masked fanfiction

Keeping you updated on vigilante antics. And any other fandoms that catch my eye, of course. SomeBratInAMask's fanfiction blog

[maskedfanfiction]

Fanfiction now being posted on my personal

I’ve come to the conclusion recently that it’s easier to simply post fics on my personal. So, this blog will be inactive from now on. To continue reading my fics, you can follow me at somebratinamask. My fanfiction tag is “fanfiction for the void.” There’s also, of course, my AO3.

Thanks, guys!! :)

[maskedfanfiction]

Fanfiction now being posted on my personal

I’ve come to the conclusion recently that it’s easier to simply post fics on my personal. So, this blog will be inactive from now on. To continue reading my fics, you can follow me at somebratinamask. My fanfiction tag is “fanfiction for the void.” There’s also, of course, my AO3.

Thanks, guys!! :)

[maskedfanfiction]

Fanfiction now being posted on my personal

I’ve come to the conclusion recently that it’s easier to simply post fics on my personal. So, this blog will be inactive from now on. To continue reading my fics, you can follow me at somebratinamask. My fanfiction tag is “fanfiction for the void.” There’s also, of course, my AO3.

Thanks, guys!! :)

[maskedfanfiction]

Fanfiction now being posted on my personal

I’ve come to the conclusion recently that it’s easier to simply post fics on my personal. So, this blog will be inactive from now on. To continue reading my fics, you can follow me at somebratinamask. My fanfiction tag is “fanfiction for the void.” There’s also, of course, my AO3.

Thanks, guys!! :)

[aconitemare]

🌸

32. Forced Kiss

Ehhh….less forced, more scripted?

“Sorry, Kaplan. You’re stuck with me. Till death do us part.” 

Billy turned away from the window and gazed upward, furrowing his brow and allowing a small smile. “Teddy Altman,” he accused, “did you just propose to me?”

Teddy Altman shrugged. “Depends. Are you gonna get off your ass and do something?”

Billy slowly rose from his seat and was swept into a pair of strong arms. Billy closed the distance between them, leaning down just enough for his lips to brush Teddy’s. It was a movement so subdued it seemed numb. Within seconds, however, he deepened the kiss and pressed himself against Teddy’s chest. The kiss energized bit by bit, like an awakening. 

Tapping sounded, and they swiveled their heads to where Captain Marvel was perched on a tree. “Sorry to interrupt, boys. But Cap needs you at the mansion.”

Billy reluctantly pulled back, but he didn’t let go of Teddy. “But,” Teddy tried to protest.

“In uniform,” Ms. Marvel added.

Billy brushed a lock of white hair from his face and frowned. “But - ”

“Now.”

Teddy and Billy exchanged remorseful looks that, as Billy imagined fierce violins introducing both an end and a beginning, morphed into excitement. He felt ready.

“Scene!” David’s voice cut through the dim-lit bedroom of Billy Kaplan. Rufus and Noh detached politely. Their guest star stepped down from the small plastic prop. 

Keep reading

[maskedfanfiction]

General Fic: Bat Boys - “Can I Shoot the Cop Now?”

Summary: Dick lets it slip to a fellow Bludhaven police officer his vigilante identity. A meeting convenes among the four boys to discuss how to deal with this. Because they’re bats, it’s on a rooftop at night and there is a heated debate over who is the favorite. (It’s Damian, obviously.)

A/N: I have absolutely no idea when this is even set in the comics. Just go with it.

AO3

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “You mean to tell me that, upon your one-night-stand finding your costume in your closet, you just told him straight-up your secret identity? No dancing around the truth, no attempt to pretend you were an eager fan?”

Dick shrugged. “Figured cosplay could be a boner-killer.” He was perched like a bird on the ledge.

All four bat sons were in full vigilante get-up and standing on the rooftop of Bludhaven’s Parks and Recreation headquarters. Normally, men in tights atop government buildings after midnight was a standard sight, but the scene was made odd by the additional presence of a Bludhaven police officer. Among the intense and colorful array of black-haired boys, Gannon stuck out with his crop of blonde hair and prosaic sweater.

Dick sighed. “Look, I’m not being completely irresponsible. I brought you all to this meeting, right? So we could make important decisions together?”

“Oh!” Jason said suddenly. “I have a decision!” Quick as a whip, he grabbed hold of Gannon and cocked a gun to his head. Gannon’s eyes widened and he latched onto Jason’s arm, but the grip was steely. “Why don’t we just shoot his brains out, and boom! Problem solved!”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Even you’re not that cruel. Despite all efforts to prove otherwise,” he tacked on, tone unimpressed.

Jason’s head swiveled toward him. “I’ll be the judge of that. Nerd.”

Dick leaped to his feet and stepped forward. “Aw. Is this a jealousy thing? You know I love both you and Gannon equally.” He placed a palm on his chest.

“Shut up, you narcissistic bitch.”

Dick stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

“Hey!” Damian snapped, fists curling at his sides. “Don’t you dare address him like that!”

“Guys,” cut in Tim. “Squabbling like kids isn’t going to solve anything. Honestly, this is incredibly immature.”

“Ooh, some words of wisdom from my least favorite Robin,” Jason quipped. “Keep acting above us all. You might just convince Bruce to make you his favorite.”

“This isn’t about favorites.” Tim pointed to Gannon. “This is a serious matter and you’re all treating it like a joke. Do any of you have an idea of how much is at risk because of Officer Malloy’s knowledge?”

“I swear, I won’t tell,” Gannon pleaded.

Tim gave him a sympathetic look. “I would love nothing more than to believe you. But not believing anyone is kind of the golden rule of running with the Batman.”

Damian huffed. “Well, I don’t believe him either. Oh, and Red Hood?” he asked. “Red Robin would never be the favorite.” He sniffed delicately, button nose tilting upward. “That’s a ridiculous notion.”

Jason chuckled. “I don’t know about that. Red Robin sure is good at kissing ass. He’ll catch up to Dickhead over here in no time.”

“I told you not to address him like that,” Damian scolded.

“No, you told me not to call him a bitch.”

“Anyway,” redirected Damian, “Nightwing is not the favorite. I am.” Damian looked up at Dick and hastened, “Though you, of course, are second. No doubt, you would be first, if I were not alive.” He tossed a scowl at Tim. “But I am.”

“Unfortunately,” Tim said dryly.

Jason groaned. “Can I shoot the cop now?”

Dick threw his hands up. “Sure! Go ahead!” he chirped, sweeping his arm in a proceed fashion.

Jason did nothing.

“Ha! Red Robin totally called it!” Dick grinned and snapped his fingers.

Jason roughly pushed Gannon away and stuffed his gun back in its holster, every movement grouchy. “Honestly, the more time I spend on this roof, the more I’d rather spend my bullets on wasting you assholes.”

“I’m touched,” Dick said sweetly.

“Yeah, in the crazy way.”

“You wound me. Is this because I ended our torrid love affair? I’m sorry, Hood. But what I have with Gannon is very special,” Dick assured.

It should be noted that, despite Dick’s emotional words, Gannon felt acutely mocked.

“Can you stop talking?” Jason asked. “No, seriously.” He waved his hand. “Can you literally just stop talking?”

Dick appeared to think about it, tapping a gloved finger on his chin.

“I cannot believe that the ten year-old has been the most mature out of all three of you,” commented Tim.

