His Swagless Looks And Cringe Fail Personality Have Captivated Me

choke

“im gonna draw someone other than jason!” so that was a fucking lie

WonderTrash96

Cassie is explaining to Kon and Bart some of the reasons why Wonder Woman is, without doubt, the greatest hero of this age. They’re both too tired from the mission they just went on to leave so Cassie’s had a captive audience to lecture about her favourite topic for the past half hour.

She’s having, quite frankly, a fantastic time.

As she’s moving on to her next point and Bart and Kon are letting out identical groans Tim comes in and starts making a coffee. For a moment Cassie wonders if she might be able to drag Tim into the audience of her presentation, he’s probably just as tired from work as Kon and Bart are from their mission, but then she realises Tim’s already listening.

This wouldn’t shock her, for all his flaws Tim can be an excellent listener at times, but Tim isn’t wearing a listening sort of expression. He’s looking at Cassie with the sort of complete shock that only belongs on the faces of burglars caught in the act, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes rounder than can be natural. She’s about to ask him what’s up. She’s about to check to see if he just had some world shattering revelation that’s going to save them all a world of hurt in the near future, but then Tim says under his breath, so quiet Cassie almost doesn’t hear, “WonderTrash96” and Cassie is suddenly worried about very different things.

She takes a moment to curse her twelve year old self, well thought out arguments as to why as a hero Wonder Woman really is beyond reproach and all, for being idiotic enough to run a fan blog and not anticipate that it would come back to haunt her later on.

Then, before Cassie can curse her twelve year old self too thoroughly, she has the thought that Tim would have to know her childhood fan blog very well to recognise an argument she made there years ago. Then she remembers the semi-regular discourse she used to get in with a batman fan blog and how Tim has said a lot of the exact same things as that blog used to.

Cassie bolts upright, her eyes narrowing. “You” she hisses.

The two of them look at each other for a second, reliving years of vitriol in a moment.

Tim shakes himself and in an instant he looks normal again. “I would like to propose we never mention this ever again for the sake of both our reputations.”

Cassie nods slowly, relaxing back into the couch. “I have always loved a good state of mutually assured destruction.”

Tim gives a short, sharp nod in return and leaves with his coffee. Kon and Bart both look a little like they might want to ask what that was about but are too tired to do so. There’s a moment of silence before Cassie comes back to herself.

“Along with her contributions to the 1983 United Nations summit-” she starts, talking over Kon and Bart’s groans and absolutely not thinking about the level of dirt she and Tim have on each other now.

~

That night, Cassie gets messaged on an account she hasn’t touched since she was fourteen.

(22:34) I can’t believe you haven’t come up with better arguments since you were twelve.

(22:36) fuck off She types back.

She’s grinning before she even hits send.

wait if i dont post this now im just gonna forget to do it later. its not finished but LOOK its talia <3

Balancing Act

Talia al Ghul has always lived a precarious life.

You would think it would have been the training that had pulled at her in those early years. That tore at her. As soon as she was capable of critical thought it had been made clear to Talia that anything less than perfection was not an option.

This had suited her well enough though. Perfection had always come naturally to Talia.

No. It was the deference that had turned survival into a balancing act.

‘Yes, Father’ ‘No, Father’ ‘Of course, Father’. Talia is loyal to her bones, but did it have to be so performative? Did they really have to pretend this hard that her father’s better than her?

Even as a teenager she scoffs at the thought. It’s hardly like anyone could be foolish enough to believe such a lie.

~

Later she meets Bruce. Then the balancing act begins to concern loyalty rather than pride.

Talia has always been perfect and loyal and gifted at living on a knife edge; her father’s blade on one side and some different oblivion on the other. But knowing Bruce brings challenges she hadn’t foreseen.

He’s good. She thinks.

Talia isn’t sure if she’s ever thought that about anyone before.

The pull she feels towards him is something she can’t ignore. It causes the bonds she holds with her father to fray, to weaken. She won’t cut anything yet but Talia is beginning to think that the current situation is untenable.

