Emphasis on EDITED FIVE TIMES cos if you've put in the work to perfect something and then it suddenly doesn't hit, it's the familiarity that's the problem
As some of you may have noticed, it's a little late for our usual Tag Team Tournament hype--that's because we're doing things a little differently this year. But don't fear, you still have time to prepare!
The 2026 Tag Team Tournament will commence on Sunday, October 4th through Saturday, October 10th!
And since it will be taking place during the month of Halloween, we will of course be putting a very spooky twist on things! Your submissions do not have to be Halloween themed, but be prepared for everything we make to be at least a little spooky.
For our full rules and submission guidelines, check out our 2026 Event Guide Document. If you played last year, only three things have changed: 1) there is to be NO generative AI used in our tournament, as it is an unfair advantage, 2) There won't be any Playlist Points this year, and 3) We've renamed all of our teams.
What are this year's teams? Well, you'll just have to keep an eye on our blog this week, as we'll be revealing them one at a time as we count down to this year's Tag Team Tournament. That said, the ships will be:
Cassandra Cain x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Roy Harper x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Tim Drake x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Conner 'Kon-El' Kent x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Any Poly Ship
Any Ship Without A Team
Oh, and since we were told it was missed last year, we'll be returning to our original strategy of releasing prompts daily during the Tournament.
Many thanks to our mod team, @newdog14, @nottesilhouette, and @izanae for all their work in putting this together. Be sure to give Mod Notte in particular a big thank you for coding our Score Tracker, and if the Halloween theme doesn't agree with you then you'll have to blame Mod Newsie.
We'll see you all very soon for our first Team Reveal!
your honor, my clients deserve a long and cozy nap
(See below the cut for timelapse, more jibber-jabber)
I don’t usually include timelapses, but I found the amount of times I redid work because I was on the wrong layer amusing, so here ya go. Drawn in Infinite Painter on mobile.
“How about this one?” Adrien spun around, bright smile on his lips and eyes lit up like a kid in a pet store. He held out a glass bottle shaped like Bastet on a plinth. He was shaking so much, Marinette could barely read the ‘KITten eau de cologne’ engraved on the base. “How perfect is this?” he squealed. “I mean, she won’t get it yet, but come on. You can sew a little Santa hat for it!”
“Dieu no, not that stuff! Just being near the fumes makes me nauseous. I like Stella. Do not give that to her.” Her face scrunched instantly, dodging back away from the bottle, and her hands held up like she could ward it away. She continued to eye the bottle suspiciously even after he’d placed it back on the shelf with a pronounced pout, which turned into a confused frown when she nudged it into her basket using a sample card.
Adrien stared at the bottle for a few seconds, his mouth opening only to close in a purse, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the action. “Uh Marinette, you just said…”
“We’ll get Roy to give it to his baby mama,” she grinned, a wicked, devious look.
Adrien snorted but put the bottle back on the shelf. “There’s no way that doesn’t blow up in your face. Let’s let Roy devastate his own romantic relationships. He is much more effective than either of us would be. And has a lot more practice.”
“Fine,” she groaned. “Chloe? She loves getting perfume and it’s in the shape of a goddess. She’d love the foul thing,” she offered hopefully.
“You think knowing she could make you physically ill just by being near you wouldn’t make her want to be around you more?” he asked pointedly.
Chloe was no longer an enemy, but ‘friend’ would still be a stretch. She was dealt with best in small doses, so the idea of Chloe being around her more, gave Marinette literal chills. “Alright, fine,” she harumphed. “No perilous gifts.”
“That’s all I ask,” he chuckled.
But his laughter was cut short, as it so often is in Gotham. This time by a News Flash over the loudspeaker. “A warning for you shoppers! Vigilantes are fighting an as yet unidentified rogue’s attempt to destroy the KIT factory. KIT produces a variety of popular products including face masks, body wash, perfume, and bath oils. Hurry and pick up our KIT bath and body supplies for your Christmas list. There may not be any after today!”
They braced themselves against the handful of Gotham visitors who rushed toward the exit while the Gotham natives, and Parisian transplants, sighed and continued on with their Christmas shopping. “Hey, maybe you’ll get lucky and the entire stock will get destroyed,” he smirked.
“One can only hope. But with Gotham’s luck someone will fall into a vat of it and spawn a new supervillain, Catman,” she sighed but then tensed as she eyed someone who tossed a few bottles of KITten into their basket, only then spraying a sample onto a card and waving it around right next to them. She took a bit of satisfaction watching her put the bottles back on the shelf, a look of disgust on her face.
“Uh, no. I’m Catman. I’m not giving it up,” Adrien objected, then cocked his head to the side and watched in curious apprehension as a putrid shade of green spread across her face. “Maybe we should get out of this store.”
She made a noise in agreement, abandoning their half-filled basket and heading toward the door as quickly as she could. “This is going to add a lot of time to our drive home. We’ll have to drive way out of our way to avoid that entire district. We should just go home now.”
“No,” he groaned. He moved in front of her, hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face him and absorb his uncharacteristically serious, hard expression. “We are having fun and we aren’t done. We haven’t picked out presents for Stella yet or shoes for that killer dress Jason definitely doesn’t deserve.”
She returned his expression with an unimpressed one of her own. “Be nice, Adrien,” she chided, smacking his chest to accentuate her point. “He’s my boyfriend. I love him. And I need time to get ready for tonight.”
“Yeah, well Jason can wait on you for once,” he huffed. He marched toward the next store without looking back. “We aren’t leaving yet.”
