#let's look away from the “multiple personalitied vigilante” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calypsocolada · 28 days

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VIGILANTE | denji <3

synopsis: you're just the vigilante denji has been searching for... request: "yo! was watching birds of prey and got a thought. sfw, preferably, harley quinn! fem! reader x denji. like denji's out on patrol or something idrk and she's out there causing trouble and fighting and basically like the scene where harley was getting chased by the cop and then throws garbage and a truck driver gets shot and she jumps onto a ladder and stuff. lol ik that's a lot sorry. i dont rlly know where to continue on what else sorry 😭😭" authors note: HI! thanks for the request... this may not be exactly what you requested but I still was inspired by your request to write this. this one goes out to you!! <3 i might write a part two, this one was fun :) cw: nsfw but no smut, potential assault/drink spiking, slightly unhinged reader, blood, gore, severing of body parts, characters aged up to 20's, angst, fluff, touch starved denji, lonely denji, not proofread, (let me know if I missed any!) wc: 4.6k

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You’d been looking to cause trouble. A lot of things led you to this very moment and to say you were ashamed was just plain wrong. You liked the trouble. You liked making people nervous, you liked that power you could hold over someone's head. After going so long without any power of your own it was nice to finally make someone else feel weak once in a while. No it wasn’t healthy and no you didn’t care. Because it felt good. It felt good to terrorize people. To hear their pleads of mercy.

You never went after actually innocent people. You hunted devils. And you killed a lot of devils that disguised themselves as humans. The news called you the Night killer, they called you a serial murderer. It wasn’t fair… they didn’t know the true personality of the people you ended. Night was the easiest for you to move around in without being detected. You had things to do in the daylight, boring day to day things. But when the night set it was time to let loose a bit.

You had to be a bit more careful recently though. Some celebrity hero had been patrolling the streets recently. Doing good and all. You knew he was looking for you. And you weren’t sure how well you’d fare against chainsaws.

It was your birthday weekend so your friends decided to take you out. It was some popular club downtown that you all ended up at after dinner. Sweaty bodies and strobing lights you knew only terrible things could come out of unattended drinks and loud music so you kept an eye on all your friends. That’s when you saw him, some guy with a predatory look in his eyes as he stared down your friend. You could tell his intentions right away. You had a knack for it. You could also tell he’d been just the one you were hunting for. The devil that had killed a woman just last week. You’d watch him for a bit and sure enough, after touching and getting slapped away by multiple women, he walked and chatted up your friend for a bit before slipping away to buy her a drink. You watched him non stealthily slip something into it, a grin spreading across his lips, an even bigger one spreading across yours. He really thought he could get away from destiny? You didn’t think this night could get any better but here was a perfect excuse to spill blood on your birthday. You downed your drink and slinked your way through the crowd and when he turned to make his way back to your friend you purposefully bumped into him, spilling the drink all over the front of his tacky white and gold shirt.

“Oh… shit, I’m so sorry!” You faked an apologetic look and scrambled for some napkins and pressed it to his wet chest.

“Come on-- watch where you're-” The moment he saw you it was like lights filled his eyes. His eyes widened as he looked from your eyes to your cleavage than back up. “No… excuse me, pretty lady.” You giggled, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“Can I buy you another drink?” You asked innocently, keeping your hands against his chest.

“Don’t you worry about that, dear.” He crooned and it took everything in you not to cringe. Instead you pushed closer to him, talking into his ear so he could hear you over the loud music. “You sure, baby?” You ask, a rasp sliding into your voice. The man nodded his head, his hand sliding against your waist.

“Wanna dance?” He asks, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver in disgust but he doesn’t see it that way.

“Lead the way.” You say and he sure does, his hand sliding just above your ass as he pulls you on the dance floor, turning you around so he can press himself against your behind. The dance was fueling the fire. You couldn’t wait to lure him outside. You wondered how many girls he’d drugged, wondered how many girls he’d touched without permission. The way he touched you now was telling you everything you needed to know, this man took what he wanted.

And so would you.

After all you could handle of this man, you pushed him back a bit.

“Wanna get some air?” You asked and he agreed almost instantly. He slid his arms around your waist and hips as you led the way out of the club. There were a few people loitering outside so you led him to the side alleyway. The moment you two were alone he grabbed you rather forcefully and pushed you against the wall, he leaned in to kiss you but your hand shot up and you grabbed him tightly by the chin. He froze, a look forming in his eyes. He was enjoying this.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” You rasped, he nodded his head, trying to lean forwards but unable to, his eyes growing slightly wide.

“You’re strong for a woman.” He says and a devilish smirk grows on your pink lips as you slowly nod your head. You slowly tighten your hold on his chin and watch as his lips part in surprise. “I want to fuck you so bad.” He whispers, obviously liking your rough treatment.

“How would you do that?’ You asked, your free hand sliding to the knife concealed on your thigh. A trusty weapon you acquired after some idiot tried to mug you on your way home from work. It was a trophy you liked to use on your victims.

“I’d yank that little skirt up, rip those tights open and take you right here.” He growled, disgusted chills ran down your spine but your face was as cool as ever. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever heard but it was up there.

“Mhm…” You hummed. “Let me see what you’d take me with.” You whispered and the excitement that man felt was on full display as his hands flew to unzip his pants. You waited patiently and the moment you spotted it the smile that fitted to your lips was downright evil. “Small.” You remarked seconds before that trophy knife of yours sliced his member clean off. There was a split second where it didn’t register with him. He inhaled and then his eyes went wide as pain finally made its way to his brain. When he opened his mouth to scream you clamped over his lips hard with your hand and spun him to press him forcefully against the wall. You wiped the blood from your knife on his shirt and pressed it against his neck.

“Mhm wha tha fu,” He grumbled beneath your fingers.

“What? It’s okay for you to take what you want? To spike women's drinks and touch them without consent? To kill them? I thought you’d probably like being treated the way you treat others.” You growl. He tried to squirm away from you but you were too strong. You held him against that wall like he weighed nothing and the fear that formed in his eyes at the revelation was delicious.

“Plea-- please.” He pleaded and the sound was like music to your ears.

“No sense in pleading.” You growled.

“That’s enough.” The voice to your right halted your thoughts. You turned just slightly to see the celebrity himself. Chainsaw Man.

Fuuuccckkk.

“Let ‘em go.” He directed. Your mouth dried, your knife sweaty in your hands. But you didn’t move back.

“You caught me.” You rasped, it was dark so you knew, unless Chainsaw Man had night vision, that he couldn’t see you very well. He paused at the sound of your voice, slightly tilting his head to try and get a good look at you but they didn’t call you Night Killer for no reason, the night was being very friendly to you right now.

“You sound… hot.” Chainsaw Man said. Everything halted for a moment. You stared at him quizzically. He’d caught you off guard with that. Even the scumbag beneath your blade seemed surprised before he started squirming again and you had to press your blade harder. “I’ve been tailing your kills for months now… Are you-- blonde? It’s hard to tell.”

“You’ll be tailing another kill if you don’t keep it in your pants,” You growled. “Aren’t you supposed to be a hero?”

“I am a hero. But I’m also a man who has great taste. Now let that man go and step into the light.” Chainsaw Man directed. Something about him made you laugh. This terrifying looking devil had layers. Chainsaw Man cocked his head at your laughter.

“And what would you do if I slit this piece of shit devil's throat?” You ask and the man you pinned squirmed and whimpered pathetically. Chainsaw Man stepped closer, trying hard to get a look at you. One track mind it seemed.

“What’d he do?” He asks. It gives you pause.

“You care?”

“Did he try to hurt you? I’ve noticed most of your victims all had charges placed against them for hurting women. Is he just like the others?” Chainsaw Man asked. You wondered if he actually cared or if he was biding time for the police.

“Uh huh.” You answered, trailing your attention back to the dirt bag. You trailed your knife up his neck to the side of his face. “He touches who he wants and slips things into drinks. Naughty…” You tease, the anger inside you coming out as though it meant nothing. You heard Chainsaw Man walk closer and you shot him a warning look. “Any closer and I’ll spill his blood.”

“Do it.” You hear the hero say. “Kill him. He deserves it.” You stare at him, lips parted. He’d surprised you.

“What?” You asked before you were able to mask that surprise.

“Kill him.” Chainsaw Man shrugs. “I could do it if you want.”

“What kind of hero are you?”

“A hero to those who deserve saving. If this man did as you say then I’ll look the other way.” Chainsaw Man says. You were so shocked that your grip on the man loosened. The dirt bag, sensing your attention elsewhere, shoved hard against you. The hard shove sends your hand with the knife back towards you. He gives another shove and the blade plunged into you just above your chest below your shoulder blade. You land hard, dazed a bit. The dirt bag dives towards the knife, straddling you on the ground.

“You dumb slut!” He growls. “I’m gonna kill-” You heard the revving of chainsaws before you felt the warm splash of blood against your face. You watched in object horror as the man’s head slowly fell off his shoulders and tumbled to the pavement. The body above you slackened and fell to the side in a bloody heap. You wiped at the blood, trying to push away from the body but your shoulder screamed in pain. You’d forgotten the damn knife that had lodged itself in you. You hissed in pain as the Chainsaw’s slowly came to a stop and silence was restored. The commotion had gained the attention of bystanders outside the club as people started poking their heads at the other end of the alleyway.

“Can you walk?” Chainsaw Man asked but when you looked up you saw a regular man, blood on his white button up shirt. When you both saw each other in the dim light of the alleyway you both blushed. You furrowed your brow, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

“Chainsaw Man?” You said, stunned. The man before you nodded his head, glancing down the alley towards the people. “Come on, we need to get you somewhere safe before they get a good look at us.” You let him wrap his arms around you and pull you to your feet, you’d hurt your leg when you fell so you relied on him heavily to take you somewhere safe.

“Is this okay?” He asked and for the first time in years you didn’t feel disgusted by a man’s touch. It was strange. You nodded your head.

“This way,” You directed once you go to a street you recognized. You led Chainsaw Man towards your house, his hand gently holding you against him. Once there you handed him your keys and he unlocked the door and helped you inside. You grunted in pain as he got you to a chair by the kitchen table. “There’s uh-- supplies in the top drawer… grab everything. And grab the jack from the fridge.” You direct. Chainsaw Man works quickly as you lean your head back, cursing yourself for letting your attention wander. You’d never gotten hurt this bad, just some scrapes and bruises. He was back rather quickly, falling to his knees beside you.

“How can I help?” He asks as you tilt up, reaching for the jack. You take a big swig of it taking a deep breath.

“Fuck me.” You sighed at the impending pain. You watched his face go through five different emotions before his cheeks blushed.

“What? Now?” He asks as you furrow your brow before realizing he thought you were giving him an order with those two little words you sighed. You laughed surprisingly, shaking your head.

“No, not what I meant.”

“Oh… yeah of course.” He blushes, turning away slightly.

“What’s your name?” You ask. He turns back to you, looking up at you from his knees.

“Denji.”

“Denji,” You say and watch his cheeks go even redder. “I need you to pull this knife out of my shoulder.” You say. His lips part in surprise as he blinks.

“No medicine to dull the pain?”

“I drank jack, no come on before I chicken out.” You say and Denji nods his head. You both lean towards each other and he reaches for the handle. Pain jolts through you at just a small bit of contact. Luckily for you it wasn’t super deep but it would still hurt like a bitch to remove. Denji looks up in your eyes.

“You sure?” He asks as you nod your head, taking another swig. He nods his head and a second later the blade is yanked from your shoulder. You cry out in pain as the blad clangs against the tilt flooring. Denji reaches for your shoulder, pressing his hand against the blood to stop it as he grabs a towel with his other. “It’s okay,” He says soothingly. “It’s out.” He presses the towel against the wound as you catch your breath.

“Thank you,” You breathe out, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You share a moment before you know that the wound needs to be stitched. You walk Denji through the steps and he listens well and takes gentle care of stitching you up and wrapping the wound. Once it’s nice and secure you feel your breath slowly coming back to you. You offer Denji a drink as he’s washing his hands. He grabs two cups and sits beside you at the table. You pour two drinks and slide one over to him.

“I’ve been hunting you for a few months,” He starts, taking a sip before making a face as though he didn’t like it but then takes another sip. “You put yourself in danger a lot.”

“Someone has to.” You say, leaning back in your chair.

“You’re skilled, killing those devils can’t have been easy.” He says as you shrug.

“They don’t put up much of a fight if you trick them early on.” You say. Denji looks at you over his cup.

“What’s your name? I think you're a little too pretty for Night Killer.” You can’t help but smile at that.

“Am I now?” You ask, cocking your head slightly as Denji nods his head.

“You’re probably one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.” He says truthfully. You find yourself blushing at his honesty.

“It’s Y/n.”

“Y/n…” He echoes, looking at you dreamily. “That’s better, a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Alright, Chainsaw Man, relax.” You jest, taking a sip of your drink. Denji grins at that.

“Can I take you out? Maybe after you’re feeling better?”

“What? Don’t like girls with scars?” You tease as Denji immediately shakes his head.

“I love scars. If you have any more I’d like to see them.” He implored, gaining another laugh from you.

“Such a flirt.” You wave off.

“I don’t want you to overexert yourself, that’s all.” He says as you nod your head.

“Why? Do you have something really physical planned?” You tease and watch his cheeks and ears go red.

“What? N-no!”

“I’m teasing you, Chainsaw Man.” You say.

“Denji,” He says.

“Hmm?”

“I-- I’d like it better if you called me Denji.” He says, barely able to look you in the eye. You’d never seen a man blush this much in your presence. It was adorable.

“Denji…” You say, leaning on your hand. His eyes widen just slightly and you can tell he really likes hearing his name from your lips.

“So… Can I take you out?”

“Why? You just met me?” You ask amused.

“So? I’d be a fool not to ask a pretty girl like you out.” He says and you laugh.

“I might be pretty but I kill devils for fun, aren’t you part devil?” You ask teasingly.

“I am… but I’m not like the ones you kill.”

“You’re not?”

“No. Those scumbags deserved what you gave them.”

“So why were you tracking me down?” You ask curiously.

“Well… If I’m being honest I… saw you on CCTV. Saw how you protected those women a few months ago. I also saw you were finding bigger devils and got worried that you might get hurt.”

“You were worried for me and you didn’t even know me?”

“I lost sleep. I was lucky to find you tonight.”

“You’re the reason I got stabbed, you know. That devil was weak.” You say, leaning back as Denji’s eyes widen.

“What? I-- I’m sorry, Y/n.” He implores as you laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, Denji, I’m partly kidding.”

“But it was my fault… I distracted you.”

“It’s fine.” You smile warmly. He sees that smile and the drink in his hand slips from his grasp, spilling all over the table. He jumps up.

“Shit! Shit… sorry.” He runs to grab a rag and wipe it up. You watch him curiously. He’s nothing like what you expected Chainsaw Man to be like. He was sort of uncool but… not in a bad way. He was like a dork. It was endearing. It had you smiling in a way you forgot how to do. There was a reason you killed dirty devils for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. There was a time where you weren’t strong enough to defend yourself. That was the same day you had forgotten what it was like to let someone in. Yet here was Denji, who you’d met mere hours ago, worming his way into your iron shackled heart. Each lock he seemingly had the key too. It was slightly alarming but for some reason it wasn’t scaring you away.

“I’ll go out with you.” You say when Denji had just finished cleaning up only for the shock of your statement causing him to knock over the rest of his drink. You dissolve in a fit of giggles as Denji profusely apologizes, cleaning it all back up.

“You’re serious? You’ll go out with me?”

“Are you gonna spill anything if I say yes?” You tease as Denji sits the things in his hands down. You smile. “Then yes. I’d like to go out with you.” He can’t fight the smile that graces his lips. It’s like looking at the sun. “Come here,” You say. Denji is quick to be at your side as you grab a pen, clicking it. You gently grab his arm and write your number on his palm. “My number, I should be healed up within a few weeks.”

“Can I call you before… just to talk?” He asks and you blush at his innocence. He didn’t seem to want just the one thing most guys wanted.

“I’m a late sleeper and I get off work around five, you can call anytime after that.” You say and watch Denji’s face light up.

“Can you… promise me something?” Denji asked after a moment. You look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“Please let yourself heal. Don’t go devil hunting alone… in fact if you ever find someone you want to hurt please call me and I’ll be there.”

“You want to be my accomplice?” You joke but Denji’s face is dead serious. How could someone care this much in such little time? It almost seems too good to be true.

“I’ll kill for you. Anyone you want dead.” The absolute honesty and pure sincereness made your heart race. This man wore his heart on his sleeve.

“You mean it?”

“I am deadly serious.” He affirms. For a moment you just look at him, your eyes drinking in his soft features. He was quite handsome, a sort of boyish roundness of the face with mature eyes and lips you could tell might not have smiled a lot. But something about him was sad, like the profound loneliness in you had found that same loneliness in him. Like a reflection on yourself. You reached for him but your hand paused before you could touch him.

“Can I touch you?” You asked.

“Please.” He whispered almost inaudibly. You gently ran your fingers across his cheek, settling just below his jaw. His eyes drifted closed at your touch as he moved into your touch like he was starved of it and wanted as much as you’d give him. “Please,” he pleaded again, slowly falling to his knees in front of you.

“Please what?” You whispered, blushing from his reaction to your touch.

“Will you kiss me? Just once?” He whimpered softly. You swallowed, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. You’d do just that. Honestly if he asked you anything on his knees you might just give it to him. You slide your other hand against his cheek and gently tilt his face up by his chin. His eyes opened into yours and the intensity building between you two was thick in the air. You answered his question with the gentle press of your lips against his. He must’ve been extremely touch starved because the noises he made from just a simple kiss were downright filthy. He surged up slightly, wanting to be as close as possible. “May I-- touch you?” He whimpered against your lips.