She has always despised weak things. She will not hesitate to rid herself of such ties.

~

There’s a baby growing in Talia’s stomach.

It’s Bruce’s. She knows it’s Bruce’s. This fact makes her feel a warmth she hadn’t thought herself capable of but it brings with it danger.

She can feel the weight of the child’s legacy pulling at her. It’s a heavy thing, to join the bloodline of an al Ghul with the monster that lurks in Gotham City’s shadows. It’s something Talia thinks might hold greater weight than even her own legacy, if that’s possible.

As her stomach grows and the life inside with it, Talia starts to feel that weight. The heaviness of the body inside her own.

She thinks that this wonderful burden might be what stops the balancing act. What pulls her down from the sharp place where she’s managed to survive for so long.

Talia decides that it’s a change she’s going to embrace.

ok but when a police officer says bruce wayne’s name and waves and instead of responding bruce just looks away like a frightened child facing the reality of stranger danger for the first time

This on ao3

There is someone in Duke’s room.

He’s in bed and had the bad luck of waking up facing the wall. He’s sure there’s someone in the space by his window but he doesn’t think he can turn over to try and get a glimpse of them without making it obvious that he’s awake.

“It’s obvious that you’re awake.” a voice calls from the space by Duke’s window.

Well never mind, Duke thinks, then, wait.

Duke knows that voice. He knows that voice significantly better than he wishes he did.

“Dad?” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. That is not his Dad stood by the window.

Duke sits up and turns sees to Gnomon looking annoyingly pleased at the term of address. “Who else would it be?”

“What do you want?” he snarls, the effect likely ruined by the blanket still pulled up to his chest.

Gnomon tilts his head. “The question is more what do you want.” Duke is about to cut in with the fact that the answer is absolutely nothing before Gnomon continues. “There’s something you want to ask me.”

Oh. Duke hadn’t been expecting that. The problem is that he’s right, and Duke is possibly more annoyed about that than the man breaking into his room in the first place.

Duke sighs and comes to the conclusion that there’s really very little he can do about Gnomon being here. He may as well ask the question if the man is in a sharing mood today. “Am I going to die?” he asks.

Gnomon smiles, sharp and cruel and pleased, “No.” he says, and disappears into the shadows until Duke is alone.

Shit. That was the answer he had been hoping against.

~

Gotham is a city that shifts. It’s a city so heavy with cruelty that it crushes itself constantly, never able to settle into one shape or the other before something crumbles and it has to rearrange itself all over again.

It is not a city built with immortality in mind.

Duke wonders if he should leave one day. If forcing a level of change onto his life might make the rest of his existence endurable.

Jason laughs when he mentions these thoughts, loud and brash and maybe a little angry. The noise grates on Duke’s nerves and it makes him glad that he didn’t mention that the rest of his existence might be forever. “This city has had its claws in you all your life kid. You think it’s going to let go now?”

“Now?” Duke asks, hoping his calm might balance out Jason’s agitation. “What’s different about now.”

“You’re one of us now.” Jason cackles. He slaps his arm around Duke’s shoulders and the overfamiliarity of the gesture makes him tense up. He wonders if Jason is drunk right now. “You ever hear about a bat leaving Gotham for long and surviving?”

“You ever hear about a bat surviving Gotham for long?” Duke snaps. He had kind of hoped that it would make Jason back off with his crazed eyes and too loud laugh but it just sets him off again.

Jason wipes some dampness from the corner of his eyes. “You’re a riot, kid.” he says before leaving, despite the fact that Duke has said literally nothing funny this whole conversation.

Definitely drunk, he concludes, before deciding never to talk to any of the bats about leaving ever again.

~

After his talk with Jason, Duke starts having nightmares about how tangled he is in this city.

