mal's writing

tonight was girls night. that much should be easy to understand, but no. not for gojo, who was currently pouting on your bed while you sat at your vanity, putting mascara on.

"no means no," you say firmly, ignoring his puppy dog eyes as you focus on your own.

of course, that's not enough to discourage him. he gets up and walks over to you, bending down to look over your shoulder to join you in the mirror. he still had on those round sunglasses, as always, though you could see the desperation through them. you pointedly ignore him even as his hands go to your shoulders. "you can't leave me alone, baby," he pouts.

"i can, and i will," you say, sparing him a quick, amused smile before you move on to your lip gloss.

"baby," he huffs and his arms slide around your waist, propping his chin on your shoulder.

"toru, i'll be back in a couple of hours. then i'm all yours," your voice softens.

his face turns sour. "i thought you already were all mine," he says, betrayed.

with a soft chuckle, you pull his hands off and turn to stand. "i am- you know what i mean," you say. you step up to the full body mirror, ensuring that everything was perfect. satoru stood behind me, his shoulders slumped, arms crossed, and his lips still in that perfect pout. it was rare you didn't let him go out with you, especially because of this exact reason. you were set on not giving in, though. "how do i look?"

"perfect," he grumbles, coming up behind you to grab your hips. "too perfect."

you giggle and turn in his arms to face him. your neck cranes as you look up at him. you slide his sunglasses off with one hand, using the other to cup his face gently, looking into his pretty eyes. "i'll be back before you know it," you repeat softly.

he shakes his head, looking down at you with his frown. "i don't think you understand how much i hate being away from you," he says, his voice lowered as well. "especially knowing you'll be around random guys... anything could happen and i won't be there."

you smile and kiss his cheek softly. "i'll be safe. i'll call you if something happens, you know that," you reassure him.

he sighs and lets his head fall on your shoulder, his arms holding you tighter. "i know, i know. i just worry."

you let him hold you there for a few more minutes before you gently pull away. "i need to go or i'll be late. i'll see you soon, toru," you say finally, giving him a final smile.

My whole life, I’ve been alone. I never really thought of it as a bad thing. I mean, my family is nice enough and I can keep myself entertained. It’s just been hard for me to meet good people. It doesn’t start out that way, of course. I always assume that anyone I meet has the best intentions- you might call it naivety, but I tell myself it’s bravery. Anytime someone does something that shows me that this is not true, it becomes a glaring issue whenever I speak to them.

 Anyway, this is the current case for one of my classmates: Tim Drake. Out of only six sophomores in our chemistry class, the rest being juniors, we were randomly chosen to be lab partners. That was all well and good- I’d heard good things about him, like he was smart and quieter than most of the boys in our grade, who were boisterous and immature. 

We became acquaintances during this time, and if I formed a small crush, then it was none of his business, and certainly not something I would be handling. I had to pass this class with an A and could not be distracted by the charming intelligence of Tim. Even if that meant ignoring how his eyes stayed on me and how pretty his laugh was when I made a stupid joke. No, boys were off limits. 

However, my crush was blooming faster than I could handle it. Soon he’d become all I could talk about during lunch with my friend, and all I could think about during my other classes. It was obsessive, and stupid, even. I had to remind myself that this was Tim Drake- not some random boy but the son of Bruce Wayne. Not only was he beautiful, he grew up around beautiful people. Realistically, I was just a blip in his day surrounded by hot, rich people. I told myself he was laughing at me, not with me. I started overthinking everything. 