“Yes.” You answered as his hands flew up to either side of your face, one hand slotting just below your jaw and the other sliding into your hair. The tension builds, the nervous excitement and eager kisses. The slow rise of heat within yours and his body. The quick, shallow breaths Denji was making. The way your and his hearts beat even faster now. Finally, the hesitation is gone, the urge to go through with it so great that it seems like a natural force acting upon Denji’s body itself. HIs hand slides around your hip as he pulls you off the chair and sits back, placing you on his lap like you weighed nothing. Your chests meeting, heartbeats sounding in unison. Your mouths finding each other, and lips coming together in a long, fulfilling kiss. The shyness is all completely and utterly gone. The heat within their bodies rises even further, breaths becoming more erratic. Lips separating for just a moment, just long enough to take a breath. Then they come back together, meeting just as passionately and lovingly. You’d never been kissed like this, never felt the weight of lips against yours that made your heart flutter like this. You felt like a teenager all over again. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt this way. It was dangerous and so so alluring. You’d forgotten about your stab wound up until you raised your other arm to tangle your hand in his hair and the pain was strong enough to pull you back to your senses. You inhaled sharply, a gasp of pain that had Denji pulling back, eyes full of concern.

“Y/n?” He mumbled as a question, lips kissed pink. “Are you okay?”

“My arm,” You said through searing pain. That seemed to bring him back to the present.

“Fuck, sorry!” He mumbled, hand flying up to check the bandage and make sure you hadn’t torn your stitches.

“It’s fine.” You breathe out. Denji reaches to tuck your hair away from your face.

“We should call it a night,” He says but you can tell it’s something he doesn’t really want but wants for you to heal. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” He asks. You’re still sitting in his lap, still wanting much more that he could give you but your arm was aching. You silently cursed that devil for stabbing you and sighed, nodding your head. Denji stands, taking you with him gently. You two are still so close and you almost just want to grab him and ask him not to go. You felt cold when you thought of Denji leaving but you knew you two would need space otherwise your arm would never heal.

“I’ll be waiting.” You smile up at him and he returns that smile.

“I-- I almost don’t want to leave.”

“I almost want you to stay.” You return. The gaping loneliness seemed to be reaching out between you both. But you had to be smart, you had to think rationally. You’d just met him hours ago… you barely knew him. In fact you didn’t know him at all. But… that really didn’t seem to matter because your hands had barely gripped Denji’s shirt, your body making a conscious decision before your mind could think better of it. “What if you stayed the night? Would that be so crazy?” You’d had one night stands before… it wasn’t crazy…

“I’ll stay with you.” He says. You don’t let your mind talk you out of it, you just gently pull him towards your bedroom. You have no thoughts of furthering your prior make out sesh… you’d rather just sleep with him beside you. You gave Denji some clothes to change into and he helped you change into something comfortable. Once you got into bed, Denji following you inched close to him under the covers. Craving the warmth he provided. You’d never known how cold you were until this very moment. Denji turned to face you and in the dark you saw him flush red. “Can I hold you?” He asked and you didn’t even bother speaking because you were moving closer the moment he ended his sentence as his arms slotted around your hips, your face pressing against his chest. In his arms you felt more safe and secure than you’d ever felt. You closed your eyes against the thoughts that swam around in your mind. You were thinking too heavily. You just needed to shut it off. Denji’s steady heartbeat gave you something to focus on, that and his soft snoring that sounded moments later. Sleep hadn’t evaded you tonight where it had so many other nights. Denji’s arms gently tensed around you as he drew you slightly closer in his sleep. After a few moments your mind had shut off and you were slowly and finally lulled to a peaceful sleep. One of many with Denji in the years to come.

#chainsaw man #denji #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji x reader #denji x you #fem reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man smut #denji smut #chainsaw devil

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ithebookhoarder · 2 months

Note

Marc and Steven with a Murdock? Like Daredevil?? If you want, of course ❤️🖤

The Moon Boys with a Murdock!Reader

A/N: Of course I want to! 😆 I'm only sorry it took me so long to answer this. However, I seem to be on a roll today - I can't believe I've got two requests out?! Like, who even am I?

Masterlist

As you said with a Murdock, I’m going with a sibling vibe here which would be pretty adorable anyway as Matt would be such a good brother if he’d ever had the chance.

He would be incredibly close with you and take his role as your protector as seriously as he takes his role as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

You’re the only one he lets know his true self as you’ve been through everything he has. You’ve shared the happiest and saddest moments of your lives together and the bond it forged is as strong as vibranium.

It holds you both together, not matter what you go through or where you end up - including when you both end up at colleges on opposite sides of the country.

You’re extremely careful to never let him pull too far away from you, even when he gets in one of his moods. In fact, you’re sure to turn up and let yourself in to his apartment when he goes too quiet and even Foggy can’t seem to pull him out of the darkness that haunts him.

It’s why you don’t run away when the Moon Boys come crashing in to your lives. The chaos that seems to follow them and their fears that they are too much for you is honestly familiar. Every attempt to push you away only makes you draw nearer - first as a friend, later as something more.

You’d probably meet Moon Knight first around New York. I mean, it's kind of hard not to come across him, given what Matt does and how chaos seems to find its way into your lives.

He'd be the latest adoptee into the Defenders / New York 'Avengers reject club' (your name for the gang, not theirs...) so you'd quickly end up involved in each other's lives.

You'd bond pretty quickly, once you get to know one another without the personas and danger. After all, I think Steven would be eager to find friends who aren't necessarily supers and just like to drink coffee, read novels and go to the dog park at the weekend.

He'd be super keen to get to know you. You're one of the only people who get what their life is like, but also have a foot in the real world.

You'd win over Marc later on, wearing him down with your positivity and unwavering optimism (and also Steven will not shut up about you).

You're not afraid of the darker parts of their world, and become a much needed safe space for Marc, once he lets his guard down.

For instance, you'd be great at patching him up - having had enough practise on Matt over the years. You're also used to having someone nocturnal in the house, coming and going at all hours of the night. Plus, you can obviously be trusted to keep a secret or two.

If anything, Marc's only reluctant to let you get close to him as he doesn't want to taint you. To ruin something so bright and wonderful by dragging you into his darkness.

If Matt's ok with putting you in danger, then that's up to him as your brother. You're family. But for Marc and Steven to do that? It's a line they're unwilling to cross... until you prove to them you aren't going anywhere. That you can handle yourself and that you're already in this mess anyway, so why shouldn't you both be happy?

From that moment on, there's no looking back for any of you. You're leaping in to this together head first, and soon enough you can't imagine life any other way.

Matt, however, can.

Let's be real, he wouldn’t be the biggest fan of Steven and Marc. In fact, he’d be pretty against your relationship the minute he finds out about it.

One, because he thinks no one is worthy of you.

Two, because he hates the idea of you getting hurt or being in danger and being in a relationship with multiple people who all serve an ancient Egyptian deity as his personal vigilante is the very definition of dangerous.

"I... I can't even begin to understand how you could possibly think this is a good idea? At all? He - they - are literally the puppets of an Egyptian god - a GOD, Y/N. You don't want to get in the middle of all that?"

You quickly remind him how he gave a similar speech to Karen when he found out about her and Frank Castle seeing each other, and that didn't work. Last time you checked, they're still blissfully in love.

"Besides, Matthew! You're the one who goes running around at night, getting in fights, wearing a glorified halloween costume. Like, I am the SANE sibling here. ALSO! Marc and Steven were forced into their situation. They didn't go looking for it like a crazy nut job. So, yeah. I think if anything, you don't have a leg to stand on here!"

Matt would be able to sense who was fronting the moment they appeared. He’d be able to recognise them from the way their heart is beating and their mannerisms the second they stepped through the door, which is helpful but also incredibly unsettling.

Steven would brush it off, seeing it as Matt just being a kind brother to you. However, I think Marc would have more of a problem with Matt’s hostility, and enhanced senses. It puts him on edge to know they are being so closely scrutinised.

They also have the same temperament so I can imagine there will be more than a few clashes in the beginning, their similar brusque natures making it hard for them to not bump heads.

However, after Matt learns about Marc’s DID and his childhood trauma I think he’d be more sympathetic. After all, you both didn’t have the easiest childhood either.

He also knows what it’s like to live with a condition that can make your life harder but also makes you unique.

According to the comics, both of them are known to be good detectives and also keen boxers. I can totally see them building a reluctant respect for one another after they realise they have more in common than just their love for you.

In fact, I know you’d have to pull them out of the ring after Marc agrees to a sparring match with the famous ‘Devil’. The pair of them would get a weird pleasure from trying to beat the other to a pulp - they don’t often find someone evenly matched to have a friendly bout or two with.

At least it would once again prove to Matt that your boys could definitely take care of you if you ever needed it.

Matt would definitely be sure to offer his legal advice whenever he’s concerned you both might be skating on thin ice with the law. Apparently, ‘I’m being controlled by an Ancient Egyptian God’ hasn’t ever been tried as a legal defence in the American justice system before… and Matt is oddly willing to try it.

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book-place · 1 year

Text

Holiday Secret

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Batfamily x reader platonic

Request: I have another request! Here's my idea: batfam x reader who isnt supposed to know about their identities but secretly does. Before damian left school for winter break (you also go to school with damian in this one. And youre both friends as well) you gave him a gift for all of his brothers, including him and Bruce. You had specifically instructed him to open it once you were out of sight. So, when he arrived at the manor, he gathered everyone up and gave them their gifts from you. They were so excited! They've met you before and they absolutely love you. When they opened their gifts, they were met with a figuring of their hero identities (example; Jason got a red hood figuring and Bruce got a batman figuring). They all looked at it in confusion, maybe it was just a coincidence? But as damian took off the rest of the wrapping paper an envelope fell out. Tim picked it up before he could as damian shot him a cold glare, only for Tim to stuck his tongue out at him. Everyone gathered around him in curiosity as he slowly opened the envelope to reveal many photos printed out of the masked vigilantes with each one naming their real identities. Another piece of paper fell out as it read; "i know who you are. But dont worry, your secret is safe with me" This isn't really a Christmas request so you can always remove it from the event and make it on your own time, it's up to you

Request by: @ladyagagaslefttoe

*not my gif*

Summary: You give Damian a very unexpected surprise for the holidays

A/N: Welcome to day 4 of Book Places 12 Days of Christmas Celebration

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Damian!” You called with a smile as you skipped happily down the hall towards the boy.

He turned to you with a raised eyebrow, “L/n.” He greeted.

“For you and your family,” You said cheerfully, handing him a couple of small bags, “Tell them I said Merry Christmas.”

The boy was taken aback, “You got us gifts?” He asked in surprise.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Of course, silly!”

Though you had only been introduced to his family only a couple of times, you adored them just as much as you adored Damian, who had quickly become your best friend in the beginning of the year after being placed next to each other for multiple classes.

“Oh…” He was still in slight shock, “Thank you.”

Your grin widened, “It’s no problem, Dami.” You threw your arms around his neck and brought him into a quick hug, “Have a great break! I’ll see you when we get back!”

With that, you turned on your heel and skipped away, leaving Damian standing in the middle of the hall, blinking after you for a moment before shaking his head softly and looking down at the bags you had given him.

Early on in your friendship, you had both learned how to deal with one another’s polar opposite personalities, this was not different. Where he didn’t find it necessary to give gifts, you did.

With a slight shrug to himself, he began his journey back to the manor.

-•-

“L/n has gotten us all presents,” Damian announced, marching into the dining room, where his whole family sat.

Everyone looked up at him in surprise, “Really?” Dick asked excitedly, bouncing up and down in his seat at the thought.

“Well, that was nice of her,” Bruce commented with a small smile as he took a sip of his coffee in front of him.

Damian walked around the table, passing out all the bags based on everyone’s names being written in bold words on the front.

Once everyone had recived a bag, including Damian himself, they were all quick to tear out the wrapping paper and allow their eyes to rest upon the bestowed gifts.

Silence echoed louder in the room than any word ever could as they all stared at first with confusion, then wide eyes of horror.

“Is this…” Tim trailed off, too at a loss for words to even be able to finish what he was thinking.

“It- it’s a coincidence… right?” Dick stuttered out, too overwhelmed to really understand what he was seeing.

One by one, each of the family members reached into their bags before pulling out figurines. But not just any figurine, ones of their hero identities, each person with their own.

“What the-“ Jason wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as he started down at the Red Hood toy, before Damian inturpted him.

“There’s a card.” He spoke with no emotion in his voice as he shook it out from the bottom of the bag.

Everyone immediately got up and rushed to his side, cramming around to try and get a glimpse of what it said.

I know who you are, but don’t worry, your secrets safe with me

Thirteen words. Sixty two characters. One life altering message.

The silence once again hung thickly in the air between all of them, ringing in their ears as if an explosion just occurred.

“H-how…” Tim swallowed thickly, being the first one to speak, “How did she know?”

“She’s smart,” Damian murmured, eyebrows furrowed slightly as the gears could practically be seen turning in his head, “Prehaps she’s known for a while.”

“But, will she really not tell anybody?” Dick asked the one question everyone was truly thinking.

“No,” Damian said thoughtfully, “She won’t.”

Jason scoffed, “How do you know?”

The boy looked his elder brother dead in the eyes as he responded, “Because I trust her.”

The confession meant a lot more than it sounded like, for the youngest boy to actually trust, let alone admit that he did, was something that almost never happened.

Bruce cleared his throat, putting a hand on his sons shoulder, “Well, if Damian does, then so do I.”

-•-

You hummed happily to yourself as you floated over to the door once the bell had been rung, opening it with a smile to see a delivery man.

“How can I help you?” You asked, not having remembered ordering anything.

“Y/n L/n?” He asked, reciving a nod of conformation before continuing, “You have fifty packages of gifts waiting for your signature.”

Your eyes widened as you stuttered out, “W-what? I didn’t order anything!”

“They’re from…” he trailed off, looking down at his clipboard, “Mr. Bruce Wayne.” He shook his head lightly, “I suppose he’s the only one to be able to get you all these gifts though our system at this time of year…Oh, here’s a note!” He handed a folded up paper to you.

You looked down at the two words. Nine characters. And life changing message.

Thank you

The Superior Robin ❤️- @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @i-writes-things

#book places christmas event #platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #batfam x reader platonic #batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader platonic #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader platonic #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader platonic #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader platonic #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader platonic #dc comics #dc x reader

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unpretty · 1 year

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May I get the dissertation on Beverly Hills Cop. Please.

andrew just turned on our bluray so i dug through my inbox to see if this ask was still here. however i'm not gonna do anything fancy, just liveblog obnoxiously.

ultimately it's an 80s cop movie so don't expect it to age well and not be that. it's still aged better than eddie murphy's delirious but that's not saying much (do not try to watch eddie murphy's early standup in 2023).

anyway first of all the theme song fucking rules, i'll never forgive crazy frog for what they did to this song (and also the many other crimes of that vile amphibian)

youtube

eddie murphy really carries this fucking movie. can you believe they wanted to give this to stallone??? fucking imagine. he wanted to be a cool guy named snake who drove cool cars. we can't be in the worst of all possible universes because that didn't happen and he stuck all his bad ideas in cobra (1986). allegedly he quit over a disagreement about orange juice, which is probably not true but is very funny to imagine. every anecdote you've ever heard about a funny scene being improvised actually came from this movie, i think. this might be the only movie where that's true. the original script is, according to Everyone, fucking dire. it was actually twelve scripts clumsily pasted together. they had no choice but to let a bunch of feral comedians run wild and waste miles of film because they kept making each other laugh. it was the only way to salvage anything out of that script.

i know what i just said about the script but the beginning of the movie is a fucking masterclass in efficient storytelling. every beat conveys multiple important points of information. you meet axel doing an illegal deal and. okay the part where a cop car slowly comes up behind them in the alley while they're arguing about money is extremely funny. there's a whole fucking chase scene before they reveal that axel was a cop the whole time which really sets the tone. this man is a con artist. he's doing his own thing. everyone's sick of his shit. he'd be extremely good at his job if his job was being a wacky vigilante and not a fucking cop.

they introduce A Mysterious Figure From His Past whose whole deal establishes that axel actually was a criminal, and he's got criminal friends, and those friends were so good they took the fall for his ass. they love him! he loves them!! he owes his whole scummy life to this guy!!! it makes it good and devastating when he fucking dies, and yeah, sure, of course axel is going to travel to beverly hills to avenge his dead friend. the scene is set, it took very little time, it told you very little directly. all things i enjoy.

from here on out a major source of tension is the fundamental difference in policing between a poor black city and a rich white city. they deliberately designed the beverly hills police department set to look like a private security firm for rich people. they had to invent the concept of gps, which did not exist, for these bougie cops. axel expects to be able to get away with a lot more than he does. he expects the cops to put up with a lot less than they do. the scene where bogomil makes taggart apologize to axel and asks if axel wants to press charges is cringe as fuck for how it makes this look ridiculous and not fully fucking reasonable to expect a cop not to punch a guy, even if he's being annoying on purpose. but it's important to establish the level of culture shock this is for axel, who has never in his life seen a white officer experience a consequence (he personally experiences many consequences).

if axel foley were played by a white man there is a 100% chance there would have been a romantic subplot with his lady friend who worked for the same rich asshole as their murdered friend. we're all clear on that, right? like. i enjoy the lack of a romantic subplot, but we all know why that's missing, right? they did not leave jenny single for girl power reasons.

