Batfamily time travel encounter but it's just a nice timeline.
Jason Todd: So who got to be Batman and fucked up everything because they got evil?
26 year old Damian Wayne: Nobody??? What the fuck?
Steph: So you telling us... There's no evil Batman? No one died?
Duke: Or got evil?
Dick: Or went rogue?
Steph: Or like I don't know- Like- There's like no ass to us to kick? To I don't know- fix up the time line?? No one to *gestures cutting a throat*
Jason: Not even Tim?
Tim: Okay fuck you-
Jason: sOMEONE HAD TO ASK-
26 year old Damian: No. No. No. No. And absolutely not. No one is going to kill Timothy, he's the best at what he does.
Tim, whispering: ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ
8K notes
·
View notes
i would give up so much for some lando & martin from you, birb!!! even if it was from a platonic perspective!!! i love them and their friendship
so a talk with @alexi-01 inspired this one (and your ask of course) so hopefully you like it
He bounces on his toes, lets the bass push through the stage in vibrations he feels all the way to his bones as he jumps in time with the music. Martin looks out over the crowd, lets the noise wash over him in a familiar embrace and he can't help the grin that splits his face.
He keeps one eye on Lando, watches the way his hands move across buttons and switches, a tiny bloom of warmth in his chest at how naturally Lando's come back to it all. He's not perfect, but no one expects him to be and there's a charm to how Lando DJs, something that is simply Lando.
The big screen with the countdown inches closer and closer to midnight, the golden numbers a contrast to the rest of the lights flashing over the crowd. Lando eases the volume, nods to Martin with a cheeky grin and eyes flicking to the microphone in his hand. Martin rolls his eyes but accepts the cue for what it is, stepping in front of the decks to address the crowd.
If he's honest, he's not sure what he says. Some little speech about 2023, and enjoying the time they have left in the year, grab a friend, a stranger, something along those lines. He knows it doesn't really matter.
30 seconds.
He flicks a quick look to the pyrotechnic crew, locks eyes with the woman in charge who just gives him a smile and a thumbs up.
20 seconds.
He's back behind the decks now, the others out in front but Lando by his side. Where he should be, he thinks.
10 seconds, and the crowd picks up the countdown, a drunken chorus that steadily grows as the numbers tick down.
He chances a glance behind them, no cameras, and then there's only three seconds left.
Two. One.
"Happy New Year!"
He ramps the music up with a simple push of a switch, lets it drown out everything else as the pyrotechnic display starts bang on midnight, perfectly timed and flooding the DJ stage with smoke.
Lando's beaming at him, curls falling across his forehead with the heat, mouth extra pink, his eyes watering slightly from the lights and the sound and the late night, and god, he's never looked more beautiful.
Martin casts one more glance around, hoping the smoke is thick enough to hide them as he pulls Lando in close, hands cupping his face. His thumbs line Lando's cheekbones, his fingers resting under Lando's ears as their lips press together.
They pull away just as quickly as they met, Lando yanking Martin into a hug. He buries his face against Martin's neck to hide his flaming cheeks, and to have deniability if anyone were to catch them in this moment.
"Happy New Year Marty." He feels the soft words more than he hears them, and he squeezes Lando tightly.
"Happy New Year Lando."
now up on ao3
35 notes
·
View notes