Damian snapped, turned around and walked towards his room.
He heard a friendly male laughter behind his back.
Whatever, Damian thought without looking back, let them gossip as much as they want. For him, the conversation was over.
*
Damian entered his room and was about to close the door behind him when Casandra hurriedly caught up with him and stopped in the doorway.
“How long do you think it will last?” She asked in a low voice, turning back into the hallway as if checking to see if she was being followed.
“What exactly?” Damian asked, frowning.
“The effect of this Akuma-thing.” The girl explained.
She seemed to already know the whole story, although her reaction to the bed stir in Damian’s life was rather unusual.
Of course, the situation itself was also unusual, but...
They were the same age, and although issues of bodily relations between a man and a woman were usually vividly perceived by seventeen-year-old teenagers – with all their hormonal crises – both Damian and Cassandra were distinguished by sufficient calmness in this respect due to childhood spent in the League of Assassins, albeit for different reasons.
Damian was trained to control his emotions and keep girls at a safe distance so they couldn’t influence his decisions. And the situation with Marinette, that happened so suddenly and included a beautiful girl
constantly visiting his bed, knocked him out of the loop. So now it touched him too closely for him not to react.
But Cass was usually not embarrassed by such discussions.
She understood human reactions too well for that, often better than people themselves understood them. The cruel, but very particular training she received as a child, lost and rebuilt again, gave her unique ability to read the human body like an open book, so that all teenage reactions were deeply understandable to her, natural and therefore didn’t affect her emotionally so much.
But her red face downstairs and obvious embarrassment now indicated a high emotional involvement.
Maybe she was embarrassed that such a situation was happening to her brother?
“I don’t know.” Damian replied, slightly frustrated that his family didn’t want to leave him alone. “‘Adam and Eve woke up together wherever they went,’ they said, but they didn’t say how long that lasted.” He explained. “It will probably stop when the Akuma gets caught.” The boy added with a slight annoyance.
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around impatiently, then looked back at Cass, realizing that unlike his brothers, who only teased him, she asked appropriate questions as if she really cared.
“You like her.” Cassandra said with a soft smile.
It wasn’t a question, and lying about his feelings and body reactions to his sister of all people was useless, so Damian just sighed.
“I think this Akuma picks people who are perfect for us.” She said, “In every meaning.”
“What do you mean ‘for us’?” Damian raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“That is, for those whom they hit…” A blush lit up on Cass’s cheeks once more.
Here it was again!
Always direct and confident in her rightness and loyalty, this girl usually didn’t feel embarrassed when talking about other people.
Maybe something happened while she was in China?
“At least you know where she lives.” Cass sighed and left his room as Damian continued looking after her in confusion.
*
Damian woke up first.
As he expected, he was in Marinette’s bed again. Only this time he was more prepared.
Yesterday he smuggled the uniform into his room and went to sleep dressed as Robin. Marinette already saw him anyway, but at least he could get to the Parisian Z-tube faster this morning, using his devices.
Damian lay on his back, admiring how Marinette lay buried in his arms as if she fell asleep while climbing up at him. She rested her head on his chest and pressed her whole body against Damian, wrapping her arm and leg around him.
She muttered something unintelligible in her sleep and Damian involuntarily pulled her closer, pressing the girl tighter to him, completely tenderhearted by the picture he was contemplating.
It was Saturday and maybe her alarm wouldn’t go off for a while, or not at all, and no one would come to wake her up, and he could stay with her a little longer while she was sleeping...
Marinette smiled in her sleep and the boy couldn’t help smiling back, even though her smile wasn’t meant for him...
“Dami...” She muttered quietly while continuing to smile.
Damian’s eyes opened wide under his mask and his heart seemed to stop.
He took a deep breath and froze, afraid to move, despite how much he wanted to pinch himself to make sure he was awake.
Could she… see him in her dreams? But she… she… said she never wanted to see him again… and… she… slept in his T-shirt again… and just whispered his name in her sleep…
His heart decided that it was okay to beat again and began to beat with a vengeance and Damian felt his breathing quicken as his whole being was seized with excitement.
Meanwhile Marinette stretched sweetly and opened her eyes.
*
Marinette opened her eyes, raised herself a little and stared at the boy in her bed.
He was wearing that mask again, she thought irritably, and she couldn't see his eyes...
Then she suddenly realized that today he wasn’t sleeping – his body was tense and his breathing was clearly not sleepy, and she was almost sitting astride him!..
Marinette abruptly moved away from him to the other side of the bed, but didn’t get off it. After all, it was her bed, and it was Damian who must leave this time.
Marinette opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but instead said something completely different.
“You’re wearing your stupid cosplay pajamas again!” She said indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
He was wearing a mask the last morning when she woke up at his house. Yesterday he was sleeping and his eyes were closed, so today she will not see his green eyes for the third day in a row!
“It’s not pajamas!” Damian grumbled, sitting up in her bed, but not in a hurry to get out of it. “It’s a uniform!”
“For what?!” The girl snorted. “For costume sleep?”
“For fighting criminals!” He snapped at her. “And apparently for reaching the Parisian Z-tube faster than while being half-naked.” He added. “Even my perfect skills have their limits.”
“A portal door…” Guessed Marinette, remembering the story of how Adrien got home yesterday morning.
“How do you know what Z-tube is?!” Damian – or whatever he called himself while wearing this costume yelled, jumping out of her bed and hovering over her hostilely. “You are actually a spy! I knew you were hiding something!”
“I am no spy and stop yelling at me in my house!” The girl yelled back, rejoicing to herself that today was Saturday and her parents had been at the outdoor event since the morning, so she could quarrel with her bed buddy to her heart’s content. “Soon I will find this akuma and you will stop appearing here!”
“And how will you deal with them?” The boy grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Scream to death at them?!”
“You think you’re the only one who can walk around wearing a mask and fight the villains?!” Marinette snorted in anger, losing control of her emotions. “Tikki, spots on!”
Ch. 9 comes in a week.
Preview:
“Who are you?!” Damian demanded.
“Woh-woh, easy, macho!” The cat-boy said, taking a step back. “Friend of yours, milady?”
*
Early access on patreon.com/san_fics
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the introduction post
The last one wasn't really a proper intro post and I feel like I should make one so:
This is a blog where I Say Stuff and disguise it as a writing blog.
I can't figure out how to edit my bio </3 so you get this instead
I'm Isaac!!! Between the ages of 15-18, he/him user, trans and somewhere on the aroace spectrum. And also the autism one. and I have adhd
Open to tags/ask games + asks in general (i do sts and the other ones sometimes) I'll try not to ignore you
I write third person limited, a phrase I learned two minutes ago. Right now I'm reblogging the first of the series with commentary at the end while i pretend to write the third of the same series.
Below are a couple of wip intros and other various things
WIP intros
Forget-me-not (1/3)
Status: complete (30/30)
Word count: 103,063
Playlist
Description:
Leo was told, whenever her parents were around long enough to tell her, that her aunt and cousins died in a car accident that she and her sister were involved in, and that was why neither could remember before the age of eight.
Coincidentally, the picture that inexplicably appeared under her pillow on Halloween was taken when she was six.
Jaxon, volunteering at the library the day the twins came into town, for better or for worse, met Leo there. Upon realizing that the people Leo is trying to find is his adoptive siblings, Logan and Lily, Jaxon helps Leo discover long-kept family secrets.
Elliot seemed to be the only one who didn't know what had happened to him. His brothers are keeping a secret from him, the twins refuse to tell him something, and he doesn't know whether to trust Logan or Jaxon or Lily or Dylan, either. When he finds out the truth, everything comes undone.