allegedly bronson pinchot didn't tell anyone he was going to do that fucking accent in the art gallery scene until they were already filming. i feel like that scene is just two men trying to get each other to break on camera. anyway pinchot got a gig on perfect strangers because of it so good call buddy.

fucking. taggart and rosewood. john ashton and judge reinhold. fucking perfect. they were teamed up in the audition and instead of acting like cops they acted like an old married couple and the genius doing casting was like "yes perfect" and they got the job and also stuck the audition scene in the movie. the part where rosewood talks about all the red meat in your bowels. excellent. i love them. rosewood being the by-the-book cop because he's a rookie while taggart is rougher around the edges is so good. rosewood actually having a blast and really wanting to tell the fun story of how axel distracted them with food delivery and stuck bananas in their tailpipe is so good. damon wayans is credited as "banana man". there are no small roles in this life.

and the movie does my favorite thing, which is establish that taggart and rosewood and even bogomil actually are competent. they don't seem like it because axel is there literally sticking bananas in tailpipes, but they ARE good at their jobs. the strip club scene? they could have made it another "axel foley is the coolest cop" scene where he brings that guy down. but instead the other cops see that he's onto something and follow his lead.

the "supercops" scene is great because ashton fucking breaks. you can see him break. he is trying so hard not to break but it's too fucking funny.

there are multiple scenes where axel fucks up and it's always because he's actually very emotional and upset about his fucking friend getting murdered by a rich guy who expects no consequences. all of his major fuckups are because he really cannot stand that guy being a smug asshole about it. the scene at the country club is the one i could most stand to cut, but it's important for establishing axel's rage and also hubris. he is angry and he is impatient and he KNOWS this motherfucker is up to something. he wants to ruin this man's life. he wants to humiliate him. he doesn't care if it's legal. however you couldn't lose this scene without also losing "this all happened the last time i parked here" so it has to stay. also the part where axel pretends to be gay and implies he gave another man herpes as a con hasn't aged well. i still laughed, but, you know. i recognize it for what it is.

there's such a good scene with bogomil. where he's like. axel. for the love of god. give me something. you are clearly an intelligent man and you clearly think you are onto something. we are on the same side here. what the fuck is going on. and axel lays it all out and bogomil is like "that all sounds very plausible but you have jack shit for evidence, we are going to try to find evidence so we can do something about this LEGALLY" and then it's made clear that he is also beholden to authorities, specifically an appointed official who is very much on the side of wealthy shitheads. "i wanna be a good cop but politicians won't let me" is horseshit but as a narrative device it's a good one. definitely preferable to that bbc sherlock "i am a genius, let's establish this by surrounding me with bumbling morons" approach. i mean it's true that cops are all bumbling morons but it's bad storytelling if your main character is also, literally or figuratively, a fucking cop.

rosewood being talked into helping because he's young and really wants to do good is also good. is there axel foley/billy rosewood fanfic? there must be. rosewood is smitten with axel. you can see it. axel tells rosewood to think of him whenever he gets out of the shower. the signs are all there. where was i. jenny's insistence on participating (because she ALSO wants to avenge her dead friend) creates an unfortunate damsel situation, but that works out because the instant a white lady is in danger that creates all the incentive the plot needs for the cops to be useful. did you know she was an amateur bodybuilder? they should have let her kick ass.

then at the end when bogomil is like. hello boss. i have an explanation for everything that you cannot disprove. which is bad! they killed a man and are falsifying a police report. but also it's an axel move and that makes it okay because it's movies. axel convincing bogomil to talk to his boss by threatening to stay in beverly hills is a quality gag.

there's an alternate universe where the character does that and becomes a private eye and we get a procedural tv show out of it. apparently that almost happened. instead we got beverly hills cops two and three, which aren't as good, because they were actual movies with real scripts and not just bizarre fever dreams assembled from scraps of action movies that no one wanted to make glued together by comedians wasting film with some of the best one-liners you've ever heard.

#original #beverly hills cop

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fiction-is-the-new-reality · 1 month

Text

Pt 3: if only you knew

An Unfortunate Incident

word count: 5k

warnings: major violence, adult language, and angst

A/N: Ok sooooo. Thank everyone for all your support!! It means the world. Also I want to explain my inspiration for our main girl. I want her to be a bit darker than the other vigilantes. Someone that’s similar to Red Hoods vibe. I like to imagine her outfit similar to Azrael’s in AK, just without the full mask. I changed the name to Vulture instead of Phoenix because I felt like Phoenix was a little too cliche. As always please give feedback and love you guys!

Blinking a few times, you take in your surroundings. You’re on a cot in Panessa Studios. There’s a tightness in your side that tells you they stitched you up. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you look around. There are other cells identical to the one you’re in, with people in them.

“Great, you’re up,” Tim pops into view, donned in his Robin suit. “Batman told me not to let you out.”

You look at him, opening your mouth to argue when he cuts you off. “Lucky for you, I know he needs help out there. You’re free to go, that is, if you’re feeling like it. I know it can be scary to get back out the–”

“This isn’t my first time getting my ass beat,” you remind him, “but that did sound like it was going to be a great pep talk, though.”

Placing your feet on the floor, you begin to stand. Your body aches from the beatings, and you can feel the itchiness of the stitching as you walk to the door. The door slides open to allow you out, and you finally see the other people in the cells.

Looking at them, you see they all have pale skin and green hair, and even their mouths look slightly deformed to an upturned smile. While you’re staring, they all begin to yell and taunt you. Seeing the confused look on your features, Tim quickly explains who they are and why they’re locked in the cells.

Turning away from the people, you begin walking toward the elevator. “How long was I out for?”

“Couple hours. It’s gotten worse out there.”

“Has Bats asked for any help?”

“If he has, he hasn’t asked me.” He frowns like a disappointed kid.

And as you stare at him, you remember that he is just a kid. He’s barely older than Jason was when he became Robin. Your heart clenches at the thought of Tim possibly meeting the same fate as Jason.

“Don’t take it personally. He’s just looking out for you in his own way.” You grab his shoulder and squeeze it. He smiles back.

He calls out to you as you get on the elevator to go up.

“Kick some ass for me!”

As you leave the studio, your ears are filled with static before a voice emerges.

“Hello, Miss, I wanted to let you know your suit is complete. I have the Batwing sending it, along with new devices for you. I hope it is to your liking.” Lucius sounds pleased with himself.

“Thank you, Lucius.” The Batwing comes around the corner, and you watch in awe as the pod rockets down, slamming into the ground.

It opens with a loud hiss. Inside, the light reveals a two-piece suit. The dark green and black colors contrast against the bright white light. Putting it on, you instantly notice the reinforced fabric and the extra padded areas. Lucius had included details you hadn’t even thought of, like attaching a cape to the hood of your top and new boots. You take a moment to get used to the new suit and place your new gadgets and weapons on so they adorn every inch of your body.

Pressing on your comms, you call out to Oracle, but there’s nothing. A chill runs down your spine. That’s unlike Barbara. You try again, but there’s still nothing. As a final attempt, you use the tempad on your wrist to call her but receive the same response - silence. Shooting out the grappling hook, you feel the tug as it latches onto the next building. With your legs moving at top speed, you leap from building to building, feeling the wind rush against your face.

The moment you get closer to the Clock Tower, the reverberating sound of multiple shots fills the air, echoing from the Batmobile and the militia tanks. The Tower itself has an overwhelming amount of militia presence. Jumping down, you make quick work of taking them out. Taking your chain whip, you wrap one end around your left hand and use your right to swing and deliver blows. Utilizing the chain, you swiftly neutralize several men, effortlessly reeling in the remaining ones and defeating them with your hands.

There’s a quick, almost too fast black mass out of the corner of your eye. As you glance in that direction, you notice Batman has entered the fray; his powerful presence gains the attention of the men. Most of them leave you to go deal with him. You and Bruce do good at avoiding each other, until the last second of the fight.

There’s only one man left, and you punch into his core as many times as possible, forcing him to move backward and toward Batman. Sweeping out his feet, you kick him back, letting Bruce deal the final hit that puts the guy to sleep.

The robotic voice of Arkham Knight comes over the comms of the fallen militia men. “I’m impressed. But your tricks don’t stay new for long, Batman. I see you’ve added another person that you’ll get killed.”

Your eyes widen as you look at Bruce. He looks back at you before grappling at the top of the Tower. You’re right after him.

You both land in the room, and while looking around, you notice only one thing out of the ordinary. There’s no sign of a struggle, just an empty turned-over wheelchair that lays in the middle of the floor.

“What the hell happened?” Bruce ignores your question. Turning to see what he’s doing, you notice a glossy look in his eyes as he stares at the wheelchair. Strange. He still doesn’t respond or acknowledge you’re there, even after you call his name multiple times. He finally snaps out of his daze and places the wheelchair back upright.

The elevator dings open to show Commissioner Gordon. As he enters the room, you push yourself into the shadows, hoping to become a fly on the wall as you watch what unfolds.

Jim’s foot lands on a picture frame of him and Barbara. While he kneels, he lightly runs his fingers across it. Bruce speaks up, “This isn’t your fault, Jim.”

“Of course it is. Crane’s done this to get to me. I should have been here.”

Your heart breaks as you watch him blame himself.

“There’s something I need to show you.” Bruce turns, walking to the retina scanner.

Jim stands back to full height, following him. “We haven’t got time. She’s not like us,” Jim frets.

“Batman?” You question him, making sure he wants to do this. He doesn’t seem to care about the consequences.

As the machine whirls to life, the room soon converts into Oracle’s domain. And before you can say another word, he reveals the secret that Barbara fought so hard to keep from her father. You watch as Jim digests what's happening, his eyes darting back and forth between the room and Batman. You know it’s clicked when his face goes from sadness to anger.

“She’s strong, Jim, stronger than you realize.”

Not only do you see the anger, but you can feel the anger radiating off of Jim as he turns back to Batman.

“She works for you?” He scoffs as he shakes his head, walking toward the elevator. “This is all your fault.”

“I will find her,” Batman’s stern voice was an unspoken promise.

You stare in surprise as Jim punches him. Batman takes the punch unfazed.

“She’s my family! MY DAUGHTER! She’s all I’ve got.” He gets on the elevator, turns around, and tells Bruce, “I never should have trusted you. Never!” His face was full of pain and betrayal as he threw down his communicator.

“I’ll do this on my own. Stay away from my family.” His voice wavers a little but remains stern. He slams shut the elevator door and leaves.

Once the elevator is gone, you turn back to Bruce, “What’s our next step? How do we plan on finding Barbara?”

“I’ll hack the municipal CCTV system. I should be able to monitor all access points in the building.” He filters through the footage from the last few hours.

“There!” You watch as two militia vehicles pull up. The Arkham Knight hops out of one, enters the Tower, and soon returns with what looks like an unconscious Barbara. He puts her in the back of the car and takes off with her.

“I’ll be able to program the Batmobile to track the tires, their AmerTek D60s.”

“Great, I’ll come with you.”

“No, you need to be out on the streets. There are militia checkpoints and riots that you can help with.”

“I don’t work for you, Bruce,” you remind him. “I’m in this for Barbara, and the best way for me to help is to get her back.”

“There’s no time to argue. If you want Barbara back faster, you’ll listen to me and stay back.” He insisted.

“You better find her.” You sneer at him,

You’re out of the tower, watching the streets from above. You can’t stop yourself from seething with rage towards Bruce. Who does he think he is to tell you what to do? And who are you to listen? You hate that you’re not helping find Barbara; you hate that you’re stuck doing busy work.

A flashing light catches your eye, causing you to turn and see Bat Burger in the distance. You and Jason had gone there before everything, and you wish your smile were genuine, but instead, a bittersweet feeling washes over you. Your smile is one of self-pity. Your last moments with each other were marked by faces red with anger, furrowed brows, and tear-filled eyes as you desperately pleaded for him to listen. Closing your eyes, you think back to that night.

There’s snow covering the ground, Jason’s complaining about Bruce treating him like a kid, and you just listen as you stare up at him while waiting in line to order.

You grab your food and sit in a secluded booth, far from the bustling crowd.

“I’m not a kid. I haven’t been one for a long time. He treats me like I’m still in the learning phase. Like, I haven’t been with him for almost two years! You know, after Dick had been with him for two years, he had joined the Titans!” He takes a massive bite of the burger in his hands, and with his mouth full of food, he speaks again. “I’m going to show him. Hell, I’ll go after Joker if it shows him to take me seriously.”

You giggle at him, “Yeah, great idea, Jay. I’ll take down Croc while we’re at it.” You look up from your meal when you don’t hear him laugh.

“I’m not kidding,” he had a stern look on his face.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” He stops mid-chew to look at you like you’re crazy.

“Look, Jay, I know how hard it is to deal with Bruce, but don’t you think that’s a little too much?” You shrug, trying to ease the uncomfortableness that’s fallen over the table.

“Actually, you don’t know how hard it is to deal with Bruce.” Great, you think. He’s putting up a wall. “You don’t think I can do it?” he accuses you.

“It’s not that, just…maybe wait a little longer.”

He scoffs, “I could do it. I could take any of them.”

“I’m sure you could, but wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t risk it? Wouldn’t it be better if you could confidently take them down in a couple of years?”

“The only ones not confident in me are you and Bruce.”

“Don’t lump me in with him. I just think there are other ways to show him you’re ready to move on from being the dynamic duo.”

“None of that will be as effective as this. If I show him, I can hold my own. He won’t be able to ignore it.” Jason’s being stubborn as always, and usually, you love that about him, but right now, it’s adding to your aggravation.

“Unless you get killed!” You toss your hands up, trying to make your point more clearly.

“I can’t believe this. You’re supposed to support me. Why don’t you see that I can do this?” His eyebrows furrow, his face getting slightly flushed as he grows angrier.

“Jason, it’s a stupid idea! There’s such a high chance of you getting injured or, worse, killed! Why do you not care about that?”

“I bet if Dick had told you this, you’d bat your eyelashes and tell him he’s so brave.” He jeered. Your eyes soften slightly, knowing how he constantly compares himself to others. He had a wicked jealous streak, not to mention his fear of not being good enough. You know he wants to impress Bruce, to show that he was better than Dick, that he was the best yet.

“Don’t be an ass, Jay. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me. I can do that myself.” He stands from the table, and you lunge up after him. Following him outside.

“Just forget I said anything. No one trusts me. No one believes in me. I’m just Jason, the poor alley kid Bruce Wayne so generously took in. I’m just the second Robin, constantly compared to Boy Wonder.” He whips around to face you. “I’m so fucking tired of it! I want to be seen for who I am, not for where I came from. No one has faith in me, but I’ll prove it. I’ll show all of you that you’re wrong.”

You step back from him, your face twisting as you empathize with me. He notices immediately, and his anger just furthers.

“Don’t you fucking dare look at me like that. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything from you.” He turns back around and begins stalking toward the nearest alley. You chase after him, the cold air nipping at your burning face.

You feel your eyes welling up with tears but refuse to cry, “Jason, wait, please!”

His pace doesn’t decline. “Jay, I just want to keep you here for as long as possible! I don’t care about where you come from or who’s been here before you! I just care that you’re still here! You can’t do this.” You finally catch up and grab his arm.

Turning quickly, he grabs your arm and shoves you off him. His eyes are full of fire, and they’re glossy with tears. “Nothing you say can stop me. I was just hoping you’d be different and that you’d understand. I hoped you’d be a good friend and at least lie, but you didn’t because you’re just like them.”

“Please don’t do anything stupid, please, Jason.” You grab at him again, but he dodges your hand. You feel the tears overflowing, and your throat gets tight as your nose burns.

“Jason, please, just listen to me. Just think about this. Please don’t, Jason.” The tears have started to fall as you beg him.

The tears that roll down your face feel like knives slicing him open. He has to turn away. He can’t stand to see you cry, especially since he caused it. He doesn’t respond to your pleas as he makes his way up and out of the alley.

A huge booming noise towards Miagani pulls you back to the present. You can hear multiple rapid shots exchanged between tanks and the Batmobile. Pressing a button on the tempad on your wrist, you hear the low rumble of your motorcycle nearby. You jump off the building and press the button again. From around the corner, your bike appears. Positioning yourself on the bike, you grip the handlebars tightly, feeling the engine's vibration reverberate through your hands as you accelerate towards triple-digit speeds, racing towards Miagani Island.

Arriving at the scene, it is obvious you’re too late. Destroyed tanks fill the area, with some still burning. The thought of following Bruce crosses your mind, but it quickly vanishes once you see the tunnel. You’re very intrigued by the tunnel. The pull is irresistible, like a pirate under the spell of a siren's song.

As you slowly roll down, you’re stunned at the realization that there had been a massive militia presence under your feet this entire time. Your eyes dart from one direction to another, constantly scanning your surroundings. Despite the appearance of a complete evacuation, you remain on high alert, not lowering your guard. The tunnel opening fades from sight, leaving you with a pounding heart and a sense of unease. As you venture deeper, an unsettling feeling of being watched washes over you. You just blame it on nerves.

There’s a room on the left side of the tunnel. You wonder if there’s anything in there that could help find Barbara. You position your bike nearby in case you need a quick getaway. Walking around, you examine every piece of paper, nook, and cranny. Luckily, your search isn’t wholly void; you find some Batarangs.

As you stand from picking up the Batarangs, the feeling of being watched is so strong you quickly whip around to look at the door. Your blood runs cold as you come face to face with the Arkham Knight.

“It must be my lucky night, getting two of you little heroes in a row. Even better is that you brought yourself to me.” His modulated voice adds to echoes around the room.

Without meaning to, you’ve taken a step back. Arkham Knight matches by stepping forward.

“If we’re going to fight, let’s get on with it.” What sounds like a laugh comes through his helmet before he lunges at you.

