You know how there's a subset of martial arts Tiktok where people post short vids of them doing a quick routine/choreography?
People in Gotham post blurry clips of the Bats, and a few martial artists challenge each other to reproduce the moves. One vid goes viral and more people start to give it a try, including non martial artists, who just meme with the choreography/try to imitate some moves just in good fun (and whoa some dancers and gymnasts do surprisingly well)
It naturally gets back to the Wayne brood, except, of course, the real challenge for them is to fail in a believable way.
---
Tim, on camera: "I was nearly good enough for the Olympics, surely I can do that...? Let's find out."
[cue footage of him falling down, cartoon-style, right as Damian was walking by and getting both of them drenched in Dami's smoothie]
---
Jason sees the compilation someone made of Bruce's ridiculous attempts at reproducing the moves (Tim and Steph roped him into their shenanigans.)
Two days later, a video of Red Hood goes viral: it's him condescendingly explaining how to throw a punch and challenging Bruce Wayne to do it properly because "no Gothamite should be so shit at fighting"
Bruce is verklempt when he watches it, because some of it is word-for-word how he taught baby!Jay
---
Tim gives Damian blurry, grainy footage of Black Bat to imitate. After that, Dami spends days hounding Cass for training because he nearly broke his nose tripping over his own feet.
---
Dick flawlessly lands a flip in front of all the others with "ASSERTING DOMINANCE" written on screen before winking at the camera.
Right before the video cuts, Tim's voice can be heard saying, "Whatever, your ass is still flat compared to Nightw—"
Hi! Could you do hc’s of what dating 90’s HBK would include? If you’re busy then ignore this!! xoxo
I was, and now I'm not!
I'm lying, I have a bunch of paperwork to do but let's break myself back into writing habits with this one! I do apologize for the long wait, darling!
GN!Reader Dating '90s HBK Headcanons
Some funsies with our favorite Boy Toy under the cut!
It started with being friends, good friends. Shawn was...a bit of a mess, and you can't help but help him out in any way you can. People actually don't quite believe it when you're hanging out with each other and say you're close friends.
His dating life was one of his many little messes, and you were there to either fend for him or call him out for his idiocy; you weren't biased, always fair and just. Shawn likes that about you. You're a sweet person, but you never sugarcoat things.
He's always been hands-on; hugs and kisses were expected whenever you're in his reach, and you've grown accustomed to it, he did this to everyone, after all. You start to notice, though, that he starts to linger on them, heartbeats matching in each embrace, the heat of his lips leaving your body light and weak, and you hoped that he felt the same...
...Bad idea, you thought, fearing that you'd just be a name on his long list, that you'd lose him if you gave into it. So you remained stoic as you can be, you had to be the good friend, you had to, Shawn needs a friend, not another one on his bed.
Watching him work out way after you're finished is one of your favorite things, you'd comment on his shape or form or help him count (he always keeps going and doesn't stop), or just chat to keep him company as the gym became emptier, sometimes it was just the two of you.
That was the case that night, and you were a bit curious to see he was blowing steam. Really blowing steam. To the point you're scared he'd burst a vessel and told him to calm down, take a breath, before he breaks the chains on the punching bag. You asked him what's wrong, what made him so angry, and chuckled when he said he was pissed because some people were making sexual comments about you. You shrug it off, you've heard it, it's harsh but it's part of the business. You thank Shawn anyway and tell him not to worry, but that only got him angrier.
"I hate it when they said they'd do all those things to you, like an object, you're not, I don't even want to go that far with you because I'm scared I'll make a mistake and do the same like I do with everyone -"
Oh.
So he did feel the same way, and, like water and fire, steam was created, like steam from him being so angry, like him blowing off steam now with you...
He was an even greater lover than you'd ever dream in your deepest, darkest fantasies. As he'd fear, he keeps himself clear-headed as he can, he's always aware of what he's doing, making sure every moment was cherished, remembered, Shawn constantly asked if it was okay, and all you could manage to say other than his name was yes. Yes.
He's extremely public with declaring himself dating you and being as affectionate as he can in public.
Neck kisses and having his hands on your thighs were particularly his favorites. He was never rough with it, he only goes rough when you say yes when he asks, after all, but it still makes your temperature rise to the roof whenever he slides over you and claims you with all these eyes witnessing it.
At first, you assume it was his way of marking territory since there were those comments made about you that got the both of you here in the first place.
But no, he's actually proud he's your boyfriend, and even without you he'd gush about how lovely and precious you are to other people - co-workers, friends, family, interviews...
You asked if it was a good idea for him to do promos mentioning you, would he lose fans? All those swooning over him...