“Wait,” Gannon interrupted. He turned to Damian. “You’re ten?”

Damian sent him a withering look. “I know my intellect is leagues beyond yours, and my articulation of thoughts and ability to not stand there like a dumb dog with my mouth open to catch flies, distinguishes me from you. But please, as a sworn protector of an entire city, do try not to be blind.” Damian scoffed. “Of course, I’m ten.”

Gannon’s jaw dropped. He clicked it shut, though, because something in the child’s glare warned him he was proving the bastard’s point.

Jason whistled lowly. “Savage.”

“That’s it,” announced Tim. “I’m calling Oracle.”

[maskedfanfiction]

Detonate Me

Relationships: Midnighter/Apollo, Midnighter/Dick, Dick/Jason

Summary: Three different relationships at three different points in time, accompanying three different explosions.

Words: 993

AO3

Apollo. Ancient Greek and Roman sun god. Back then, before M was alive, before anyone he knows was alive, people believed in it. M has a hard time believing that people believed at all. He's seen creationism at its finest, but the word God has always left a sour taste in his mouth. God is a dark labyrinth of computers and test tubes, not a mountain in the sky. God and sun are antithetical.

Apollo. Andrew Pulaski with his hair like gold and his body like flames, and that tongue like fire with eyes so blue. He's invincible when he flies, shoulders broad and fists curled as blasts of sheer energy fight back every dark thing that crawls their way. And he is, he is the sun and that is the one thing that M can believe in.

When Andrew touches the ground, he smiles. All these statistics in M's head, every database-derived number, and his smile shines in an improbable way that M could never have predicted. He's lucky it's the one thing that doesn't hurt when it hits.

Andrew bumps their foreheads, so M holds his chin and gently lowers him into a kiss. Andrew smiles into it before a blast rattles the earth behind them. M jerks back, searching for an explosion, but Andrew is all there is.

Andrew, god of the sun, smiling improbably.

Gorgeous Andrew, and some flattened buildings.

The day is saved in an unusually quiet manner. An entire underground criminal network shut down without blood splatter. M is more than mildly disappointed. Peace as a means is nice, but it’s better as just the ends. Pacifism doesn’t give him an adrenaline rush.

Dick approaches him. Even in a pair of cargo pants, he’s got the same slinky kind of walk he did in black tights. “We did it,” announces Dick, slow-clapping. “Crisis averted, one less black market stockholder.” Dick places his hands on his hips. “What’s it like, being a hero?”

M squints at the office building the criminals had turned into their headquarters. It’s swarmed by a couple other costumed assholes, as well as a brigade of city police. And despite the popularity, it’s rather placid. M returns his gaze to Dick. “Boring,” he answers.

Dick scoffs. “Boring? Seriously?”

M shrugs. “Look, if I can’t pinpoint the climatic event, then it was boring. I mean, what did all this take?” M gestures broadly at the parking lot, lit in blue and red by police lights. “Planting some wires, hacking some phone calls? Hell, the dude with the bomb remote didn’t even put up a fight when you confiscated it.”

Dick glanced backward at the low-level bomb set on the pavement, a smirk playing on his lips. Nightwing’s official property now, or what is left of that mantle. “Were you looking forward to an explosion?” he asks.

M sighs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Something in that realm of violence.” He smirks back suddenly. “It’s not really saving the day unless there’s some destruction.” 

Dick steps closer and waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You know,” he says, teasing, “there doesn’t need to be a dramatic ending for there to be a dramatic kiss.” And there Dick goes again, behaving like a frat boy even though Midnighter knows he dropped out of college his first semester. Still, when Dick rests his rough palm on the back of M’s neck, he lets himself be pulled down. Dick’s got this wicked grin on his face. It’s his best look. “But,” he continues, edging on sing-song, “backdrop explosions never hurt a scene.”

Out of the corner of his eye, M catches the slight movement of Dick’s hand in his pocket. He remembers how Dick dropped the remote in the pocket of his pants. Too late, the bomb goes off a couple yards away from everyone else, but demolishes nearby shrubbery. At that exact moment, Dick yanks him into a deep kiss.

Tonight was a shitty idea. Waking up this morning, actually, was a shitty idea. Jason can make a long timeline, by this point, of all his shitty ideas, starting with clawing his way out of a coffin and six feet of dry earth.

Today starts with coffee and ends with a surprise suicide-bomber. Dick tries to talk him down when it is just a gun, but as soon as the man rips off his over-shirt to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest – Jason grabs Dick by the wrist and they jump off the second-floor balcony. The landing is less than smooth, but they are up and running in no time. The explosion is ear-piercing. Jason feels fire on his back, and he twists around as he runs, working through the panic so he doesn’t burn his hands while shucking the jacket. He feels bruises on his stomach and the bones in his face feel shattered, but he knows that part, at least, isn’t real anymore.

The ghost of a laugh is in his ears, so he focuses on the ringing instead.

When they’re a safe distance, Dick staggers to his knees and Jason slams into him. They crash to the cement together. Dick jabs his elbow into Jason’s rib cage and orders a muffled, “Get off.”  Jason obeys. Dick rolls onto his back and Jason sits beside him. They’re laughing.

Their eyes meet. Dick’s eyes are icy blue, but tonight they’re crinkled and dark as he laughs. “Jason,” he says, smiling. “Jaybird.” He reaches out a hand and touches Jason’s cheekbone, the one that isn’t cracked now, and Jason finds that the Joker’s laugh is gone, washed away by Dick’s giggles. 

“We’re alive,” Dick informs, like it’s the funniest fucking thing, and it is, but he’s right.

They are alive, and it’s funny, but it’s good. Dick’s eyelids flutter downward, just barely peeking at Jason. Dick tugs the collar of Jason’s shirt. Jason leans down and they brush lips, just barely a kiss, but it’s also good.

[maskedfanfiction]

Jaydick drabble (Sugar)

Jason jumped down onto the lower roof. He did his best to be quiet, but Dick's head still swiveled. Dick gave a small wave from where he sat on the ledge, gloved fingers wrapped around a jelly doughnut. An entire box rested beside him, lid flipped open. It was nearly empty.

Jason walked forward. "Have you been doing nothing but scarfing down doughnuts all night?" he asked. He went to remove his helmet, but decided against it and dropped his hands to his sides.

When Dick opened his mouth, Jason could see some pieces of mashed up food. "I'm a cop," he defended, words stuffed like cotton around the pastry.

Jason stopped in front of him. "You mean you're a cliché."

Dick popped the last piece of the doughnut into his mouth. He licked off the jelly from his fingers. "A happy cliché. So happy, Jaybird."

"How do you even stay fit with the sheer quantities of sugar you consume? I don't even think Tim eats this much. And I've seen the toothpick eat two meatball grinders in ten minutes," compared Jason. When Dick laughed, he said, "That's not an exaggeration. I timed it. On a dare. You and Tim are going to get fat."

Dick shrugged. "That's okay." He wrapped his legs around Jason's waist, bringing him closer. Jason leaned forward and placed a hand on either side of the ledge. Dick titled his face upward, as if he might see Jason's face better through the helmet. His black hair fell into the white lenses of his mask. Jason traced the wings of his mask from the top of his cheekbone to the corner of Dick's lips. Dick smiled. "Just promise me you'll still love me when I'm old and chubby," he joked.