He was moving so fast, she had no choice but to rush after him, which she did not appreciate when what she wanted to do was stomp her feet. Scampering after someone didn’t exactly fit with anger. “Adrien…” she started in warning, but then almost ran into him when he whirled around on her.
“No!” He shoved his finger in her face, more aggressively than he normally would have, but he was tired of the situation. He was tired of hearing about it. He was tired of her letting it happen like she didn’t deserve better. “He’s late all the time, when he doesn’t cancel flat out, with bullshit excuses that you just let him get away with. You let him manipulate you. It’s his turn to wait. You’re worth waiting for.”
A deep sigh was expelled from her body before she took a deep breath in again to calm her anger, letting the freezing winter air cool her emotions. This was Adrien at his core. Protective, uplifting, a defender of his loved ones, even against themselves. After a few more breaths, she met his gaze firmly. “Thank you, Chaton. I appreciate you watching out for me. And I promise, we can make him wait next time. But our reservation won’t wait. I don’t want to be late for our anniversary dinner.”
“Six-month anniversary,” he scoffed, but with a lot less heat than he’d used previously. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted dramatically. “And I’m always nice.”
She smiled at him, laced her arm through his, and tugged him toward the shoe store. “No, you’re just cute so people don’t call you on being a bitch.” She shot him a look, but softened it with a smile. “And the anniversary was his idea. It was important to him. He wanted to celebrate us.”
He sighed but followed her lead easily, like he always did. “And I’ll be shocked if you actually make it to Callisto’s tonight,” he groused. “But fine, whatever. Shoes and then home and then I’ll help you get ready before I go over to Stella’s. And you can help me pick out Stella’s birthday presents tomorrow.”
Her lips curled up into a brilliant smile. “Thank you. I’m positive we’ll find something perfect…” She looked through a storefront window and shuddered. “Maybe we should run to a different city tomorrow though.”
A small rumble rocked the city, shaking the window they’d just been looking through. He waited until he was assured there were no aftershocks before allowing them both to move. “Maybe we should move to a different city. Why do we live here?” he grumbled.
“Why does anyone live here?” she volleyed back as she pulled him through the door to the shoe store. “Let’s find those shoes.”
><><><><><><><><><
The shoes were a mistake. Gorgeous, but a mistake. Exquisite, but painful when pacing around a small apartment for around an hour waiting for a boyfriend who was clearly indifferent to their anniversary. Ravishing, but devastating because they did the worst thing imaginable; encouraged Adrien’s skepticism.
And if he didn’t arrive in the next three minutes, they would have absolutely no chance of making their reservation. Even if he arrived immediately they would need all the luck the universe could send their way, and break a few laws as well, to make it on time. And they couldn’t miss the reservation, because that would prove Adrien right about the night… and maybe about the relationship as a whole.
As it turned out, they didn’t need luck. They needed a teleporter because he didn’t arrive immediately or even within three minutes. He arrived eight minutes later, swaggering in and collapsing on the bar stool at the kitchen counter not bothering to take off his coat, or even unzip it, or even look at her. “Hey Pix. I’m sorry I’m late,” he grunted. He took a breath before he glanced up at her, his eyes a bit strained, then immediately returning to the counter. “The traffic on Poplar Street was so backed up because of the whole rogue attack thing.”
It took a few seconds for her brain to register that he was there. She’s spent so much of her night waiting on him, almost resigning herself to not getting to see him at all, that his presence was incongruent with reality as she understood it. It took a few more seconds for his words to register. She quirked her head to the side. “Poplar?”
“Uh, yeah,” he nodded. His eyes shifted quickly while he took a breath. “I cut across on Poplar, hoping to avoid the traffic, but apparently everyone thought that too. So, it took forever.”
She opened her mouth and drew in a breath but slowly let it out and plastered on a brittle smile. “I thought Poplar was shut down entirely.”
Jason froze. She could see it. His posture had barely moved but she could see it in the tension in his muscles. The way his shoulders strained against his jacket, which she just realized he still hadn’t bothered to even unzip. “Oh? I don’t think so. I drove on it. Maybe they just opened it up and that’s why it was so slow.”
She couldn’t argue against that. It made sense. It felt wrong, but she had no way to prove it, and without proof, she couldn’t really confront him. And was it worth ruining their anniversary night? Her shoulders dropped and she let out a long, deep sigh. “Okay. If we get moving quickly, we may still be able to make the reservation. We’ll be late, but they may have kept it for a few minutes.”
Jason groaned. One hand wiped down his face while the other rested on his left ribs as he turned toward her. “Do we have to? I don’t know if I’m up for going out tonight.”
She blinked at him. Not for the first time struggling to reconcile his words. “You’re cancelling our date? Again? Our anniversary dinner?” she asked slowly, uncertainty and disbelief bleeding into her expression and words.
“No!” he exclaimed instantly, jumping up to cup her face with a grimace. “No, not cancelling,” he amended his voice faltering as he struggled for the right words, “just, maybe we can eat in?” His voice rose at the end more like begging than a question.
“Eat in…” she repeated. Her head dipped like she was daring him to repeat his words, but not nearly as much as her tone.
“Yes. Sorry Pix,” he sighed out. His hands tightened just barely, just enough to convey his desperation, his supplication. “I know we were supposed to go out and celebrate, and I want to, but it has just been a really long day.” His eyes traced her face with such reverence, it stole her breath straight from her lungs. “And what matters,” he breathed, “is we get to spend time together, right? And we can do that better at home. We can order in, get that cheesecake you like delivered for dessert, and we can snuggle on the couch watching a movie you choose.”