His fist met your body quick and hard. Blocking as many as you could, you landed some of your own. Each punch from you lands with a resounding thud against his combat suit. You're doing well until he grips your shoulders, forcefully slamming you against his knee. The impact of his knee against your stitched-up side sends a lightning bolt of pain all over. As the pain rattles your body, you crumble to the ground, feeling the hard surface beneath you. His towering body seemed even more looming as he stared down at you.

He straddles your body, not even flinching as you thrash and punch him. He tightly grips your neck, his hands constricting like a vise. You know you’re going to be bruised. As he tries to suffocate you, you swiftly wrap your legs around his waist, desperately seeking leverage. You attempt to gain an advantage by extending your arms as far as possible, pushing against the front of his helmet, and contorting your body to move his head back. His grip on your neck relaxes ever so lightly as you twist his neck further to the side.

With his grip still on your neck, you brace your arms in a triangle-like shape under his. Slamming them against his, you break out of the lock he has on you. Following it with a kick to his chest. The impact is jarring, sending a shockwave of sensation up your legs. With a backward roll, he allows you to rise to your feet. When you turn to face him, you see the Knight back on his feet, ready for another round. Both of you stand there, eyes locked, the tension palpable. He waits for you to bolt out the door as you wait for him to lunge at you.

He jerks his head at the doorway, “Go ahead, run.” Even through the voice disruptor, you can hear the smirk he’s wearing.

You break the stand-off by slinging the batarangs at him. They take him by surprise, and he instinctively swipes at them in self-defense, giving you time to run towards your bike. You hear his footsteps thudding behind you as you approach your bike. Before you can swing your leg to get on, you’re being picked up and slammed down onto the dirt. Your brain rattles in your skull from the force, and you go blind with rage.

Going ballistic, you start punching and you don’t stop. Even as he blocks, you keep going, sidestepping his fist and his legs as he attempts to kick. You circle him so fast that he gets dizzy. Ducking down, you strike his midsection with jabs, then deliver an uppercut to his metal head. In a twisting motion, you aim to deliver a roundhouse kick, but he successfully catches your ankle as your foot comes close to him. You support him by propelling yourself towards him.

He wobbles backward. You entwine your legs around his waist and thrust yourself towards his center of mass. He falls to the dirt with a thud. Your strength doesn’t waver, not even when you’re on top. Straddling him, you slam the front of his helmet with both hands. Despite repeating the process, the glass remains unbreakable. Yanking out one of your blades, you aim for his unarmoured neck. Just before the blade hits, he grabs your arms only centimeters away.

“I wonder how Batman will feel about this murder attempt?” He taunts you.

Determined to get the blade through his neck, you push as hard as you can. “I wonder how it’ll feel when I slice through your vocal cords.” You snarl back at him.

He chuckles, pretending he doesn’t feel the blade against his Adam’s apple.

You lean forward, using your body weight to press the blade down. It backfires and allows him to ram his helmet against your forehead. After you tumble off of you, you attempt to crawl toward your bike. The black spots in your vision make it almost impossible to see it.

Arkham Knight stands there, watching as you crawl to your motorcycle. He almost for half a second feels for you. For half a second, he thinks back to when he was Robin. He thinks of that little boy so full of red-hot rage, so stubborn to prove himself. He sees Jason Todd in you. Soon, images of himself crawling away from Joker derail his mind. The asylum’s grimy, moldy floors squeak as he moves away from Joker. The new Robin suit being caked with blood and the massive headache he had all the time.

He can’t breathe. He hates watching you crawl. He hates seeing you. He hates Batman. He wants him to pay, to feel how he feels. He needs to send a message.

He stalks over to you, and once he’s close enough, he kicks you in the side so hard you flip over. He places his boot on your chest, applying enough pressure to make you wheeze.

“Don’t blame me for this. Blame Batman. He wasn’t here to protect you. He left you all alone.” He says it like he’s pitying you. No teasing or taunting, just pity.

He takes a small gun and aims it at your chest. You double-click the button on your tempad that alerts your bike to come to your location. It roars to life and charges in your direction. The speed of the bike causes his instincts to kick in, and he swiftly leaps aside. With lightning speed, you mount the bike and zip away. As you emerge from the tunnel, the sight of the Gotham streets greets you, and in that moment, a wave of relief washes over you.

Standing there, the Knight watches you disappear into the distance, the sound of the motorcycle reverberating off the walls. He raises the gun, his finger hovering over the trigger, but then abruptly lowers it, a moment of hesitation flashing in his eyes. He’ll wait until the perfect moment. He wants Batman to witness your death. Nothing and no one is safe from the Arkham Knight, and he’s going to make sure that Bruce knows that.

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charg3rs0ck3t · 1 year

Text

Anti-heroism

(Alt title- “Save me?”)

TASM! Peter Parker x (vigilante) reader

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of domestic crimes, reader kills someone (not too graphic), almost death, knives, it’s really fucking long, some fluff.

((Unedited))

———————————————————————

Not everyone is worth being saved.

———————————————————————

The first time you really met Spiderman, your hands were around his neck. You were slowly tightening your grip, but, as you looked up to watch the life leave his eyes, something you had eagerly awaited, you stopped as he began to mumble.

You knew that voice.

God fucking damnit.

———————————————————————

You hated heroes. Hated how they were considered salvations to a broken society. Maybe if the rich gave a shit the divide wouldn’t be so great.

Society is run off greed.

And yeah, sometimes the rich do give a shit, you weren’t saying thats the prime evil, the problem comes when assholes use chaos and desperation to make quick cash.

New York City was a prime example of the cesspits designed by and for humanity. In the beginning, there was no night that went by without the sound of an ambulance and a hearse in pursuit with last nights leftovers.

Now they just skipped the ambulance and went straight in with the hearse.

The city chewed people up and spat them out dead.

Heroism is dangerous. It is a false alias for mass destruction and major loss of life, and yet claims to be for the good of the people. A core of wickedness, hidden in a faux utilitarian shell. A being not whole unless causing harm and calling themself in favour of those who they massacre.

Heroism is a plague of the mind, but it doesn’t acquaint to the evil it fights. In concept, the idea was perfect. That’s where you came in.

Neither hero nor villain, but one who admits and atones to their wrongs without a need to do so. You had no image to uphold, doing what was right and paying the cost that took.

At least.. at least until you decided to catch the attention of the ‘local hero’.

———————————————————————

Growing up in New York City had its perks, one such being direction. But it was still a big city, things where constantly changing, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to drop into an alley a block or so over from your intended destination.

Usually, this was fine, however how were you to react when you come face to face with The Spiderman adjusting his costume and packing away casual clothes into a duffle.

Clearly, he didn’t know either because as he seemed to be adjusting the material at his shoulders, he turned a caught a glimpse of you.

There you two stood, at a stale mate, perfectly acquainted through previous minor conflicts and slightly contrasting morals. He began to panic, it was dreadfully obvious when all he could seem to do was gape like a fish.

“Don’t worry spider-boy, knowing what you look like would take all the fun out of it!” You exclaimed, turning your back and walking away, chuckling to yourself as you scale a wall onto another building. Hoping to finally enjoy some peace.

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to follow you.

“Where are you going?” He said, trailing just behind you. He didn’t exactly know why he had followed you up here, but you confused him so and he was intrigued.

Peter knew he was no distinguished labelled hero, Hell, he was reminded by the papers every day. He knew and he accepted that, but he had every intention to be one, no matter what.

You however, you perplexed him. You seemed to hate the evil in the city, and so you did something about it. But you hated being called a hero, you didn’t do anything by the book. In fact there were times Peter found your methods barbaric and oddly personal.

He had watched you beat the literal shit out of your fair share of criminals, but you’d really let it out in cases of domestic crimes. For being so violent, you were so passionate and so caring to victims.

But you just didn’t want to be a hero. Trust that he knows that, he’s asked you on multiple occasions and that black eye from the last time he snuck up on you still aches on occasion.

“None of your business.” You retaliated to him tiredly, soon following with a yawn. You were exhausted, Rightfully so however. You had been parading around since your class ended and it was almost 11 PM by now.

All you wanted to do was get home, finish your coursework, take a bath and sleep.

But here you were, with an eyesore in tight spandex on your ass. You couldn’t go home with him tailing you, so you’d have to go horizontal to your apartment. Sitting on some random roof and hanging your legs over a darkened alley.

Hoping to have lost him, you glanced over your shoulder, only to see him staring at you from across the roof. You sighed, getting out some protein bar and opening it. Eating away as you stared into the busy streets.

The city truly never slept and amongst the ugliness and sorrow, the chaos and twinkling lights seemed ever beautiful and you smiled at the thought.

“Why do you do it?” He muttered as he sat next to you. Getting a hum in response only prompted him to continue. “I mean, you say you hate the city, that you’d leave it first chance you have.. but somewhere in there you must love it, or you wouldn’t do this, put yourself in danger just for the innocent.”

“That’s a dark way of looking at it Spider-man, I thought you were meant to be this place’s glimmer of light!” You laughed a little, majorly just trying to release the harsh tension. “It’s not the city, it’s the people, it’s the people who this place don’t deserve. I think no matter where I was I would have ended up like this because people need something to believe in.”

“Superhero speech! That was totally a superhero speech don’t even deny it! I got it all down!” He yelled accusingly but in a light tone, pointing at you. It was fond, as if you were just two old friends bantering with each other. Even if you did push him off the roof in response with a loud ‘would a superhero do this asshole!?’

But you knew he would catch himself, that he expected it was coming.

You hated heroes, but this one just seemed to be the exception.

———————————————————————

Peter was a sweet boy, respectful, but he was pained.

You could tell he was always hiding a deeper pain, sorrow he never let himself truly feel, sorrow he may never cure himself of.

He was your best friend, a shining ray of hope even through all the dirt, but even the brightest rays where darkened and scarred by the ugly smog that was the city.

Every time you talked to him, every happy moment, he never seemed to let himself truly enjoy it. He seemed to live in the future but always worry about the present.

How can one hope to fix the present if they treat it as the past? Simple answer, you can’t.

———————————————————————

It was another night in New York, even the lume of the many billboards couldn’t shine upon every shadowed corner. So, evil continued in the darkness.

You already hadn’t been having a great day, your job had double booked you for 2 meetings and you had spent hours being yelled at for trying to point out the issue. Plus, you had to miss one of your lectures because the meeting went over by an hour. So really you were just sick of today, wanting nothing more than to curl up at home with a bottle of wine and some shitty tv.

But, unfortunately for you, one of the gangs you’ve been trailing, notedly unsuccessfully, for the past month finally left a huge clue. They would be sending out another shipment tonight, dabbling in special enhancement drugs that made most people go insane.

So here you were, sat on a rooftop watching some goons bicker in-front of the entrance of the warehouse. You were calculating how long until the anonymous tip you’d send to the police would take to dispatch. Either way you had a good Fifteen minutes before anyone came running.

At least, that was until Spiderman decided to grace you with his presence. A presence that you really didn’t need right now, especially when already peeved off.

“What are we doing?~” He whispered mockingly, getting a glare in retaliation. But, not content with that answer he repeated the question again.

“Oh lord give me patience, or atleast a fucking knife.” You muttered to yourself. “ ‘we’ are doing nothing, you, you are going to leave me alone and go save another cat from a tree and I, I am going to go actually make a change in this city.”

He just laughed and shook his head at your response, “oh cmon! Why can’t we be partners! An iconic duo! Like Batman and Robin, Bonnie and Clyde or something!”

“We are not going to be either of those thi- wait shut up for a second.” He began to open his mouth but closed it as you stared intently below, the doors of the warehouse opening mockingly.

“Stay here!” You whispered, the last thing you needed was his moralistic hero speeches as you were using some guy as a punching bag. So as he stood obediently, you scaled down the building to an open window, Three stories high.

The room you entered seemed empty and cold, as though no one had been inside in years. Merely a week prior, their main base of operations was set up in here. It was all a trap.

But who had known you would be coming?

You got your answer in the form of a sharp stab at your side, looking down to find a knife expertly lodged in your flesh. It didn’t seem fatal or anything at the time, but it definitely hurt like a bitch.

Turning around to see the man, hands now covered in your blood, was effortless, even more so as your body seemed to simply flow, contorting in quivers of motion as you eventually left him a bloody pulp, dead, sprawled still upon the floor.

You couldn’t continue, you were tired, woozy and bleeding. Shipment or not, you would have to do this another night, plus you definitely couldn’t be around when the police turned up.

Seeing the flashing lights and hearing the sirens was what drove you to stand up and finally clamber out the window. Admittedly, not as gracefully as usual, but you got a free pass since the knife was still lodged pitifully into your side.

———————————————————————

It comes to a point in a persons life (typically as they’re jumping and weaving from one rooftop to another with their only intention to get home and patch up a literal stab wound), when they wonder if it’s all worth it.

This was that moment for you. As you stumbled from another roof, almost falling into the bustling streets below, you had to take a moment to catch a breath.

Turns out, even that seemed a bad idea because as you closed your eyes, you heard a whoosh of air and the thump of the hero, the one you seemed to come to know so much of, landing next to you.

Today really wasn’t your finest and all you seemed to want to do was sleep. It was infuriating and nothing was going your way.

“What do you want?” You hissed at him, you were in no mood to entertain. All you wanted was to close your eyes, maybe have a little nap, just so you could finally get home tonight.

He took one long look at you, staring at your slumping figure, drooping before him.

It was depressing to see you like this, he didn’t know what happened in the 20 minutes it’d been since you parted, but you were not in a good state. He was worried, and maybe, just maybe, he was scared.

As he went to go pick you up, or at least help you to your feet, his arms wrapped around you. His fingers finally trailed to the bloody hilt of the knife and he gasped, it was light and restricted, but he was shocked nonetheless and didn’t hide it well. He pulled his hand back and observing the reddened substance on his hands, before his eyes landed on your face.

“Calm down, it’s not toxic or anything- it’s just blood- not all of us can be ‘mr I never get hurt in fights’.” You slurred and hiccuped out the sentence, trying to uphold the typical rivalling ‘banter’ you two thrived on.

But He didn’t laugh.

The blank eyes of that mask just bore into yours, especially when he seemed to take in every detail of the injury.

“You are so lucky I care!-“ He was angry, thrashing his arms and pacing back and forward. “If I didn’t I’d shove you in a hospital right now and let them expose you to the world! Shove you off and not let you be my problem.” He was being mean, spiteful, but he was also saddened.

“If I recall Spiderman- you were the one who bothered me.” You laughed in a hushed tone, at least before grabbing at your side as a sharp sensation jolted through it. It hurt and you let out a soft sob.

“My name is Peter, If you’re gonna die here, tonight, on this shitty run down roof, you deserve to know my name.” He was downcast, turning to face you, to grasp a reaction. All he could see was the small shape of a smile under your own mask. How could you just sit there and smile at him? How could you do this to him at a time like this?

“I know, I’ve always known Pete. I probably wouldn’t have put up with you for so long if I didn’t…” you whispered out cautiously, causing his head to whip in your direction.

“How- wait! Wait- No- Please tell me it’s not you! Please (Name)! Please No!” He ran over, dropping to your side and ripping off his own mask before gently going to remove your own.

So you smiled at him, it’d been a few days since you last saw his real face. Even tear stained, his was your favourite.

“I’m sorry Pete, I didn’t mean for it to go this way. I knew, I knew since the first time I met you in costume. I tried to kill you, my hands were around your throat. You only escaped that night because of your voice. So maybe.. maybe this is karma? Maybe this is what I get for killing all of these people! Hell, I don’t regret it, maybe that makes it worse, but what does it all matter anyways if I die on this rooftop tonight?” It all came out in a blur, maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re not gonna die tonight, not now I know it’s you. I’m gonna make sure you live.” He was crying, big tears welled up in his eyes, spilling onto his reddened cheeks.

“You can’t save everyone Peter, I know you want to, but you can’t. You can’t save me, not from what I’ve done and not from the consequences of that.” You knew you had done terrible things, and you knew that you didn’t regret a single one. You didn’t regret anything, except maybe dying without apologising, without telling him how you feel.

“No, no I can’t. But you can save yourself.”

———————————————————————

It all went by in a flash, there were moments when you were semi-lucid. You could look around, take it all in, but you couldn’t speak, couldn’t see faces.

You had been treated, not professionally and definitely not in a hospital, but well enough. You would live.

Finally waking up, you felt exhausted. You craved the idea of sleep, but you detested the days of nightmares you had been trapped in.

Not speaking when awake was something you could handle, but being stuck in a constant terror of false reality drove you insane. You saw Peter’s face in them, he was always distorted and full of rage.

“I hate you.” He’d say

“I will never forgive you.” He’d spit.

“If you had died, I’d have one less criminal on the streets to worry about.” He’d hiss.

You knew it wasn’t real, but it hurt all the same. Whilst you knew that those things he was saying were all in your dreams, all the things you had done were very much real.

It was cliché. You had only once rethought your path before now, that was the first time you had ever met him. He was a small boy, hardly could stand up for himself, but he was something good, infinitely flowing with hope for a better future.

Now here you were, trudging your way from the made up bed on his apartments couch. You’d been here many times before, when he was significantly less aware. Before, it always felt like home, but now it felt like even the walls had eyes that looked upon you with hate, pity and betrayal.

If anything, you wished you could apologise to this place you loved so much, to the lies you told under this sturdy roof and to the cement foundations that had fallen akin a victim to your actions.

You stood outside Peters room for a long while, staring at the Chipping paint at the corners of the door. Debating returning to the couch, but before you could retreat back a voice rang from within the room.

