#[dick is almost certainly nightwing at this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vinelark · 9 months

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6 for the ask meme 😎

6. Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs? If so, elaborate!

oh? is it time? is it time to drop the OCBFEU primer??

in short: yes, last year my friends came up with a whole "what if we invented a boyfriend for jason" "what if we also invented a boyfriend for dick in the same continuity" batfam AU with two (and a half) significant OCs. we write little informal fics for each other about them and my incredibly talented friends draw them and we also have an extended fantasy AU of the boyfriend AU that could fill about three TV seasons of plot so far. i love them. they are constantly rotating in the back of my mind; it's a fun time.

months ago we compiled a document with bios and a rough OC bf timeline (with bonus timkon) and: here it is! (content warning for a (past) emotionally manipulative relationship. also some brief underage drinking.)

Batfamily OCBFEU (OC Boyfriend Extended Universe)

Santi

jason’s OC boyfriend; ship name sanjay

[original santi post] [mammutblog’s santi art tag] [90kon’s santi art tag]

santi, short for santiago

5’7”; has to go up on his tiptoes to kiss jason

line cook by day, taking classes toward his teaching certification by night, also volunteers at an after-school literacy program in park row

gothamite through & through—grew up a few blocks over from jason, though their paths never crossed. has two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother, but is mostly estranged from them after their dad died. money was incredibly tight after that and santi still took odd jobs—including some for the falcones—to help his sister finish med school.

an old soul like jason, aka he’ll use his same phone til it’s a brick and does not understand tiktok despite kids at the program explaining it to him over and over

there’s probably a mildly popular tiktok series one of the kids has of them asking santi questions while santi is in the middle of something at the program, because everyone loves santi and he gives funny answers when he’s distracted

santi does not become a vigilante—he has enough on his plate, he’s (almost) a teacher—but he’s certainly not without his own set of skills. also he talks a very good game and can usually get by without having to physically fight (see: confrontation with nick in the below timeline)

Blue

dick’s OC boyfriend; ship name bluebird

[original blue post] [other original blue post]

ex-talon from an alternate reality

6’5” 😳

in his original universe blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon (in this version talons have boosted strength/healing, and were conditioned/brainwashed into carrying out the court of owls’ assassinations. also golden eyes) and doesn’t remember his name anymore. once he tumbled into this universe after an assignment gone wrong, he was free of the court’s orders and re-education for the first time and started slowly unraveling their mental conditioning

he rarely speaks, and takes a while to consider his words when he does. when he texts it’s mostly emojis because he prefers them

when left to his own devices he’s very gentle and likes to bake

he had short/shaved hair as a talon. once he’s in this world he starts growing it out and prefers it long

he eventually makes an excellent crime-fighting partner for dick; he knows and understands dick’s skills enough to trust him to take care of himself, so they work very well together. that said, if you really hurt nightwing you will be reminded very quickly that blue spent most of his life as a nearly unbeatable assassin.

he eventually takes up the superhero name flamebird to go with nightwing

Nick

tim’s OC ex-boyfriend; no ship name we hate nick

nick is a GU college freshman (18 at the time) tim meets playing tennis at the local rec center while tim is avoiding the manor in the early red hood reconciliation days

at first nick definitely plays into the fact that tim desperately craves attention at this point in his life. nick is at turns overwhelmingly nice and startlingly cold, and more and more often “playfully” mocks tim, dismisses his thoughts because he’s “young” (16 at the time), etc. nick is, essentially, a jerk who, despite—or perhaps due to—being a teenager himself, does everything he can to feel superior to tim.

nick also drags tim along to parties/hangouts with his college friends so he can show off that he’s dating tim drake-wayne. other than late-night parties with his friends, though, he insists on keeping their relationship a secret.

none of the bats know about this as it’s happening; tim eventually breaks it off and pretends it never happened.

rough OCBFEU timeline

jason and santi meet while jason is still sort of on the outs with the family but not in Revenge Mode anymore. first jason meets santi as red hood, and later realizes his main apartment/civilian ID lives in the same building as santi when they run into each other in the elevator.