"Nah," said Jason. He skidded his hands over Dick's thighs, slipping them underneath. "I think I'll just dump your body over whatever skyscraper you're perched on and keep the doughnuts for myself." As he spoke, he pressed his thumbs into Dick's skin and gripped him. Clutching Dick’s thighs, Jason dipped him over the ledge. His back was hanging in the air, hundreds of feet above ground.

Dick made a startled noise and surged forward, winding his arms around Jason's shoulders. "What are you doing? Stop!" he protested.

Jason laughed. "Relax," he placated, rubbing circles into Dick's thighs. "I wasn't going to let you fall."

Dick's jaw dropped. He looked scandalized. "Dude, not cool!" he informed. But he still held onto Jason.

"Sorry." Jason dropped his head, letting their foreheads touch. "Thought it was funny."

Dick twisted his lips, contemplative. "Maybe I can grow, look back on this moment with humor. If it never happens again."

"How mature of you."

"Nope." Dick grabbed the back of Jason's jacket collar. "Don't want to hear snark from the man who playfully tried to launch me to my death."

"Emphasis on the playfully," Jason interjected.

"Emphasis on the death." Dick paused in thought. "Also? Emphasis on launch. It just has a very strong sound to it. Doesn't it?"

It did, but Jason wasn't about to get caught up in Dick's word games tonight. Though he might try his own. "I could think of better places to launch you onto," he hinted.

Dick grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, let me guess. A bed. It's a bed, isn't it?"

"Good guess, but nope." Jason abruptly grabbed Dick's thighs again and tipped him backwards off the ledge. "It's another building."

Dick didn't react much this time, letting Jason push until half his body was suspended in the air. Dick gazed up at him flatly, hair pooling upside down and abs flexing as he helped hold himself up. "You're an ass, and you're not going into my doughnut-will if I die."

"Tragic." Jason squeezed Dick's legs, signaling him to sit up. Dick obeyed. He stuck his thumbs under Jason's helmet.

"Off?" he asked.

Jason took it off and let Dick kiss him, powdered lips and strawberry tongue.

[aconitemare]

David/Eli

A/N: don’t judge me

David counts down the seconds in his head. 60, 59, 58 … 3, 2, 1. He glances at Eli, slouched against the loveseat, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the movie. His lower lip juts out in that perennial pout of his. Restart. 60, 59 … David isn’t sure if he’s always angry, or if that’s just his resting face. He’s fairly certain Eli would pick a fight if he asked, though.

David shifts a bit, checks his watch. In 50 seconds, he’ll kiss Eli. The screen lights up in the dark of his living room. Maybe it’s too dark in here. Maybe he should’ve kept a lamp on. Set the mood. The lamp is next to Eli, though, and David doesn’t want to ruin any hypothetical mood by asking him to turn on a light.

6, 5, 4, 3, 2 … Restart. Eli has perked up, probably without noticing, eyes glued to the screen. Something important is happening. Damn. A movie date was a poor decision. Should’ve gone with making dinner together. Teddy had given him that idea. David thought it was romantic, and it had been a very Teddy idea, though perhaps not a very Eli one.

David sighs, completely by accident. It’s easy to forget himself when the room is so dark and no one is watching him. But Eli picks up on it and casts a sideways glance at him. He looks suspicious, or annoyed - a very Eli expression. David smiles despite himself. Only for a second, though.

“What?” Eli asks, like David’s sigh is a formal complaint.

As it is, the sigh is more an informal complaint than anything. But questions demands answers, and David demands some proof this is a date after all. Unfortunately, he’s at a loss for words beneath Eli’s glare. That’s nothing new. David has to improvise. He twisted his body around to face Eli, then slowly places his hand over where Eli’s wrist rests on his knee. When Eli doesn’t shake him off, David squeezes his wrist and leans in. Eli’s lips are warm and just a little wet and soft. David brushes his fingers behind David’s ear and cradles the back of his head. Eli kisses back, and it’s sweeter than David ever imagined Eli could be.

When David pulls back, Eli drapes his arm across the back of the couch so David can nestle into the crook of his body. He lays his head on Eli’s shoulder and tangles their feet together. On the TV, a man’s arm is getting ripped off.

[aconitemare]

Vaguely Villainous (Chap. 4)

Fandom: Young Avengers

Chapter Characters: Eli, David

Summary: Billy is vaguely a villain.

Chapter Summary: David visits Eli in the Bronx.

AO3

Keep reading

[maskedfanfiction]

Vaguely Villainous: Chapter 3 (Mutant Differentiation Act)

Pairing: BillyTeddy

Chapter Characters: Kate, America, Billy, Teddy

Summary: Billy is vaguely a villain, and here’s why.

AO3

Mobile Redirect

Kate wakes up at eleven in the morning. Her bones ache from last night’s patrol. She extracts herself from the blankets, cold air immediately swallowing her body and raising the tiny hair on her arms. The season’s mornings are crisp. Kate goes in search of slippers and something flannel to throw over her shoulders. Once she’s done that, she pours herself a bowl of cereal and pads over to the living room. She already knows what’s going to be on the news, but she turns it on anyway.

Predictably, it sucks.

A brunette with glasses and a gray blazer sits behind a desk, manicured nails clasped as if in prayer beside a coffee mug. The bottom of the screen has the running caption #washingtonwitch. “The U.S. Government is declaring all of Washington D.C. under threat by, potentially, a level five hostile mutant. Officials suggest to be on the look-out for an eighteen year old boy. Witnesses describe him as having curly black hair, pupil-less blue eyes, a slender build, and being of average male height. Officials instruct bystanders to not attempt to approach any boy matching this description, but to report his location to police and immediately leave the area.

“Here is footage of the mutant’s attack two blocks from The White House.”

The news switches to a slightly grainy recording of yesterday morning. There’s a park with tall trees. Billy levitates as visible magic pulses around him. His brown eyes have been completely drowned out by a possessed blue. Two dark curls peek out from under his cowl. Elongated tree branches weave across his body like a ribcage. Kate gnaws on her metal spoon. She waits for what’s coming.

The magic pulses around him four more times, growing from the center, steady as a heart beat. Then the blast rips from him and trees uproot, roofs detach, and cars are carried off. His mouth opens and it’s not Billy speaking, but several voices in unison. Kate recognizes it. It’s always that voice when he gets like this; an eery echo that bounces off all ends of the earth like they’re in a fishbowl.

Subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen, but Kate can hear him plain. His words are simple: “You want to be scared. You want us to be a threat. You want us to hurt you so much. I didn’t understand. I understand now.” There’s a moment of silence, followed by: “I can give you what you want.”

The screen returns to the manicured news reporter. “Many speculate the cause of this terrorism is the Mutant Differentiation Act, a bill passed by Congress only five hours before the assault from, what social networking site Twitter has dubbed, the Washington Witch.”

Kate groans. She saw the hashtags, but somehow it’s worse, hearing an adult say it like it’s a thing. Like it’s something that history books might publish, years from now. The news reporter carries on, safe in her little broadcast office room, even though Kate (perhaps unfairly) wants to shoot an arrow through the dip of her throat. “The Mutant Differentiation Act,” the reporter explains, “is proving to be quite controversial. The act works in tandem with the Mutant Registration Act, calling for the official ranking of mutants by the potential threat posed by their powers. The bill had a large conservative backing, enough to push it through despite public outcry from mutant allies.”

