#batstalked

[text] He's so hot, I briefly started texting like a straight person (m&m)

5:52am [not a sidekick] 📲 timbo. timmy. tim. first off i don't think this was meant for me. secondly, i don't think you know what texting like a straight person entails, buddy. thirdly, be safe. use condoms. don't be stupid.

Tumblr Text Posts “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID???”

“I think we’ve already established that, for a while there, I had more than a few screws loose,” he deadpans, the helmet’s voice modulator making the words even more toneless. Jason would take the helmet off, but that right there is kind of his current predicament. It’s bashed up just enough and in just the right way that the latches are completely useless.

And it turns out that when he took all the C-4 out of his helmets way back when, he missed one of the spares. Trying to take it off without using the proper latching mechanisms will blow his head clean off.

Fucking figures this would come back to bite him in the ass.

God, if the helmet doesn’t kill him, Dean absolutely will.

Considering how difficult it’ll be to rewire the thing while he’s wearing it, Jason needs help. So, he’d explained everything to Tim, thinking he’d get a less severe reaction from him than he would Dick. So far, it’s looking like he thought wrong. He huffs, rolls his eyes. “Look, I meant to take it out of them all ages ago.” Dean already read him the riot act for it, thank you very much. “Clearly I missed one. It wasn’t intentional—I don’t actually have a death wish.” Most days, at least. “So are you gonna help or not?”

Fuck Dean, fuck the replacement, and fuck this whole stupid situation. There was no way in hell Jason was going to stay for this little talk that Dean clearly had planned. Tim had obviously gotten suckered into it—maybe he didn’t know about the whole “serious conversations over a meal” thing yet—but Jason was no sucker.

Fingers curled around the doorknob and Jason fully planned on getting the fuck out of there. It didn’t matter what Dean had to say, Jason wasn’t going to listen. But that tone. It made him hesitate, because that was the tone Dean got when he knew something Jason didn’t. When he had the upper hand and he knew it.

Jason didn’t like that tone.

Texts Prompts [TEXT] - we are sophisticated adults ok, Jason?  [TEXT] - last week i purchased a vegetable

[Replacement]: You're like 12 [Replacement]: "Sophisticated adult" my ass [Replacement]: Jesus, that's sad, how have you survived this long?

Send “Stop talking” for your muse to shut mine up with a kiss "Stop talking" (affectionately for Riley duh)

Riley blinks in surprise as Tim’s lips press against hers, effectively silencing her. The suddenness of the kiss is enough to throw her off balance, and for a split second, she just stands there, wide-eyed, thoughts scrambling to catch up. When he pulls away, her mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. It takes a second for the realization of what just happened to hit her.

“Did you…did you seriously just kiss me to shut me up?” she asks incredulously, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of amusement. Sure, she’d been going off on a bit of a rant, but really? Arms cross, eyes narrowing at him, though the corner of her mouth twitches upward. “You know that’s not how conversations work, right? People use words, Timberly.” Thank you, Jason, for that fantastic nickname. “Words.”

She taps her foot lightly, trying to keep up the act of being annoyed, but her heart really isn’t in it. His kiss still lingers on her lips, soft and warm, and no matter how much she tries to focus on her irritation, she can’t help but feel a little flutter in her chest.

He’s clever, she’ll give him that much.

“You think one little kiss is going to make me forget everything I was saying?” she teases, tilting her head. “I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

But looking at him now, seeing the playful glint in his eyes and that small, knowing smile, her resolve crumbles just a little. She sighs heavily, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull herself a bit closer. “You’re lucky you're cute,” she says, kissing his nose. “But we’re definitely still talking about this later. You can’t distract me that easily.” Maybe with quite a bit more kissing, in multiple places, but she doesn’t need to say that.

He already knows.

Prompts That Make Me Go 👀 [ BARE ]: as they get undressed, the sender gently places a soft, tender kiss against the receiver’s bare shoulder. (riley)

Somehow, they’ve managed to keep their relationship (if that’s even the right word for it) from the press, so far. Sure, there are still rumors, and granted, they haven’t been together for long. It hasn’t really been made official, yet—they haven’t done much more than kiss; haven’t really talked about it, or what they are, or anything—but still, they’ve managed to keep it quiet. Apparently, they’re both pretty good actors.