He let go of her with a roguish grin on his lips as he finally removed his jacket and pulled a jewelry box out of the inner pocket. “And I can spoil you. Starting with these.” He held the box out to her like he was presenting an offering to a goddess.
She didn’t take the box immediately, instead eyeing it uncertainly. “What’s this?”
“Open it and find out,” he chided lightly. He held the box up a bit higher for her, repositioning his offering to make it more appealing. This time, she acquiesced gently taking the box and tentatively opening it to reveal a set of spectacular diamond earrings. “Happy anniversary, Pixie Pop,” he whispered. “You look breathtaking, tonight and every night, and deserve earrings that match you.”
It was so sweet, so romantic after a night of anything but, it overwhelmed her. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh Jason, they’re beautiful.” She spun and jumped onto him, moving so quickly he yelped in surprise as she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, burying her head in the crux of his neck.
He only just started to wrap his right arm around her when she let go and backed away woodenly, her eyes fixed on his neck. He reached out for her, but she continued to back away. “Marinette?”
The word hung between them, seeming like it never quite reached her, like he couldn’t quite reach her. “What is that smell?” she asked flatly, no emotion in her voice, which seemed so incredibly foreign for her it threw him completely. Marinette was all emotion.
Hearing her voice so robotic was unsettling in a way nothing else could quite match. Jason couldn’t get over it. He couldn’t reconcile it. “Smell?” he asked dumbly. He yanked his shirt collar out to sniff it, grimacing instantly. “Oh um, I was near the KIT factory when the vats exploded. I must have gotten some of the perfume on me.” It came out far less certain than he had intended.
“You got the perfume on you from an explosion…” she repeated, her voice somehow even flatter, her eyes now matching her tone.
“Yeah, it was crazy, but that’s Gotham for you,” he chuckled tightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but at her, missing how her eyes narrowed at him. He stepped toward her bathroom, but then stepped back again. “Can I use your bathroom? I’ll go wash it off. I tried to get it all off before I came here… but I must have missed some. I mean, obviously I did. I changed my clothes. And I didn’t smell it on me, but the smell was pretty strong at the… NEAR, near the plant. Where I was near the plant when it went up, where I got the perfume on me,” he stuttered. “All to say, my smell must be compromised and I’ll go fix it.”
She shook her head, breaths coming faster and harder. “I can’t believe I fell for it. I should know better. I do know better. I’m so stupid.” She pulled at her hair as she backed away from him. “All the late nights, all the missed dates, the mysterious phone calls, the absolutely terrible excuses. And I fell for it all. A bit of sweet talk, and cheap gifts, and I forget it all. I ignore the obvious.”
Jason stood up straight at her words, wincing slightly as though he resented having to have the conversation. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” he demanded.
“You are so full of it!” she hissed. She motioned toward his collar harshly, barely able to stop herself from pulling on it. If she could, she would have ripped it right off his body, all evidence gone. “I can smell her on you!”
His eyes dropped from her to anywhere else in the room. “I told you it’s…”
“An explosion, right.” She shook her head and backed away from him, keeping her eyes on him, studying the man she thought she loved. She did love. At least the person she thought he was. The honest, sweet, romantic, roguish man, who wasn’t as tough as he pretended to be. Not this lying, cheating louse. “You just can’t stop, can you? And what were these? A bribe? A payoff?” She shoved the jewelry box against his chest, taking more pride than she cared to admit in the way he flinched at the action. “Did you think I’d be so wowed I wouldn’t question all the duplicity?”
He fumbled as he tried to catch the box, his wide, panicked, pleading eyes flicked from it to her repeatedly. “What? No! They were exactly what I said, a celebration of you and our relationship.”
“Right. Sure,” she scoffed. She stepped back again. She was too close. Too consumed by him. Too easy to fall into his gaze. But again, the damn shoes had to trip her up, literally. She stumbled to the side, almost hitting the corner of the couch until strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a protective embrace against his chest, her head nestled against his shoulder.
The feeling was so comforting, so warm, so reassuring, like being in his presence always was, and so devastatingly easy to sink into. Until she was hit by the scent and everything that brought them to where they were came rushing back. “Do you know how I can tell you’re lying?” she asked, her words harsh despite how quietly she whispered it, more crushing for the intimacy of it. “Your lips are moving.”
He let her push him away to allow her the space he didn’t feel like he had. It was all coming down around him, his poorly constructed walls crumbling and there was only one way out. The only way he could keep her was to tell the truth, the full truth, and expose himself completely to her. He took a deep breath and collapsed back onto the barstool as he let it out, like exhaling all the subterfuge. It was helpful that she was no longer looking at him, working on removing her heels, so he didn’t have to look in her eyes as he said it. “I’m not cheating,” he sighed, “I’m a vigilante.”
“Yeah sure,” she scoffed, not looking up from her shoes or even as she walked toward her room, she shoes hanging off a finger. “I’m not falling for that again.”
He stared at the place she had just been as the words settled. “Again? Someone’s tried that as an excuse before?”
“More than once,” she retorted, voice carrying from down the hall, distance doing nothing to diminish the snark of the statement. “Not sorry to inform you that you’re not particularly original. Others have also realized how to use the vigilante anonymity to their advantage as well.”
His face scrunched in confusion and disgust. That was a thing? That was a line people used? Being a vigilante was forcing him to do things he hated, miss things he liked, let down people he loved because he couldn’t tell Marinette why he wasn’t where he said he would be, and these other people were using it to excuse the terrible behavior they chose? “And you just believed them? How did you fall for that?”