“And, you know, actual mutants,” Kate mumbles on impulse. She has spent too much time with Billy, with David, with Tommy to not feel their anger whenever their genes were heard over their voices.

“Speaking today are Congressman Harris Don, mutant rights activist Stacy Patter, and former mutant Nicole Knowles,” the reporter introduces. “Nicole, you have a rather unique perspective on this issue, having been a mutant for most of your life until you were affected, as many mutants were, by the Scarlet’s Witch M-Day. Many Americans right now believe that the mere possession of such power corrupts mutants. Would you agree with this, as someone who knows both life as a mutant and as a human?”

Nicole blinks. There is a pause as the reporter’s message is delivered to Nicole. Then Nicole begins her piece. “I would say that everyone, regardless of mutation, is vulnerable to corruption, Jennifer. You see it among politicians, businesspeople, law enforcement - anyone, with power, is capable of doing bad things. Likewise, everyone - including mutants - is capable of doing wonderful things. So, I can’t say that mutation is involved with the moral behavior of the individual.”

The reporter, Jennifer, nods, then requests the congressman’s opinion. He’s a stocky man with pink skin and flimsy wisps of white hair. He chuckles. “Well, I think it’s a bit wishful to say that mutation had nothing to do with the moral behavior of the Washington Witch.” Kate cringes at his use of the sobriquet. “We have a clear case of domestic terrorism in which this mutant explicitly confesses he wants us to fear him and his mutant peers. This is a hate crime, an expression of mutant supremacy, and frankly immediate proof of the Mutant Differentiation Act’s importance to the safety of this nation’s citizens.

“The MDA is not of anti-mutant sentiment. If anything, the MDA protects mutants. Low-level mutants, mutants with wings or scales, who will suffer not only the terrorism of high-level mutants such as yesterday’s, but the backlash of critics who cannot tell the difference between dangerous mutants and mutants just trying to make the best of, uh - ” the congressman shrugs and smiles, “a bad situation.”

“A good point,” Jennifer concedes. “What would you say about that, Stacey? Do you feel that mutants put each other at risk by committing these extreme crimes?”

“Certainly,” says Stacey. She says no more.

“You are the chairwoman of the Mutant Advocacy Organization and openly identify yourself as the mother of a mutant teenager. You have many ties with mutants, naturally, in your line of work. Will MAO be issuing a public apology or an assurance of dissociation with the Washington Witch and any like-minded mutants?”

Kate’s jaw drops. She wipes the dribble of milk from her chin. “I can’t watch this anymore,” she says aloud. She continues watching, but grabs her phone from the coffee table and shoots America a text.

R u watching channel 7 rn?

Stacey smiles nervously. There is a ton of uncomfortable smiling from all three interviewees. “I don’t know about an apology, but I can say that MAO has absolutely no connections with the mutant responsible for D.C., nor will we ever endorse rogue extremists like him.”

Kate’s phone buzzes. She slides her thumb to unlock.

you mean am i watching 4 non-mutants discuss mutant problems? yeh. its fuckin stupid. and old.

Kate quickly responds: nicole used to be a mutant. if david counts, so does she.

Kate glances back to the TV while waiting for America. Stacey still has the floor. “That being said, the Mutant Advocacy Organization did oppose both the Mutant Registration Act and the Mutant Differentiation Act. We believe that such branding is reminiscent of the Holocaust stars and only serves to exacerbate an already hostile climate.”

“Boom,” says Kate.

Her phone buzzes again. Kate picks it up, thinking it’s America. It turns out to be Teddy.

I cannot even fathom the sheer levels of on-the-nose our entire Young Avengers career has been. Jewish AND mutant. Will Billy ever catch a break? Will WE?

Kate snorts. It’s a curt, bleak laugh that reminds her that she’s wanted to cry since yesterday. Since all the days leading up to yesterday, and for all the days following this one. She types back: tune in next week 4 more on this shitstorm we call our lives.

Words can’t convey how lucky we’ll be if we get a week’s break before more heavy rain.

Kate doesn’t respond. She turns off the TV and sinks her face in her hands.

[maskedfanfiction]

Just Hear Me Out Now

Pairing: Tommy/Kate

Word Count: 3135

AO3

A/N: Happy birthday, @sorceringing​!! After much HASSLE, I pried the request of “tommy/kate pillow talk” from your lips. Hella.

Summary: They meet at the crossroad between “screw up” and “screw it.”

Settle back now and raise a toast To the young ones, growing old All the green lights, long nights Drinking ‘til I made out with you

They meet at the crossroad between “screw up” and “screw it.” Tommy stands firmly on the latter street as Kate wails her boxing gloves so hard Tommy has to cling to the punching bag to keep from falling. There’s sweat pouring down her face in buckets and all Tommy does is ask what happened, but damn if that wasn’t a mistake.

“Is it enough for me to just say” - punch and a grunt - “that I screwed up and they’re all gossiping about it? Or do I” - punch and a grunt - “have to recount my shame to you too?” She practically spits that last part before going in for a roundhouse kick that sends Tommy reeling. It’s like being on a rollercoaster with a heightened chance of falling. Tommy could practice endurance training just by holding her punching bag for half an hour.

“Eh, nah. No reason for people to start telling me stuff now,” he assures. He peeks at her from around the bag. Her teeth are grit in a way that makes Tommy’s jaw sore. Her hair is soaked, strands sticking to her forehead and a natural musk hanging thickly over her. “You’re pretty hot, you know that?” he asks, because no way this girl doesn’t know it, but this level of hotness is something that requires daily acknowledgement. Like a stoplight, although Tommy’s never had much use for those. An idea comes to him. “We should hook up. Go out,” he suggests, before he has the chance to forget.

“We should clear out,” Kate says instead, and yeah, that’s pretty clever. Kate adds something, maybe, but the rest of the Y.A. have gathered by the training room entrance. Tommy wonders if they literally just showed up all at once, or if they’ve been accumulating for a while now.

Come to think of it, whatever. “Come on. You. Me. I know a dive bar that don’t card," he sing-songs. The memory flashes of that one time a different bartender than usual was manning the counter and they threw him out. “Much,” he disclaims, because he’s not a liar. Not at the moment. That’s a sterling enough record.

Kate’s noticed her pointedly not-boyfriend by now. To her credit, she actually looks back at Tommy when she says, “Sure, it’s a date.”

If it’s a show she’s performing, then by all means, he’s not going to ruin her fun. Either way, he won’t be bored for the next two-three hours. He leans in and pecks her on the cheek. “Sweet.”

She flutters her hand over her heart and smiles like someone’s won her over. It’s the most sarcastic and endearing thing since his own birth. He almost says that, but he catches Billy rolling his eyes at something and he reprioritizes. Kate needs time to shower, or whatever rich girls do before a date. Time to bug the doppelganger.

Tommy steals a blazer from Billy. Teddy gets all confused over which one on the team is dating Kate now, but Billy is supportive. He doesn’t ask once for the jacket back. He seems kind of grateful not to have it. Tommy takes this as confirmation to raid his closet more often. He likes making others happy.

The dive bar is lit like a shitty cave with the occasional strobe light that passes over their heads and makes him sort of twitchy. Kate’s got some vintage Hawkeye-inspired cocktail dress on and a headband that makes her hair poof out. It’s the wristbands and belt that make her laughably 80’s, though. He says as much and she tells him in an unnecessarily sweet voice that, silly her, she forgot to ask his approval before she got dressed.