"If they can't handle me hitting the jackpot with the best they'd never have, too bad for them," he commented, face buried in your chest as he snuggled close to you.
He always thinks so highly of you, and you had to remind him that this is an equal relationship, please, stop buying all these expensive gifts, it's his love and dedication and most of all, company you care about the most.
That always brings a goofy grin to his face. And somehow you both end up naked together somewhere soon after; how much stamina does he have? Will you be able to keep up?
The cutest and also, simultaneously, the most embarrassing thing you see him have and show off is a whole photo album of you and him that he always keeps with him while he travels. Not even counting the photos in his wallet, or the one in the multiple lockets he has...
If you're not there with him where he is, he'll call you immediately when he's free. "You don't know how much just your voice can do to me". Well, the same goes for him to you.
Whenever he's back, he'll immediately jump for you and pull you into the biggest hug, reminiscent of your time as just friends, but much sweeter, and you wish you could just stay there forever.
You yourself find kissing his hands, how strong yet careful they are, and running your hands through his hair some of the most intimate moments, even beyond the actual intimate moments. Shawn is comfortable and relaxed with you, and often would fall asleep in your lap minutes after you treat him so sweetly. It were moments like these that you appreciate how far the both of you had gotten.
The fact that he flusters and blushes when anyone mentions the both of you tying the knot has you feeling all kinds of ways. Maybe it's the fact that he never gets flustered any other times. Maybe it's the fact that his hand immediately goes to the chunky watch you gave him, that he adjusts to be to your time if he's travelling far. Maybe it's how he clutches his other wrist, one where you have your own bracelet, sparkling metallic chains, as if he misses it, misses you.
Or maybe, it's the prospect of him finally saying it, a ring in his hands. For now, though...this was enough. You both loved each other to death, and, maybe, again, it'll fade away, and someday you'll just be a ghost of a memory to him...
A drowning man once said, "To dream of breath in my lungs is to ignore my love for you. I choke on your liquid temptation, filling my throat. I thrash against your chilling influence, pulling me under. My eyes burn with salty fidelity.
Our love, so vast, so cold; I cannot help but gasp, cough, and inhale your every intent."
hello to my tma followers: the first chapter of my high school au fic is up now! don’t you dream impossible things? is it’s name! go check it out if you’d like :)
Ill-Fated Wings, Held Together With Vanity And Candlewax
Rating: G
Pairing: IgNoct
Tags: I Destroyed Greek Mythology For This, Love Letters, Mutual Pining, free prompt
Notes: free day prompt for @ignoctweek !! instead of writing anything else. i wrote a new thing. because i’m a fool
There's a boy who lives in the sun - Noctis' father had always told him so.
AO3
fandom: masquerada: songs and shadows
pair: cicero/kalden
words: 2215
ao3 version here. this definitely is what should have happened during the game. definitely. kissing as a disguise definitely definitely should have happened.
It was not, he supposed, one of the strangest situations he'd ever been in. Surely there had been more instances, varied and colorful, over the last few years; the fact that he could only remember some as little more than their consequences lent credence to that belief. Certainly, there were few things as odd as creeping around the sewers in disguise, with a Mariner in tow, but having ended up in the gutter on more than one occasion, Cicero couldn't help but feel that this couldn't rank too highly on that list.
His companion was an odd sort; why he was so desperate to find his brother, despite not having spoken with him for years, was perhaps even stranger than their situation. Despite their differences in ideology, he and Cyrus had still spoken, and often. It only stopped when—
Hm. That was not a helpful train of thought. He shook his head to clear it, and very nearly walked straight into the Mariner's back. A large hand shot out to help steady him as he stumbled; Cicero took it by instinct, and rather than continuing to ruminate on his brother, found himself instead marvelling at the difference between their two hands. He had seen the proof of it when the ladder had broken beneath the man's bulk, and was reminded again whenever they stood shoulder to shoulder — head to shoulder: Kalden Azrus was an absolute mountain of a man. Cicero couldn't stop his mind wandering, the quiet, dark parts wondering—
"Inspettore?" The voice was soft, but puzzled, snapping Cicero out of his thoughts and the strange turns they were taking. He looked up into dark eyes, which glanced back down to where their hands were still clasped. "Is everything alright?"
"Ages," Cicero muttered, drawing his hand back quickly. "I'm sorry, I was..distracted." He laughed, and was glad that it didn't sound nearly as forced as it was. "You're quite different from Razitof. I have to wonder just what your parents fed you, growing up. Must've eaten all your spinach, and Razitof's share as well, hm?"
