“Tim Drake Is A Horrible Cook”

keeping this as a reminder whenever i feel like my writing isn’t good enough

damian : [creeping behind jason to stab him]

jason, loudly : I hope no one is about to attack me from behind because I'm thinking about making cookies later.

damian pausing :

damian : ...what kind?

Red Robin: -and that’s that losers.

Chat: [walks in] hey batfam! what’s poppin’?

Spoiler: hey chat! red robin was just bragging about his body count.

Chat: [pauses] like partners or…?

Spoiler: murder

Chat: [oddly brightens up and addresses red robin] oh! so what’s your number?

Red Robin: [shrugs] a few hundreds

Chat: like in one go?

Red Robin: …uh yeah- why are you being so casual about this???

Chat: well with the miraculous cure and all that, almost everyone in the court has ended a life somehow.

Red Hood: well, don’t hold back on my account. spill.

Chat: i know viperion had to remove certain variables to succeed in time loops. maybe a few hundreds for him too?

Signal: it’s always the quiet ones, huh?

Chat: oh yeah! the dragon miraculous is our aoe damage dealer. i don’t think most of the victims recovered after being hit by a bolt of lightning. huh, i always wondered why she always used that one.

Signal: …well, there’s no way my dude carapace could have done damage- he’s like your tank or something, right?

Chat: …

Signal: …. right?

Chat: his shield can shrink….

Signal: ….

Chat: … people inside don’t shrink with it

Signal: jesus

Nightwing: oh, do you! do you!

Chat: [suddenly sheepish] well…

Nightwing: ?? well???

Chat: there was this deleted timeline where i became akumatized and drowned all of paris.

Nightwing: holy shit- that’s like what? millions?

Red Robin: 2 million. damn, are you okay?

Chat: mhmm! ladybug made us all go to therapy.

Robin: … what about her?

Chat: oh! oh. oh….

Red Hood: ???? don’t tell me that tiny thing did more damage than you did! isn’t she like creation and shit??

Chat: no! actually when you think about it, ladybug would be on the same estimate as viperion.

Red Hood: oh, thank fuck!

Chat: multimouse has me beat though.

Red Hood: who??? and how???

Red Robin: [pulls out computer from who knows where] marinette dupain-cheng. temporary hero. was outed in battle-

Spoiler: -oooh pretty-

Red Robin: -powers: dividing into smaller copies, retains original strength. what did she do?????

Chat: it’s not in there but each copy can merge with another miraculous. i think the story goes is that she wore all the miraculous in the mother box and destroyed 3 galaxies including ours.

Everyone: …….

Ladybug: [walks in] hello, everyone! [realizes the tension] errm, what’s wrong?

Robin: [without skipping a beat] is it wise to keep marinette dupain-cheng alive?

Ladybug: [is marinette but they don’t know that] ?????????!!!!!!!!

thought of this after reading that tim freaked out after bruce “died” and blew up a lot of people

Damian high on anesthetic after a minor surgery, in the Cave’s Medbay: You shouldn’t be holding my hand.

Marinette, sitting next to him: And why is that?

Damian, with an adorable pout: Because my girlfriend will be very upset… I’m upset. I don’t like holding hands that aren’t hers.

Marinette, holding in laughter, and trying to subtly film on her phone: Oh, I think your girlfriend will be okay with it. 

Damian: Really?

Marinette, smiling: Yep, because I’m your girlfriend.

Damian, eyes widening: No, you can’t be…

Marinette: Why not?

Damian: Because you’re too pretty. And nice. You’re holding my hand and making me feel safe. I don’t deserve a girlfriend that nice. I’m not nice enough.

Marinette, holding back tears, kisses him on the forehead: You deserve all the nicest things in the world mon cher.

New headcanon that the whole family carries on their own versions of the Brucie Wayne persona in order to keep up appearances, giving the whole family a reputation of a bunch of beautiful idiots. Everyone EXCEPT Damian. He understands the necessary evil of it, but he can't. He can't do it y'all it's beneath him.

So this child, who is known among the other children at his school to talk like he swallowed a dictionary and get into screaming matches with his history teachers, gets the title of The Wayne Family's Single Brain Cell. This is furthered by the fact that every time he's seen in public he has an exhausted expression on his face like

He becomes a localized meme. The Baby Wayne, fighting for his life every day against his family of well meaning morons.

imagine vigilante!Marinette in gotham wielding the fox and/or cat but instead of messing with the bats she keeps saving their asses because they cannot last one night without a near death experience

she has to pull batman's cape back to keep him from falling off the roof

picks up nightwing's escrima sticks so he doesn't trip over them again

purposely trips or shoves red hood so he misses a bullet. or multiple bullets.

shakes tim awake because he keep dozing off mid-battle

takes out goons about to sneak up on damian

and they never notice

bonus: it's biodad bw and the whole batfam thinks they're successfully hiding their nightly activities from marinette

Headcanon that Jason’s white hairstreak is so inconsistent in the comics because he keeps desperately trying to get rid of it and it just comes back. 

Maybe it makes more sense for it to be a stress thing, but I think it’s funnier if it’s just a weird magical side effect of the Lazarus pits.

So he dies it black, and the magic goes No. It’s white again within a week. He tries colouring it in with sharpie. No luck. He literally cuts that bit off and then he wakes up with more white hair than before.

He eventually has to call Talia like How Do I Get Rid Of It. 

She gives him the mystical speech equivalent of a vague shrug.