sanjay identity shenanigans ensue! santi is very taken with red hood. santi thinks his upstairs neighbor “uhh, call me jay” is an inconsiderate dickhead for seemingly working out/moving furniture around at 3am sometimes. seriously, how many muscles does someone need. that’s ridiculous. santi also thinks jay has a very nice smile but that’s irrelevant.

meanwhile tim meets nick at rec center and they date for a few months. it’s not a great time for tim and he eventually breaks it off.

santi starts seeing red hood more because red hood will just. appear and shadow santi when he’s walking home from work late, and helps santi out of a tight spot with some of falcone’s men at one point (we learn santi used to work for falcone a few years ago; he needed the money to put his older sister through med school. santi’s not involved with the mob anymore but the past dogs his heels sometimes). santi and red hood start hooking up, though hood still won’t show his face.

santi volunteers at an after-school literacy program (while taking night classes working toward a teaching certification). one day santi’s neighbor jay shows up to the bake sale fundraising for the after-school program, and they have a cute interaction until there’s a surprise rogue attack and the school goes on lockdown. jay disappears; red hood shows up minutes later, helping santi secure the kids before going after the rogue. red hood gets hurt and in the aftermath santi, patching him up, pieces together that red hood is his neighbor jay.

shortly after this santi gets kidnapped in public along with a random teenager (tim drake) who happened to intervene and get himself kidnapped too. the kidnappers saw santi and hood together after the rogue attack, so they’re trying to get information on hood out of santi. tim runs interference as best he can and takes a few hits as a distraction, and soon enough red hood shows up to dispatch the kidnappers. in the aftermath red hood is cold and snappish to tim (jason thinks tim was stalking santi) (to be fair, tim was) and this leads to santi learning a bit more about jason’s family. this also leads to jason breaking up with santi because it’s too dangerous (for santi) to associate with him.

santi does not agree with this decision, and there’s a lot of pining and angsting until they get their shit together over the course of another few months. coincidentally jason is reconciling with his family in the meanwhile and getting his feet under him emotionally.

once they’re together jason and santi are like. incredibly domestic. totally in rhythm with each other. somehow jason now has the healthiest most settled relationship of any bat.

meanwhile in blüdhaven, blue pops in from an alternate reality where the court of owls rules gotham. blue was taken as a child and turned into a talon; when he’s thrown into this universe, he’s free from the owls’ control for the first time. it’s a rough landing—he ends up being fished out of a dumpster by dick and even though blue runs away, he imprints hard on one dick grayson.

Tim (18 now) realizes his longtime crush on kon might be reciprocated; cue panicking.

tim lies his way into a gay club to Research (because nick always kind of mocked tim for not having dated any guys before him; tim thinks he will have one shot to not disappoint kon so he has to figure shit out). gets drunk, starts making out with someone who is not uhh handling him gently. gets spotted by jason and santi, who are there on what was supposed to be a fun date, and they intervene. at first jason is annoyed, thinking tim’s following him again, and then realizes something is Wrong. he and santi dispatch the asshole other guy, and they bring drunk tim back to crash on jason’s couch.

the next morning tim is hungover at jason’s and mortified. santi makes him sit and eat breakfast and tim is like i’m sorry, i wasn’t even following you guys this time, i swear. which leads to tim haltingly explaining the nick thing. santi and jason (who is lurking in the kitchen listening to this convo) don’t know who this ex guy is yet but they’re gonna kill him ❤️

tim’s net gain for this ill-fated excursion: one (1) splitting headache and one (1) new older brother unit.

meanwhile back in blüdhaven blue is slowly un-conditioning himself, keeping to the shadows, and leaving little gifts on dick’s windowsill. the gifts are like, keychains, a lost earring, a random postcard. all tend to be blue or have blue in them, so dick starts nicknaming this mysterious gift-giver blue.