It was far from the response he thought he would get as the Mariner straightened up, his expression seeming to shutter as he turned away. "No," was all he said, before turning back to the mouth of the alley they occupied.
Far from put out, Cicero instead felt...what? Curiosity, surely, at that reaction. Perhaps also a touch of regret? He hadn't thought to reach a sore spot so soon, and with what he'd thought to be a harmless jest. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it just as quickly. Chances were high that anything he said to excuse himself would only exacerbate the issue; instead, he crept up next to the man, checking to make sure their way was clear. He let a hand settle on Kalden's bare forearm, blinking in surprise upon realizing there was a tattoo there. Interesting. He didn't really seem the type. Hidden depths, Cicero had to remind himself. People are not so simple as to be one-dimensional; everyone has hidden depths, and Kalden is no different.
Once he was sure he had his attention, Cicero offered a small smile. "I...apologize, for any misstep I might have made. It was not my intent to offend, in whatever way I did; I'll be sure to take more care with my words, in the future." And then, without waiting for a response, he darted out of the alley. "Come. The coast is clear, for now."
It was gratifying, then, that Kalden followed him without word or question. They made their way across what must surely have been a trading square, dodging between abandoned stalls and tables. Cicero hesitated for only a moment before swiping an apple from a forgotten bushel; he rubbed it against his borrowed sleeve before taking a bite, and only noticed after that Kalden was watching him, an eyebrow raised.
"What is it, Mariner?"
"You cannot be certain where that shirt has been," Kalden said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And I believe that may have been someone's produce to sell. Should an Inspettore really be stealing from the people?"
"Pah," Cicero dismissed the words with a wave of his hand. "The whole area's been all but abandoned! I'm merely saving this poor apple from a horrible fate, of rotting away and never fulfilling its potential as a food." He paused, thinking. "Though, you may have a point about the shirt."
It earned him a low chuckle, and Cicero had to look away quickly, busy himself with taking another large bite of apple. That was...an interesting sound. Fascinating, really, how it seemed to rumble deep in Kalden's broad chest before eventually tumbling from his lips. Cicero found himself wanting to hear it again.
They were working, however. This was neither the time, nor the place. Nor the borrowed outfits, despite how suited Kalden was to his.
"Anyway," Cicero coughed, once he'd finished chewing. "I believe we'll be heading that way," and he gestured to a nearby street. "We should—"
He was interrupted by a clattering on the other side of the plaza, and the two of them darted around the closest corner. Cursing echoed after them, as well as unfamiliar voices.
"Would you shut up!"
"Sorry, sorry! Someone scattered some damn bottles, nearly twisted my ankle!"
"Well, maybe if you weren't so clumsy—"
"Hey, who're you calling clumsy?!"
"Will the both of you shut up! Or did you forget we're looking for someone?!" The other two voices quieted immediately. "Alfons and Edvard didn't just lose their clothes, someone had to have taken them. We have to find and stop whoever that is!"
"Right!" "Of course! Sorry!"
Damn. It only made sense that they'd be found out; such a ruse couldn't possibly last. Cicero had hoped they'd had more time, however, and he glanced around as his mind raced. They were in a small, shaded alley, whose only outlet would deliver them straight into their pursuers' hands. That was not an option, not so quickly, but if he and Kalden were to stay put, they would surely be discovered. They needed to hide in plain sight, to have their stalkers turn their gazes of their own accord. His mind turned back to the five years he'd spent adrift, and of the fastest way he knew to disappear.
"Ages. Mariner, this way."
Cicero grabbed Kalden's arm, dragging him further into shadow. Far enough that the colors of their clothes were muddled by the darkness, hopefully indistinguishable between the Maskrunners' uniforms and a Contadani's day to day. The footsteps of their pursuers were getting louder; they must have left a trail, where they cleared debris from their path. Cicero looked up at Kalden, who was frowning toward the mouth of the alley.
"Should we not simply fight?" he muttered, before looking down at Cicero. "It sounds as though there are only the three; I'm sure—"
"Not without calling attention to the skirmish," Cicero interrupted. He winced as a basket went rolling past their alley. "And I'm afraid that is time we do not have to waste." They were getting closer. He needed to act, and quickly. He grabbed Kalden's hands, settling them on his waist, before hooking his own at the back of Kalden's neck. Tried very, very hard not to think about how thoroughly those large hands spanned his waist. "Forgive me," he murmured, before pulling him down for a kiss.
It was, admittedly, not the best plan. Hell, it was barely a plan at all. When he thought about all the various ways this could backfire, it very nearly made Cicero laugh; the Maskrunners would simply need to come into the alley, or Kalden could shove him away. He would be well within his right to, if he did, and so all Cicero could now was wait, and hope. Hope that the party seeking them would be so embarrassed by public affection so to turn away, hope that Kalden would trust him to let this work.