They’re at another gala (when are they not?) tonight. Riley’s been sticking pretty close to Tim’s side ever since that first kiss, though that’s not that uncommon of a sight, so no one seems to question it. They wine and dine and shmooze for what feels like hours, to the point where Riley’s starting to feel a little frazzled and overwhelmed. Tim must notice, because when no one’s looking, he takes her by the hand and sneaks her away.

Handy that this particular gala happens to take place at Wayne Manor.

They wind up in what must be Tim’s room and, as the door shuts behind them, Riley’s able to breathe a sigh of relief. She gives him a small smile, presses a light kiss to his lips as a thank you.

It doesn’t stay that way for long.

The kiss quickly grows heated, hands start to wander, and Riley ends up with her back pressed against a wall. She helps Tim shed his suit jacket, isn’t sure where exactly it ends up, because they’re still kissing and it’s got her a little distracted. There are butterflies in her stomach when she eventually pulls away. Turns her back to him and pulls her hair out of the way. Her cheeks flush, her quiet “Unzip me?” sounding incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room.

There’s only a moment’s pause before he’s touching her again, fingers slowly and gently tugging the zipper of her dress down. He brushes one of the thick straps aside as he does, and she feels him pressing a soft kiss to her now-bare shoulder. Her blush deepens, spreading down her throat. She lets the dress fall to the floor once the zipper’s fully down, fabric pooling around her feet, leaving her in only a strapless bra and her underwear. Turning, she doesn’t actually give him all that long to look, reeling him in by his tie to kiss him again, before she can grow too self-conscious.

Send 🫂 to just hug my muse. No reason. Hug them. 🫂 (jordan)

Alright, so the kid? Not actually a kid, as it turns out. He’s nineteen, apparently—only a year younger than Jordan, talk about a babyface—something he made very clear, very quickly. Also? Guy’s rich as hell. Comes from old money and got adopted by even older money. Tim goddamn Drake. They’d stopped Timothy motherfucking Drake from getting kidnapped, and as a frankly baffling thank you, he’d given them a place to crash for a few days. Money to replace their stolen shit.

Now, Jordan has their pride—no one’s ever accused them of being modest—but they also aren’t stupid. Of course, they’d accepted.

When they had, they knew they couldn’t stay for long. People had definitely recorded them fighting, changing genders, using their powers, and that shit is 100% circling around on the internet by now. Vought will find it and send someone after them any day now. Leaving immediately after the fight and fucking booking it would’ve been the smartest thing to do.

But Jordan’s tired. They’re that bone-weary exhausted that comes from months of constantly looking over their shoulder. From going days on end without rest. From sleeping wherever they could find when they couldn’t stay awake any longer. From sleeping with their shoes on and one eye open. Staying for a day or two (or three or four) and sleeping in an actual bed for once, eating real food, hopefully won’t kill them.

They’re in the kitchen, cooking up a couple of eggs, when they hear the door. They’re switching to their male form before they even turn to see who it is, eyes hardening as they brace for a fight. But it’s just Tim, so they let out the breath they’d been holding and turn back to their eggs. Moments later, skinny arms are wrapped tightly around them and Jordan bluescreens. They stand there, frozen, uncomprehending, not even noticing when their eggs start to burn. “What, uh…” They blink, looking over their shoulder at him in confusion. “What’cha doin’ there, Tim?”

Send 🫂 to just hug my muse. No reason. Hug them. 🫂 (stiles)

There are a lot of things Stiles never expected in life. His mother dying, and hating him for a good chunk time before that. Finding a brother in the asthmatic kid he met on the playground. Lydia Martin giving him the time of day. Werewolves and other supernatural creatures actually existing. Getting possessed by an evil fox spirit and trying to kill everyone he cared about. Actually killing someone he cared about. Winding up in New Jersey, of all fucking places. Somehow becoming frenemies with a vigilante/sort-of CEO.

Waking up wherever the hell he is now, feeling like hot garbage. Said frenemy promptly hugging him the second he sees Stiles is semi-upright. “Uh…” His brow furrows, confusion painting his features. “You good, man? Are you dying? Am I dying?” It’s meant as a joke, but then he realizes he doesn’t really remember what happened to get him here and ice instantly slides down his spine.

The last time he had blackouts he’d been possessed. The last time he had blackouts he’d thought he had frontotemporal dementia. His voice grows serious very quickly, a bit of anxiety leaking into it. “…I’m not actually dying, right?”