during patrol a week later jason finds tim on a rooftop and has an awkward but earnest talk with tim about uhh. consent and healthy relationships and stuff okay yeah we’re never talking about this again but also if you ever need anything. call me right away or i’ll kill you. okay good talk.

blue gets invited inside dick’s apartment for the first time. god bless bluebird they’re in their own little world over here.

tim and kon kiss 😳

an anonymous, “scandalous” tabloid story from someone claiming to have dated tim drake-wayne drops. resulting fallout, salacious rumors abound about tim + the waynes, etc. also, obviously, bruce and the family find out about nick. jason and santi figure out who nick is and separately visit him to put the fear of god in him.

nick: what the fuck, are you with the guy from earlier? i got the message! tell that guy i’m moving to star city this fucking weekend!

red hood: what guy

nick: you know the, the guy with the earring and the tattoo and he said if i didn’t lose tim’s number and leave town i’d have an accident

red hood: huh. no, not related. so you never made a deal with me. bummer for you, i still get to break one of your arms.

(jason obviously realizes the other guy was santi so he goes home and climbs into bed where santi’s awake reading and he’s like “productive night?” and jason’s like “mmhm, and i heard you had a productive day” and santi shrugs and then jason kisses the hell out of him)

over in blüdhaven blue witnesses dick get really upset over something (this article) for the first time. dick says “i’m going to be away for a few days but you can stay here while i’m gone, okay?” (when dick returns blue isn’t there but dick’s apartment has been deep-cleaned) (this leads to dick insisting blue stay there more and more until they accidentally end up as roommates)

batfamily deals with the nick aftermath and much-needed convos are had with tim. this also brings santi more into the family fold because everyone approves of him essentially making nick shit his pants.

bruce, up to this point, has been kind of wary of santi solely because santi is NOT immediately impressed with bruce. santi sees bruce as being on thin ice until he gets proof that bruce is in fact doing his best as a parent and then they have a slightly more chill dynamic.

meanwhile in gotham, mid family crisis, dick is having his own crisis/rooftop breakdown with tim and jason about having feelings for blue and going through his gay awakening at the ripe age of 20something and jason is very upset that he has somehow become the to-go gay relationship advice sibling.

because yeah, between dick and jason, JASON’s relationship is the more normal/aspirational one for tim looking for like queer mentors. bluebird is great and perfect for them obviously but they are not a blueprint for anyone else.

dick: [sitting on blue’s shoulder after describing how blue wooed him with random tchotchkes on his windowsill and then moved into a corner of his living room for a month and—] anyway do as i say not as i do

dick literally let a secret organization-trained slightly undead assassin into his house for fun bc he got like a few cool rocks as a gift

if tim asked dick for advice dick would be like “oh shit you like-like him? i just thought you were really touchy friends”

no one should ask bruce for advice, ever

so here jason is, somehow the most stable gay of the family

by the time damian appears with his first crush jason is like [sighs] [gets out the powerpoint]

timkon officially get together!

aaaand then months later dick shows up to family dinner with a giant ex-talon in tow like “heyyyyy guys, so guess what—”

there are also plenty of fun post-timeline adventures like “blue and santi get kidnapped together to target nightwing and red hood; kidnappers regret this almost immediately” and “tim takes blue on restaurant adventures because blue really likes fancy food; one day they run into nick who says something nasty about tim and blue breaks nick’s wrist (tim’s net gain: another older brother unit)” and “santi is frantically trying to catch the bus one night and steps on one of poison ivy’s vines—whoops, it’s sex pollen; santi gets introduced to PAID forms” or, alternately, “jason gets hit with the poison ivy special and that’s how santi finds out he’s on jason’s PAID form” and “bruce and blue surprisingly get along very well and trade sparring tips (meanwhile, bruce is trying so hard to get santi to tolerate him and it’s slow going)” and also “dick realizes everyone else in the world knew he and blue were dating and in love six months before he did.”

extra content:

santi, blue, and kon end up in a robin bf support group gc. one day kon gets added to a group chat that’s just like [(372)846-XXXX and (124)234-XXXX has added you to a group chat] and nothing happens there for like 2 hours he’s just like

kon: ?

kon: hello?

kon: is this spam? is there such a thing as spam gcs?

kon: am i getting blackmailed

kon: how did you get this number??