---
Dahlia (2/3)
Status: complete (21/21)
Word count: 78,103
Playlist + extra playlist
Description:
With Leo and Ryan missing, Jaxon found unconscious at the garden, Logan at college, Cass having moved away, Sam and Lily always busy, and Elliot in the attic, in a desperate bid for happiness, Dylan makes several mistakes. Including but not limited to: possession and necromancy
Dylan and Ryan find themselves in Elliot's mind. In trying to find Elliot, the two encounter the Horrors
In the real world, everybody else is possessed by three small angry elementary schoolers. And also Jaxon kills Leo
---
Rosemary (3/3)
Status: in progress
Word count: 39,042 (as of chapter 11) (holy shit btw because there's going to be 55 chapters)
Playlist
Description:
Leo's hospitalization and Jaxon's disappearance leaves the group reeling. Dylan won't talk to anybody but Elliot, Ryan, and Sam. Logan, Cass, and Lily look for Jaxon, Kai and Marcy adjust to living with them for the summer. Jaxon has a streak of accidentally getting people killed
The forbidden buddy road trip adventure featuring a seventeen-year-old with chronic back and knee pain and her uncle who was an accomplice in multiple crimes around the globe (is about to be an accomplice in several more crimes)
The world's worst summer vacation
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I posted 3,646 times in 2022
798 posts created (22%)
2,848 posts reblogged (78%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@superheroesaremyjam113263
@adazzlingsakura
@dailydccomics
@why-i-love-comics
@jentuckyfriedkhicken
I tagged 1,205 of my posts in 2022
#thorneanswers - 433 posts
#dc - 346 posts
#dc comics - 340 posts
#batfamily - 167 posts
#jason todd - 143 posts
#dc imagine - 129 posts
#dc imagines - 128 posts
#red hood - 127 posts
#green lantern - 117 posts
#batman - 114 posts
Longest Tag: 138 characters
#god u get told too many times as a kid that no one cares and u just forget how to show your passion without saying sorry every fucking min
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
“I don’t give a rat’s ass how badly you want me out of your business,” she griped, cocking her hands on her hips. “I am you mother and as long as I’m alive I’m going to be in your business making sure you’re doing alright.”
Tim’s expression pinched and he couldn’t help but cross his arms over his chest. “Me and the others had it under control.”
“Look me in my eyes and tell me that meta-humans running wild across Gotham City means you had it under control,” she argued, and he glanced at her, meeting her irritated gaze. “You are seventeen going on eighteen, Timothy Jackson Wayne, and while I’m comfortable letting you and your friends go around doing God knows what in other cities, when your ass is in Gotham City, you know damn well you’re supposed to check in and let me or your father know what you’re doing.” She accentuated her point by tipping her head towards the man leaning back against the desk who was merely watching.
“Dad,” he whined, trying to get him to help him out.
His father merely sipped the glass of water in his hand. “Nope, not getting involved.”
She started tapping her foot, a telltale sign that her annoyance was shifting into anger. “Timothy, you’re grou—”
Tim, in a last-ditch effort to save his hide, he pointed at his second eldest sibling and shouted, “Jason snuck Kyle into the manor last night whenever you were out with Damian and dad on the back porch! He left this morning when you were getting ready for work!”
Her eyes went wide, so did Jason’s as he spluttered, “W-what! No, the fuck I didn’t!”
She was already whirling on him. “Jason Peter Todd, did you sneak a boy into this house!”
“I—we—he—” Jason pointed at Dick. “Dickhead was the one who broke the Ming Dynasty vase in the hallway! I saw it!”
“ME?!” Dick shouted, already turning on Cassandra. “Cass is the one who broke the refrigerator after she punched the panel ‘cause it wouldn’t work!”
“Damian skipped school last week,” she countered, glaring at Dick.
Damian’s olive cheeks flushed crimson. “You dare tell on me!” he pointed at Bruce. “Father skipped the gala last Tuesday and said he had a mission to complete but instead he was hanging out with Superman and Wonder Woman!”
She stood bewildered and turned, gaping at Bruce. “Excuse me? You did what?”
Bruce held his hands up, expression already turning panicky as he calmed, “Darling, I can totally explain not attending the gala with you.”
“Oh? You can?” she laughed, eyes narrowing in rage. “So, it wasn’t just to get out of having to deal with all the other socialites? No, not Bruce Wayne. He wouldn’t leave his lovely wife to fend for herself.”
At this point the children were inching their way towards the door and Bruce pointed at them. “They’re getting away!”
She spun, ready to yell at them but they were already gone and when she turned back around, Bruce was gone too, the wall shifting back to its original place; she let out a howl. “OH, ALL OF YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR A MONTH!”
2,143 notes - Posted February 27, 2022
#4
“Can I ask you something?” Soap inquired, sitting close enough for their legs to brush.
“Depending on what you’re about to ask me, be prepared for either sarcasm or cold ruthlessness.”
He nodded. “I can appreciate that.” Gazing at her, he asked, “Do you think you’ll live to be an old woman?”
“Define old woman.”
“Old,” Soap answered. “With grandbabes. In your old age.”
She snorted. “Oh, no. I’m definitely going to be dead by fifty.”
“Why’s that?”
“People who do what we do don’t exactly make it out alive, Soap. I know I won’t make it to die old.”
“Already prepared?”
She nodded. “My affairs are in order.”
He sat back in thought, simply staring at her. “…Will you have any regrets if you go early?”
For a moment, she was quiet, a distant yet love-longing look in her eyes as she gazed over the rim of her laptop to the Lieutenant reading over a set of blacked-out files. “Only few.”
Soap didn’t speak on it, wasn’t going to breach that barrier she and the Lieutenant had built around one another; instead, he smiled and nudged her in the side, quipping, “You’re going to have a giant regret if you go before Ghost, aye?”
She barked a laugh as Ghost looked up and glared at them. “Let me tell you something, if I die before Ghost, that means I have a limited amount of time before he gets there too to set up a room of traps for him to fall in.”
“I don’t think the big man upstairs is going to let that go.”
“Oh we’re all going to hell, Soap, there’s no doubt about that.”
“If anyone’s going to hell, it’s you, love,” Ghost remarked, going back to his files. “But only for being a witch.”
“Asshat,” she griped, throwing a pen at him, which he caught.
Soap looked between them and asked, “Why haven’t you two just married already?”
Ghost looked up and gestured at her. “I tried. Gollum ate the ring and told me to fuck off.”
“I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING ME GOLLUM! AND NO, YOU DROPPED THE RING OFF THE PIER!”
“It was your fault.”
“IT WAS NOT!”
Soap grinned and rose from his seat, walking off as they started arguing and Price simply rubbed his temples. “Why do you do that?”
“Because if I have to suffer a Brit and an American on the same team, I’m going to make amusement somewhere.”
2,208 notes - Posted November 14, 2022
#3
Is Jason going to call Bruce dad to his face? No, no he’s not.
Is Jason going to defend Bruce with “My dad—” and beat the shit outta anyone who talks bad about him when Bruce isn’t there? Yes. Yes he will.
3,670 notes - Posted September 8, 2022
#2
Soap reclined against the back of the metal wall of the plane, eyes dragging from each member of the team until they landed on her. She, oddly enough wasn’t sitting like the others were, contemplating the mission and the risks. In her hands was a small book, about the size of a cigarette holder, perhaps a religious book, but he’d never known her to pray or be religious outright; then again, she wasn’t very open about many things of herself either.
Her eyes drew along the pages, quietly turning them, occasionally shifting with the movement of the plane and he heard lowly, “Keep staring at her like that and she’ll think you like her.”
He fought the urge to roll his eyes and merely retorted, “Would that be such a bad thing, Lt.?”
Ghost chuckled. “She’ll eat your heart out, Soap.”
“If it’s her, that doesn’t sound like a bad way to go.” He shifted his foot and tapped along the ground, loud enough for her to cock an eyebrow to acknowledge the motion. “Whatcha reading?”
She flipped a page. “A book detailing the capture, trials, and deaths of women during the Salem Witch Trials.”
Soap blinked, eyebrows furrowing together. “…Why?”