“Are you coming in?” He seemed calm, composed and confident.

Entering the room, he seemed all but that, he seemed anxious and at the same time relieved, he was scared and he was happy. He was confusing.

Walking forward was subconscious. Peter often struggled getting to sleep so you had slept in his room many times.

This time was different though, you weren’t just here because your study date ran over.

He gestured to the empty space upon the bed, so you tucked yourself under the duvet. His bed was comfortable, but you wrapped an arm around him and rested your head upon his chest. Your bodies both suddenly began jolting, he had begin to silently sob, and so you laid there, quietly shushing him as he cried, arms wrapped around him.

Finally the world felt right again, maybe he could save you, because If the world felt this good all the time you wouldn’t have to fight.

“Never do that to me again” he muttered finally.

“Okay.. I love you..” you murmured in response, nuzzling your head further into his chest.

“I love you too, we’ll talk in the morning.” He shuffled slightly to place a delicate kiss on your forehead before falling asleep with you finally in his arms again.

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cablecar-s · 19 days

Text

to love and self loath

Description :

With the death of her lover too much to bear, she makes the decision to run away from her life as Spider Woman, finding solace in the most crime ridden place in the U.S: Gotham City.

Note:

Hello! I'm currently just testing the waters of Tumblr at the moment, so bear with me because I have no idea what I'm doing. Constructive criticism is welcomed, just remember to not be mean >:/ Enjoy the first chapter!!

Prepare For Trouble

"You're Spider-Woman, right?" He looked at her with a knowing yet amused smile on his face, all the while the woman who stood before him could only stare at him with slight bafflement. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she blinked at him, beginning to stammer.

"I.. What? How could you..? What kind of crazy.." She let out a small mix of what seemed to be a huff and laughter in trying to play off his not-so-false statement.

Her crush could only give her a look that read all too clearly as 'Really?' which led her to promptly give up, a sigh of defeat leaving her lips.

"I.. Yeah, you got me. I'm.. I'm Spider-Woman." She looked at him with a defeated smile. "How'd you know though? I thought I was pretty secretive!" She raised her hands up in defense, making him laugh.

"Well, with how much you sometimes ditch me last minute every time I hear sirens going off or how you always disappear out of thin air when something big or small happens, it was pretty easy to deduce the reasons why." He chuckled softly.

"You are also talking to the most smartest person in his entire school." He quickly added.

The female vigilante could only slightly scoff at this, looking around, as if someone else could hear the ridiculousness that was coming out from his mouth.

"Really now?" She questioned, almost mockingly.

Slowly, the two teenagers inched closer to one another while continuing to bicker, a teasing smile on both of their faces until finally they were mere inches away from one another.

"I hope you're not waiting for something." The teenaged boy said teasingly, a smile on his lips.

"No, not at all." The girl hummed, smiling back.

With the night air nipping at their skin, the warmth of their breaths could be felt on one another. And as they leaned in for a kiss, the floor beneath them fell in an instant, and they were soon falling down the clock tower.

With her spider suit on, breathing now heavy, adrenaline pumping into her veins, she watched as the boy she loved since high school began falling, watching as her single web was shot down towards him.

It was silent in that moment, everything having gone in slow motion, her web slowly reaching out to him, but was only seconds too late. The web, sticking itself to the man at the last second, his head still hitting the cold, hard floor, killing him in an instant.

The sound of her cries echoed in the now broken clock tower; grief, guilt, and anger consuming her body, until...

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP

In an instant the woman woke up, covered in her sweat, her heart pounding against her chest. Her fight and flight instincts having kicked in, her eyes darted around her new apartment, her brain slowly catching up as to where she was.

The muffled sound of cars honking from outside her window was heard, the slight musty smell that her apartment had, and the multiple of unpacked boxes laying around in her small bedroom had slowly calmed her down.

Memories from a few days ago came back to her again, making her sigh while simultaneously burying her face into her hands, that night continuing to haunt her time and time again no matter how many times she had tried to forget.

Finally turning the alarm on her phone off, she got herself out of bed and went to her bathroom to freshen up, her morning not doing so well with that dream of hers.

Pulling her hair back from her face, the woman left her bathroom and started to continue where she had left off from yesterday with unpacking her stuff. Putting her playlist on shuffle, she began digging through all of the boxes that held her belongings, putting them in their respective places.

The female vigilante was glad to have gotten away from New York, it gave her time to take a break from playing Spider-Woman—and to hopefully heal. Though it's obvious someone from above thought it would be funny that she would be transferred in the most highest crime rated city: Gotham City.

There goes her vacation.

Though Gotham City should be fine without the help of Spider-Woman shouldn't it? They have all the other vigilantes that kept Gotham fairly safe.

From Batman and Robin to Nightwing, Orphan, Spoiler, hell they even have someone to protect Gotham in the morning, which would be Signal. Of course there was also Red Hood, though she still wasn't so sure if he was to be counted since he did run a few drug cartels.

Wasn't really her business though, as long as she didn't have to do any fighting in the mean time of her slight vacation.

Boy was she wrong.

"I need you to take some photos of our vigilantes." Her new boss ordered.

"I'm sorry?" The woman furrowed her brows, staring at the woman who was busy typing away on her computer.

"You heard me. Pictures. Vigilantes. Stat." Her voice was monotone, yet it had a slight intimidation to it.

The vacationing vigilante did her best in holding back her frustration, moving her arms a bit to exaggerate her words just a bit.

"But Gotham is a lot more crime ridden at night. Can't you have one of the men do it? I'm sure they'd be less likely to get mugged unlike me." She couldn't help but huff, nothing but familiar with this attitude this older woman had.

She was very much the same as Jameson back at the Daily Bugle.

It wasn't long until the woman peeled her eyes off from her computer screen to stare at the vigilante with sharp eyes.

"Listen sweetheart, the reason why you were even transferred here was because of the crystal clear pictures you had taken of Spider Woman over back from where you're from." Opening a file cabinet from her desk, she flipped through a few divided folders before pulling one out in particular and opening it up, slightly tossing it in the middle of her desk.

Photos that she had taken slid itself out from its place in the divider, all of them of which were in good quality and all had good angles to them, only because she was quite literally taking pictures of herself in order to even obtain a job as a photojournalist.

"So it's either you take photos as nice as these of our vigilantes or we can throw you back to New York, your choice." Quite literally, Jameson's female doppelganger looked back up at her new transferee before going back to typing.

Letting out a small sigh, a muttered "Yes ma'am" left her lips before leaving her new demon boss' office. She really can't catch a break can she?

Well it's not like she wasn't a night person in the first place right? Being able to do whatever she wanted during the day, and once the sun had disappeared and the darkness and rain had taken over Gotham was when it was her time to go out and do her job.

The only downside was how incredibly freezing cold it was in Gotham once night had hit. She could stand the cold to some degree, as a New Yorker she was quite used to the cold, but Gotham was a whole other story.

She should probably install thermos into her suit. As much as she didn't want to think about vigilantism, she knew deep down she would end up doing it, only reason she had brought her suit, which was buried in the deepest parts of her closets.

As her uncle had said time and time again: With great power comes great responsibility.

Being way too busy being deep in her thoughts while slightly, not really, looking as to where any of Gotham's vigilantes may be swinging by, the hair's on her body shot up, the familiar feeling of a tingling sensation in the back of her head appearing.

With swiftness, she side stepped a hand that had tried to take hold of the back of her neck. Turning around, she found herself eyeing three men, all having sinister smiles on their faces.

Just what exactly was her luck today?

"Come on boys, don't you think three of you is a bit much for a single woman like me?" She questioned, a nervous chuckle leaving her lips.

Every step back she had taken, they had taken two steps forward. They had glanced amongst each other, snickers leaving their mouths.

"Not with a lady as pretty as you." One of them commented.

Slowly, they had backed her into a closed off alleyway, all three of them laughing once her back had hit the brick wall.

Her eyes darted around, checking every crevice, every shadow, trying to see if any of Gotham's vigilantes will swoop down to rescue her, and save her the trouble of having to take care of these men herself.

But there was no one, not even the slightest of movements, not a glint of lenses shining in the dim lighting. Welp, looks like she's on her own for tonight.

"You guys, really don't want to do this." She warned them, but they only laughed more. They always laugh. Who wouldn't though? A helpless woman who you've backed into a corner telling you they're gonna regret what they're gonna do?

Good thing she wasn't just any ordinary woman though.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you pretty lady." One of them cackled.

"Ugh, how gross..." She muttered.

Glancing around one last time, this time, making sure there would be no bystanders to witness as to what was going to happen.

Pulling up the hood to her winter coat, she let out a sigh, raising one of her arms, pointing it towards one of the men.

"You asked for it."

In the blink of an eye, her webs shot out from her wrist, a long string going straight for the one in the middle, before he was heaved straight towards the woman before making a harsh impact with a trash can lid.

"Ooh, you'll be feeling that tomorrow." She winced.

Grunts of surprise came from the other two men, but no matter how odd it was for webs to shoot out from a woman's hand, they proceeded to run at the female. With ease, she dodged their attempted charged attacks.

Her hands, opposite of the two men, shot out webs and took hold of the back of their heads before she pulled at the connected webs, causing the two men to bash their skulls together.

"You'll definitely feel that tomorrow." She chuckled.

Taking a few steps back, she hesitated for a moment and stared at them before quickly rearranging the positions of their bodies.

"Just in case..." She muttered. With their backs all facing each others', she bundled them up in her webs, a precaution if they ended up gaining back consciousness before the morning

Dusting off her hands, she let out a satisfied hum before securing her hood once more before quickly jogging off, not wanting to be found at the scene of the crime. That would only cause herself more trouble.

"Lets just call it a night, I'm freezing my ass off here." She muttered to herself, trying to bring her coat as close to her body as possible, not wanting to lose what bit of warmth her body was keeping.

Unknowingly to the spider though, a mysterious figure with their infamous red helmet had stumbled upon her small clean up, the two barely missing each other.

He stared at the scene in front of him, his helmet quickly getting to work in scanning the mysterious webs. With his boots softly kicking at the small puddles on the ground, he crouched down, taking a closer look at the webs.

His helmet broke down the composition of the webs, seeing how it was made with a few chemicals. Reaching out his hand, he began to touch the webs a bit, trying to rip at it for a sample.

It clung to his leather glove, and it took a bit of force until it got unstuck, it almost took his glove with it with how hard he was pulling.

"The hell..?" He muttered to himself.

He rubbed his fingers together, some of stickiness staying on his gloved fingers. He took out his knife from one of his secret pockets instead and cut a bit of the web off, making it cling to his blade.

"This shit better come off..." He grumbled before putting his knife away.

Standing up, he took out his grapple from his utility belt before disappearing into the night.

---

The spider quickly shot up from her bed, her breathing irregular and covered in her sweat again, tortured once again by that never ending nightmare. Her eyes darting around her bedroom once more, she takes slow deep breaths before covering her eyes with her hands, the palm of her hands pressing into her eyelids.

Letting out a deep sigh, she got out of her bed, doing her morning routine once more. Scrolling through her phone, she looks at the news of Gotham City, most of them mainly about the many crimes of the city, some of politicians, and others of Bruce Wayne.

Before putting her phone down though, a message popped from the top of her screen, it was from her new boss.

"I better have those photos by the end of this week!!!!" It had read.

The woman only rolled her eyes, turning off her phone so she could dump her face in water.

Leaving her bathroom, she rubbed her moisturizer onto her face while making her way to her living room that also shared her kitchen. Starting up her coffee machine, she made herself a quick PB&J in the meantime.

Leaning against the counter as she slowly ate her sandwich, the smell of coffee beginning to waft in the air, the vacationing vigilante took a good look at her small apartment.

It was..

A bit bland to put it nicely.

Guess she was going shopping today. Quickly downing her coffee without trying to burn her tongue, she quickly got dressed and headed out to do a bit of shopping, to make her apartment just a bit more welcoming for the time that she was staying in Gotham.

Though she had a bit of a tight budget, she managed to buy a few things well within it that there was a little left over that she could buy herself dinner.

By the time she was done shopping though, the sun was beginning to set, meaning that it was nearly time for the criminals of Gotham to come crawling out of their hiding spots to cause some trouble.

"Shit..." She muttered under her breath, holding onto her plastic bags tightly, her shoes tapping against the cement as she quickly tries to make it back to her apartment before she got mugged.

Her senses have heightened a bit as a sense of panic and wariness began to settle in her stomach. Her eyes flitted about, cautious of every corner, every shadow, every alley, the last light sunset disappearing over the horizon.

Cursing under her breath, her steps quickened, and then there she saw it. A blur of bright red, green, and yellow flying in the air; it was Robin.

Her boss's text from this morning came back to her, which only made her curse more. Of course she didn't bring her camera. The handles of the bags hanging from one of her arms, she quickly fishes out her phone from her back pocket, turning the flash on to take a quick picture of Robin before he disappeared off into the night.

She cursed at his nimbleness, taking a small step back as he flies above her, but just as she was about to take the picture, she had bumped into something sturdy.

Blinking, she slowly turned around, only to come face to face with someone's chest, Batman's symbol on a black shirt, but instead it was in red.

Slowly, she looked up, only to find herself face to face with the Red Hood.

Click!

The flash to her phone went off as she took a picture of him.

next chapter ->

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vermillioncrown · 9 months

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ttbh snippet - the kids settle in (sorta)

more fuel for the fire 😎 the time being had is of ambiguous quality, but we're certainly here in collab w @rozaceous

they've been in canon-verse for a few days already, and the bats have updated their opinions on the mini-interlopers

After the dust settles, everyone seem to agree that it was eventually going to happen. None of them—not even Damian (who is indignant at the accusation)—ever aimed to make the kids cry. It’s understandable, however, that the events of the past few days have been overwhelming. For trained vigilantes used to worldending and multiversal threats, context helps but it’s still ten of them confined to one (admittedly large) manor and its surrounding property. For kids without any context or the wherewithal to understand it, being the equivalent of multiversal bookends means nothing to them.

The fact that they held their composure for this long is admirable. They are, overall, extremely easy kids to care for and well-behaved. Retrospectively, it was a trap in making them complacent.

Allie has the most detailed instructions attached. Food intolerances, strict preferences and diet, allotted time outside for being physical, time left alone to read and be quiet are simple enough needs to address once known. During outside time, she plays soccer with an oddly charming combination of vigor and systematization. When there’s too much activity around her, even during things she enjoyed doing, she’d retreat into quiet play until it’s back at a tolerable level. The giant set of crafting beads that Steph and Cass ran out to purchase on Day Two has been lovingly organized and curated during her shy periods. Korvin is the only one she lets into her space, then.

Korvin’s notes are extensive but disorganized and contradictory, as if multiple people threw everything they had at the dossier and didn’t bother cross-referencing each other. Food is straightforward—he eats everything on his plate, nothing more or less, always with a “Please” and “Thank you.” Suggestions on occupying him fall flat; Tim’s attempt to show off the 3D printers and computers was met with a wide-eyed stare and a shake of his head before he runs off after Allie. Hide-and-seek and Sardines worked for a bit until Alfred put his foot down because Korvin followed Dick onto the chandeliers. They don’t catch that some of the soaps in the manor were giving his skin blisters until they see him fidget non-stop under his oversized sweater sleeves.

Eventually, they leave the kids to their own devices; it seems to work better than hovering.

Steph’s the one that points out at their fretting, “Chill out guys, I think they have autism.”

“That’s—wow, Steph,” Tim looks taken aback and almost personally affronted. “That’s so rude. They’re just quiet kids.”

“Hm, kinda ableist of you, Tim,” Duke crosses his arms, frowning down at the now sputtering older vigilante. Cass catches his side glance exchange with Steph. It’s half-serious but entirely shit stirring.

“There is nothing wrong with them,” Damian throws in his two cents. “They are, in fact, more tolerable than most of my classmates despite their age.”

All of them—barring the kids, of course, and Alfred making sure they stay hydrated—are discussing the situation in the second floor parlor. The room overlooks the immediate garden area, and has a balcony they can all leap off safely. Allie and Korvin are chatting and giggling in the garden, inspecting flowers and bugs alike. On a closer look, Allie’s admiring the different flowers and Korvin is gently flicking worms back onto the dirt. A worm flies too close to Allie, who squeals, and Korvin profusely apologizes.

There’s a lot of exchanged glances that happen after Damian’s declaration. Tim looks reluctantly grateful at Damian, who purses his mouth petulantly.

“Woof, Dami,” is all Steph has in response. Duke has a pinched expression on his face and quickly looks away from everyone.

“Look, autism levels in the manor are off-the-charts,” Jason says blandly, disregarding Dick’s frantic motions to stop him. “Just look at that Bat filing system.”

“The ontology makes sense,” Tim can’t help but interject. His expression shows that he immediately regrets speaking.

Everyone looks at Dick, who finally gives up and gives in. “It makes sense but it’s also…” In lieu of finishing his statement, he wiggles his hand in the air.

Throughout the entire discussion, Bruce has been sitting in the corner of the parlor, giving careful glances outside with his peripheral vision. He’s the first to realize that Allie and Korvin always know when they’re being watched. And the few times they’ve been separated, he narrows it down to a slight difference: Korvin is hyperaware of his surroundings versus Allie being hypervigilant. They both get nervous when there are too many eyes on them, and Bruce was the first to point it out and be conscientious about it.

A sudden faraway shriek has everyone tense up and scan the area. They find nothing amiss despite the kids sprinting towards the nearest tree. Alfred calls out to them patiently but doesn’t seem alarmed.

“Oh, hah, it’s just a wasp,” Duke points out.

It’s too far away to see the perpetrator in question, but it apparently closes the distance to the kids and they shriek again, sprinting to another tree for sanctuary.