He almost jumped when she stormed back into the room, now in an oversized sweater, cute little fuzzy socks sticking out from her fleece pants. She stopped just short of him, hands on her hips and face set in a deep, but still adorable, scowl. “Excuse me? I didn’t say I believed them. I said they told me that. And, yeah, I believed one of them, for far too long.” She shook her head and took a breath to recenter herself and focus her anger on the correct target. “And is that not exactly what you expected me to do with your story?”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. She wasn’t wrong. But there was one huge exception, and he had the scars to prove it. “It’s not a story. I’m not lying. Pixie, baby, I love you. I’m not cheating. I’m Red Hood. Look…” He yanked one side of his button up shirt out of the waistband and lifted it just enough to point to one of the myriad of scars it exposed. “See this? Penguin gave me this when we took him down last year. This one?” He pointed to a different scar, this one longer, jagged, the skin not quite knitting back together cleanly. “Black Mask. Just to do it.”
Marinette reached out mindlessly, fingers ghosting the scars, tracing the shapes without touching. She studied the scars, her lips parting slightly and eyebrows scrunching. Her eyes moved to a different scar tracing the crescent shape. “Lian’s mom, if you believe it,” he chuckled lightly.
Her wide eyes shot up to his, then narrowed. She snapped her hand back. “I don’t,” she hissed. “The fact that you get into street fights, probably with the significant others of the people you’re sleeping with, doesn’t mean anything.” She stalked around him and into the kitchen, ripping open the refrigerator.
“The sig…” he groaned and followed her into the kitchen. “Marinette, I’m not sleeping with anyone but you. I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you!”
She slammed a massive hunk of cheese on the counter and shot him a dark glare. “How dumb do you think I am?”
He stared at her wide-eyed, mouth gasping for words and arms thrown out gesturing wildly like he might be able to grab them out of the air. “I don’t think you are at all! You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
She was honestly tired of scoffing. If anything, she wanted the conversation to be done so she could take a break from scoffing. However, it was the only reaction she could imagine to his statement. “You must have thought I was dumb to think I’d believe all your lies,” she scoffed as she moved to give Jason room to set down the cutting board he’d gotten out for her.
“Marinette, I’m not lying. I love you. You mean everything to me,” he vowed and set down a glass and bottle of wine.
She glared at his audacity to be so thoughtful and conscientious while she was arguing with him. “Dieu, I defended you against Adrien,” she scowled uncorking the bottle and pouring herself a healthy glass of red. “I fought with him over being with you.”
He instantly bristled and set down the loaf of bread more harshly than necessary, denting the bread. “Adrien tried to get you to break up with me?” he growled.
The wine almost spilled out of her glass as she whirled around on him and shoved the glass against his chest. “He was watching out for me. Protecting me, like he always has. Trying to keep me from getting hurt by wasting my time on a liar.”
He opened his mouth to deny again, but she was right. That was the entire problem, wasn’t it? That he had lied. He was a liar. He had to admit that to himself and stop denying. “Okay, you’re right,” he finally admitted. “I’ve lied to you. I am a liar.” He gently turned her to face him breathing a bit easier when she let him and actually met his eyes so he could impress how serious he was. “But not a cheater. And the only things I’ve lied about are the things related to being a vigilante. I can show you my suit, my helmet, my tools, my weapons, but you’ll say they’re good imitations. What can I do? What can I say to convince you?”
Marinette backed away from him so she could cross her arms without nicking him with the knife. She cocked her head to the side, lips puckered. Annoyingly, everything he’d just said was right. She would have written all of that off. Was there anything he could say or do to change her mind? Did she even want him to? Their relationship had felt amazing when it was good. The problem was all the not so good times. The times filled with lies, letdowns, missed dates he always seemed to have an excuse for, almost as terrible as the ones she used to come up with. But the good times…
She shook her head and tugged nervously on her pajama pants. Her black pants with neon green paw prints all over them and smiled. Her savior. “Okay,” she started sweetly, far too sweetly. “You know I knew Chat Noir, yes?”
“Yeah,” he hedged nervously. He motioned to a few black cat decorations around the room then her pants. “You mentioned a few times.”
Her lips curled into a devious grin as she twisted the knife between her hands. “Chat has actually met Red Hood,” she noted innocently.
“We did,” he repeated, too distracted by the lackadaisical way she was playing with the knife to really register what he was saying for a few seconds. “I mean yeah, okay, we did. Oh,” he winced as memory hit. “Uh yeah, we did.”
She sauntered over to him, hips swaying, all devilish grin and wide eyes, the mystery of where the knife had gone was capturing his attention entirely. “How did Red Hood meet Chat Noir?”
Jason’s eyes shot up to hers, wide and anxious. This would not help. There was no way this helped him. Even if she believed him, she wouldn’t appreciate the answer. “Do I have to?” It wasn’t a whine, or at least that is what he would forever claim should anyone ask him about it.
“If you don’t know…” she shrugged, letting the implication hang in the air between them, applying the pressure for her.
“No, I do. I just…” the word petered out into a sigh. “It’s just not the most flattering.”
She groaned and stabbed the knife into the block of cheese, whirling back to fix him with a pointed look. “Do you know or not?”
He also wouldn’t admit to taking a step back, though he did end up one step further away than he had been moments before. “He threatened me,” he answered quickly then let out a bone-rattlingly deep groan and rubbed his hand down his face. “I was checking out Ladybug’s ass and he threatened me,” he finally admitted reluctantly.