“She’s tryna figure out why they didn’t catch her back then,” Ghost chirped and her eyes rose from the page to meet his, knowing he was smirking behind that stupid mask of his.
“Don’t take the bait,” Price muttered beside her, arms crossed over his chest, and she was almost prepared to let it go. But, she also remembered that Ghost ate the last of her chocolate chip poptarts before they left.
She went back to her book and rattled off, “Ghost can’t play golf. We went to a putt-putt one time and I’ve never seen a man so competent in the art of war be so terrible at hitting a ball.”
Ghost spluttered as Soap snickered.
“He snores like an old dog and drools in his sleep.” She flipped another page. “One time we were on a mission in Baghdad, and he wasn’t paying attention and ran into a wall. Broke his radio from the impact.”
“I did not,” Ghost hissed.
“He cried watching Where The Red Fern Grows.”
“WHO WOULDN’T?!” he snapped. “SHE DIES OF A BROKEN HEART AFTER HER BROTHER!”
“One time he ate a box of fiber bars to recover from a hangover and he shit himself in the middle of the store.”
“Alright! I get it! I’m sorry!” he griped and she smiled to herself as she quieted down and went back to her book.
For a few moments, silence enveloped the group in the plane, then Soap asked, “Did you really shit yourself?”
“Shut. Up.”
4,545 notes - Posted November 14, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
I need everyone to stop what ur doing and go google Betty White. Rn. Go.
9,034 notes - Posted January 17, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
‘Ell I’ll be damned
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cassandra lore under the cut
29 years old
she grew up in quincy with just her mom, delilah, & her grandmother, mama murphy.
mama murphy had a short affair with a “handsome young boy” mentioned in her wiki who had at one point convinced her to stop taking chems because he believed they made her a “slave to something evil.”” however, they got into a situation where they needed her use of the sight the most but did not have it & faced the consequences. her dialogue says “now the boy’s gone & the girl’s old” but doesn’t specify what happened to him. my theory is that they were in a life or death situation, & because mama murphy couldn’t use the sight, he died because of it. that man would be delilah’s father.
delilah hated the idea of “the sight” (always said with heavy finger quotes). she thought her mother was just batty. they have a strained relationship but it’s kinda one-sided; delilah was constantly exasperated & stressed out by her mother, while mama murphy still held great affection for her. with cass in the middle, most days it was just her mom saying “your grandmother is crazy, don’t listen to her” & her grandmother saying “it’s alright kid, she’ll come around one of these days”
cass however, came into the picture when delilah was around seventeen. cass’ father was some trader from the capital wasteland but that was all she really knew/cared to know about him. delilah rarely spoke of him but when she did, it was always bitterly.
cass & delilah also have a strained relationship due to delilah’s attempts to keep her from being influenced by her grandmother. cass loved listened to mama murphy’s wild stories from her youth & was fascinated with the concept of the sight. despite her mother’s best wishes, cass took after her grandmother in more ways than one.
in case you couldn’t tell, the vibe is strained, vaguely traumatizing mother daughter relationships.
for the longest time though, delilah did her damnedest to make sure cass never touched a chem. she’d go through her room sometimes just to make sure she wasn’t hiding anything.
but because cass was a shit, when she was a teen she’d steal some of her grandmother’s jet & go get high in the red rocket station outside of town. it was during one of these illicit moments that she had a vision, though it hadn’t been her first time taking jet. her vision involved marcy long finding out she was pregnant with her future son kyle. cass kept it to herself, but when word around town was that marcy & jun were expecting, cass began to freak out a little. she talked to mama murphy about it, who understandably was pretty happy that someone in their family inherited the sight. turns out, a lot of delilah’s negativity towards the whole concept was because it never worked for her, no matter what chems she did. so they kept it a secret between themselves.
cass’ visions don’t happen every time she does chems, but when they do they always surprise her. she doesn’t have it down to a science yet, but they usually come if she’s used jet or mentats within a certain period of time of each other.
as an adult, cass helped sturges with handy work & the like. hanging around the red rocket by herself gave her plenty of time to familiarize herself with tools & he was happy to have someone to mentor :)
she had moved out to the red rocket station & made it her own when she was older, but she’d reached a breaking point with her mother & left quincy for good. refused to be in the same room as her let alone the same town. lots of building disagreements & arguments that devolved into a big yelling screaming match. so she left quincy & hitched a ride to diamond city. stayed there for a while, but ended up in goodneighbor after a year or two because it started to suck & also mcdonough was probably raising those taxes like craaaazy to make up for the drop in diamond city economy after he kicked out all the ghouls.
found herself in goodneighbor after that & made it there as a server in the third rail. she’d go up to whitechapel charlie with a list of drinks & then go serve ‘em to people too lazy to go up to the bar themselves. made decent caps most nights, & when she didn’t, she’d just make sure she did :) watch your pockets while she’s around <3
anyways. she’s still there today. keeps her visions on the downlow. also here’s a sim i made of her. just imagine her with dark roots & a chemical cut bc she doesn’t know how to bleach her hair properly.
#ch: cassandra murphy#this got long oh no#anyways if u wanna know what she looks like i made a sim of her that's at the v bottom.#this is all so niche i feel embarrassed 2 post this so im going to bed a;sldfkj#rae.txt
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“Ready?” Tim asked. He took a last look over the microphone on the desk in front of him, then sideways at Dick and Damian, arranged on either side of him, a few feet away, with their own microphones.
Dick held up a sheet of paper. “I have the question list.”
“I think that’s it, then.”
“Are we supposed to do some kind of intro?”
“Uh, unclear.” Tim snapped his fingers and leaned into his microphone.
“This is a podcast-interview thing,” he said. “We’re answering questions. Okay, I nailed the intro, so let’s hear the first one on the list.”
“Can somebody please explain Bruce Wayne’s family?” Dick read. “I know he has a bunch of kids, but I can’t figure out how many or where he got them from.”
“Interesting phrasing on the back half of that,” said Tim. “I feel like something expensive that went on sale.”
He clutched a hand to an imaginary necklace in feigned admiration. “Why Bruce! You must tell me where you got those!”
“You were never expensive,” said Damian. “Perhaps a grocery check-out display?”
Tim sighed and turned sideways, so he could look Damian in the face. “Being honest, I didn’t think you knew enough about shopping to make that joke.”
“Understandable.”
“I would never set you up on purpose.”
“I know.”
“Let’s get back to the question,” Dick suggested. “Can somebody please explain Bruce Wayne’s family?”
“I don’t know,” said Tim. He swung back towards the microphone, grimacing. “Maybe? It’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” Dick repeated, flatly.
“Yeah, complicated.”
“It’s your own family.”
“That doesn’t make it simple,” said Damian.
“Do we get time to make an outline?” Tim asked, emboldened by the unexpected support. “Before we do our presentation?”
Damian half-smiled at that, while Dick looked the two of them over with a skeptical expression.
“Are you telling me you don’t understand our own timeline?”
Tim waved a hand in a why-are-you-looking-at-me kind of gesture. “What, does anybody?”
“I do.”
“You experienced it linearly! We came in partway through, it’s different.”
“Unbelievable.”
“You take the question then.”
“If the two of you can’t manage it,” said Dick, with a distinctly sarcastic shrug.
“Obviously I can do it,” said Tim, suddenly defensive. He knew Dick was trying to get a rise, but Dick was good at that, and it was working. “I’m just saying it’s a confusing story.”
Tim pointed in Damian’s direction. “Back me up.”
“Absolutely not.”
“We can take turns,” said Dick, apparently satisfied with his victory. “Okay. Thomas and Martha Wayne died when Bruce was eight years old. Nineteen years after that, when Bruce was twenty-seven, he attended Haly’s Circus the night two acrobats fell to their deaths during a trapeze routine. Bruce took in their surviving son, me.”
Dick held up a finger. “My name is Dick Grayson, and I was Bruce’s ward from age twelve until the day I turned eighteen.”