(blue added kon while santi is in school)

the gc also ends up nonstop unintentional comedy due to their communication styles. kon’s gen z (👍 = declaration of war) and santi is technologically elder millennial/boomer (thought 🙂 was a normal smiley until corrected)—but blue is none of the above. blue knows the nuances of every emoji but has no social rules for using them. he’s an emoji artist. he is unbound.

from @90kon, in a version of the timeline where santi hasn’t seen jason’s face/doesn’t know his name before their sort-of breakup:

after their not-yet-together-break-up they should have an argument. like santi confronts jason about him saying he doesn’t want this thing between them to go on but wont give santi an honest answer but also keeps lurking and santi cant move on like that. bc either he’s done with him or he’s not. and umm yeah jason is not rly saying much but eventually santi is like alright. just tell me this: do you want this or not? forget about everything else…do you want me? and santi barely has time to finish his question before jason says yes. in a tight voice. i want you so much it scares the shit out of me. and ummm well eventually santi is like look. you can have me. but i have conditions.

and he’s like. whatever idk uhh don’t lurk out my window unless you’re gonna come in. dont investigate me; if you want to know something, just ask. at the end he should say "and i need a name. it doesn't have to be your full name or anything, but i need to call you something other than red." and jason is quiet for so long santi sighs and is like. "yeah i didn’t actually think that one was gonna fly. whatever, forget i said--" and jason says "jay." like it just slips out of him. and santi stills, looks at him, and from the way jason said it he somehow knows it's real. it could be short for any number of names but it's real. so he repeats it. "jay."

family game night from @mammutblog:

collected OCBFEU tag

[OC boyfriends created in a lab by @90kon, @mammutblog, @cairoscene, @vinelark, @feyburner, @bluecrystalrainingdaggers!]

#OCBFEU #is there any purer form of fandom than making up a guy and letting your friends give him trauma #and romance #anyway yeah. the OCs.#my fic #asks #batfam #as soon as i saw your ask i was like !! the primer!!#jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake

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cuephrase · 2 months

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i didn't realize this needed to be said, but jason doesn't die at the end of UTRH?? not in the comics, or in the movie. and on top of him not dying, bruce does not kill him??

like, this is most obvious in the movie. jason isn't suffering from any potentially life threatening injuries when the building blows up, bruce grabs (or attempts to grab) him, and then they get separated in the explosion. bruce digs through the rubble looking for him and doesn't find him. ambiguous, yes. and there is no sequel to the movie to like definitely prove that he's alive in that universe, but bruce doesn't find his body which is superhero logic 101 for 'this character isn't dead'.

moving on to the comics.

now, this is...not a great look. i'm not a medical professional, okay, and it's not the clearest shot, so i can't sit here and claim with 100% confidence that jason's carotid artery did not get cut in some way. but i can reasonably assume it wasn't, because, well, look:

do you see how deep inside the artery is? and again, not the clearest shot, but it looks like if the batarang was to hit anything, it would probably be the jugular vein.

the jugular vein being cut would bleed a LOT. but, and just to remind you, i am not a medical professional, it would almost definitely not be fatal. while it bleeds a lot, it doesn't bleed enough fast enough. (but that's so much blood!!! yeah ik. it's a comic book. they like drama.) and, if the victim is able to put pressure on the wound, that reduces the bloodflow a lot and the blood is able to clot better, etc. we see jason do exactly that. the amount of blood on the floor doesn't appear to increase a whole lot from the initial gush either. he'd still need medical attention, don't get me wrong, but he's not dying from that.

we can't even assume that he's dead when he drops to the floor because if you pay attention to the panels, jason's moving. his back is initially facing the joker and then by the last panel his back is facing bruce.