She blinked at him, the tension in her frame leaving her almost entirely until she crumbled against the counter. “Dieu…” she breathed.
“It was a long time ago!” he exclaimed loudly, desperation saturating his tone. “It was before we met. And I don’t usually check out stranger’s asses, I swear. It was just…” he motioned helplessly, unwilling to finish the defense, because ‘it was Ladybug’ would not be a good defense to another woman.
Luckily for him, Marinette filled in the silence for him. “You’re… That’s right. You’re telling the truth,” she uttered still in a daze, barely holding onto the counter or reality. “You’re Red Hood. A vigilante. That’s why you leave dates early so often and go on so many mysterious trips. Oh, Dieu.”
He let out a long sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Yes. Yes, I am. I am and I love you and yes that’s why I keep having to leave you when I desperately want to stay with you.”
She nodded absently, the reality not quite able to set in. “That’s why you said you had to water your Furby.”
He puffed out his cheeks before answering, knowing how it was going to sound. “That was actually… Toy Man built a Furby army and we had to stop it by flooding the warehouse and shorting them out.”
She blinked unsure how to comprehend that response. “And the scratches that looked like fingernails you said was a cat?”
“I helped Hawkman and got attacked by Byth. He transformed into a lynx and I let him sneak up on me.” He rubbed at the phantom pain on his shoulder blade. “Rookie mistake. Ruined my jacket. I had to get a new one and couldn’t ask you to design it.”
“And you had to help Tim with a gardening issue when he doesn’t have a garden?” she asked.
“Poison Ivy,” he nodded.
“Poison Ivy,” she repeated. “Oh Dieu, Tim’s Red Robin, isn’t he? Oh, that makes so much sense.”
Jason’s smile, which had been building dropped instantly. “That makes sense, but I get…”
He motioned vaguely between them but Marinette wasn’t listening. “And when you said the bruise on your neck was from a snap dragon, it was.”
“Yes.” His smile returned, tired but there. “It was an annoying little guy. I almost took him home as a pet.”
“And the business trip that lasted a few days longer than you said it would and you didn’t call me…”
“Was a mission,” he finished for her. “Yeah. That one was off world actually. I left the second the mission was done, I was done not being able to see you or speak to you or touch you. It was killing me. Actually, I think the group heavily encouraged me to leave and go see you. Because you’re my purpose. My motivation. For everything I do. I love you.”
His eyes bore into her with a gentle intensity like a warm but strong embrace, like the way he cupped her face. “You know, I’ve always berated B for making the mission his primary purpose. Everything and everyone can be sacrificed for the mission. But I get it now.” He rested against the counter so he could pull her into his embrace, between his legs and arms rested on her waist. “I get it because that’s you. You’re my mission. I would sacrifice anything and everything for you.”
“Jason,” she breathed out, barely contained tears building at not just the words but the veracity and intensity of the emotion behind them. The way he prioritized her and their relationship, the way he was willing to suffer for it, even though she would never want him to. The way he took it all on himself so she wouldn’t feel pressured, to avoid manipulating her. The way he proved he was everything she’d thought he was the day before and nothing like she’d accused him of moments before. She jumped at him to hug him as quickly and strongly as she possibly could, not able to stand being away from him a moment longer.
She looked up when he just patted her lightly with one arm, to find his eyes filled with tears. “And in the spirit of honesty,” he gritted out, “I’m pretty sure I broke at least one rib during that fight earlier today so if you could…”
“Jason!” she screeched jumping away from him instantly, but her arms hovering around his chest, wanting to fix it and comfort him, but not wanting to touch him and make it worse. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Sit down! No, not on the counter! On the couch where it’s more comfortable.”
He chuckled as he made his way slowly to the couch, finally able to be honest about how much pain he was in. “Well, first of all we can’t really go to a hospital. How would we explain the injuries? Second, what would they do anyway? There’s not really anything they can do about a broken rib except give me pain killers for it. Third, but most importantly, I would’ve had to cancel our date and…”
He squawked when she suddenly settled a bag of ice on his ribs, not because she settled the bag harshly. No, she did that gently. What wasn’t gentle was when she plopped on the edge of the couch and leaned onto his injured ribs to place the bag on the wrong side of his body. He made sure to give her a wide appreciative grin as he shifted her off of him and repositioned the bag on the correct side, “and it was our anniversary. I didn’t want to miss it or cancel on you yet again.”
The tears that had been building before now ran freely down her cheeks. She ran her fingers along his jaw and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you so much.”
He returned her sappy smile, running his hand behind her neck and pulling her toward him to tuck her into his uninjured side. But stopped, a confused brow furrow when she resisted. “In the spirit of honesty,” she repeated back to him with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere near you, especially your neck until you’ve scrubbed your entire body, maybe with isopropyl alcohol or tomato juice.”
He groaned but immediately moved to get up. “Jason! What are you doing?” she screeched as she tried to pull him back down onto the couch.
“After everything that just happened, I plan on holding you in my arms and kissing the hell out of you all night long. If I have to take a long, painful shower to do that, I’m going to.”
“Jason,” she admonished, but it came out more bemused than chastising.
“And you’re welcome to join,” he offered with a roguish smile.
She laughed at the offer but jumped up after him. “Ladybug’s ass, huh?” she teased. “Got a thing for Ladybug I should know about?”