“Which is different that being adopted,” Tim put in, “so bear that in mind for later.”
“Right. At eighteen, I became an adult, so Bruce wasn’t my guardian anymore. A year after that, Bruce met and adopted Jason Todd.”
“The second child he took in,” said Tim.
“But the first child he adopted,” said Damian.
“Exactly,” said Dick. “In that moment, Bruce was thirty-four with one former ward and one adopted son— which again, are distinct concepts.”
Tim nodded. “Jason Todd passed away three years after his adoption, when he was fifteen.”
“I never met him,” said Damian, straight-faced.
“Me neither,” said Tim, like he hadn’t spoken to Jason that morning. “I did meet Bruce though, at around that time.”
“The next few years are… harder to explain, I guess,” said Dick.
Tim raised an eyebrow in Damian’s direction, shaking his head in mock disgust. “See? Now he admits it.”
“Unbelievable.”
“The nerve.” Tim grinned as smugly as he could manage, so that Dick could see. Was Tim being difficult on purpose? Absolutely. Was he going to change that? Absolutely not.
“Right, it can be my turn. I’m Tim Drake, and I met Bruce when I was thirteen years old.”
“I was…” Dick glanced upwards, like he was trying to remember— or, failing that, calculate. “Right now you’re…?”
“Do you not know my age?”
“I probably do.” Dick tapped a finger against the desk a few times, looking pensive. Eventually, he gave up.
“I’m blanking.”
“Congratulations, Damian,” said Tim. “You are no longer my least favorite sibling.”
“I was your least favorite?” Damian asked, with such innocence that Tim couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing.
It took him a few moments to regain control. “You looks so proud of yourself,” he told Damian, as soon as he could.
“Thank you, I am.”
“I’m writing you both out of my will,” muttered Dick, “as soon as we get home.”
“Shame.” Tim swiped a sweatshirt sleeve over his eyes, still grinning. “I had my eye on your terrible CD collection.”
“The estate in its entirety, I believe,” said Damian.
“Shut up,” said Dick. “Keep answering the question.”
“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute.” Tim held up a hand to count on his fingers. “We did circus, Jason, Jason’s death— oh right, me. I met Bruce when I was thirteen and Dick was twenty-two, which would make Bruce thirty-seven.”
“I would have gotten there eventually.”
“Go to hell. Two years after that, when Bruce was thirty-nine, he met our sister, Cassandra Cain.”
“She was seventeen then,” said Damian.
Dick nodded. “Simplifying, we met her through a family friend. That same year, Bruce adopted me.”
“Which puts Father at thirty-nine with two sons—”
“One deceased,” added Tim.
“Having already met Tim and Cass,” Dick finished.
“Now if you think that’s confusing,” said Tim, gesturing broadly, “you’re right, it is.”
Damian nodded. “It gets even worse.”
“Yeah. For another two years we were— again, simplifying— in roughly the same place. After that, Bruce adopted me—”
“—making my life even worse.”
“Shut up, you weren’t even around yet. At forty-one, Bruce had three sons, one deceased.”
“That’s Todd.”
“And then came—”
“Me.” Damian raised his own hand. “My name is Damian Wayne, and I am my father’s genetic son. We met for the first time when Father was forty-one, and I was ten.”
“Four sons,” said Dick. “By age it’s me, Jason, Tim, Damian.”
“But from Bruce’s perspective,” said Tim, “Jason, then Dick, then me, then Damian.”
“I’d note,” said Damian, “that I was born several years before Todd’s adoption, and since I have been a Wayne from the beginning, I am both my father’s youngest child and his first child, whether he was aware of me or not.”
“But wait!” Tim interjected. “There’s more!”
“We’re almost done,” said Dick. “We already mentioned meeting our sister Cassandra. Bruce adopted her formally after Damian arrived, while Bruce was still forty-one.”
“Which means,” said Tim, “that we can do a final tally. Damian?”
“Yes?”
“Assist me. We have Dick—”
“Alive,” said Damian.
“Jason—”
“Not alive.”
“Cass—”
“Alive.”
“Me—”
“Alive, regrettably.”
“And you.”
“Yes.” Damian sat back in his chair. Tim leaned forwards in his, so he could put his elbows down on the desk.
“That’s pretty much it,” he said. “I won’t say how old we are right now, because it turns out Dick doesn’t know, and I don’t want to help him.”
Dick rolled his eyes. “I barely know my own age.”
“You’re eighty. One thousand, nine hundred, and forty. Some other number. I don’t know, why would I remember a very basic fact about my own family member?”
“To be fair to him,” Damian put in, “you are very forgettable.”
“And you’re my least favorite again.”
“Shame. As a last fact, I’d also note that Martha and Thomas Wayne died when Father was very young, so he was primarily raised by the butler.”
“That’s Alfred,” Tim agreed, “and his formal title is butler, but he’s also, you know, our grandfather.”
“Can we move to another question now?”
“I guess?” Tim looked over at Dick for confirmation.
“I don’t know,” Dick sighed. “Maybe.”
-----------
Merry Christmas, my loves
timeline post / google doc
#remember when i spent weeks on a research paper to write some version of this and then didn't write it#boom problem solved#have I been marathoning MBMBAM again yes but you can't prove it#I'm going to bed with this in the queue#fanfiction#mine#batfamily#dick grayson#tim drake#damian wayne
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Cries of a hummingbird part 1: First time
The first time the bats heard the scream was near the end of their patrol.
They had all tensed.
Each bat knew full well what kind of emotion the scream came from.
The screams were not of a victim. No, it was closer to the frustrated scream of a person after keeping themselves together for far too long.
It was someone forcing out their emotions, raw and unfiltered before they would lock it away once again. Pushing it all down into a small bottle, deep inside of them that always felt like it was about to shatter.
It was a scream in which if you were caught, no one would dare say a word or poke fun. If anything the person who caught you screaming or sobbing would simply sit with you till you were done.
The bats know those screams and sobs better than anyone else. They know the sounds of a soldier finally breaking down, having heard it from their family members and themselves.
That was most definitely what they were hearing right now.
Oracle quickly gave them the location she pinned the sound coming from.
Except, when the bats arrived, there was no sign of anyone having been there.
Not a single hint that the rooftop was anything more than empty.
“Are you positive this is the place?” Batman questions.
“One-hundred-percent. Whoever was screaming should be there. I’m checking the security tapes now.” Oracle informed them.
The bats fell silent, looking around for anything they might have missed.
All of them were stiff. Most of them looked around awkwardly. A few of them tried to force themselves to relax, but there was a strange feeling that they couldn’t shake.
After a few moments of not finding anything, their comms crackled back to life.
“You... Uhm... you should see this.” Oracle hesitantly states.
The vigilantes looked at each other, question clear on all of their faces despite the masks they wear. A few moments later they began heading back to the cave.
Once they arrived, Oracle showed them the security footage.
They watched it again...
And again…
And again…
Yet they saw the same thing every time.
It was very concerning.
A blue, glowing circle appears. A girl steps out of it. The girl proceeds to break down.
That wasn’t the part that scared them. Sure almost all of them tensed at the screaming and sobbing. Yet that wasn’t the concerning part of the footage.
Once the girl, a child who looks no older than twelve, stopped screaming, her tear stopped as well. The only way you could tell she had broken down was by the tear streaks running down her face.
Once those had been wiped away, the only evidence left was this security tape.
The kid ended up coming back to scream or sob at a random time during the year, and not every time was at night.
The bats ended up doing nothing about this random magic child that would break down in Gotham. They honestly couldn't do anything about this.
Sure they would hear the screams once or twice a month but they could never get there in time to talk with her.
Slowly, the visits became less frequent. Going from twice a month to once a month.
Once a month to every other month.
Every other month to every three and a half months.
Every three and a half months to every six or seven months.
Sure the visits were lessening, but the sobs and screams became louder. They became even more unnerving for the bats to hear.
The bats ended up giving the kid a code name so they were easier to talk about.