“Let’s stop with the whole ‘armchair diagnosis’, alright? It’s not helping anyone,” Dick returns to the topic for closure. He ignores the knowing look that Jason aims at his back.

#folie a deux #phd-verse #on ttbh #verm bits #when i was writing this scene #the brainstorming w roz was like. realizations about our childhoods #straight a students: anxious. adhd. autistic.#would certainly look odder in the 2nd childhood but lol the 1st one was telling enough #the scene following this snippet will be reserved for if/when this gets for real posted on ao3 #too powerful otherwise

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bluejaysandblackbats · 1 month

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You're Just Like Quicksand

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Beyond

Summary: Jason Todd is ready to go into semi-retirement after fifteen years working with troubled youth, but one case in particular forces him to confront the sins of his youth and painful memories from his past.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Terry McGinnis, Warren McGinnis, Mary McGinnis, Matt McGinnis, Bruce Wayne, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Retired Jason Todd, Multiple POV, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Mourning Jason Todd

Chapter Four: No Man's Land (Terry McGinnis' POV)

I sat across from Jason, working on my history paper, struggling to write the page on how that applied to Gotham today. Jason sat behind his computer, transferring files using the scanner. “You look like you’re stuck on something. What’s up?” Jason asked without looking up.

“You were a kid during No Man’s Land, right?” I asked.

“I was in a coma, so I wouldn’t be much help there,” Jason answered. “I have a brother who was alive during that time… When’s the paper due?”

“Rough draft’s due Thursday,” I replied.

Jason checked his watch and pressed three buttons on his office phone. “Hello?” a man’s voice answered.

“Bernie? Bern, tell Tim to come to the phone. One of my kids has a few questions for a homework assignment. Let him know he doesn’t have to speak to me if he doesn’t feel like it. This is for the kid,” Jason stated. He pushed his hair back, shutting his eyes as he breathed through his nose.

“I’ll get him… Wait a second, okay?” the man whispered.

“Who’s Bernie?” I asked.

“He’s my brother-in-law… He’s a good guy. Phenomenal cook. My kids love him-. Loved… They loved him,” Jason mumbled.

“Jason, what’s this about?” a stern voice questioned.

Jason looked at me. “I’ve got a student here who needs to interview a person from Gotham who was alive during No Man’s Land,” Jason explained, “I was in a coma, but I figured you might remember something about that time.”

“I do… How’re you doing? Kenny came home from school last week and asked about you,” Tim whispered.

“Did he get my gift?” Jason questioned.

“He did. I think he’d rather see his uncle… And despite our problems, I see no need in you avoiding Ken. He adores you-.”

“You’re on speaker, and I-. You know why I stay away… Tell him I love him, and I’m proud of him,” Jason interrupted, “No more small talk, okay? The kid’s paper is due on Thursday… And I’m sure it’ll take time for him to take notes today.”

Tim cleared his throat. “Okay… Fine. Hi, I’m Tim, Jason’s younger brother,” Tim introduced himself.

“I’m Terry. I guess you could say I’m a client of Jason’s… Are you busy?” I asked.

“Not particularly busy… Jason called the right person. I was in Gotham when it started, and my dad pulled me out to keep me safe,” Tim explained.

“Let me see your history book for a second,” Jason whispered. I passed him my tablet, and he read the pages to himself. “This is Tim. He’s right here.” Jason showed me a billboard of one of the missing kids in Gotham.

“That’s your brother?” Terry asked.

“Jason, don’t tell him that-.”

“Yeah, the search for him was like a nationwide incident-.”

“Okay, Terry, you had questions about that specific time, right?” Tim asked.

Jason gestured for me to answer him. “Tim doesn’t bite. He’s harmless,” Jason joked. I grinned.

“Tim, how old were you at the time?” I questioned.

“I was fifteen,” Tim answered.

Jason typed something into his personal phone. “Can you describe life in Gotham before, during, and after?” Terry asked.

Tim described Gotham as a crime-ridden city with a system of order kept neat by vigilante justice and police work before No Man’s Land (NML). During NML, the only system was that of criminal persuasion. The government abandoned the people, who were forced to fend for themselves against the different factions of super-powered and gimmicky criminals in their respective areas. Tim snuck into Gotham after it’d been shut off and got stuck there. When he returned home to Gotham after everything opened up, Tim’s dad enrolled him in boarding school. “A lot of us didn’t adjust well to being back in Gotham, and tons of kids, including myself, didn’t finish high school,” Tim replied.

“What did you do?” I asked.

Jason stood up, leaving me in his office alone. “Family business… But Gotham saw the problem in the school system and made it easier for kids to go to school and get their GEDs, go to college, and do whatever they had to to get on their feet,” Tim replied.

“Thanks for the help,” I smiled, “I-. Is Jason by himself a lot?”

“Jason, isolates… It’s what he does. He’s-.”

“Dad, is that JT?” a voice in the background questioned.

“I’m talking to one of his protégés,” Tim answered.

“Tell the kid to tell JT that ice cream’s on the house,” the voice replied.

“Okay, Kenny… I will. Now, make sure your father doesn’t cause a three-alarm fire making pizza again,” Tim warned him.

“Can do… Pop! You don’t need to put gasoline in a wood burner!” the voice yelled.

“That’s my son… Um, how old are you?” Tim asked.

“Fourteen,” I answered.

“He wouldn’t have called me had it not been for you… Jason must really like you. I haven’t heard from him in years. So, it was nice to hear his voice today. He almost sounded happy,” Tim whispered. His voice was soft. “I’ve gotta go. It’s dinnertime, but I want you to know it was a pleasure speaking to you, and I hope you get an ‘A’ on your history paper.”

“Thanks, Tim… And I’ll pass along your son’s message. Bye,” I replied.

“Bye, Terry.”

Jason returned with pizza and a large to-go container of fries. “Your dad texted me. He’ll be home late, so you’re having dinner with me. I hope you don’t mind pizza, breadsticks, and french fries. I didn’t plan on eating dinner tonight,” Jason stated without thinking. “Did I-? I meant-. I planned on having a drink, a piece of cake, and going to bed. Did Tim give you all the info you needed for your paper?” He seemed frazzled.

I nodded. “Someone wanted me to give you a message. I think it was your nephew,” I mumbled. Jason shook his head.

“No… It’s okay. Don’t tell me,” Jason whispered. I wrung my hands. “I’m not upset with either of you. It makes things easier when I don’t hear from the kids. That includes Ken… He’s my favorite, so that makes it even harder.”

“Oh… I almost forgot to say I watched your cage match against Michael ‘The Meat Grinder’ Gallucci. I had to watch it like ten times. How’d you do that so fast?” I asked. I had to change the subject. And well… He owed me a story.

Jason ate a fistful of fries and pushed the to-go plate my way. “Mm… That was my first match, but it wasn’t where the move originated. My oldest son was the first one to do the Thunderclap. He was eight, and we were play-fighting on the living room floor when he put his hands together, swung back, slapped me on one side of my face, swung, and hit me on the other cheek. I was so stunned-. I think he was too. He didn’t mean to hit me. I think he forgot it was only a game,” Jason replied. I don’t think he was convinced. He knit his brows together, a pained expression painted by the wrinkles in his brow and the tightness of his lips. I wondered what bubbled beneath the surface of his mind. Jason was interesting. Sad… But interesting. “You gave me a look.”

“I-. Jason, can I be honest with you?” I questioned.

“I’d like that,” Jason replied, “Don’t pull punches. I can take it.”

“He hit you, but he didn’t forget you were playing… He got carried away, didn’t he? He had a history of getting carried away-.”

“He did, but he was my little boy, and I loved him. Something in him was just-. Terry, there are things you’ll never understand in life until you experience them for yourself. I hope you never have to experience that, though,” Jason interrupted, “But you’re right. I covered over the truth. That was a great observation. I don’t mind being caught in a lie, so you can call me out as much as you like. No hard feelings.”

The truth. So, I felt compelled to give him the same heartfelt honesty. “Your son was lucky… I-. My dad loves me, but sometimes I can tell he doesn’t understand me. Sometimes I feel like a stranger to him,” I mumbled, “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“I don’t think so… I don’t think parents and children are meant to understand each other… I think we’re meant to love each other despite the mystery. It’s easier to understand a complete stranger than to comprehend how a human you brought into existence, whose little face you washed and watched grow-. You wonder why they’re so different,” Jason whispered. His voice was soft and broken. It made me miss my dad. “Warren loves you more than most dads ever love their sons. I don’t know… It might be a psychological thing. Most dads hate their sons, but he adores you.”

“That’s nice to hear,” I replied.

“It’s the truth,” Jason stated. We both reached for a slice of pizza at the same time. “You remind me of myself, Terry… When I was young, I could’ve been anyone or anything. Don’t become one thing, Terry. You owe yourself more than that… Because once you trap yourself in one thing, it’s all you ever get. There’s no escaping it.”

“Did you get trapped in one thing?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I’ve spent my whole life trying to escape the ramifications of one misstep I made when I was fifteen,” Jason replied. And that stuck with me.

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jugaflugg · 11 months

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Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse Review

I'd like to unload the hundreds of thoughts I'm having following our viewing of Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - that is to say, this will contain a plethora of spoilers, so be warned! No safe harbour beyond this point!

Firstly, wow. What an incredible film! Everything was spectacular, and I wouldn't expect anything less. When I went to see Into the Spider-Verse back in 2018, I was blown away by the pure tenacity of the filmmakers, who really went above and beyond with the film. The technical make-up of this film is unlike any other - simply unparalleled in its quality, style, and performance. Each and every artist should be proud of themselves for their contribution to this film; they are at the forefront of art and of cinema itself. And that isn't hyperbole.

I want to talk about the plot first, specifically how Miles' story was told in this film. We have a fair amount of narration from Gwen and her perspective on the events, which I think added a really wonderful dimension to her (pun not intended), as well as letting us see Miles through the eyes of those he has had an impact on.

Miles Morales is different, even for a Spider-Man, and I think that the film really broadened our understanding of him: who is Miles Morales? The question is asked, in more or less those exact words, throughout the film. Miles didn't tell us the answer, but he sure as hell showed us.

Every new character introduced was phenomenal - I especially loved Hobie and Pavitr, who were so stylish and interesting. I'm looking forward to learning more about them in the sequel! Hobie in particular was of interest to me, with his anti-capitalist views and pro-anarchist perspective. It may sound as though he was played for laughs, but with the "Protect Trans Kids" pride flag in Gwen's room, the "#BLM" badge on Miles' bag, and the subtly anti-police undertones of the film itself, it is clear where the filmmakers stand.

The ending of the film was jaw-dropping to say the least. As soon as we were told Miles had ended up in the wrong universe, I knew where things were going. So, universe-42 Miles is Prowler? Interesting, to say the least. Only time will tell if he is truly a villain, or if he took up the mantle as a vigilante alternative to Spider-Man.

Miguel O'Hara made it clear that he believes universe-1610 Miles (our Miles) to be an anomaly. I've talked before with people about my perspective on time travel in films - there are multiple ways it can be done (I have a point here, I promise!). One way of representing time travel is to have a linear structure, with every "anomaly" creating an entirely new universe. Alternatively, there is (what I refer to as) looped time-travel, where the events that happen were always supposed to happen (a glass knocked over by someone time travelling was always meant to have been knocked over, for example).

Personally, I'm of the mind that Miles is not an anomaly, he was always meant to be. Nobody could have prevented universe-1610 Kingpin from creating the reactor, and if he hadn't done it, another universe's Kingpin would have (that's rather the point of infinite potential). Therefore, the continuum would always have been disrupted, and Miles would always have become Spider-Man. Sure, it's an incredibly small percentage chance, but it could happen, and it did happen.

In any case, I fully expect to see a resolution in which The Spot (voiced by one of my all-time favourites, Jason Schwartzman) is either put in a position where he feels he belongs or, alternatively, manages to wipe himself from existence by being everything and nothing. No doubt that, if he is not already, universe-42 Miles will become the protector of his realm, be it as Prowler or something else (Spider-Prowl? Prowler-Man?). And hopefully we'll see a resolution between Miles and Gwen!

In terms of the animation, as I already stated, it was beyond the limits of what I thought was possible. Admittedly, I'm not an animator, nor am I familiar with the technical complexities of it, but the mix of styles was surely enough to demonstrate the sheer willpower and talent of these animators.

This isn't even to mention the live-action elements, or the LEGO dimension. Slotting characters of different styles into universes that both compliment and contrast them was downright exciting to watch. The pacing left you with the breathing room to assimilate every new fight, whilst never letting you get bored - there was always something new on the horizon.

I am, simply put, astounded by this film. I was apprehensive to see if it could outdo the first one and - though I definitely need to watch it a few more times - I am fairly certain it is on a par with, if not better than Into the Spider-Verse. The true test will be whether they can stick the landing with Beyond the Spider-Verse, but honestly I have no doubts that it will be equally spectacular.

Knowing how much time, effort, and love went into this film is so apparent in every frame. The wit of the script, the technical effects, the voice acting (shout out to Daniel Kaluuya, voice of Hobie, for his excellent performance) were all sublime and well-worth every penny we paid for the seats.

Thank you, Spider-Verse, for pushing the boundaries of creativity and managing to wow me at every turn. I can't wait to see what is next for this cast of characters, and for those leading the way in artistic development.

[Note: Realised I forgot to mention the soundtrack, which was every bit as amazing as you'd expect! Daniel Pemberton is probably my favourite film score artist - Miguel's theme was perfection!]

#spoilers #across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man spoilers

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triple-asstro · 1 year

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Salaì Chapter 4: Another One

chapter count: 1 | 2 |3

word count: 1.3k

pairing: 2012!leo x reader

summary: A new vigilante named Salaí has taken the streets of New York, sending an increase in missing and injured criminals. This seemingly new vigilante shocks the turtles in town and with the help of Reader, they try to figure out who this vigilante is. Surprise, its Reader, knowingly leading an investigation against themself. Hopefully, no one falls in love.

A/N: hi there! sorry if this chapter is a bit short, writer's block is kicking my ass. comments and likes are appreciated and i love you all! <33

song: Frankenstein - Rina Sawayama

Raphael was pissed, as he always is. As Leo ran towards the abandoned warehouse, that revelation was only certified by the sound of lasers and clanging metal. He opened a nearby window and carefully snuck inside, watching from on top of the rafters. He hopped down onto the ground, feeling its concrete texture and hiding behind a stack of boxes among the copious other identical copies, some even towering higher.

He noticed a Krang droid and swiftly sliced it with his katana before appearing from behind the boxes, a detail Raphael took notice of.

“There’s our fearless leader, now get in here!” he yelled.

“Alright guys, let’s terminate the terminators-”

“Less one-liners, more smashing!” Raph yelled, stabbing a Krang droid through the head. Leo sighed, spinning his katana with his hand before joining the battle. They kept smashing and dicing through each droid that came their way, the sound of clanging metal and the smell of rust seemed to melt together. Blurs of red, purple and orange sped by him with every hit.

“On your left!” Leo hollered, making Donnie look over to his left and knock out another droid, leaving its pink brain scuttling off.

Leo kept slashing until he had one in his sights, its pink exposed brain practically shining amongst the muted colours of the warehouse. A flash of white covered his eyes as he lunged towards it, katana in hand. He sliced, squinting his eyes closed and when he opened them, he noticed the metallic body on the ground, but no cut through its body, compared to the rest of Leonardo’s bodies. In fact, it had a metal arrow sticking out of its head. Another fact was that multiple bodies had that arrow mark indented in their heads

“What was that, dudes?” Mikey asked.

Everyone darted their heads towards the direction of the arrow and saw a menacing figure above. It was a figure wearing a cropped hoodie, dark beige cargo pants and a black gas mask with pink, blue, and yellow blobs. It was The Vigilante, or Salaì now. They were wearing the same exact thing that they were wearing when Leo witnessed them declare their new name. Except this time, they were wearing tiny plastic devil horns strapped to the gas mask and had two long blue pigtails that reached their waist. They held a crossbow in their hands, staring with determination and fierceness. Or at least that's what he could make out from the mask.

“Hey you!” Raph shouted, their head darting towards him, as they went scurrying away out of the window in a hurry.

“What was that about?” Donnie asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Was that The Vigilante? It’s got a rad outfit, ten outta ten.”

“Also, where were you Mr. Punctual?” Raph asked, facing Leo who stood like a statue.

“I got.. caught up with some thugs near the Ravendale district.”

“Right, let’s get outta here before more show up.” he said, heading for the backdoors, brothers following in tow. As Leo followed his brothers out, a creeping doubt was encompassing his mind. A realisation that this could be another problem, another roadblock that they had to stop fast. And Leo knew the exact person he could potentially trust to help him.

You sighed out of relief, wondering who the other figures could be. The lighting was dark, not even the moonlight could help you. Slumping down the steel panelling, a million thoughts rushed your mind as your breathing quickened. Muttering gibberish and profanities until you could feel your breathing subside and your thoughts recede was all you did for the next twenty minutes when your phone buzzed.

As you clicked open the screen, you expected your timer to appear, not a frantic text from Casey.

01:23

2ft teeth:

DUDE

HEY

ANWSER NOW

y/n:

casey

it is one in the morning

what is it

2ft teeth:

YOU WONT BELIEVE THIS SHIT

OK OK

TMRW

MEET ME AT BARKER ST CORNER

PLS I SWEAR THIS IS IMPORTANT

y/n:

okay casey

istg if this is a prank, i will kill you.

You shut your phone off, mentally preparing for what mindless story he had to tell. Before you could get back up, you felt your phone buzz again.