He stopped and spun to face her, restraining the grimace at the pull on his ribs. “Well, I wouldn’t say a thing. It isn’t a ‘thing’. It’s more…”
She laughed and slid past him into the bathroom, a devilish smile on her lips just before she tossed her sweater at him. “Jason? Your lips are moving again.”
He caught the sweater by the sleeve, just barely grabbing it before it fell, examining it in shock for a second before following after her. “I guess you’ll just have to give them something else to do then huh?” he asked and closed the bathroom door behind him.
One last post for Jasonette July, this time featuring the first scene of The Tea Pixie of Gotham City by Rierse! I adore this fic and love the cheeky identity shenanigans that goes on. As someone who firmly believes that even a non-magical cup of tea can be healing, this fic is a special favorite!!
EDIT: I FORGOT TO ACTUALLY TAG @rierse PLEASE GO AND CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER FICS!!! 💖
also received a couple of asks/fic recs recently, so will try to take a look at those in August!! Hope yall had a wonderful July, thank you for all the love :)
posting this with every artist tag i can think of, even if you dont do crochet, PLEASE TAKE RESTS FOR YOUR HANDS!!! no matter what medium artist you are, take care of your articulations
here is your daily reminder to COMMENT ON THE AO3 FICS YOU READ! it goes such a long way, especially if it’s a multi-chapter work and you can only leave kudos once. ANYTHING is an acceptable comment—emojis, keyboard smash, screaming, in-depth analysis! i promise you, the writers want it ALL
i like a jason that genuinely was a textbook perfect child before he died, and he started going back to that goody-two-shoes way of life after reconciling with the bats. it’s just kinda in his nature; he likes the attention and the fact that bruce lets him get away with so much because ‘he’s such a good kid’, and he likes knowing he’s better than his siblings.
the rest of the batkids are absolutely disgusted by this dynamic, by the way. all the adults around them think jason is a fucking angel, and it drives them insane because the second bruce and alfred turn their backs, jason is a complete asshole of a brother. and there’s nothing they can do about it because in everybody elses eyes this man practically shits gold.
*at breakfast*
Jason: oh hey, Alfred, sit down; i’ll do the dishes. you just enjoy the food.
Alfred, smiling: why thank you, Master Jason. i believe i’ll take you up on that, the sunroom is lovely and sunny right now.
Jason: you just relax and enjoy it then :)
Jason, the second Alfred leaves to sit down with his food: *shoves Tim off his stool and steals his food* this is mine now, you go do the dishes.
Tim: ?!?!?!?!
~
*Damian and Jason at the league*
Ra’s, begrudgingly pleased: you have certainly surpassed my expectations, Todd. i have to say, my daughter made a good choice bringing you into our ranks.
Talia: you truly are worthy of being an Al Ghul heir.
Jason: :D
Damian, face flat: you know he didn’t even do the mission you assigned him, right? he hired a mercenary and went to Legoland.
Jason: *kicks him in the shin* HA! as if! man, little kids say the darnedest things… i thought i taught you better than that Damian!
Ra’s: yes… Damian, perhaps we should up your training until you learn not to spread lies in an attempt to tear your brother down. you could learn from him, you know.
Damian, loudly: i am going to kill myself.
~
Jason, walking through the manor: *accidentially knocks over an antique ceramic decoration, smashing it*
Jason:
Jason: *locks eyes with Dick from across the hall*
Dick: don’t-
Jason: BRUCE, DICK BROKE YOUR THING-
Dick: god DAMMIT JASON-
~
Bruce: *giving a mission brief on the batcomputer*
Jason: *shoots Tim with a slingshot*
Tim: *yelps*
Bruce, turning around: what’s happening?
Tim: Jason’s-!
Jason, slingshot hidden behind his back: oh, what? i what, Tim? because it seems like all i can fucking do is disappoint this family nowadays, i don’t even know why i fucking came home when none of you seem to like me being around,
Tim: YOU LITERALLY-
Bruce, snapping: ok that’s enough. Tim, don’t be rude to Jason, he hasn’t done anything wrong. if you can’t get a hold of yourself then you’ll just have to be benched for the night, understood?
Tim: ARE YOU- SERIOUSLY?!?!?
Bruce: yes. not another complaint. *turns back to the batcomputer*
Jason, grinning: *brings out his slingshot*
Tim, dead inside: i miss being an only child.
like, Jason’s a good brother, and he’ll have his siblings’ backs in anything. but he’s also the prodigal son that everybody mourned and it’s the biggest get out of jail free card in existence and he 100% abuses it at any and all opportunity.
Jason’s jacket was still smoking. Or maybe it had started again.
He sighed and pulled the remains of his jacket off. It was essentially scraps now. The acid had eaten away at so much of it, he really just needed a new one, which would be a perfect opening to tell Marinette about his alter ego and wear something she designed for him while he was fighting, adding an extra layer of protection and support, even if it was just in his head. The placebo effect is real.
That night. He would tell her that night, after the party she was at. He called her before he could psych himself out and rethink it. It was time. She deserved to know. And he wanted her to know. Wanted her to know this part of him, all of him.
But his enthusiasm deflated instantly when she answered the phone with a sad, distant, “Hi.”
“Hey Pixie. How’s the party?” he asked tentatively, like he already knew the answer, because really, he did. Even with just one word, he knew. He knew that tone. He knew that exhale. Something was wrong. Something bad.
His assessment was confirmed when she had to take a breath before she could respond. He knew that bracing technique too. “It’s terrible,” she breathed.
He straightened up, stretching out his arm to stop Roy before he changed out of his suit. “What’s terrible, Pixie? What happened?”