Before they had a code name the bats had to refer to her as the crying child, the kid, and other names along those lines. While they weren’t bad or mean names, it felt wrong to call her that.
They each had their code name for her, but the main code name all the bats use is Hummingbird due to how small and fast she is.
They have all tried to talk to her, but are never able to catch up to her. She also seems to flee at the first sight of danger, be it actual danger or just the vague unknown is dangerous.
At this point, all the bats are emotionally attached to Hummingbird, whether she knows it or not.
One of the times Hummingbird showed up in Gotham, the Kents had been visiting Wayne manor.
The Supers hadn’t even tried to listen for any specific sounds. Clark and John could simply hear it as if the person was right next to them.
They looked to be in pain from the loud noise, even with Hummingbird being in the city and them being on the outskirts.
The Kents who could hear her tried to get up to help only for the bats to have them sit back down. The screaming subsided eventually, leaving the heroes with a lot of questions.
“What do you mean that’s normal! People screaming like that is not normal!” Clark argued. The bats all look a bit uncomfortable with this topic.
“Pixie shows up once in Gotham to break down sometimes,” Jason says as he closed his book, so he could turn his attention to the conversation.
“Pixie?” John questions. “You know the person who was screaming and sobbing?”
“Tch. None of us have gotten close enough to interact with Shadow.” Damian states a little annoyed.
“We all have our nicknames or code names for her. Dick calls her Bluebell, Jason calls her Pixie, I call her Phantom, Cass calls her Mockingbird, and Damian calls her Shadow. Bruce and Alfred just call her the main name we have for Phantom, which is Hummingbird. We all use that code name for her.” Tim easily explains
“And this first started, when, exactly?” Clark questioned.
“About three or four years ago. We tried to track her, but she uses magic portals to get here in the first place. We attempt to talk to Hummingbird when we’re out on patrol, but usually the second she spots us she portals away.” Bruce informs them with a tired sigh.
“How old is she?” Louis asked.
“She looked to be about eleven or twelve when this first started. That would make her somewhere between fourteen and seventeen now. We don’t know for sure since we can’t get close enough to talk to her,” Dick answers.
“Have you tried approaching her as a civilian yet? Cause your vigilante suits might be what’s scaring her” John asked as if it was an obvious idea.
All of the Waynes realized their stupidity and proceeded to either groan, sigh, or facepalm.
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A Favor: Part Seventeen
Nessian Modern AU
Masterlist
a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows
TW: discussion of SA
***
Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.
Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.
“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”
“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”
“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.
Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”
“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”
Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.
Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”
“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”
Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.
Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.
“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”
Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”
“For what?”
“This conversation.”
Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”
The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”
She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”
Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.
“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.
“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”
Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”
“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”
“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”
“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.
Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”
Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.
“On New Year’s.”
“And you turned it down?”
“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta���s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.
“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.
“The movie?”
“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”
Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”
She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”
Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.
“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”
She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”
“Of course I said no because of you.”
“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”
“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”
“You sound codependent,” she retorts.
He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”
He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.
“Why not?” he demands.
“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”
“Again: why the fuck not?”
So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”
Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”
“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.
“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”
“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”
“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”
“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.
“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.
“How so?” she challenges.
“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”
Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.
“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”
“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”
“I do not,” Nesta defends.
“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”
Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?
“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.
“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.
She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”
That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”
“Forever.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.
He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”
Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”
“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”
The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.
“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”
A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.
“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”
When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”
She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”
Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”
Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”
“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”
She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.
“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”
“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.
“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”
Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”
“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”
“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”
***
Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.
Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.
“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.
Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”
“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”
“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.
“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”
“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.
“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”
“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.
“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.
Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.
“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.
“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.
“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.
Gwyn pales.
“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.
“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”
Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”
She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.
Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”
“But I didn’t do anything—”
She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”
“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”
“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.
Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”
Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”
Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”
“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.
Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.
“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”
But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.
Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”
Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”
“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”
Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”
“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.
***
They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.
Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”
“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”
“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.
Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.
Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.
Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”
“Why?” Nesta says.
“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”
“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”
Nesta doesn’t give her form back.
“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”
“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.
Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.
Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”
Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”
“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.
She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.
“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.
But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.
“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.
“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.
“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.
Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”
“But I’m not done yet—”
“Now.”
“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.
Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.
Gwyn makes a face at her back.
“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.
“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”
Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.
Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”
She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.
“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”
“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”
Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.
“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?
At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”
“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”
Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”
“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.
But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.
During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.
“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”
Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”
“Just not today?”
Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”
Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.
After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”
Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”
Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.
Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.
Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”
Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”
“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”
The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.
Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.
“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”
Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”
“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”
Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”
Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”
Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”
“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”
“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”
“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”
Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”
“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.
“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.
“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”
They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.
Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.
Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”
“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.
“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.
“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”
“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.
Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”
“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”
Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.
“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.
That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.
***
a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era
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You have by far the strangest ideas, no hate tho! I quite liked reading that. The only objection I have to this is having Cass on a team with Jason, don't think that'll go over to well.
hanks! I like strange, strange is my jam. I swear the god, half of what I write starts as 'hey, wouldn't it be fucked up, if':
what if Bruce put Jason, who did not, in fact, murder Felipe Garzonas, in a high-security prison for life;
what if Batfam didn't know Red Hood's identity and mistakenly thought that he and Bruce were in some Romeo and Juliette forbidden love not-relationships, and so tried to use his feelings to manipulate him into the side of good after Batman was killed and Red Hood, undoubtedly, was overcome with grief;
what if Talia al Ghul hired Stephanie Brown to find out what happened to her son, and what actually happened was Bruce accidentally killing Jason without realizing it;
what if Jason Todd was a girl and pregnant with basically an Antichrist...
Though I think comics as a medium lands the strange well. Recently, I asked people to send me the craziest Jason-related prompts, most of which I didn't post yet because I was held hostage by an idea of Jason helping Brotherhood of Evil to take a small European country while he was still Robin. But they were hella good! I will get to it.
As for Cass as an Outlaw, I beg you to reconsider. 'cause that team-up was obviously from New52, where she has, in fact, worked with Jason on the same team.
Look; I love Cassandra, but I will never see eye to eye with that part of fandom that thinks: hey, Cass would never work with a murderer! My girl Cass was ready to save a death-row prisoner under the eyes of the victim's family. You think she believes that everyone is worth living but not everyone is allowed redemption? What's, in your opinion, Cass thinking the point of living is then? (ok, this is actually a good thing to examine in fanfiction). Or, for that matter, she wouldn't be able to work with him to save others or for another common and important goal? She's more professional than that.of
I will give you that she won't go out of her way to seek him out on her own volition if we stick to the canon events.
But do we have to? I wrote a few UtRH AUs, I can do another. Say, if Jason shows up right in time to rescue Steph — while Cass wasn't able to; if Jason killing the Black Mask was the only thing that saved Steph after she saved herself and decided not to kill him? Would Cass's feelings on 'thou shall not kill' be shaken a little? I want to put Cass against that dilemma because I like putting characters against themselves.
Hey, so here's an idea for the team-up:
1) War Games are on.
2) In the midst of the gang war, and as a response to Robin's disappearance, We Are Robin movement raises up.
3) Jason Todd rolls into town with a brilliant idea. Keep in mind that Jason is also like barely eighteen here, if that. Maybe seventeen: died at 15, a year in the ground/zombie state, a year at the League still in the zombie state. Let's say, he's not even a fully fledged Red Hood here, he's 17 and angry and his aforementioned brilliant idea is to blow up Batmobile without Batman inside it just so Bruce knew that his security system sucks, and he sucks too.
Only he doesn't have time for this shit because there's a missing Robin and there's a lot of Other Robins, and there's a gang war and Roman Sionis, who's The Worst TM.
4) Hearing about Robin disappearance is a massive red flag for him; of course, after he left behind the Plan A: Petty Confrontations With Bruce, he goes to plan R: Find and Save Robin, which morphs into plan P: Turns Out, There's A Lot Of Robins Now, And All Of Them Need a Goddamn Adult.