She has the maturity to admit she walked into Tommy’s one-liner with that, at least.

Eventually she gets too buzzed to be saccharine and starts babbling about how good the beer is. Tommy decides this is as good a time as ever to go back on what he said earlier and prod for what shitstorm wrecked her royally. He even tests his luck and tips her chin up, so the alcohol in her breath heats his face. She ducks out of his grasp, but agrees. “Let’s take it outside, zippy.”

“Then Eli decided to give me crap, and I sorta screamed at everybody and went to the gym,” she finishes. Their shadows stretch across the pavement as they pass by a streetlamp.

“And now I’m caught all caught up.”

“Now you’re all caught up.”

“So, just so I know I’m clear,” Tommy begins, “You know where your stuff is, you just don’t have it anymore.”

Kate halts, so Tommy stops walking. “I don’t - yeah, it’s on the Upper West,” she pauses briefly, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s in a building on the Upper West Side, Tommy,” she says, like she’s clarifying anything. She bobs her head in a “duh, dumbass” gesture. “Where the Avengers are living.”

Tommy stuffs his hands in his coat pocket. “So then why don’t we just go get it?” he asks, point-blank.

“We do what now?”

“Get it. Take it.”

“Take my stuff?” she reiterates.

Oh, boy. He’s going to have to spell this out for her. “Not just take your stuff, Kate.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and leans down. “We take your stuff back. Come on.” He steps back and makes a vamos motion. “Let’s go do some crime.”

They go do some crime. Specifically, she grins wider than the moon and he hefts her into his arms and takes off. Her legs kick out in the air, though, so he moves away from the pedestrians and into the road. It’s probably cooler this way for her, anyway. He runs fast enough to not get hit by cars, but slow enough that her molecules don’t get weird.

They arrive in the lobby in no time, blasting past an elderly couple. They whirl into the elevator, Tommy jabbing the button. Kate stumbles a bit, hair windblown and wild. She gets all giggly as the doors close. “Oh, my god.You run so fast,” she remarks in awe.

“Yeah.”

“I totally thought that old lady was totally gonna - ”

“Yeah.” Tommy’s feeling the adrenaline too. “Come here,” he tells her and wraps his arms around her waist. She says his name once and then he has her pressed against the wall, his lips on hers. She still reeks of alcohol, but her skin smells like lavender and they’re both grinning into the kiss. When the elevator dings, she grabs his wrist and drags him into the room.

“We don’t have much time,” she explains excitedly.

“Sure.”

“I don’t want to get caught.”

“It’s crime.” Tommy kicks it into high-gear, speeding around the room in search for her bow. “Who wants to get caught?”

Kate wanders around. “Point,” she admits.

Tommy finally happens upon a giant-ass bow, little swirly things etched along the wood. He has to say Kate’s name twice before she snaps into focus. “This is it, yeah?”

“Oh, there she is!” Kate beams. “Come to mama!” She surges forward and cradles the thing like a baby. A sharp, deadly baby.

Tommy leans against her back, cupping her arms. “Come here,” he says. He kisses the shell of her ear.

“Tommy, knock it off,” she orders. “We should go soon.”

Tommy complies, easing off her and plunging his hands in his jacket. “Sure, sure. So, look, you wanna go out and - ”

Kate locks her eyes on her bow. “I want to go home.”

Tommy doesn’t, though. Kate’s fun. The most fun he’s had since his cell blew the fuck up and a kid rocking his face told him he was important for some reason. “Still early,” he argues. “We could - ” The ding of the elevator stops him short. They both whip their heads toward the doors.

Kate’s voice is pitched in fear. “Go,” she starts to say.

“Gone,” Tommy replies, and is gone.

So take a breath now, you don’t have to go It was a fast night, we can take it slow There were fist fights, red lights Running ‘til I crashed into you

Tommy’s been chilling in some alternate universe trapped inside a cosmic horror. All’s well that ends well, he guesses, because David turns out to have this life-saving kink for kissing extraterrestrial monsters. The monster is so turned off, it actually lets Tommy go. Something along those lines. He’ll sleep on it. For now, there’s a party.

The first thing that stands out to him in this ritzy party-at-the-end-of-the-world club is Hawkeye. Her long hair’s in a bun and she’s wearing a mask, but there’s no misattributing that quantity of purple. “Kate Bishop!” he cries out. He races to catch her hand in his, pulling her towards him. “It’s New Year’s, apparently!” he informs, just in case she’s forgotten he’s been missing. When they touch chests, he grins down at her. “Why are you not dancing?”

She jerks back and says his name, alarmed. “You’re alive!” she points out. Tommy tries not to think too hard on her acceptance of his death. “What are you doing - and here? How are you here?”

Tommy doesn’t plan on addressing that question anymore than whatever word-of-god or decider-of-fates has. “Sorry!” he shouts. “Can’t hear you over my awesome dancing!”

Kate just stands there speechlessly for a couple moments. Eventually, however, she peels off her mask. “You know, I don’t really care,” she dismisses and drops the mask on the floor. She comes forward and grabs the back of his neck, lowering him into a kiss. “Happy New Year,” she wishes.

The New Year doesn’t end with a kiss. That might’ve been more romantic, but the New Year is shitty about pacing and the bathrooms here aren’t that bad. Kate is the one to push him into a stall; he just locks it for her. He steps on her toes, she says ow, and Tommy hopes the toilet seat is clean. He spins them around and sits on the toilet, pulling her onto his lap.

“You ever gonna tell me what happened?” she questions. Tommy’s undoing her bun, working the tie out of her hair as gently as possible when it’s been sprayed into straw.

“Thought you didn’t care,” he retorts.

Kate rolls her eyes and removes Tommy’s goggles. “Fine. You caught me. I’m curious.”

Tommy’s finally got her hair down, so he reaches behind his back and unzips the suit. Kate is right on that shit, yanking it down his shoulders and hiking herself up so she can slide the pants to his knees. Tommy tilts his head up to kiss her, brushing out her hair with his fingers.

“Well?” she persists.

Tommy skirts his hands up her thighs. “One discovery at a time, eh?” He gives her a wink. Tommy then dips in between her legs and slides his palms across her skin. “Wait,” he says aloud. “I didn’t bring a condom with me inside the cosmic horror.”

Kate groans. “Goddammit.”

“Hey, it’s chill, chill. We’ll get creative.”

“I didn’t really want creative today,” she pouts, hair tumbling over her shoulders.

Tommy makes a “thbbt” noise with his lips. “Well,” he sighs, “there’s always going home?”

Kate blinks, looks at him strangely. “Oh, right,” she responds, sounding off. Then she laughs. “You know, I think I forgot that was even an option.”

Man, he’s away from the team for half a year and Kate forgets what homelessness looks like. “So, is that a yes?”

Kate smiles. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her warm. “Yeah,” she answers. “Let’s go the hell home.”

I got my ass kicked, but you held the ice I was a train wreck, but you took the ride Can we stay here, right here? Nothing else that I wanna do

Tommy tells himself he’s overstayed his welcome everywhere else. That this is a last-resort thing. That this, in no way, reflects what he feels. He knocks on the door. He taps his foot and counts the number of seconds to distract himself from the number of seconds. Kate finally opens the door at 15. “My favorite Hawkeye!” he cheers. He shoots her two finger-guns.