It didn’t matter much in the end, though. Near the end of the year, there was a supervillain fight right next to the school. Classic Gotham, I guess. We heard the explosion during our sixth period Chemistry class. Everyone swarmed the windows, desperately trying to see what was happening, Tim and I included. In seconds, there was a closer explosion, right outside the window. Everyone gasped and ducked. The teacher frantically tried to figure out what the best call was. Tim and I were huddled right underneath the closest window, my mouth gaping in shock as I watched him trying to peek out of the window as he crouched. Another blast, and the windows busted open, spraying glass everywhere. Some girls screamed. The teacher, who was standing up further in the room, got the worst of it. I could see blood gathering all over his skin, his mouth wide open with a gasp. I was in such a shock I hardly noticed Tim had blocked my body with his during the spray. What I did notice, though, was Tim *running away* seconds after. 

It was all said and done in a matter of minutes. Robin showed up on the scene, and later Batman, and the rest was history. They saved the day. 

The next day we had a study hall instead of a class. By the next week we had a replacement teacher and an upgraded chemistry classroom. The other teacher was in recovery and multiple kid’s parents had complained to the school about the incident, so the new room was part of an apology. 

I sit at the edge of the outcropping, my feet hanging toward the sky, my hair trailing toward the ground. The city was unreal- the concrete jungle hangs upside down, piercing the ocean of the sky. The sky emits golden rays, my own skin washed in the light.

I feel the footsteps before I see the head that peaked over the edge. “Time to go,” say two eyes, hidden behind a domino mask. I roll my own.

I pull myself over the ledge and step onto the correct side of gravity. Wordlessly, we both swing to a lower building- him with a grappling hook and I with my webs. He moves like a line drawn too straight, sharp and purposeful. I never quite match his rhythm, but sometimes I try. The wind rips at my hair as my body flies, then lands in a roll on the top of the small building. My feet find their footing and I stand, dusting off my new suit. Robin lands next to me. 

Immediately, he begins to lead the way to the edge of the roof. The newfound determination in his movements tells me that he’s either seen something from our vantage point on the building or the Bat has given him an objective.

“Talk to me,” I remind him, quickening my pace to catch up with him. He doesn’t slow down. he never does.

He gives me a look, one that portrayed annoyed exasperation, and said, “Batman needs us in Crime Alley,” he states with all expected formality and uptightness. 

“Doesn’t he have Wing with him?” I ask curiously, disregarding his annoyance. 

“Nightwing,” he corrects with a tut, “But yes. I suppose they underestimated the issue,” he says.

“You guys always underestimate the Joker,” I say, pursing my lips. I don’t give him the option to respond, though, as I raise my hand, my middle and ring finger pressing on my palm. “Meet you there.” The web releases and catches hold on a building.

With a yank, I’m in the air. 

Within minutes, I’m just a street across from Crime alley. From the surrounding buildings a few goons watch whatever’s occurring within. To avoid attention, I swing onto the side of one of the buildings. I crawl up slowly until I can peek over the edge. There, a goon is bent over, watching with intent. I raise my hand again, press on my palm, yank-

He spins, his mouth falls open with intent to scream, but my other hand is already raised, palm already pressed. Web fluid covers his mouth. I pull on the reins and he comes flying back at me, helpless. I catch him, deliver a quick punch that knocks him out, and creep onto the building.

Below, Batman and Nightwing are helpless, strapped to chairs rigged with bombs. In front of them, a scene plays out. A woman and man- wide grins plastered onto their face despite their pleading eyes- hold the trembling hands of a young boy. A man between them and the heroes holds a gun, duck-taped to his hand, pointed at the parents. The same wide smile adorns his face, although his is accompanied by tears. 

Despite the Batman’s cowl, I can see how white Bruce has become. 

My head snaps to the side when I feel a presence beside me. I’m met with Robin’s face, a long finger pressed to his lips. Despite the seriousness, I scoff quietly and look back down. 

Joker’s voice crackles through a speaker: “This is where it all began, Bats. Don’t you miss your folks?” His joy is unmistakable. 

I swallow. I look at Robin, a question in my eyes. After analyzing the situation, he whispers, “Get the people out. I’ll get Joker’s goons, then Batman and Nightwing.”