5) City (via Bruce's suggestions and donation here and there) bans Robins movement for their own safety, instills curfew. Good luck with that, all I'm saying.
6) Meanwhile, Cass is looking for Steph as well and she can't find her. She finds We Are Robins, though. Finds out that they are looking for Robin too. Hmmm let's say, CASS BECOMES A ROBIN. Okay? Okay.
7) So, things come to a head when Robins find out that Black Mask has Robin. Cass warns Bruce as soon as they get a lead on the location - Bruce is caught up in something else, though, like also life-or-death situation, so she knows he can't come right away but she hopes that he will arrives later, as their cavalry.
8) Robins perform a destruction. Half of them is blowing up Black Mask's holdings across the whole city, while others - named, Duke, Cass, Jason - are lying in wait, until Black Mask sends the most of his enforcers to deal with literal fires in his backyard. He himself stays with Steph.
9) The Robin gang sneaks in, knocking out the guards. They almost made it to the basement where Steph is kept. Buuuutt Black Mask has hired an extra help. Or so they think; thing is, Deathstroke is here to check out if it worth the effort helping Black Mask to take over Gotham, for the Secret Society. It's neither here nor there, though: they have to fight him, and Duke is knocked out, Cass is injured saving him.
10) Deathstroke isn't really into this fight and he pretty much decided that Black Mask isn't worth recruiting, so he fucks off. Leaving the kiddos back to their mission. Cass, being heavily bleeding, plus someone needs to look after Duke too, finds the security room so that Jason could find Steph faster.
11) She finds her on the monitor and directs Jason there. And she watches, helpless, it all, live: Stephanie uses the noise they've made and distraction it caused Black Mask, to get out of her binds and attack him. He's on the floor. She's staying over him, with a gun in her head. Cass is so - she sees it, Steph wants to do it, wants to pull the trigger. Cass is devastated.
But then Stephanie lowers the gun. Turns her back to him. She's leaving. Cass feels relief flooding her.
And then Black Mask raises his own gun and shoots her in the back.
Or Cass thinks he does. She hears a gunshot, a floor and several doors down. But Black Mask is the one who crumples in the ground. Blood is pooling under his head.
Jason steps into the view. Places the gun on the ground. Raises his head, says something to Steph, placating. Gestures at the camera in the corner. "Your friend was very worried about you," Cass reads his lips.
Jason helps Steph hobble outside of the basement, to Cass. The girls help each other, he picks up Duke. They go out of the building. Outside, sirens. Ambulances. Cops pulling guns on them.
Batman.
All of them are arrested.
Part 1 - fin.
Ok, so you were right in the senses that Cass wouldn't be endeared to Jason who kills; but this whole fic, he wasn't a killer yet. Black Mask was the first and the only one he has ever killed. He did it to save Steph. The bullet was the only thing faster than another bullet, in that situation. It was, logically, the only way to save Steph for sure.
I know this because Cass would spend hours, on various different days, obsessing over the footage, from different angles. She will analyze trajectories and blood splatters. Try to come up with some other way. What would she do? What would Batman do? But the thing is, Jason isn't her, isn't Batman. He, at this point, is not trained by the League of Assassins or their affiliates. He's just, dead Robin, come to life. A gun he picked up from a guard he knocked out, non-letally, is the only weapon he has. He couldn't save Steph any other way. Cass knows it.
Cass also knows it that Steph made that choice, not to kill Black Mask. Made it and almost got a bulled as thanks. Made it and had to witness Jason erase it right before her eyes, for her. Cass knows that Steph is greatly fucked up over this one, and it still will take years, maybe, to recover in full.
And another thing that Cass knows: they are on the run because of Jason. So, no, nobody is exactly happy with him. Because while they were not just vigilantes, illegal crime fighters, they were Robins, banned illegal crimefighters. They could have been arrested and charged and got a book thrown at them if they so much as walked down the street in a red hoodie.
And Jason went and made them accessories to murder. Accomplices, if they are caught and DA has his way. They can never go back to Gotham again.
But, he did it to save Steph. Can Cass say she didn't want him to?
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Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1
A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!
Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.
Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.
Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.
Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.
“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”
She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”
He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.
“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.
“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.
He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.
“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.
“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.
The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.
Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.
“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.
“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”
“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.
“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”
Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.
“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”
“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.
“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.
“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”
“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”
“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.
“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.
Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.
“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.
Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”
“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.
“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”
“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”
Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”
She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.
“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”
“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”
“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”
“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”
“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”
“Oh…” muttered Marinette.
“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”
“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.
“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”
Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”
“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”
Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”
“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”
“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”
“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.
“Even worse.”
“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”
Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”
Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”
“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.
“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”
“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”
Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”
Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”
Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”
She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”
Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”
“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”
“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.
-0-0-
It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.
Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.
The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.
Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.
Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.
“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.
“I make no apologies.”
“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.
“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.
“I take offense to that.”
“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.
“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.
Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.
-0-0-
It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.
“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim. “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”
“Ah, shut up, replacement.”
“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”
“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”
Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”
“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.
“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.
“We know that, but she doesn’t.”
The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.
“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.
“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”
“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette
“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.
Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.
“He gets better.”
“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”
“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”
“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.
They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.
“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.
“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”
“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.
The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”
The scene switches to a metal ship.
“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”
“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”
Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”
“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”
The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.
Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”
Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”
Then Appa is introduced.
“Father, could we-”
“No, Damian.”
They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.
“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”
“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”
“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”
“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”
“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”
Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.
The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.
“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”
“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”
Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”
They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.
“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”
“Extinct?”
“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.
“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette.
“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”
“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.
“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.
“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.
“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.
“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.
"I'm not naive," she shot back.
He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating.
Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people.
The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.
“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.
“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”
“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.
The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-
“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”
“What war? What are you talking about?”
“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.
They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.
“Bad ship” muttered Cass.
“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.
They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.
“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”
“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”
“I think it was more like a hundred years!”
“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”
On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.
“Tt. Amateurs.”
"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"
A flare rises through the air.
“That’s not going to cause any-”
“Oh, shut up Tim.”
The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.
“The last Airbender!”
“I was right,” he mumbled.
The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.
“So? What do you think?”
“Slow.”
“Nobody has any sense.”
“Are any of the characters actually likable?”
He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”
Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”
“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”
“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.
“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.
“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”
“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great."
“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”
“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.
Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.
Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too)
@m3owww @your-resident-chimken-nuggie @loveswifi @fusser90@animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere
#damian x marinette#maribat#maridami#damimari#mlb crossover#ml x dc#marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne#marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne#moodboard#damientte#damianette#marinnette dupain cheng x damian wayne#mlb x dc#characters watch the show#maribat watching atla
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To Marry a Vigilante: Part 6
MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next
------------
Even if she tried to downgrade her reaction to learning that the class was held hostage, Marinette was still nervous. No amount of rationalizing that they were mean or that they didn’t care one bit about her helped. She just couldn’t help but worry about them.
Damian tried his best to understand her, but he really didn’t feel any empathy toward them. Idiots brought it upon themselves. He wouldn’t cry after them. Instead, he took it upon himself to distract his beloved from her stress. They were in the middle of the second Disney movie when she finally dozed off in his arms. Given his luck, that was the moment Selina decided to enter the room.
“Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt.” She said with a face that clearly meant she wasn’t even a bit sorry.
“Tt. You’re lucky Angel’s asleep.” He scoffed, making sure not to be too loud.
“Angel huh? The best I ever got from Bruce was ‘Kitty’, and even that was only out of the suit. You’re moving fast.”
“Shut up.” The scowl on his face was evident.
“Why aren’t you roof-running with the rest of them?” She asked, dropping the teasing (for now).
“I told father I would no longer carry the mantle of Robin.” He revealed. It wasn’t much of a secret, but beyond Bruce, only Alfred knew. Their butler knew everything and then some more.