“What the hell happened to your face?” she exclaims. Her eyebrows rise nearly to her hairline in shock.

Tommy stuffs his fists in his jean pockets and shrugs. “Called Doctor Doom a punk bitch and he introduced me to his badass fists of metal.” He glances to the side thoughtfully. “That’s an awesome band name,” he murmurs.

“Badass Fists of Metal, or just Fists of Metal?” she asks automatically. Before Tommy can specify, she goes, “Oh, my god. What am I on?” Kate grabs his overshirt and yanks him into the living room. She slams the door behind them, towing Tommy into the cramped kitchen space of her apartment. Tommy reclines against the counter while she squats down and sifts through her sink cabinet.

She reveals a first aid kit. She sets it on the counter beside Tommy, then opens her freezer and removes a bag of ice. She extends it to Tommy, who obediently holds it to his left eye. She pops open the latch on the kit, taking out the biggest box of bandaids Tommy’s ever seen, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a bundle of cotton swabs. She pours some of the alcohol onto a cotton ball. He eyes the action warily.

“Look, Kate, I appreciate the motherly instinct in you - I probably have some secret mommy issues that you’re plucking the heartstrings for - but that’s gonna hurt worse than the punch did.”

Kate half-smiles. “Don’t be a baby,” she scolds. She motions for him to put the icepack down. She dabs at his cuts with the cotton. There’s a slight sting, but the icepack already cooled his skin, so he doesn’t flinch at the temperature. Her dark hair is everywhere, she’s grown it out again, and it frizzes here and there. Tommy tucks a lock behind her ear, because she touched him first, and Kate pauses to assess him. He meets her gaze.

Whatever he thinks is happening, obviously isn’t. Kate sucks in a breath and comments, “So, I noticed you’re not in-costume. Which means you probably didn’t, like, meet Doctor Doom in the pit.”

“Back alley,” he corrects. Tommy winks. It hurts.

Kate plants a hand on her hip. “Who gave you the shiner, smartass?”

Tommy toys with the bandaid box. “Some mutant protester at David’s workplace. Told him to shut up and he didn’t like that, so.” He points to his eye, then lets his hand fall to his side.

Kate picks the box up and removes a large bandage. She shucks the thin strip of paper and sticks the bandage to the scathe near his brow. She pats it down. “Who won?” she asks.

Tommy scoffs. “Obviously me. Just wasn’t expecting a throw-down,” he mumbles the last part.

“Hm.” Kate faces the counter, resting her arms on the surface. Tommy follows suit. “That just doesn’t make sense to me. No matter how many assaults I see reported on the news, it will never compute how humans get ballsy enough to pick a fight with a mutant.”

Tommy breathes out a laugh. “Your career choice has been picking fights with mutants.”

Kate considers that. “True,” she says simply. “But,” she affixes, “I’m armed.”

Tommy scratches the countertop absently. “Sometimes they are, too,” he reminds.

Kate sighs. It sounds heavy and Tommy worries that he’s killed whatever mood made her hold his face and patch him up. “That’s another thing I’ll never get,” she says finally.

Because Tommy can never shut his mouth, he disagrees. “It makes sense to me.”

Kate looks at him. Tommy keeps his gaze averted, but he can he feel her scrutiny like a lit match hovering by his skin. Tentatively, she places the tips of her fingers on Tommy’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had more opportunities to puzzle it out than I have,” she admits, frank. “I’m sorry you ever had to think about what makes people do the things they do.”

Tommy shrugs, eyes downcast. He doesn’t think he can look at her right now. “It’s fine,” he says instead, and before she can protest, he rubs his thumb across her fingers. They curl around his and squeeze.

Don’t you go and carry on with your life It was a one night stand 'til I woke up next to you Don’t you go, saying all your goodbyes I want a one night stand, just one more time with you So give me one more night with you

“Whoa!”

Tommy startles awake. He lifts his eyes up and finds Kate in bed, propped on her forearm, beside him. Judging from her bare shoulders, she’s maintained the ratio of clothing to floor since last night. Tommy digs the crust out of his eyes. “Morning, Bishop,” he croaks.

“How tired were you last night?” she asks, eyes blown wide and brows arched like a crossbow. The sun brightens the room, turning the deep violet walls of last night into a chipper lavender.

“Dunno. Average amount?” he estimates.

“Nuh-uh.” Kate shakes her head. The movement jostles the small, dangly amethysts hanging from her ears. “Clearly, you were dead on your feet. Or - back.” She shakes her head again, like an etch-a-sketch for thoughts. She waves at him. “You’re still here.”

Tommy sits up. He’s feeling a little offended. “Was there a time limit?”

Kate falters. “Well, no. But this is,” she mulls over how to finish her sentence. “New,” she settles on.

“You passed out, too,” he accuses.

“My bed!”

Tommy holds his hands up. “That’s cool, it’s your prerogative as an adult woman to fall asleep with strange men in the house. I’m not here to cramp your fast lifestyle.”

“Fast?” Kate looks around her bedroom in disbelief. Her expression shows something clicking into place. Calmly now, she replies, “Says the guy who fired early.”

“Hey, no commenting on my duration. That’s plain hurtful.” Tommy sweeps his bangs out of his face. “Besides,” he sniffs, “I make up for it with the recharge rate.”

“Oh, my god.” Kate covers her face. “I can’t deal with this. I’m dizzy.”

Tommy presses two fingers to her forehead and pushes her back onto the pillow. “Shh, don’t think. Just sleep.”

“Tommy, I’m not tired, I’m weirded out.”

Tommy stares down at her. “If you want me to go, then kick me out.”

Kate glances away. Drums her fingers on the purple blanket. “No,” she says. “You can stay.”

“Awesome.” Tommy lays back onto the mattress. “Because I got to say, purple is growing on me.”

[maskedfanfiction]

Vaguely Villainous (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Young Avengers

Chapter Characters: Tommy Shepherd, Teddy Altman

Summary: Tommy is also vaguely a villain.

AO3

poetry should whisper electric blue magic all the years of your life never forgettin to look you in the soul every once in a while n smile - "Poetry Should Ride the Bus," Ruth Forman

Tommy stands beneath a tree some ways off from the battle. He’s waiting to be deployed. In the sky is Billy, arms outstretched and toes pointed downward, like a ballet dancer or a hanged man. Electric blue magic spills from his fingers in jellyfish tendrils. Something shimmers and Tommy squints, just barely making out the thin shape of a dome, delicate as flesh.

“I can’t limit the effects yet,” Billy says, eyes clenched and voice frustrated.

Later; “Stay out of the dome, if you can,” Magneto warns the long-distance mutants.

The fight orbits around Billy. He’s decked out in that new costume, the one with all the stars. It fits, in a way Tommy doesn’t like. He almost wonders if they’re trapped in Billy’s gravity ring, all those Avengers. Stops himself, because thoughts like those are dangerous. Tommy is familiar with thinking. Did a lot of it in prison. Not healthy when you’re shooting for homicidal.

Maybe it’s in his head, but he swears he can feel the magic from here now. He gazes up and sees his brother and thinks: he looks like a god.

And then: Magneto’s made a false prophet. Tommy snorts. Sarcasm still feels good, even if the only witness is the gaggle of trees he’s stowed himself behind.