Jango: I mean, if I went around sayin’ I was Mand’alor just because some aruetii had lobbed a beskad at me they’d put me away!

Satine: Shut up! Will you shut up!

Jango: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.

Satine: Shut up!

Jango: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! HELP! HELP! I’m being repressed!

Several years later…

Jango: -and that was how I lost my Mandalorian citizenship. 

Boba: wtf dad.

Harmonies of the Multiverse

THEME

When Jupiter collides with autumn, a single moment is born between two entities. Equal harmonies with balance, dancing along a fine line of too far and too near, of brightest and dimmest, of perfect alignment. People say that on an equinox, the sky divides into two parts, golden light and silver darkness.

For Damian Wayne, it meant heading to the rooftop instead of sleeping peacefully in his bed, staring at the sky, but not seeing anything. His eyes would remain blank as they stared up at the twinkling stars almost covered by the rancid smog. He learned at too young of an age that life was not about myths and fairytales, but of monsters in the form of flesh and bone which held their smiles on their face and their daggers in your back.

The equinox meant facing the demons of his past.

He always knew he was never the best person. He wouldn't ever be as selfless as Dick, he wouldn't be as level-headed as Tim, or even as passionate as Jason. He wouldn't have his father's ingrained need to help the dying cesspool they lived in, and he would never have Alfred's heaven-bound level of patience. There would always be that selfish, rash, cold-hearted, narcissistic, impatient prince lying inside of him, waiting to rear its foul head. It surfaced every second he held a blade in his hand, at every mob member terrorizing innocents and criminals alike, every abuser, every villain. A voice inside him purred to rid the world of their filth, of their moral grime. And every single time, it grew louder and louder and louder and louder.

Each time a criminal escaped through his grasp was another chip in his fortitude.

Each time an innocent civilian broke a smile at him, only to die minutes later from an explosion was a stab in the wall between morally good and vengeance.

For every stabbing heart, for every gutless cry of a mother who lost their child.

Wouldn't it be so much easier to erase them before they could commit such barbarisms?

The cold kissed his cheeks, so much like a viper's poison, and he shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. Ah, she's still inside my head.

Maybe symphonies are built on a beautiful melody. However, the melody would never work if they worked on different concepts. The one his father blasted into his mind was a righteous march, darker in tone than most melodies, but an overarching victory for Good reigned. It taught him patience, morals, ethics, light against darkness.

But, his mother taught him the cellist's devil nature. The darker tones, the echoing, vibrating puppet master giving the audience the illusion that the melody is in control, but in reality, all the melody can do is fall victim to the villainous, tragic whirlpool of misery, murder, and fascist brutality. She placed the blade in his hand, had him earn her love through feats of glorious atrocities, built him up from the ground up into the perfect weapon, too jagged and unpredictable to be used for Good, but whittled down, rusted and corrupted for far too long to be remolded into something useful.

Now, he didn't know where he belonged. Did his melody rise above the dark cello nurtured in him? Or will the melody drown under the alluring, tempest bass driven through his heart, buried deeper than the center of the Earth?

The wind, maybe sensing his demise, could do nothing but blow harder to calm his feverish head filled with questions he could not answer. The somber cold stung the sweet chapped lips all too used to the desert's ice and fire of his childhood, but it stung more bitterly as the North Atlantic ocean blew in the new change in season. Gotham was an outlier. A ghost town of improbabilities and plausibility all clashed together to create a cesspool of madness, hate, and impossibilities.

He wondered why his father, or his ancestors before him, would ever want to stay in a city like this for the rest of their rich, detached lives. Why they would ever choose to spend their lives in this miserable landfill, giving what they have to make the ever-draining city a better place. Why they gaze at the buildings and streets with fond gazes. Why they find it so easy to smile at a Gotham native without feeling like they will get a knife's edge poking their sternum the moment they show their backs.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he cursed God that he was not given this ingrained sense of belonging and mercy to Gotham like all of his family before him.

Pages rustled on in the breeze, and, by miraculous luck, the cover tipped open. Blue light shone through the darkness beyond his closed eyelids, but he did not notice beyond the salty river squeezing through the crevice.

"S'il te plaît, ne me dis pas que tu pleures." Please, don't tell me you're crying. Soft French carried over the quiet din. "I never know what to do when you are crying."

He pried his eyes open, and a vision filled his eyes. A girl, no older than he was, but with a more youthful smile cracked in sorrow, dressed in a midnight blue evening gown glowing in the darkness, blowing in the wind to its own rhythm as it reflected the stars ten times brighter than Gotham Fair's lights. She floated over the torn book of ancient Tibetan magic he brought with him that night, just like he did every solstice, her legs crossed underneath her in an informal squat. Cheeks blossomed like dusky luminescent wisteria, and constellations made of stars brighter than Rigel lost across the bridge of her nose. Her blue crown of hair burned a halo around her, framing bluebell eyes that looked older than a thousand of his lifetimes staring deep into his own green eyes.

The only word he could say was, "Marinette."

Her grin made his heart's symphony subito pianissimo. "Hi, Damian. Happy Autumn Solstice."

================

not me wanting to make this a full fic ;v; (hence the chapter title "theme")

for @jumpingjoy82 for the maribat gift exchange 2022 (i posted on time on archive, just not on tumblr ;v;)

Our Saviour Red Hood, Patron Saint of the Poor and Downtrodden, Protector of Gotham

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

(art by the wonderful @gotham-gargoyle​ )

Some ranting, theory-crafting and inspiration behind this commission under the cut :)

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