“Whoa!” Seline looked genuinely surprised. “What brought this on? Don’t tell me you’re planning on settling down with a wife.” Her grin returned.
“Tt. Will you people stop?”
“No. Now answer the question pip-squeak.”
“For the record, I’m almost your height now.” He sighed before taking a sneaky gaze at his wife. “Did Bruce tell you about Paris?”
“Not really.” She made a pensive face.
“Then I am honor-bound to withhold any more information.”
She looked at him, trying to judge what it was really about, but Selina kept getting distracted by how cute the two teens looked. If she didn’t know, she would assume they were dating for at least two years, not barely a semester. There was this trust that Damian refused to show anyone else, maybe beside Dick sometimes.
“Fine. But I hope when the time comes, you’ll speak to us.” She was about to leave, but something stopped her. “And if you want to avoid more teasing, try not to have your ‘beloved’ fall asleep in your arms where the cameras can see.” She smirked and left the teens alone. Damian groaned. He was really digging his own grave.
“Dami…” Marinette murmured. For a moment, he thought that he woke her up, but she just snuggled closer and returned to sleep.
--------
A cloaked figure was making strides through the city, trying to keep to the shadows. The streets of Gotham were mostly empty at that hour, but those who still dwelled usually didn’t have good intentions. And even in a city where a group of people in fancy suits was more efficient than the police, someone in a full black cloak with a hood to boot would attract attention sooner or later.
“Hey! Look at that, boys. Someone’s trying to play bat.” A group of burly men stepped their way.
They received no answer.
“What? Bat’s got your tongue? What say you drop the costume and we can see who’s there,” the supposed leader taunted.
They received no answer.
“Oh come on! We can play too!” One of them smiled. He was more perceptive and noted that the figure’s body was not only small but slightly more curvaceous. “Come on, don’t be shy.”
Still, no reaction.
Angered by the lack of any reaction (and slightly tipsy), one of the men tried to push the cloaked person. Their supposed victim reacted by stepping to the side. What happened next froze all of the onlookers’ blood.
With one swift motion, the figure brought a blue weapon down on their companion and it went right through his neck. When she pulled it out, the fancy fan unfolded. From under the black hood, a blue face looked at the would-be attackers. It was definitely female, but it was impossible to make out the age.
“You’re not worthy to even lick my boots, peasant,” she sneered before looking at the others. “Neither are you.”
She folded her fan and rushed forward.
---------
The next day started mostly normal for Marinette. She did wake up curled into Damian’s side, which was nice. Her mother then showed her at least twenty pictures of them sleeping cuddled together, which was embarrassing. She promised to save them for when she was older, which was a dreadful image. Damian brought her coffee in the morning, which was great. He was so thoughtful.
“Mari? Mari? Sweetie?” Her mother waved her hand in front of the girl. “When you stop daydreaming about your lover-boy, can you pay attention?”
“Sorry, Maman.”
“Don’t worry. I was once young too.” Her mother nodded understandingly. “But could you please pay attention? That goes to you too, young man.” She raised her head to send Damian a light glare.
“I apologize for my lack of attention.”
“Today the class is having a trip to the mall, to buy anything they did not bring with them. Caline forced this when it turned out that several girls had nothing to wear for the Gala, which they were apparently ‘not informed about’,” Sabine scoffed.
“Tt. They were. It was that Angel refused to give them free clothes,” Damian interluded.
“I offered to make them the dresses. I even caved and offered a discount.” She grinned. “It’s not my fault all my prices are adjusted to my usual clients.”
“And the fact that your usual clients are celebrities who deemed anything lower an insult to their persona is irrelevant,” Chloé added, walking into the room. She barely managed to get to the chair before collapsing. Whatever possessed her to ask Cassandra Cain for training?
“They didn’t!” Mari protested, but she didn’t put much heart into it.
“Shush! I’m your agent now.”
“I know Chlo. You don’t need to flaunt it.”
“You’re kidding? I’m the girl behind MDC. Suck it, mother!” She shouted at the ceiling, even though it was physically impossible for Audrey to hear her.
“Tt. Moving back to the subject?”
“Oh! Don’t mind me now. I’m having fun.” Sabine smiled at the kids. “But yes, the class is going to be visiting the mall. In theory, you three should be joining them.”
“But?”
“But I would prefer if you kept your distance from them,” Sabine responded harshly. “I don’t want you mixing yourself with a bad crowd Sweetie.”
“Got it, Mom. We will be visiting a smaller shopping district then. I need to fashion masks for all three of us.”
“Won’t masks be provided at the gala?” The woman asked, surprised.
“Tt. Only for those who don’t bring theirs.” Damian clarified.
“Good. One more thing.” She turned to the only boy in the room. “Damian, I trust you to keep both of them safe today. Otherwise, you will have three angry assassins on your neck for the rest of your short life.” She threatened, ignoring the exasperated expression on Mari’s face and Chloé who was checking her nails.
“Three?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I told you that Sandra adores Marinette. And Cassandra shares our feelings toward her newest cousin.”
It took all of Damian’s willpower to remain calm. The idea of Cass, Lady Shiva, and Sabine chasing him was terrifying. “Of course, Madame. I will guard them with all my strength.”
“Then have fun kids! Tom promised to drop you off when he goes to the market and Bruce let him take one of the cars.”
“I’ll go pack up,” the two girls said at the same time. They giggled before running to their respective rooms. Damian just stared after them for a moment, shrugged, and left for his room to get dressed.
When he opened his wardrobe, a line full of ready sets consisting of black turtlenecks and dark-gray jeans, all already ironed and fresh. Together with the morning toilet, it took him a total of seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds to get ready. When he arrived in the main hall, he saw Tom sitting leisurely and reading through the newspaper.
“Tt. Sir, shouldn’t we be leaving?”
“Oh! Damian!” The baker lightened up. “Why would we need to be leaving? The girls left to get ready only a… fifteen minutes ago.” He looked like he was looking for another word, but changed his mind when he couldn’t find it.
“Closer to twenty,” the boy couldn’t help but correct, “but it means they will be ready soon.”
Tom laughed loudly. Damian sent the older man a questioning look, but he had to wait for him to calm down. “You never had to wait for a girl to get ready in the morning, did you?” Tom questioned once he calmed down.
“I do not see the relation…”
“Find yourself somewhere to sit. Most likely we won’t be leaving in at least an hour.” The baker cheerfully suggested.
“But…”
“It’s how the universe works and the sooner you get used to it, the better. A piece of advice: don’t rush them or it will get worse.”
“Um… I still want to know why…”
“Everyone does, but some questions don’t have answers.” Tom laughed.
----------
“Damian! Look at that fabric! I’ve never seen it in stores before!” Marinette dragged her beloved toward the wall of various bales. She showed him yet another fabric, that he couldn’t really separate from three previous ones. Unless you count the color that is.
“It is indeed interesting…” He tried to find the word, but Mari was too far gone to pay him any attention. When he used to listen to his brothers whining after shopping trips with the girls, he always dismissed it as fairy tales. Now, he regretted that he didn’t listen to Tom’s warning and hadn’t brought a wireless earset. The kind that only uses one ear so he could still hear what Marinette and Chloé talked about.
“Mari! Look at that one!” The blonde in question pointed to one that was placed quite high. It was black and when reflected light, seemed to glow purple and dark-gold. Interesting, but it held little tactical value.
“Perfect. Dami, could you reach it?”
“Sorry, Angel, you’re the one with wings here.” He said the first thing that came to his mind.
His beloved blushed. Chloé just shook her head and muttered something about diabetes.
After shopping for fabrics, a new sketchbook, several sets of sketching pencils, and some wires, Damian finally got them to go grab a bite. The whole way he kept skulking. Marinette had forbidden him from paying for any materials or clothes. He wanted to!