Static pricks at his ear and Magneto speaks through the one-way radio. “Speed: NYPD are arranged in a circle around Demiurge’s area of debilitation. They’re armed, as expected. You know what to do.”

“Copy,” Tommy mutters. What he never thought of in prison: the bureaucracy of super villain organizations. Tons of delegating in noble causes. He doesn’t know where Magneto is, but he likes to imagine him sprawled across a satin couch as henchmen feed him grapes.

A few yards from Billy, some winged super gets close enough to nearly touch him. He drops like a fly. Tommy whips his head away before his eyes can follow the plummet. He kicks off and gets going.

Above his head, it’s blue. But down on the grass, it’s green, green, green. Tommy likes that. Maybe it’s a power trip, He’s been getting quite a few of those lately.

The NYPD are trying to form a barrier or something, which makes it easier for Tommy. Knock them down like dominoes; explode their guns. No one gets hurt, unless they’re near the gun. Definitely, no one dies. Tommy can live with a couple melted cop faces. He won’t have to see them anyway.

Something green, but not in a good way. Something big and green and blond. Tommy halts, heels digging into the dirt before he can run straight through Ted. “Tommy!” he greets, wide-eyed.

Tommy wiggles his gloved fingers. “It’s Speed.”

Ted rolls his eyes. “Right, right, secret identities. What are you doing here? Haven’t seen you since…” Ted trails off, then points at the Billy Nova.

Ted is a distraction. But - fuck it. “Up Magneto’s asshole, actually.”

“Excuse me?” Ted says slowly.

“Yeah, I’m evil now.” Tommy shrugs. “I’m still working on the monologuing, but you are looking at a certified member of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Don’t let the name fool you, though. We’re good people.” Ted isn’t responding. “Should be Brotherhood of Good Samaritan Mutants, really. Also, it’s co-ed.” Tommy holds up a hand. “Wouldn’t have joined otherwise. Too progressive for sexism in the doomsday regime these days.”

“You’re with Magneto?” Ted asks.

“It’s a family thing. You wouldn’t understand,” Tommy jokes.

Ted’s jaw drops a bit, then clicks shut. Tommy’s fingers begin to tap a nervous rhythm on his thigh. “Yeah,” agrees Ted, “apparently I wouldn’t. So, what? Is the Scarlet Witch bad now too? What about Quicksilver? Polaris?” Ted draws up a bit closer and Tommy consciously reminds himself to stand his ground. “Was there some big Magnus-Maximoff family reunion I wasn’t invited to?”

Tommy snaps his fingers. “Bingo! We discussed world domination over potato salad.”

“Tommy, shut up. Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, and Polaris are on the side of the Avengers - ”

“Double agents. All of them.”

“ - but you and Billy decided to blow up in a storm of self-righteousness and hurt feelings - ”

“Hey, I didn’t do shit out of hurt feelings - ”

“ - when Congress passed that Mutation Differentiation Act. Since when has anyone gotten ahead by fighting fire with fire?”

“Hey! I had nothing to do with the attack at D.C., okay? I was still in Jersey!”

Ted swings his arms open. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Standing by my brother, that’s what!” Tommy answers.

Ted’s voice comes quiet and stern. “So, you know it’s wrong. You don’t support this.”

Tommy can hear the gunshots he was supposed to prevent. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Look, I know Billy and I weren’t raised from the crib, or anything. But when it comes to it.” Tommy pauses, takes a breath. Allows his throat to lose some tightness. “He’s the only family I got.”

The sky where they’re at is blue. Bright, happy blue and untouched by Billy’s magic. It doesn’t seem right, like the world has no idea how shitty it’s being. Teddy’s thick eyebrows are furrowed. “You’ve got me. And the Young Avengers. We’re your family, too.”

His words make Tommy feel like the number one shithead. Tommy had really wanted the Young Avengers to be a family. There had been days he thought they were already there. “Ted, you know you’re like a brother to me. But - Billy is my brother. I can’t leave him.”

And there, spelled out amongst the green, were Tommy’s thoughts. The simple truth: no matter what hell Billy put him through, Tommy couldn’t leave.

“That’s all it takes for you to switch sides? To go back on everything we believed in, to give up on the idea of cooperation and - ”

“Save it,” Tommy interrupts. “I never bought that crap. Humans shit on everything because they’re in power.”

“And when you’re in power, you’ll shit on everything and be happy?” Ted retorts.

Static in his ear again. “Speed: NYPD not disabled. Sending reinforcement in seven minutes if they are not disposed.” Time to speed things up.

“Sure, don’t see why not,” Tommy concedes. “Catch you later, big guy. Promise not to get funky with your molecules if you promise not to flatten me like a pancake next powwow.” Quickly, he slaps Ted’s shoulder and moves onto his dominoes.

When he glances at Billy again, he hopes he knows what he’s doing. Hopes even more Tommy can pull it off.

[maskedfanfiction]

The Lost Days

You are the tears that pooled so thick at your grave he thought it was your blood

You are the fists that hit the wall so hard it left a hole and he kept punching because nothing could fix it

You are the boots that wore a trail in cracked cement after night stopped being his blanket and became your coffin

You are every cry that filled someone’s lungs with ash so that they could scream fire

You are the shoulders that echoed his so strongly she held you like a mirror

You are the skin that wouldn’t melt at her touch and the corpse that she buried in her bed

You are the teeth that bit and snapped & the lips that pulled into a vicious, contagious smile

You are the eyes that turned to stone just to build a dam around each and every damn you ever gave

You are the beating of the hearts you gripped unknowingly and swallowed whole so they could never leave

You are the family that almost was and never would be & the love that rips through you all like the bullets in your pocket, killing you and reminding you of why you keep on fighting

[maskedfanfiction]

Target Practice (HawkSpeed)

Kate tucked a lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear. Billy’s energy blasts ripped through the stuffy air of the training room and bounced off the walls in soundwaves. Noh was cackling somewhere as he sparred with Teddy - a quick glance around and, ah, he was racing around Teddy in circles. Hulkling couldn’t land a punch. He looked caught between annoyed and amused, crossing his arms and waiting for an opportunity to trip him up.

“Hey, you go any faster and you’ll suffocate him!” America warned. She was standing by a punching bag, white t-shirt soaked in sweat and thick hair a tangled mess framing her face.

“Good plan!” shouted Noh. That’s when dragonesque wings sprouted from Teddy’s back and slammed Noh across the room.

Kate smiled. She wasn’t petty enough to administer pain to an ex-boyfriend; but she could at least enjoy when someone else did it for her. She turned to the bullseye, adjusting her bow and preparing to release the arrow.

A breeze brushed her neck. “Is that Cupid’s arrow you’re pointing? Because I think you struck my heart,” said Tommy.

“Oh, my god.” Kate laughed and shook her head. “Do you ever hear the things that come out of your mouth?”

“Of course, I’m very clever.”

Kate rolled her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” She kept her bow in the air, but shifted her attention slightly to Tommy.

He grinned. “Yeah, I know. You should cut me some slack, Bishop. It’s not easy talking to you.”

Kate prickled. “Why’s that?”

Tommy spread out his palms. “‘Cause you’re awesome?” He offered a small smile. “If I’m gonna’ screw up talking to you, I may as well make you laugh while I do it.”