Roy stiffened next to him. He moved closer to the phone like proximity could grant more insight. “What? What happened?”
Jason shoved him back with a glare and covered the microphone. “Does it sound like I know? I’m waiting to hear, idiot,” he hissed.
“Nobody showed up,” Marinette bemoaned barely loud enough to be heard, like she was trying to keep from being overheard. “Nobody came to her party. Sydney is so sad. This is so cruel.” A shuttering breath sounded through the line. He could picture her pacing. “Nobody showed up. This can’t be just that people forgot about it. This is calculated. This is… this is demented. This is tormenting a child. She’ll remember this for the rest of her life.”
Jason’s expression darkened enough even Roy stepped back. “Give me thirty minutes. Don’t cut the cake yet,” he stated coldly.
“Thirty…” Marinette started.
“Thirty minutes,” he reaffirmed with a calculating look to Roy, which Roy returned with a befuddled look of his own. But, despite the confusion, he stopped Dick as he walked toward the locker room, who stopped Tim, all looking to Jason for confirmation.
><><><><><><><><><
Exactly twenty-seven minutes after she got off the phone with Jason, a knock finally echoed through the painfully quiet apartment. Marinette moved toward the door, as close to a lunge as she could manage without it being apparent. Her face eased into relief when she saw Jason but lit up when she saw Lian.
“Oh, thank God. Lian! Come in. Sydney!” She turned around, pushing Lian ahead of her toward the heart of the apartment.
“I’ll just make my own way in then,” Jason scoffed with a bemused huff and closed the door behind himself.
“Sydney, this is Lian. Lian, this is Sydney,” Marinette introduced practically shoving Lian toward Sydney. “Lian is a good friend, and I thought she could be a good friend of yours.”
“Hi!” Lian offered with a wave. “Is that a Nomi?” she asked gazing past Sydney into her open room.
Sydney shrunk in on herself. “Yeah,” she answered tentatively.
“Wicked!” Lian exclaimed as she pulled Sydney with her into the room. “I love One Piece.”
Sydney’s mom turned toward Marinette and Jason, a tear making its way down her face. “Thank you. Thank you so much for bringing her.”
Jason stepped forward with a small nod. “Of course. I’ve heard great things about Sydney. Marinette talks about her all the time.” He looked around the room, finally taking in the dismal sight.
The room was cheery enough on its own; decorated to excess with balloons, streamers, and garlands, all placed high enough not to get ripped by children running around. A large cake was centered on the dining room table surrounded by a small pile of presents, mounding bowls of chips, rows of children’s drinks, plates, and silverware. Folding chairs had been set up in several small groups in preparation for lively conversations.
No, what was disquieting about the situation was that the perfectly placed seats remained empty, the plates remained unfilled, chip mounds remained undented, and the balloons, streamers, and garlands remained unmarred by little hands.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he offered after a beat. “I ran into a few… people along the way and invited them to come as well.”
“Friends?” Marinette asked, her head quirked in question to which Jason just winked.
Sydney’s mom’s eyes widened and she waved her hands frantically. “Oh no, no, that’s fine. I’m just…” she took a deep breath and granted him a bright smile. “Thank you so much. Please have some snacks and drinks. I’ll wait by the door for your friends.”
“No, please sit, talk with us,” Jason insisted and ushered her toward the seats to finally be used. “Besides, I doubt they’ll be coming through the door.”
Marinette froze only turning her head to him, her eyebrow raised. She opened her mouth, but before she could get the words out, she was interrupted by a knock at the window and a throng of charming, toothy grins.
><><><><><><><><><
She hugs Marinette says this is the best party ever. Mom thanks her and the rest of them and tucks her in.
“Okay, Lian, the cake has been cut, the presents opened, the vigilantes left, it’s time for us to get going too,” Jason called to Lian.
“Do we have to?” she whined. “We were having fun.”
“Yes, we have to go,” Jason answered firmly.
Sydney sidled up next to her like they’d planned it, which knowing Lian, they likely had. “Can she come back? She’s my new best friend!”
Her wide, innocent eyes were backed up by Lian doing the same. Jason may have even believed it if he didn’t know Lian better. It was not helped by Marinette snickering next to him. “I’m pretty positive we can arrange that. Marinette can pass your mom’s information to Lian’s dad.”
Sydney’s mom cupped her hands around Marinette’s. “Thank you for this,” she said sincerely. The look in her eyes so heartbreakingly genuine and grateful it hurt her heart. “I can never thank you all enough for what you did. You made her happy again, feel important. And thank you, Jacob,” she added with a quick kiss to Jason’s cheek. She handed Marinette’s bag to her. “Now, you two should enjoy your night after rescuing my girl’s entire decade. And Marinette, you should keep him.”
Marinette grinned up at Jason. “Oh, I intend to. Jacob is a great man.” She brushed Lian’s hair over her shoulder as she and Sydney bounded over, giving her a conspiratorial look.
“I love Uncle Jacob,” she agreed with a cheeky grin.
Jason sighed heavily but gave the mom a tight smile. “Thank you. Happy Birthday again, Sydney. Lian’s dad is waiting outside for her. I’ll meet you downstairs, Marinette.” He ushered Lian toward the door with a quick wave.
Marinette joined him moments after Roy swung away with Lian. He had barely turned toward her when she was on him, her lips crashing into his, arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down to her and not letting him go even after she’d broken off the kiss.
“Well, thank you,” he chuckled lightly. His eyes roved over her face as his knuckles traced her jaw.