I nod. He disappears as I turn my head. Some of the goons had come down to prod the little show into action. I jump down into the alley, landing between the family and the goons. The move was certainly not something Robin would endorse, though it was the easiest way to get them out.

I land, shoot webs at the closest two, which glue their guns to their bodies. I grab the man, hoist him over my shoulder. Joker screams through the speaker: “Get out!” The woman grabs the boy and I grab her. All over the rooftops, their guns were pointed at me, and I knew I rushed Robin into taking them out quickly. With limited mobility I manage to get a web stuck on the building and pull it, lifting me and the people I carry into the air. I land on the top of the building and quickly unload those I carry. I cross back to the edge quickly to shoot a web at the innocent who was meant to play the shooter, yank on it, and bring him flying up as well. I catch him and sit him down. Joker screams into the speaker. Clearly, the man himself couldn’t make it to the showing. Robin had already taken out most of the goons and moved to start figuring out how to disarm the bombs rigged to the older heroes. The ones who weren’t knocked out decided against staying for the end credits. 

I jump back down, run to kneel in front of Nightwing, cut the rope on his ankles. “Took you long enough,” He says with a charming smile down at me. “Says the one who got tied up,” My words were pointed though my tone was playful. I move to cut Batman’s ankles, who lacked a snarky comment. 

“Got it,” Damian grunts as Batman’s bomb is disarmed. He moves to Nightwing’s, his face holding a scowl of intense concentration. Batman stands and rubs at his wrists. “Good job,” He says with the deep, gravelly voice that is Batman. It’s clear that he isn’t in the mood to talk more. 

The intense atmosphere shuts Nightwing and I up, even managing to make Robin look uncomfortable. When Nightwing is free of his own bomb, he stands as well.

Batman decides that patrol is over and calls Agent A for pick up. He leaves to attend to the civilians I left on the roof. The rest of us stay in the alleyway as we wait. Nightwing leans against the wall, whistles lowly to himself. I shuffle my feet awkwardly as Robin approaches me. “It’s impressive how badly you misunderstand orders,” He says with a scowl, arms crossed over his defined chest.

As a smile crosses my face his frown deepens. “I’m glad. I aim to impress,” I say, amusement dancing in my eyes. 

Robin, apparently, isn’t in the mood for humor. “Jumping straight into the middle of the alley is stupid and will get you killed.” He stands three feet from me, and I see a muscle in his jaw jump as he controls his anger. I try not to flinch at the edge in his voice. There’s something behind it, sharp and protective.

“I’m still alive,” I point out, raising a brow. “How else do you expect me to get four people out? One at a time would’ve taken too long, people would’ve gotten hurt.”

He swallows down his next words as the Batmobile arrives in the alley. He still tuts in disapproval, though. We file into the back of the car, along with Nightwing, who watched the interaction with amusement. He sits on the right side as I slide in from the left, which lands me in the middle seat as Robin slips in after me. I frown at the lack of the room next to the men, Robin lean but tall and Nightwing muscular and wide. Four knees were pressed together: Robin’s, two of mine, then Nightwing’s.

Batman appears in the car as we get comfortable- as comfortable as we can be, at least. He brings with him the tension of the earlier conflict. 

I lean my head back and stare at the car’s ceiling. The heat from the two boys presses in on me from both sides- two different storms, too close- one in which I wouldn’t mind slipping into.

In another situation I would’ve broke the silence- said something stupid, like usual. Maybe tease Robin or joke with Nightwing. I hold my tongue, though, as does everyone else as Batman stews in his own private thoughts. 

Headlights cut through the darkness and my thoughts as we pull into the Batcave. When Alfred parks the car, the moment stretches until it snaps, everyone spilling out of the car at once. Within the blink of an eye, Batman diffuses into the shadows. 

Nightwing removes his mask and joins Barabara at the Batcomputer, where they share a quick kiss before a quiet conversation. Robin breezes past me, straight to the training room. Alfred moves purposefully toward the manor above.