01:25

Mom:

Hey, so the Dobsons are gonna have you to babysit their kid tomorrow after school.

Scratch that, mentally prepare twice for tomorrow’s events. You dreaded leaving that warehouse, but you had sleep to catch up on.

Karai walked through the elevator doors, seeing two goons already bowing down toward a singular throne, occupied by a masked villain, adorning a crown made of metal. She willingly took her bow, the other goons standing up and off to the side.

“Shredder, I’ve obtained information that could benefit our objective.”

“Tell me what you’ve discovered.”

“The leader of the turtles, Leonardo, has seemed to grow attached t0 a human. We could use this to our advantage. ”

Shredder hummed, turning around and giving Karai a brief nod. “Excellent. This provides us with an opportunity to finally offer us vengeance. Well done, Karai.”

“Thank you Father. I’m-”

“What plan do you have?”

“I plan to observe them until I can find an opportunity to strike. A moment where I can kidnap them and bring them back to our lair. Then we can persuade them to join our ever growing clan.”

He placed a calm hand onto her relaxed shoulder. “Exceptional. We begin the plan tomorrow. Go to your room.”

Karai nodded, getting up from her knees and walking back into the elevator. As she pressed a button, the doors shut and the descent began, flashes of light flickering with every passing floor. She felt her shoulders fully dropped as she took off her mask, revealing her crimson lips. It seemed like eternity until she got to her floor, the doors opening to display her room. She trudged through, resting on the edge of her bed and feeling the soft ruffles of the quilt. A sharp sting jutted in her bandaged stomach, as she clutched it glancing outside the window that showcased the glittery night.

Karai’s mind started to rest, a brief moment of tranquillity seeped into her bones. Her room still looked the same as she left it, which meant Shredder hadn’t tried to look through it today or that her trap worked. Due to the look of the door, it looked like the former. A strange feeling sat deep into her stomach, a feeling she couldn’t quite pin. Why couldn’t she understand what this was? It’s a simple kidnapping mission, nothing more. She placed her hand on her forehead, glancing over to her counter, where a primrose attached to a singular letter sat underneath the warm glow of an overhead lamp. She gripped the letter, tearing open the top and reading the contents.

Dear Karai,

How long has it been? Two years, three? It has felt like an eternity. I know it’s been ages since we’ve last talked and I’ve yearned for your words since. My training has been confusing, the routine is much stricter than when I was under your training. It studies on fewer versions of ninjutsu and the people here are much more formidable than I thought. But they’re no match for you and me.

My offer still stands if you want to come with me to Japan. We could train together and show them what you truly are. They keep talking awful rumours about you, how you’ve rusted like an old teapot over the years lurking in New York. Of course, I took care of them once I heard that, but it still bothers me.

I’ve gotten a new makeup kit and they’ve already trashed it, no manners for a kunoichi. The palette is tarnished and everything. From your last letter, it seems like you’re troubled. I know that what you saw is a troubling thing to process and I wish I could take it away from you, but I can’t. I miss the excursions we used to take during late nights and the way you trained me.

You offered me guidance and love, and I thank you for that. If there’s anything I can do to take this burden off of your mind, please let me know.

Love,

Shini

#tmnt 2k12 #tmnt #tmnt fic #tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #2012!leo x reader #2012 leo x reader #2012 leo #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #karai #2012 karai #tmnt shinigami #karai x shinigami

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neva-writes · 1 year

Text

All the students from Class 3A were seated in the living room floor, forming a circle.

“Midoriya. Truth or dare?” Todoroki asked.

“Hmm… I’ll go with truth this time, I guess…”, he said, scratching his nape slightly.

“Okay… Hmm…” Todoroki was thinking.

“C’mon Todoroki, ask him something deep, if you know what I mean”, Denki said, with suggestive eyes. “We hardly ever get the chance to have Midoriya cornered like this”.

“You are right”, Todoroki replied, with a tender smile. “Midoriya, can you tell us…”

Everyone was excited, almost biting their nails to know what dirty embarrassing secret Todoroki was going to get spilled out of his best friend. After all, he is incredibly intelligent and one of the Big Three along with Deku and Bakugo…

“…one of the moments in which you feel more at peace with yourself?”.

… and so fucking dense at times.

Suddenly the air was filled with teenage complaints and the sound of multiple faces-palming.

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh internally. He was so damn nervous! However, over the years he learned how to not show his emotions so easily.

What would have happened if Todoroki asked him to reveal something related to romance? Not that it mattered, his love life was non-existent, but he did have a huge crush on Kacchan. Ever since the blond apologized to him, they grew impossibly closer and became best friends again. The green-eyed boy had never been happier. He sighed.

What he was about to confess might as well be awkward but, you can’t lie on games like this, no?

“I believe… No… I know that I feel more at peace when…”

Izuku was saying, while glaring at the floor. Numerous eyes were on him, but he didn’t realize how certain rubies were staring more intensely than all the others.

"…me and Kacchan are at the edge of this skyscraper where we always stay vigilantes to any villain activity in the beginning of our intern patrols at the crack of dawn”, he admitted with a minor blush on his face.

His statement was followed by a deafening silence, and then…

“Wow Midoriya, that was so… so manly!”, Kirishima claimed enthusiastically.

“Yeah Izu, you are so sweet!”, Mina squealed, with Koda nodding vigorously by her side.

“Aw! No need to get flustered Bakugo!”, Sero retorted.

“Can it, Tape arms!”, Bakugo growled, with rosy cheeks.

Izuku gained the confidence to finally lift his head, but he still couldn’t look directly at the object of his affections.

"Enough everyone, let's continue", Momo demanded, amused by the display before her.

Now it was Uraraka’s turn to spin the bottle. Surprisingly, it ended up directed towards the angry Pomeranian. Her intern little devil already knew that her brash companion was someone who would choose action before giving anyone the chance to make him acknowledge anything, so she was about to exploit that situation. Besides… she was extremely tired of seeing Izuku and Bakugo foolishly pining without signals of them confronting their feelings any time soon. Plus, she was sure most of the class shared the same sentiments as her.

“Bakugo, truth or dare?”, she questioned him.

“Dare, obviously”, Bakugo stated.

Uraraka gave him a smug grin. Oh, Deku better reward her after this.

“I dare you to suck face with the most attractive person from our circle. And not a simple peck, but a dirty kiss”, she remarked.

Bakugo was stunned, but he was no coward. Meanwhile, Izuku’s heart stopped. His mind was going crazy. Just the thought of seeing Kacchan kissing someone other than him brought an ugly feeling to his chest. He wanted to stand up and flight out of there immediately, but that would only give him away.

Who would Kacchan choose? Someone like Yaomomo? Why not? She is so gorgeous. Or maybe someone bulky and handsome as Kirishima, who was seated next to him?

He was so lost in the sea of his inner ramblings that it took him time to notice Kacchan crawling towards… Kirishima? Of course! That’s just how shitty his luck is. His eyes were already getting filled with tears that were threatening to stream down his face. He turned his gaze elsewhere but to Kacchan and Kirishima. He was taken aback when he felt a weight on his legs.

Was this what he was thinking? It must be. He’d always recognize the delicious scent of burnt caramel. He risked giving a peek to the familiar presence on him. And yes, Kacchan was straddling him and lazily putting his arms around his shoulders. Izuku froze when his forest orbs met burning liquid fire.

“W-Why?”, Izuku stuttered.

“Hah? Are you this stupid? Or is it that it disgusts you the idea of me kissin—…”

“N-No!”, he screamed, shocking Bakugo. “I-I’m just surprised that… That someone as beautiful as you would choose someone so plain… as me…”, Izuku whispered, with his face completely red.

“God, you really are stupid”, Bakugo chuckled, fondly. He had an expression that Izuku had never seen on him, and the greenette couldn’t help but be captivated by such sight.

Izuku placed his hands on the blond’s waist while the latter was slowly drawing circles on the side of his neck.

He sensed a soft touch on his chin. Bakugo had caressed his cheek tenderly. The blond approached him with a lingering kiss on the spot that he was brushing just seconds ago. Izuku felt so enraptured by the spell that landed on him. He could happily die right there. But then a hunger for more invaded him.

Closer than ever, with their foreheads resting on each other and breaths intermingling, their eyes met again. Lord, he adored those alluring crimson eyes.

Katsuki’s gaze fell on Izuku’s rosy lips and then back to emeralds, as if asking for permission.

“This okay?”, he murmured.

Izuku, with half lidded eyes, answered by faintly capturing the other’s smooth lips, and that was all Bakugo needed as approval to devore his prey. He increased the pressure between both and ran his tongue against Izuku’s mouth. The other gasped and he took this as his advantage to enter Deku’s warm cavern.

The pair was literally smacking their mouths with bruising kisses in a battle of dominance. A delicious chill ran down Izuku’s spine. He tightened his grip on Katsuki’s waist and with his other free hand he tenderly stroked strands of soft platinum hair while Bakugo grabbed his jade scalp.

“Nnngh”. A sinful moan escaped Izuku’s mouth and Katsuki had never felt so turned on in his entire life. He didn’t want anyone else to hear that sound. It was supposed to belong only to his ears and no one else’s. He bit Izuku’s lower lip with enough force to leave a mark before both parted for air.

“I-I like you, Kacchan”, Izuku said, breathlessly.

“No shit”, Bakugo answered, panting.

Izuku pouted and Bakugo couldn’t resist kissing again those plump lips.

“I like you too, nerd. Go out with me”, he demanded.

“Gladly”, Izuku said with a determined tone. Katsuki kissed his forehead lovingly.

The quietness that wrapped them disappeared and then all the students were screaming:

“FUCKING FINALLY!”

Everyone bursted to laughs.

Bonus:

How could Bk resist not kissing Dk after saying that sappy shit?

Bk to Dk:

"HOW" *kiss* "DO YOU EXPECT ME TO" *another kiss* "NOT KISS THE" *deep kiss* "EVER LOVING FUCK OUT OF YOU" *deeper kiss* "AFTER HEARING YOU SAYING SUCH" *devouring kiss* "SAPPY SHIT" *final kiss*.

RIP Dk. 🧡💚

#bkdk #bakudeku #ktdk #truth or dare #truth #dare #firstkiss #confessions

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thebigbadbatswife · 2 years

Text

Night At The Museum | Catwoman x F!Vigilante!Reader

Summary - A case leads you to the Gotham Museum, in the middle of a snowstorm, to stop Catwoman, but apparently things are not at all as they appear.

Warnings - canon-typical violence

A/N - Once again, instead of waiting on winter I'm posting this now. Enjoy! <3

Word Count - 1.9k

You knew that if you weren’t about to listen to Batman that, maybe, you should have listened to the multiple weather warnings. But you were so sick and tired of being treated like you weren’t good enough and the argument that you had with him had not only been the final nail in the coffin, but had also driven you to completely ignore the weather warnings. Which was how you had now found yourself seeking shelter from the snowstorm outside within the storage room of Gotham’s Museum.

The case that had led you here had involved a string of high profile heists. It had been easy to figure out who the culprit was. All of the gems, jewellery and artefacts that had been stolen had all been cat related in some way, be it in name, backstory or how it was shaped. Unless there was another burglar, with a love of cats, running around, it could only be one person. Catwoman.

After a few sleepless nights of going over previous cases and figuring out a pattern in the break ins, you had figured out that the museum was going to be her next target. Only now, with the storm, there was no way she was going to be showing up.

You were sat on the top of a large, and very dusty, crate. You didn’t want to end up with a misunderstanding with the night guards, so you figured this was the best place for you to stay out of sight. You laid down and huffed. This whole thing had been a complete bust.

Moments like these had you wishing that you had never started this whole vigilante thing to begin with or, at least, wishing you had started it in some other city. Away from pesky bats.

“Well, well, well. Look what the bat dragged in,” a voice called to you from above.

You looked up and laying on her side, on one of the shelves of the large shelving units, resting her head against her hand, was Catwoman. She was wearing her purple catsuit. You wondered just how long she had been up there, watching you.

“What do you want? Don’t you have a cat statue to steal?” you snapped. With how badly tonight had gone, you weren’t in the mood.

Catwoman chuckled. “Have a fight with Batman, did you? Want to talk about it?”

You could hear the mocking tone in her voice so you opted for ignoring her and looked away. Which only caused her to chuckle again.

Good news was that you had been right about her being the culprit and the museum being her next target. Bad news was that now you were stuck here with her till the snowstorm let up. You could always try to arrest her whilst you were stuck here, but knowing your luck by the time the GCPD arrived she would have already made a masterful escape, along with the statue. Which would leave you looking like a complete fool, even more so than you already currently felt.

Your breathing suddenly hitched when you felt her trailing a claw up the middle of your chest, right between your breasts, and her breath against your ear. How had she moved without you hearing her? Now it was no wonder to you she had managed to escape being arrested so often. Plus, whatever perfume she was currently wearing smelt amazing.

“Want to know a secret?” she whispered into your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin. “I’m not responsible for any of those thefts you’ve been investigating.”

“What?” you exclaimed as you snapped your head to look at her. Quickly realising that your faces were centimetres apart, you scurried up onto your feet and put some space between the two of you, which made her laugh.

“What do you mean you’re not responsible?” you asked. You had been wrong?

“I won’t lie, I was planning to steal those items, but someone always beat me to it. And since I’d rather not go down for someone else’s crimes, I came here to catch them and clear my name,” she explained to you.

“Why should I believe you?” You crossed your arms as you looked at her sceptically. She was a thief, you had no reason to believe her.

Catwoman sighed and rolled her eyes as she stood up and dusted herself off. “Fine, don’t believe me? Then why not follow me and I’ll prove it. No tricks, no surprises, I promise.”

You were still extremely sceptical of her, but still, you followed her. You knew that she didn’t kill so the worst thing that could happen would be a couple of bruised or broken ribs and a bruised ego. With that in mind, you kept a close eye on her. You would not be taken off guard.

“What about the security guards?” you asked as the two of you passed through the prehistoric animals wing.

“There’s only a couple of them and honestly? They’re not very good. And before you ask, the security system rarely works, if ever,” she informed you.

“And now I’m wondering how this place still has anything left to steal.” Your response made her quietly chuckle.

“So, who are these thieves exactly?”

“I don’t know their exact identities, just that they’re apart of a cult that worships cats,” she replied. You hadn’t heard of any cat cult before, but you supposed if anyone would know, it would be Catwoman.

It didn’t take the two of you long to reach the Ancient Egyptian wing. Various artefacts decorated the wing, from ancient texts, to weapons, musical instruments and in the centre of the room, inside a glass case, was the cat statue. It was black with gold accents around its eyes and the inside of its ears. Around its throat, also gold, was a thick collar with a ridged pattern and around the base there was golden hieroglyphics.

“So, where are these apparent other thieves?”

Catwoman rolled her eyes for the second time that night. “They’re not here yet, obviously. We just need to climb up high-” she pointed to the gothic styled vantage points that were dotted high in the room, “-and wait.”

You frowned. “And how exactly are they supposed to get here? Have you forgotten there’s currently a snowstorm outside?”

She sighed. “A snowstorm won’t stop them, believe me. They’ve very persistent and don’t take kindly when someone steps in their way.”

That was when it finally clicked in your mind. Catwoman needed help, but like the very animals she moulded herself after, she was too prideful to directly ask for it. Which was fine by you because you were exactly the same. So, instead of replying, you pulled your grapple gun out of your thigh holster and grappled up onto one of the vantage points. Catwoman did the same with her whip.

You sat there in silence for what felt like hours. For all you knew, hours had passed, but you didn’t want to risk checking, just in case she was still somehow playing you. Though your gut told you that, for the time being at least, she wasn’t. Right now working together benefited you both.

Your body was starting to ache from the position you were in. You always hated perching on top of these things, it was always so awkward. You were about to re-adjust your position when you heard the sound of several sets of footsteps approaching. A few seconds later several men dressed in black and wearing cat masks entered. The masks were of a lion, a tiger and a jaguar.

They ignored all of the other artefacts in the room and headed straight towards the cat statue’s case. They stopped before it and the one with the lion mask gestured to the one in the jaguar mask. He stepped forward and removed the backpack he was wearing and knelt down. He unzipped the bag and removed some glass cutting equipment.

‘Oh, I don’t think so!’ you thought as you reached into your utility belt and pulled out a smoke grenade. You threw it toward the centre of the room and as soon as it hit the ground, the room began to quickly fill with smoke. They shouted out in shock and surprise and you and Catwoman swung into action.

Your foot connected with the side of the lion’s head and sent him to the floor with a grunt. The tiger swung blindly through the smoke. You dodged his swing and then met him with a well placed punch to the jaw. It caused him to stumble, but he quickly regained his balance and got ready to face you head on.

He punched at you, but you blocked it. He hit harder than you were expecting and it sent pain radiating through your arm. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. You dodged the next few punches he threw your way. When you saw an opening, you darted forward and hit him several times in his abdomen with your fist. You dodged his next punch and kicked him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

The shrill sound of an alarm sounded as you fought and water began to spray down. The smoke was now beginning to clear. Just barely above the sound of the alarm you could hear the snapping sound of a whip, letting you know Catwoman was easily holding her own.

Suddenly something slammed into you, sending you straight to the floor and knocking the wind out of you. Pain shot through your back at the harsh landing. Before you were given a chance to even start recovering from it, the lion was on top of you.

“You’re going to regret this, bitch,” he growled, revealing his own set of claws, attached to his black gloves. He rose his hand up and got ready to rake his claws down your face, but before he had the chance to, Catwoman’s whip wrapped around his wrist and he was yanked backwards.

“Ugh, you really need to learn some manners,” she hissed before promptly knocking him out.