anyways, joker blows the building, and we see no bodies. just bruce's silhoutte in the wreckage in one panel, and the narration is cryptic and foreboding. ambiguous, certainly leaves room for fans to come in and what if?

but dc answers the question about whether or not jason is alive almost immediately. i say almost because infinite crisis takes over immediately after batman 650. because of this, there is no neat follow through directly after the events of utrh, because instead we get One Year Later. (they just went big event!! no resolution!! gap year!! perfection!! pure brilliance.) so does jason pop up in batman's first issue OYL? no, but he does in nightwing's. dick seems somewhat surprised to see him, but i honestly think it has more to do with dick being surprised that the person running around nyc killing people in a nightwing costume is jason than him being surprised jason is alive.

so we know he lives. big whoop. how the hell do i know that he didn't just get dragged into another Lazarus Pit for a refresh while infinite crisis was happening? i don't. i mean, if i remember correctly, all the pits were destroyed by bruce and bane, except one, and at the time i don't think the location is known? point is, would've been hard to get to one.

but the biggest reason, aside from everything else, the way i know jason did not die temporarily again in the comics, is that it requires assuming one of three equally improbable outcomes.

outcome 1: jason doesn't survive the explosion, because he's incapacitated and bruce tries to save him, but fails. why is this improbable? because literally what is the point in telling that story again if you're just going to have jason pop up alive again basically as soon as he can. bruce certainly feels like he's lost jason post-UTRH, but not in a my-son-is-dead way, in a my-son's-lost-his-way way.

outcome 2: jason doesn't survive the explosion, because he's incapacitated and bruce chooses not to save him in that moment. bruce, who has only gotten himself into that situation to begin with because he was trying to save his son, decides to let him die at the last moment. bruce, who has been haunted by finding jason's body in the smoldering remains of a warehouse for years, allows history to repeat itself when he's right there and he can save him this time. bruce, who will always try to save someone, even the joker, even if it means risking his life.

outcome 3: the batarang sliced jason's carotid artery and he bled out and died...at the hand's of batman. batman, who does not kill. batman, who has never killed. batman, who refuses to take life, decides to break his one rule in the spur of the moment to kill his son and save the joker? oh, but, maybe it was an accident. maybe he didn't mean to cut jason that deeply with the batarang. maybe, for the first time in batman's many years of precise batarang throwing, he messes up and whoopsie, kills someone.

maybe, let's set the batarang down for a sec and pick up occam's razor- we know that jason is alive post-utrh. there is a crap ton of hoops to be jumped through and rules broken to explain how jason might've died, and then you've got to figure out how he's alive again. it's a much simpler path of logic to follow that jason was injured, survived the explosion, and that is how he is still alive post-UTRH.

look. you can dislike how bruce chose to handle jason's ultimatum. you can explore the what-if-it-had-happened-this-way in fanfic or posts. but you cannot claim that jason canonically died at the end of Under the Red Hood. it's just not true. and claiming it's true directly contradicts immutable canon foundations. there is a lot you can say about bruce wayne, about batman, that are canonically true, but he is not a murderer.

plus, i mean, c'mon, if jason had died at bruce's hands, do you really think he'd never bring that up? you really think his petty, dramatic ass would keep his mouth shut about his father killing him to save the joker? you think the hero community would find out that batman killed his son and just be casual about it?

from here (Green Arrow #70), we at least know that ollie knows about their fight, which if he knows the whole justice league probably knows. (there might be a comic out there were bruce discusses it with them, idk.) it seems like ollie was under the impression that jason was dead again, or maybe not in good enough shape to be running around in a costume. interpret as you want. ollie being under the impression that jason is dead would fall under outcome 1 imo, maybe 2 if you want to imagine that bruce fudged some details when he filled in the other heroes, if you're assuming he decided to do that. i haven't read a whole lot of comics where bruce is interacting with non-gotham heroes, but it is my understanding that bruce is not exceptionally forthcoming with info. personally, i think ollie asking for clarification comes more from a place of green arrow writers not assuming that green arrow readers know what's up with batfam comics, but that they might've heard about UTRH and so they're just going, yep there was an explosion, no jason isn't dead. bottomline- there's no way ollie will be working with bruce, especially with mia, if he thinks bruce is a killer.