He’ll be running over rooftops just like every bat before him has and every bat after him will. He’ll be running and the rooftops will start shifting beneath his feet. It makes sense, at least within the dream. Duke will last forever and it’s clear that Gotham won’t so it’s only to be expected that at some point the ground that’s held him up all his life will be forced to crumble beneath his feet.

Duke is running over rooftops and things start shifting. At some point he trips as the ground sags beneath the weight he carries on his shoulders. The floor twists around him then, parts of it melting away like quicksand while the rest takes on a life of its own and wraps around Duke’s waist, trapping him so that he can’t get up and keep running.

Then what he was running from arrives.

They’re the same gargoyles that he was taught to sit among by the other bats. The same gargoyles he’ll nod hello to if he’s in a good mood and listening to the right music, feeling far more at home than he should in a place that haunts him so deeply. Only now the faces of the gargoyles are twisted into something even angrier than what they were carved to be. They screech and wail as they fly up to Duke’s trapped body and sink their talons into him, all for the sake of burying Gotham as deep into his flesh as possible.

Those dreams never end with Duke dying. He understands why.

~

Duke looks at Bruce differently now.

He knows Bruce can tell. Bruce can see that Duke doesn’t see something that verges on the otherworldly when he looks at Batman anymore. He just sees a man.

Duke thinks it might break Bruce’s heart a bit, but he understands that it isn’t for the wrong reasons. With all his other children things only started to go wrong when they stopped looking at him like the only thing between Gotham and oblivion. When they started to care more that he was a mediocre father and less that he was a perfect superhero.

“I’m not going to start hating you.” Duke tells him one night on patrol, because he thinks it might be something that needs to be said.

Bruce gives a sad half-smile. “I know. I just worry sometimes.” He pauses. “You haven’t been sleeping well.” he states.

“No.” Duke thinks for a moment about how Bruce has lived in Gotham for longer than anyone else he can talk to who knows enough about death that he might care about their answer. “You ever think about how you’ll be here forever?” he asks.

That sad half-smile stays glued to Bruce’s face. “All the time.” he answers, looking out across Gotham’s skyline with an expression that could only be described as grief.

Duke nods in understanding, it’s the same answer he would give.

A murder mystery where there wasn’t actually a murder. The detective is just crazy and is harassing people.

“We should all run away together!” Arthur crows with all the confidence of a drunk man convinced that he has just had an excellent idea.

Merlin and Morgana sit up a little straighter, eyes brightening with the enthusiasm of people who are very drunk and convinced that they have just heard an excellent idea. Gwen, certainly not sober but more so than anyone else in the room, rolls her eyes.

“We could hide in the forest!” Morgana grins.

“Or the mountains.” Merlin smiles.

Gwen tries not roll her eyes again. “Or we could just stay here and wait for Arthur to become king and change the world into one that we like better.” The room boos her good naturedly and Gwen tries to mimic a bow without moving from her place on the bed, curled into Morgana’s side.

“That,” Arthur slurs from where he’s stood in the centre of Morgana’s room, “Is a very boring plan.” He stumbles a little and Merlin takes his hand to try and tug him down to where he’s sat on the floor. Arthur frowns, because he is obviously too stubborn to take the very sound advice of sitting down, but deigns to keep Merlin’s hand clasped in his.

Gwen props herself up a little but not enough to leave the warmth of Morgana’s side. “We could run away to Ealdor?” she tries instead of exhibiting common sense.

The room cheers.

Ren has been in love with Nora for as long as he can remember.

He’s aware that there must be a point when he wasn’t in love with her. Some point before the streets and the orphanages and their first school. A point when he was small with two living parents and not at all sure of himself like he is now.

It’s just that that time seems hazy. More like a dream than something that he lived through. Then he thinks back to being in love with Nora and suddenly his memories are in sharp focus, always with her at their center.

Ren has been in love with Nora for as long as he can remember and he’s been trying to figure out how to tell her for just as long. Nothing’s come to mind yet but, hey, it’s not like either of them are going anywhere.

The rawest line to ever be conceived, honestly.