Marinette leaned into his touch, never letting her adoring eyes fall from his. “No, thank you.” Her eyes instantly switched from adoring to calculating. “And please thank Roy and the others.”
“Wha… uh… what for?” Jason’s body went through a series of reactions, most of which were almost too fast to register, until he settled on a nonchalant ease that would have been believable if he hadn’t tightened his grip on her and straightened up. “Oh, right,” he chuckled, though it was a bit tight, “for letting us bring Lian. I’ll… I’ll let him know.”
Marinette snorted and shook her head. “For showing up. They made that little girl’s life. I have a friend who will make sure these pictures show up at all the right places to show to those parents what they just lost trying to be cool by being cruel. That picture of Roy kissing Ms. Baker’s cheek? They’re going to die. And the pictures of Sydney on Tim’s shoulders, swinging with Dick, flying with Kon? The kids are going to be so annoyed with their parents.”
“Wha…. Huh?” he tried again.
Marinette rose up on her toes to run her hand along his jaw. She tilted her head to the side and smirked at him, a dangerous smirk that usually made his blood rush, but this time made it freeze. “So eloquent. You know that’s one of the things I’ve always loved about you; how well you spoke. You want to try that one again? Or keep on pretending that wasn’t Roy, Dick, Tim, and Kon?”
Jason’s mouth opened a few times unbidden before he cleared his throat and shot her an innocent look. “I… that wasn’t… those were the real vigilantes, they weren’t dressed up.”
“Oh, I know,” she scoffed. Her smirk widened. “Also, that was a much better attempt. I almost didn’t clock Dick, but I saw him do that same trick on the trapeze with Lian two weeks ago.” She shook her head and started walking toward her apartment. “I was so scared the first time. This time I knew better because I knew those moves.”
Jason drew in a breath like he was going to object but then let it out with an exasperated sigh. He ran a hand down his face, then back up into his hair until he shook his head with a laugh and jobbed up to match her pace. “Such a dumbass. That’s how Tim identified him when he was like eleven.”
She shook her head again. “And you?”
“I was told. Never got the chance to guess,” he shrugged.
“Not what I meant,” she chided lightly with absolutely no heat behind it and fixed him with a similarly heatless but pointed look.
“Right. And me,” he nodded, because he did know. He knew her and he knew how her mind worked… for the most part… somewhat. He doubted anyone could follow her logic spirals all the time. “You want to guess?”
The sharp, dangerous smirk returned, twisting her lips up. She flitted down the street with more ease than anyone in Star City should. “I don’t have to. I know who you are.”
He reached out to stop her, his hand gentle on her bicep, but strong enough to turn her toward him. He stepped up close enough to feel her heat against his body. “Oh,” he prompted breathlessly. “And who is that?”
“My hero,” she whispered. She rose up rapidly but gently, a connecting her lips to his before he could react in a passionate but brief kiss that stole his breath. She finally pulled away after a few minutes breathing deeply.
“We’re called vigilantes,” he corrected, just as breathless and with a cocky grin.
He could see the restraint keeping her urge to roll her eyes at bay, it was highly strained but holding, unlike the restraint keeping her lips from curling up. “My vigilante,” she sighed breathily but immediately scrunched her nose. “No. Can’t do it. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue the same way.”
“You know what does roll off the tongue…” he smirked as he pulled her into another kiss.
“Yes, that.” She rose up on her toes and placed a light kiss on his lips. “But also Red Hood,” she smirked.
Jason snorted then barked out a loud laugh. “Yeah, that too.” He settled his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him until she was flush against him. “You know, I was going to tell you tonight.”
She lowered down onto her heels and her smile widened, worryingly so. “That’s cute. I’ve known for ages. And… now that we both know that I know...”
Jason pulled back slightly and examined her for a moment before his face fell flat. “No.” He stepped away and started walking again.
“Oh, come on! It will be amazing!” she cheered, hopping backward from foot to foot as she tried, and failed, to stay in front of him.
“Absolutely not,” he insisted, steel in his voice and iron in his eyes. “I put a lot of thought and planning into it already.”
“Not good thought,” she scoffed.
He stopped mid-stride causing her to run into him as he turned toward her. “Did you just…”
“Please?” she pleaded, not bothering to hide her desperation, hands clasped as if in prayer, voice beseeching, eyes wide.
Jason shot her a cold look before dropping his head with a groan. “Okay, fine.” He leveled a warning finger at her. “But I get veto power.”
‘Yes!” Marinette exclaimed. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a passionate but quick kiss. “You won’t regret this.”
“Oh, I definitely will,” he grumbled petulantly, only the slight quirk of his lips betraying his act.
“You’re going to love the new helmet. I have so many ideas,” she squealed and pulled away.
“What I would love is a new jacket,” he sighed.
“A jacket too?” she squealed.
Jason groaned and shook his head at his own stupidity. “I should have just offered the jacket at the beginning.”
She started to bounce away toward her apartment, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back against his chest. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we design the helmet and a new jacket. Tonight we’re under orders to enjoy our night.”
“I don’t know, designing a new helmet sounds enjoyable to me,” she offered innocently.
Jason hummed and lowered his head until it was hovering just next to hers, mere centimeters between their foreheads and angling his head to get the rest of his face even closer. “I can think of a few other enjoyable ways to pass the night.”
She swallowed heavily. “Oh?” she breathed. Her eyes flicked from his eyes to his mouth a few times but snapped back to his eyes when he hummed in affirmation. “I may be open to hearing about that.”