Catwoman offered you a hand and helped you back up onto your feet. You thanked her and quickly set about tying the three thieves up. The fire alarm continued to ring you and just as it started to really irritate you, it was cut off. As were the sprinklers. You figured it was the security guards that had turned them off, which meant that they were now headed this way.

With the fire alarm noise now gone, you heard another sound. The sound of claws on glass. You spun around and threw a shuriken in the direction of Catwoman, who was attempting to break into the display case. She jumped back in surprise and glared at you.

“You know I can’t let you take the statue,” you told her, “but, for helping me out, I can let you leave here. Otherwise I’m going to have to take you in as well.”

Before she could reply, the sound of footsteps coming from behind, at a fast pace, caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder to see the security guards now hurrying down the hallway. When you looked back, Catwoman, as you had expected, was now gone, but the statue remained inside of its case.

Tonight, and the case that had lead you here, really hadn’t gone the way that you had thought they would, but you had finished your case with even better results than you had originally thought you would. Now, maybe, you could finally shake yourself free of Batman and do what you had set out to do when you had first decided to put on a mask. To fight crime solo.

You also found yourself hoping that you and Catwoman would cross paths again.

#catwoman x reader #selina kyle x reader #catwoman #selina kyle #catwoman x fem!reader #selina kyle x fem!reader #catwoman imagines #selina kyle imagines #dc x reader #vigilante!reader #my writing

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 2 years

Text

Trials and Defibrillations

Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng opens up a secret clinic for the villains of Gotham under the nose of her roommate. Adrien Agreste opens up a secret clinic for the vigilantes of Gotham under the nose of his roommate. Everything is fine.

Jonathan Crane did not deserve to be bleeding out in an alley, but here he was, hand pressed to a gunshot wound as he tried to shoo off a raccoon that had decided it wanted to take his place as the terrorizer of Gotham upon his untimely (but rapidly approaching) demise.

The raccoon succeeded in jumping him. In his defense, he was bleeding out.

He scowled at the animal as it made off with his mask clutched in its tiny, clawed hands. It scampered a few feet away, just out of reach, and dunked the mask in a puddle of what Jonathan dearly hoped was just leftover rain from the storm that had raged through the city earlier that day.

Oh. Rainwater. He probably shouldn’t be leaning against anything right now, he was definitely getting his wound infected…

He looked around for something he could use to pull himself to his feet, but the closest thing to help him up was a fire escape ladder that was, rudely, several feet above him.

If he could reach that high, then he wouldn’t need it, now, would he?

Clearly, the world was laughing at him.

Something that was proven when the raccoon attempted to take a bite out of his mask and then gasped in clear offense when it found that the plastic was not, in fact, edible. It turned and gave Jonathan an affronted look. As if he had pointed a gun at it and forced it to take a bite.

It chittered at him, as if to say ‘How could you let this happen?’

“I told you not to take it,” he snapped.

It retaliated by chucking the mask at his head.

Jonathan fell to the side to avoid it – he was already woozy enough from blood loss, he didn’t need a concussion on top of that – and then promptly found he couldn’t sit back up.

The raccoon ran off, leaving him to die alone in a puddle in a Gotham alley of all places.

He groaned and flipped himself onto his back to try and keep the blood from seeping out of him quite as quickly.

It was a remarkably clear night for Gotham. He could see multiple stars poking through the dark smog that normally blanketed the city. It was a beautiful sight, one that he often found himself enjoying on the few days he could.

He remembered his mother used to tell him that stars were the souls of all the people that had died before them.

Jonathan was older, now. He knew more about the chemical makeup of stars than she had, he was too old to believe in the stories…

But it was nice to think about. To think that, maybe, his legacy could be more than a name whispered in fear and distaste, more than the people that he had killed and those he had left alive.

His vision was getting remarkably blurry, now, though he wasn’t sure whether this was due to the bloodloss.

A star seemed to wink at him as it ducked behind a cloud and then came back out again.

Awesome. Not even dead yet and he already had so much game. He will get all the star ladies and gentlemen to fall in love with him.

… kill him, please.

He winced and quickly regretted this thought when he heard a puddle splash somewhere behind his head. He didn’t know if his raccoon ‘friend’ had decided to come back and finish him off, or whether it was a random person who had so little common sense that they would wander into a Gotham alley, but either way it wouldn’t end well for him.

The stars winked out again, replaced by a freckled face that seemed to glow with the same otherworldly light.

He squinted, trying to get his eyes to focus on her face, but it was all hazy.

She smiled, eyes shining. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“I didn’t think I’d get an angel.”

“Oh, honey, if you’re looking for something holy you’re in quite the wrong place.”

“Sounds about right,” Jonathan muttered.

She snickered, hand coming up to close his eyes for him.

He opened his eyes to find orange skies. Which, granted, was kind of expected considering he was definitely not going anywhere good upon death, but… the shade was surprisingly nice. Sunrise orange fading into a deep, purplish-blue instead of fire orange (though he could get behind fire orange, too, if he were being honest). It was a sight that was almost too nice for him to think that it could belong in Hell.

A white-hot pain in his side dismissed the thought immediately.

“Fuck shit owowow fuck ow what the fuck –!”

The pain tapered out somewhat.

“Relax, it’s just hydrogen peroxide,” the girl with stars on her cheeks said, lifting the bottle to stop its pouring and giving him an exhausted look. The white makeup dotting her tanned skin and lining her eyes only served to make her eyebags more prominent and her exasperation more severe. “Trust me, this stuff hurts a lot less than an infection will.”

He supposed that made sense.

All sense flew out the window when she started pressing more of the evil liquid to his wound. He hoped she died. Hopefully by his own hands, but just in general would be fine too.

“– fuck you ow fuck shit ass OW –!”

She stuffed something in his mouth and he was somehow even more offended than he had been before.

She paid him no mind as she pulled the bottle of peroxide away and reached behind herself for the bright red med kit. Her hand fumbled a bit, just barely coming up short, and she gave a little groan and finally turned her head to actually look instead of just blindly guessing. She pulled it closer and started rifling through it.

It was then, without the crippling pain, that Jonathan finally started to take in his surroundings.

He was propped up against an airconditioning unit, the coolness of the metal seeping into him despite the tweed jacket he wore. His legs were splayed out on concrete, which is strange because there are hardly any buildings blocking his view of the sky –.

He spat out his gag. “What the fuck? Why are we on a roof?”

She waved her hand vaguely, not even looking up from where she was unfurling thread. “Couldn’t fix you up in my apartment, Mr. Scarecrow, my roommate would have freaked if he saw you.”

Jonathan’s eyes blew wide and, for once, he was the one looking at someone else in horror. He had assumed that she simply hadn’t known who he was. Why else would she be helping him?

But if she knew his identity… that couldn’t mean anything good.

He pulled a pistol from his waistband – his lower back screamed its thanks – and pointed it at her.

She finally glanced over. She didn’t even seem surprised to find that the metal pressing against her temple was a gun. In fact, she almost seemed bored. Maybe she was just insane.

Or maybe she was one of those people that couldn’t actually feel fear. He had encountered people like that before, they were rare but they did exist. It was often caused by damage to their amygdala. But, still, even people who were incapable of fear didn’t exactly respond fondly to being threatened. They were remarkably calm, yes, but they still did whatever they could to not get murdered. You didn’t have to hate broccoli to choose not to eat it, and you didn’t have to fear death to not want it.

She went back to threading a needle. “You were lucky enough to not have that bullet hit something vital, but you’re still going to bleed out if I don’t stitch you up.”

Insane, he decided.

“Wh –... what the hell? What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you scared?”

“You forgot to turn your gun off of safety, for one.”

He frowned and tilted the gun up to check. She smacked it out of his hand and he squawked as it slid across the roof.

It didn’t go off, so it really was on safety mode.

“... that wouldn’t have worked if I wasn’t bleeding out.”

“Sure.”

He bristled a little at the clear sarcasm, but she cut him off before he could come up with some kind of great insult (like ‘die’ or ‘bitch’ or something like that) by holding up the suture needle and furrowing her brows in clear question.

He hesitated just slightly. He didn’t know what to think about her, it wasn’t like he had ever been helped as Scarecrow by a random civilian. But, despite the pain earlier, he was actually already feeling quite a bit better. She clearly knew what she was doing.

He nodded, however warily.

“Fine, but if you try to kill me I won’t hesitate.”

“Why would I be helping you if I wanted to kill you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she pushed up the side of his shirt to get at the wound again. “Seems kinda counterintuitive.”

He hissed as the needle slipped into his skin. It wasn’t anything new, he had sewn himself up more times than he could count, but that didn’t mean that he could ever get used to the feeling of being minorly stabbed.

“It happens.”

She hummed a little.

It was silent as she worked. The sky faded into a pale, cloudless blue.

And then she was done. She grinned and pulled back, moving as if to rub her eye and then thinking better of it upon seeing the blood on her hands. Her nose scrunched in mild irritation.

He snorted.

She blushed and stuck her tongue out at him.

It was all very … childish behavior. Considering she looked young – approximately twenty, maybe a little older, if he had to guess – he figured that likely wasn’t too far off. But it was still interesting to see someone whose main reaction to blood was annoyance.

He rolled his shirt down and sighed, all of his amusement fading in an instant as he asked in a quiet, almost pained voice:

“So, what do you want as your favor?”

Somehow, she looked more annoyed at that. “I don’t want anything.”

He gave her a blank look. “You don’t have to pretend to be a good person or anything. You stitched me up, you’ve got your ‘good person points’. Now, what do you want?”

“Humans,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, shaking her head.

“You say that like you aren’t one, too,” he said with a scoff.

She opened an eye to peer at him for a moment before rolling it. “I don’t need a favor, but if you really feel like paying me back you can replace my first aid supplies.”

“... that’s it?” Jonathan said, more than a little aghast. Which was fair. What was she doing? She had a favor from one of the biggest Rogues in Gotham, most would kill for that kind of opportunity, and she wanted medical supplies? And not even new stuff, just replacements? “You’re kidding.”

“Do you see anyone laughing?”

He shook his head. “I’m not owing you. There has to be something you want.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she groaned. “I chose to help you. You didn’t ask me to do this.”

“I literally owe you my life. Shut up unless it’s telling me what you want.”

She pressed her lips firmly closed.

He wanted to punch her.

“Come on. Want someone dead? Money? A job? I can get you anything.”

She gave him a flat look.

And then her eyes sparkled.

“Actually… now that I think about it, there is something I need your help with.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, something normal –.

“You were a chemistry teacher, right?”

“... a professor, yes,” he said slowly, giving her a weird look.

“Same difference,” she said, waving him off with a red-stained hand.

“No, it’s not.”

She pretended not to hear him as she continued on: “Either way, you are just the kind of person I was looking for.”

“A disgraced ex-chemistry professor is the kind of person you were looking for?”

“Yeah. I really need help with this essay and –.”

“What.”

And that was how he ended up in her apartment, sitting on her couch, wearing a sweater that didn’t belong to him because his button down had been covered in blood and a black surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face (she was very adamant that her roommate couldn't figure out who he was).

He peered over her shoulder at the paper. Said paper was how he had learned her name, Marinette, and also that she was, somehow, even weirder than he had thought. Her paper was closer to biology than chemistry, but that wasn’t the strange thing about it. No, the strange thing was that she could list biological processes with surprising accuracy and depth but she didn’t seem to know anything from the past ten years.

“... should I be concerned that the person that treated me apparently doesn’t know about CRISPR?”

She scowled. “I don’t need to know about – about – Chris-per to know how to deal with a gunshot wound.”

“With the way people are marketing it, I’m sure you could find someone that disagrees,” he snickered.

His eyes found a tiny comment to the side that defined the particulates that sneezing and coughing sent into the air as miasma… which… Jonathan was pretty sure that was what people used to call evil spirits that made people sick in the olden days, which was weird. He wanted to press her on this, but he owed her and he figured that questioning her about all of her weird habits was not a good way of paying her back.

No, that would come later.

For now, he typed a few more things into a word document. The paper was well-written and remarkably informative outside of a few key areas that she might not have gotten to yet in her studies, but that didn't mean that there was nothing he could improve. He had been a professor for years, if there was one thing he was good at, it was tearing apart people’s work. Honestly, the only difficult thing about this was doing so in a way that wouldn’t make her cry – which was the exact opposite of his usual intentions, so forgive him for being a bit slow about it.

Eventually, though, he was done with the paper. He sighed and set it aside in favor of sinking into the surprisingly plush couch and covering his eyes. It had been years since he had gone over an essay, and he had not missed it.

At least she had spelled Chemistry right. He would have cried if he saw someone spell it with a K again.

She leaned over him to grab her computer and made a happy humming sound as she looked over his suggestions.

He peeked an eye open to look at her pleased expression and sighed again, though this time it was in relief. Debt repaid…

Though…

“Why did you help me?”

She blinked and looked over at him, and then jerked her chin to point at the computer on her lap. “Figured you could help me with my paper.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, we both know that thing could have gotten an A without any input from me.”

She huffed.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She groaned and threw her hands up in frustration. “What do you want me to say? I couldn’t just leave you there! I had the ability to help, so I did.” Her lips pulled into a frown. “No one deserves to die alone like that.”

“I do,” Jonathan said.

She clicked her tongue and opened her mouth, clearly preparing to argue with him.

“I’m not saying that to be self-deprecating. I have killed too many people to count, some like that. If anyone deserves it, it’s people like me.”

She shook her head. “No one deserves it.”

He squinted at her. Normally, Jonathan would call bullshit, because duh… but he really didn’t see any other explanations for what she had done. She had turned down any offers to repay the favor until she realized she wouldn’t get out of it, and then chose the easiest thing she could to get him to shut up. Maybe Gotham just attracted insane people with various morality problems.

“Moral absolutism is weird. You’re weird,” he decided.

“Oh no. The guy with a scarecrow theme thinks I’m weird. How will I live?” She deadpanned, turning her gaze on to her computer again.

He scoffed and went to retort, only to pause when the doorknob jiggled. He reached behind himself for his gun again, but Marinette didn’t seem all that concerned as she listened to the person grumble incoherently on the other side of the door.

Which could mean that it was just her roommate, but it could also mean nothing at all, because she had already proven that she didn’t care if she got shot in the head.

The door opened and a blond guy stepped inside, multiple bags of groceries on his arms.

So… almost definitely her roommate.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at the man, looking for any hints of weirdness. But, where Marinette wore her strangeness on her sleeve – or on her face, where the white makeup lay – the man looked completely normal in his old sweater and jeans.

The only truly strange thing about him was that he had opted to wear sunglasses inside.

Douche, thought Jonathan.

He trudged over to the kitchen island and dumped the bags. And then turned to cross his arms and seemingly glare at his roommate.

“Thanks for your help bringing these in –.”

Jonathan couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he could tell they were trained on him behind his sunglasses. He fought the urge to squirm.

“Mari, there’s a man in our apartment,” the man said slowly. He was not doing anything for those blond stereotypes.

Marinette shrugged. “Yeah.”

He made a face. Jonathan couldn’t decipher it, the sunglasses made it near impossible to get much of a read on him, but Marinette must have known him for quite a while because she knew exactly what he was trying to convey if the loud groan she gave meant anything.

And then she started to explain: “He’s an alumni –.”

“Alumnus. Alumni is plural,” the blond corrected.

Douche, Jonathan thought again, with even more fervor.

Jonathan would have killed someone over that (and likely any bystanders who had witnessed the mistake), but she just nodded.

“– an alumnus at GCC that I managed to get in contact with. He’s helping me with my paper.”

He grinned. “Still struggling with that?”

Her bored expression dropped into a scowl. “Go jump off a roof.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head. “No thanks. Maybe tomorrow, though.”

The blond’s shoulders relaxed just slightly as he apparently decided that Jonathan wasn’t a threat (which was rude, he was offended) and went back to putting away their groceries.

He glanced at Jonathan and lifted a box of blackberries. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No thanks. I had milk and c –.”

“Mari, why?” The blond said, sounding almost betrayed.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Because fuck you, Adrien, that’s why.”

“That was the last of the milk!”

“You bought more.”

“You don’t know that,” Adrien scowled.

“Yes I do.”

It was quiet for a moment before the blond huffed and pulled a gallon of milk out of one of the bags, mumbling incoherently once again. Jonathan was sure that everything the boy was saying was completely PG.

And then it was quiet other than the faint clicking of Marinette’s keyboard and the sound of plastic bags crinkling as Adrien put things away.

For a moment.

“I also gave him some macaroons, too, so you know.”

Adrien threw the box of spaghetti he was holding into the pantry in his frustration, sure to break the noodles before they even had a chance, and then whipped around to pout with maximum effectiveness. “Why don’t you love me?”

Marinette cackled.

Jonathan decided he was going to leave before he got killed over milk and cookies. He was not feeling awkward or out of place, shut up. He was making a tactical retreat.

He pushed himself to his feet, clearing his throat. “Well, thank you for everything, I’m going to be heading out –.”

“Wait, is that one of my sweaters?”

Okay, now he was actually making a tactical retreat. He grabbed the wad that was his old clothes and ran for the nearest fire escape.

+++

Up next: Duke Thomas thinks Adrien Agreste is fucking weird

... however, this is a Halloween fic How, you may ask? I have no intentions of updating this until Into The Unknown is over, which will be 8+ months from now Nothing is scarier than a fic that doesn't update Happy Halloween everyone :)

Trials and defibrillations masterlist

#everything is in fact not fine #but its ok #maribat #everything here is platonic so u know #i am in a platonic mood rn idk why #but ye #no ships #mlxdc #trials and defibrillations #man it is much easier to tag when u have no ships huh #wild

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