Of course, the moment their order was brought had to be the moment a villain made an entrance. Firefly zoomed into the calm street and immediately started to set things on fire. The girls immediately jumped into action, herding the panicking crowd and accelerating the evacuation. Damian took cover and sent a quick text to Oracle before joining Marinette and Chloé with crowd control. It was quite impressive to see the blonde grab the guy twice her size and force him to run the other way. Marinette focused on gathering as many stray kids as possible and guiding them away. There went his hope of not ending up like Father.
It was going okay, the villain seemed more focused on making the buildings burn than attacking the defenseless civilians. Up until he flew over the entrance dropping napalm and cutting them off. Marinette immediately jumped between Firefly and the group of kids she was leading. Damian and Chloé were by her side faster than one could say ‘wedding dress’.
“I told you Katana is a viable accessory.” He grumbled. That reminded Mari. He noticed that her red dress (his favorite) gained a broad red sash tightly wrapped around her. It had no noticeable clip holding it in place, so he assumed she just made some adjustments. Now he watched her unroll it to reveal her Christmas rope dart wrapped around her. She quickly grabbed the end and allowed it to fall loose on the ground.
“At least now we aren’t entirely defenseless.” She stated confidently. This was not Marinette the Parisian girl. This was Marinette the Ladybug, with or without a suit.
“And what do we have here?” Firefly floated not so far away. “A whole collection of new…” He didn’t get to finish. Marinette immediately attacked, hoping to attract his attention away from the kids. Damian cursed loudly. He wanted to leap into action, but he knew that Chloé stood no chance to protect the kids alone.
The rope dart stuck Firefly in the arm, making a deep cut and letting some blood out, but the heat of his surrounding cauterized the wound. It didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, the villain aimed his flame gun at the girl who was already away from the group.
“I will make you burn!” He shouted and opened fire. The girl he was aiming at used her rope to pull herself away faster and avoid the flames.
In the distance, one could hear the sound of sirens, announcing the arrival of the police and fire department. They were still several minutes away and even then Firefly was probably too hard to capture without specialized gear. Or a rope dart.
Marinette spun it several times in circles before releasing her weapon like a deadly projectile. Thanks to a quick flick of her wrist, the rope wrapped around the criminal’s ankle. He didn’t expect it, and when she yanked hard, he lost control over his jetpack for just a moment. It was enough for her to release the ties and gather the rope back. By the time Firefly managed to regain stability, she was already launching another projectile. This time, the dart flew straight and went right through his gun. There were several sparks, but as the rope was isolated she stood her ground. Yanking on the rope, she made him let go of the flame thrower before it exploded. The item fell on the ground and she pulled the now-free dart back while dodging for cover.
Damian saw the gun sparking and without thinking picked the loose sewer cover and jumped in front of the kids. Chloé used a nearby trash can to form a wall between them while the lid served as her shield. The barricade would be useless if someone aimed at them, but it did a fine job shielding the group of eight kids from exploding a flamethrower. They had to drop their defense as soon as the explosion passed, and their hands still got hurt regardless. But they probably saved eight kids from heavy scarring.
Firefly did not have the same luck. The explosion caught him in the middle and the knockback pinned him to the wall. When he got over the daze, he was met with several police guns aimed at him.
-----------
Watching the reunion of kids caught in the fire with their parents was heartwarming for Marinette. She was proud of her husband and best friend. Their quick action definitely saved several lives.
“Excuse me, miss?” A policeman in a long brown coat came to her. The paramedics already cleared her and one gave her the number of a trusted therapist if she needed to talk with someone. “Commissioner Gordon.” He introduced himself. “I was told you were the one that took down the villain…”
“It was an accident.” She spoke quickly. “I mean I didn’t try to take him down. He came over to where I was hiding with the kids. I thought he was about to burn us so I just acted on instincts. Get attention, move away from the group, keep attention, strike with everything at your disposal.” She recited.
“That… Where did you learn that?” He stared at her. She was very young but spoke with the experience of someone who dealt with this on a daily basis.
“Paris was dealing with a supervillain for the last four years. My class was a hotspot for his possessions.” She took a deep breath to calm down. “Even before the attacks started, I was taking martial arts classes. I upped the intensity after that.”
“Hm… I see. And your weapon…?” Commissioner asked, pointing at the rope dart now wrapped around her waist. She didn’t yet have time to put the sash back on.
“Oh! Rope Darts are my weapon of choice. Easy to carry around, fast, good for non-lethal takedowns, and can be made into a fashionable accessory.” She smiled.
“Indeed. Even before that, you and your friends were herding the stray children and directing adults to the nearest exit.”
“Same. I’m not sure how it works in Gotham, but in Paris, it was important to get people away from the ak… possessed person.” She corrected herself for the sake of not explaining everything. “Some of them tended to make civilians into puppets.”
“It was still brave of you. I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Nice to meet you, Commissioner.” She gave him a bright smile.
“Thank you for your service, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He saluted the girl before walking away, muttering about reports. Now she only had to explain things to the adults at the Wayne Manor.
--------
Masterlist // Next
#batman#BatFam#maribat#maridami#marinette dupain cheng#guardian!marinette#marinette x damian#Damian Wayne#damienette#Damian al Ghul#miraculous#miraculous ladybug#miraculous lb#Miraculous!Sabine#Assassin!Sabine#Superhero!Sabine#sabine cheng#arranged marriage AU
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timkon, 13, 7, 25.
soulmates!au, childhood friends, “i know this looks bad, but i swear, it’s not.”
(vaguely set in an au where bruce gets almost all of his kids young + conner was hatched early)
They’d waited for two years, visiting doctor after doctor to find his mark, but no one ever said anything different. Tim didn’t have one. Sometimes Tim thought his parents were embarrassed by his lack of a soulbond. His dad may be a native Gothamite, and the Drakes may have been around for years. But they weren’t exactly “old money,” as much as they tried to be, and Tim not fitting his role as a perfect son who would sweep another heir or heiress off their feet did not fit their plans to ascend. Maybe that was why they traveled so much. Tim wouldn’t go to the galas alone, after all.
He didn’t mind so much. Mr. Wayne next door (as much as next door could be on giant estates) let him spend most of the day playing with his kids, and in that house, lacking a soulbond didn’t seem to matter so much. Jason and Cass were only a little older than him, and usually, Tim could keep up with their games. Dick was super cool, and Damian was fine to play video games with, even if he got mad every time he lost. Things were even better when the Lane-Kents dropped by. Damian was happier to play with little Jon. But Tim liked Conner. Tim liked Conner a lot.
Not that Tim’s parents did. They weren’t home enough to notice that development until it was too late, and by then, Tim and Conner were thirteen and fifteen, too old to separate without drastic measures. (It helped that Tim had taken Jason’s place as Robin when Jason decided the late nights were a detriment to his potential to be valedictorian, and Conner was Superboy--best friends in and out of costume.)
Meeting Impulse and making Young Justice? That had only come naturally, and Tim felt pretty lucky to have so much in his life, soulmate or not. Except--
“I know this looks bad, but I swear, it’s not,” Conner said, his arms through the sleeves of his uniform shirt, though his head was out. Along the lines of his chest, Tim read Timothy Jackson Drake. He swallowed.
“Hm,” he settled on. Words didn’t seem right yet.
“You-- You’re not saying anything,” Conner said. He laughed, too high for his voice settled in deep at seventeen. “Tim, you-- I know, I know--”
He did. Conner had heard Tim talk about his lack of a soulmate for years.
“The thing is, Kryptonians--ours is different, and I didn’t know how to tell you, and--”
Tim wanted to ask how long he’d known. He kept his mouth shut and let Conner keep rambling.
“--we’re friends, best friends, and I can’t lose you, because you’re my soulmate--”
Tim stepped closer. He took Conner’s hand and pulled him closer, stretching up to meet his lips. Kryptonians, it seemed, only gave their mark after a kiss, the first words they’d exchanged. Tim’s mark was still odd enough that he kept it covered. But having I’m Conner Kent, and I’m gonna be Superman! on his chest was something he’d rather keep to himself anyway.
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