She felt her cheeks redden. Her heart sparked and she accidentally let go of the arrow. It zinged past the target board and -

Noh yelped.

She shot Noh in the ass.

Kate’s entire face was red now. She set her bow down. “I’m so sorry!” she called out.

“Oh, god,” Noh cried. Teddy hovered over him, grimacing as he tried to calm him.

Tommy cackled, features lit up like the city.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped.

Still grinning, he looked at her. “Oh, come on. You have to admit, that was pretty funny.”

Kate glanced back to where Teddy was attempting to remove the arrow from Noh’s rear-end. He was acting particularly dramatic, flailing and whining. Kate bit her lip. “Okay, yeah, it is very funny.”

Tommy’s smile was huge. “See?” he said. “You’re awesome.”

[maskedfanfiction]

A/N: disregarding canon for birdflash shenanigans and dickbabs (false) pregnancy scare. it’s rlly funny, if you’re into vulgar humor and awkward situations.

“Found a thermometer!” Dick announced, brandishing something in his hands as he waltzed into the room. With great effort, Wally managed to lift his head and look at him. He was sitting at the end of Dick’s bed, straitjacketed in layers of blankets. His eyes felt like they were bugging from his sockets and he was one breath away from his forehead exploding in a mess of snot. “I usually have it on the sink, but I must’ve knocked it into the trash. I probably should organize my bathroom, but I never have the time,” Dick babbled.”

“Augh,” attempted Wally.  He stretched his neck from the mass of blankets consuming him. He felt a little more connected to turtles right now.

“You’re so Rudolph the Red-Nosed Ginger right now,” Dick commented.

“I feel like a turtle,” Wally told him. He almost went cross-eyed, gazing at the thermometer. It was hovering about his tongue when he registered what it actually was and shrieked. He jerked his head backward. “That’s not a thermometer, you asshole!”

“What,” said Dick, blankly.

“That’s a freaking pregnancy test!”

Dick retracted the stick and scrutinized it. “That makes no sense. Why would I have a pregnancy test in my trash can?”

“Oh, my god,” wailed Wally. He furiously wiped at his tongue. “You just put dried pee in my mouth. Oh, my god.”

“Oh, my god,” Dick murmured. His eyes were widening as he continued to stare in terror. “But I always use condoms,” he denied. He suddenly shoved the pregnancy test back in Wally’s face. “Is this positive?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, why not just deep-throat me with it and see if I get an answer?” He wacked Dick’s arm away.

Dick wrinkled his nose. “Don’t be vulgar.”

“I just ate pee! I’m having a crisis!”

“Hello, having-a-crisis, I’m dad!” Dick yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

“Just call Babs!”

Dick looked at him like he was crazy. “Are you crazy? What if it’s hers?”

Wally’s eyebrows furrowed, tongue hanging out. “Is there another potential baby mama?”

“No, of course not! But maybe, like, someone snuck in and - ”

“Popped a squat and discarded the evidence in your bathroom?”

Dick grimaced. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah, but usually they have to do with the world ending. Do you still have my guest toothbrush here?” Wally made to stand up, but Dick snatched his blanket cocoon and Wally tumbled onto the mattress like a helpless, futile worm.

“We need to find the instructions,” he said gravely.

Wally glared up at him. “I’m sick and just had your girlfriend’s urine on my tongue. I’m done for the day. F.Y.I., never coming here again.”

Dick’s eyes wandered across the room. “I think that’s what Babs is thinking, too.”

Wally groaned.

[maskedfanfiction]

Nightwing was sitting on a rooftop, legs swung over the edge when he heard a shriek two blocks over. He was on his feet before his next breath, leaping across buildings toward the crisis. The screaming didn’t end, but the closer he got, the clearer he distinguish the sobs punctuating them. 

He swallowed the dryness in his throat. It sounded like a kid. 

He got to a rooftop overlooking a sidewalk. A man in a black baseball cap was closing a van door. The windows were tinted. Nightwing crawled halfway down the building, leveraging himself with window sills, before jumping the rest of the way down. 

Once on the pavement, it took him half a second to cover the space. He yanked the back of the man’s collar, punching him once. He skidded backwards and fell on the ground. Nightwing tore open the door, undid the seat belts, and hefted the lone bundle of gagged child out of the van. A second man in the driver’s seat shouted. 

Nightwing rounded the van. By the time the driver had the window rolled down and gun pointing out, Nightwing was ready to kick the weapon and sending it flying into the empty road. The driver rolled the window up. 

Nightwing retrieved the gun before returning to the van. He politely knocked his knuckles on the window. “Open the door,” he requested. The engine started. 

He smashed the glass with the butt of the gun, unlocked the door, and set the weapon on the car hood. The driver wasn’t buckled in. “This is why you should always buckle up,” Nightwing scolded. 

With two hands, he managed to hoist the large, squirming man out of the car. Not giving him the chance to fight back, he rammed his head against the side of the car. The guy went limp. 

Nightwing let him slump to he ground as he rummaged through the front seats. He found a bag of zip ties and grabbed it, setting to work on restraining the kidnappers. Once they were finished, he whipped out his cell and dialed 911. He balanced the phone on his shoulder, using his hands to undo the zip ties around the child’s ankles and wrists. He reported the situation for police pick-up. 

Finally, he looked at the little girl. Her hair was was short and beaded in soft blues and whites. A butterfly barrette clipped the bottom of each braid. Her big brown eyes were glassy with tears and she was hyperventilating through her nose. Her hot pink jeans were stained in the front. 

These were the worst nights, because kidnappings were rarely isolated. And however many they planned tonight, it was a two-person job. 

He gently removed the gag, tossing it into the backseat. “Hey,” he said softly, “how are you feeling, kiddo? They hurt you?“ 

She rubbed her wrists, where the plastic had just barely chafed, but shook her head no. The beads sounded like wind chimes. 

“What’s your name?" 

"Bebe,” she answered, voice still a little shaky. 

He was kneeling at eye-level. “I’m sorry that happened, Bebe,” he told her. “But you won’t ever see them again. I promise.” Bebe gazed warily at the first man, tied up and unconscious. “Do you believe me?” Nightwing asked. 

She hesitated, but then nodded her head firmly. 

Nightwing smiled. “Good. What happened to your parents?" 

Bebe used her hands as she spoke. It was adorable. "My dad was supposed to pick me up from dance practice,” she explained, pointing in the vague direction of where the studio might be. “But he was, like, really-super late. So I was gonna walk home. But then,” her eyes caught on the van and she trailed off. 

There had been traffic on a nearby route from 5 to 7 tonight. It was 8 now.

“Do you know your parents’ numbers?”

Bebe slowly shook her head, looking ashamed. “I keep forgetting,” she admitted. “You don’t have a phone?" 

"Dad was supposed to get me one after dance." 

The worst part for parents, he would guess: the small breaches sickos find in your child’s armor. The almosts and what-ifs that haunt you. The tiniest reasons you can beat yourself up for, because all it took was traffic. 

"I’m going to take you to the police station, okay, Bebe? They can help us find your parents.” Nightwing said. “Do you trust me to walk you there?" 

Bebe nodded. "Of course. You’re pretty.” Nightwing laughed, burying his face in his hands briefly. 

“Alright, I’ll give you that. Try not to follow that guideline when you get older though,” he warned. He stuck out his hand. Bebe took it. When she smiled, her dimples flashed.