And somewhere deep in his chest, hope that this did not completely unravel what thin ties they had been already begun weaving.
Kalden froze against him nearly immediately. It was hardly unexpected. Cicero was well aware of how they would be treated if they were discovered, and a pang of guilt struck through him at how this might damage Kalden's reputation. His own was run so ragged and tarnished already that the thought of one more stain didn't bother him in the least; Kalden, however, was far from a disgraced exile. He might have a life, a family — the thought of upending whatever quiet life Kalden had made for himself twisted in Cicero's gut.
It was too late for regrets, however. Not a second later, a pair of shadows appeared at the end of the alley. Cicero could barely see them past Kalden's shoulder, found himself praying that their posing was convincing enough. The figures stood there for a moment, assessing — Cicero couldn't tell if they were watching the two of them, or if they were looking at something else — before thankfully, blessedly moving on.
"Nothin' down there, Liv."
"Yeah, maybe they escaped into one of these buildings? That one's got a smashed window, they could've climbed in there!"
"Then what are you two waiting for? Go on!"
The figures at the end of the alley were joined by a third, and Cicero could hear a quiet, derisive "don't they know what's going on right now?" before the three of them moved, past the alley and away.
Cicero let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, sagging into Kalden and leaning his head against his shoulder as relief washed through him. They hadn't been found out, not yet; it was this thought that kept his arms around Kalden's shoulder, to keep up the appearance of intimacy between them. There was no way to tell whether or not their pursuers would come back, or if someone else was following after them. The safest thing to do was to keep up pretenses, for at least a moment longer.
"Cicero—" Kalden's voice was tense, a deep, low whisper against his ear that sent a shudder down Cicero's spine. Ages. Who allowed this? At least he was keeping his voice down, quiet enough that only Cicero could hear. "What are we doing?"
He laughed against Kalden's neck, almost giddy at the fact this new ruse had succeeded. "At the moment? Keeping up appearances, in case those three return." Truly, I can't believe this worked, he thought, and bit his lip to keep from giving it voice. Best not to let Kalden know how unsure he'd been about all this, that he hadn't been remotely close to positive the deception would succeed.
Kalden only sighed deeply. "And before?"
Cicero watched for a moment more, before stepping back from Kalden. It was a strange shift, nearly unbalancing him; he hadn't realized he'd been standing on the tips of his toes to make himself tall enough. "I learned...a while ago, that most people are not fans of public displays of affection. To see a loving couple doting, or embracing — most turn their eyes away, so as not to stare. It makes people uncomfortable, so they unconsciously stop themselves from seeing it."
"And you figured that this would protect our anonymity?" There was a strange quality to Kalden's voice, something that Cicero couldn't quite place. "What if we had been discovered?"
His hands had curled into fists, Cicero realized. He took a deep breath. "Then we would have summarily dispatched them, and whatever reputation you may have here in the Citte would be safe." Cicero chewed at the inside of his lip, just for a second, before looking at him. "I am sorry. It was the quickest way I could think of to keep their eyes off of us. And if things had taken a turn for the worse, I assure you, the blame would fall squarely on my own shoulders. I would not allow it any other way."
Kalden was quiet for a moment, watching him. His hands, at least, had unfurled as he'd been speaking. "You are an…interesting man, Cicero."
A quiet chuckle, and Cicero nodded. "Thank you. It's far from the worst I've been called, and you would be well within your right to call me worse; I'll gratefully accept interesting, from you."
He turned then, creeping up to the mouth of the alley and peering around the corner. There was no sign of the people who had been chasing them, having apparently climbed into one of the buildings adjacent to theirs and kept moving. It was a stroke of luck, and not one that he intended to waste.
"Let's go, Mariner," he murmured, gesturing back at him. "We've got work to do, after all."
Again, Cicero found himself surprised when Kalden followed after him. Surprised, but also relieved. No doubt the man wanted to find his brother, and that was the reason; still, it was something of a comfort to know he hadn't yet cost himself an ally. Whether or not the partnership would last remained to be seen.
For now, at least, it was enough. They had a job to do, after all.
A shitty, 5-second night shot clip of Red Hood in the full suit goes viral: it's him casually walking next to a street cat, pausing to look at it, and meowing once.
When he learns about the video, Jason fully expects to be mercilessly mocked by his friends and family.
What actually happens is much worse.
...Because Tim and Steph band together with Roy to steal his helmet and replace it with a version with cat ears.