look. you can dislike how bruce chose to handle jason's ultimatum. you can explore the what-if-it-had-happened-this-way in fanfic or posts. but you cannot claim that jason canonically died at the end of UTRH. it's just not true. and claiming it's true directly contradicts immutable canon foundations. there is a lot you can say about bruce wayne, about batman, that are canonically true, but you cannot say he is a murderer.

#jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #under the red hood #dc comics #engage with canon as much or as little as you please #headcanon what you want #but if you're going to make claims about canon please don't spread outright lies #there's plenty of canon angst and trauma in jason and bruce's relationship #i promise #bruce doesn't need to kill him #for things to be rocky

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celaenaeiln · 6 months

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You know what’s interesting I recently remembered regarding Dick’s methods compared to Bruce;

Canonically, touching any sort of firearm, especially say a revolver/pistol, is almost certainly out of the question fir Bruce due to that weapon being what caused to lose his parents in Crime Alley in the first place

Dick, on the other hand, he’ll be likely to use rope burning acid, the original way Boss Zucco caused the Flying Graysons’ ‘accident’, for escape purposes and have no issue with it.

A perfect example is in the Grayson tie in to the (craptacular but I digress) Event Maxi Series Futures End. Long story incredibly short, Dick used that very acid Zucco used to slip out of a noose he was left in and live to fight another ray

Thoughts on this?

this scene

Grayson: Futures End

Dick has no reservation about doing whatever he wants. He's absolutely fearless and the only reason the world is still standing is because he's busy playing by Bruce's rules.

There's a scene in Blackest Night: Batman where Dick and Damian have to gear up to fight a mass horde of intelligent zombifies. And Dick brings Damian to the Amry Reserve National Guard Armory

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #2

Damian makes a very good point - guns are on the don't use list. Except Dick has always been the best at walking the line. Bending the rules.

No guns? No problem.

Blackest Night: Batman Issue #2

Let's use flamethrowers instead.

This is what makes Dick such a good batman. Bruce has always been terrified of losing control. He firmly believes that once someone crosses the line, they can never come back. This is also why he grapples so hard with guilt over Jason's actions because in his own words, "Jason can do things Batman can't." So in an imaginary field, Bruce is standing on pristine white marble on the right, Jason is standing on pure black marble on the left, and in between them, on a line of gray marble, stands Dick.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #4

Which is the point he's making here. Dick plays both sides.

Batman (2016) Issue #66

The faceless man asks Selina, "He can't be happy and be Batman?" In similar words, she agrees.

Bruce believes that he can't be happy because he's Batman. But Dick was able to accomplish both.

Batman (1940) Issue #697

That's why he succeeded at being Batman. He wasn't wrecked with guilt at what he needed to do but he also wasn't caring of the citizens he needed to protect.

Dick's methods are gray. He weaves between the lines to do what needs to be done but never crosses them to the point of no return. He uses intimidation and fear and morally ambiguous methods but he's in control the whole time which is what makes him so good. He will always do what is right but the way he does it is what makes him so fun to read.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #batman dick grayson #cl paladin of nerd fandom65 asks #thanks for the ask!

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zahri-melitor · 7 months

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So I’m going to provide Potted Fanon Histories, one character at a time. Putting this all into a single timeline was too messy. If you have additions to give, would love to hear them.

Let’s start with Robin One, DICK GRAYSON.

Dick, 8-12: Haly's Circus. (Exactly who is in the crowd is up for debate. Definitely Bruce. Arguably half of DC at this point)

Dick, 8-12: Dick becomes Robin. Exactly how old Dick is for this varies depending on if the writer wants to think about Tiny Child Dick.

Dick, 14-15: Teen Titans get together. The line up of this Titans may vary but frequently looks far more NTT than Fab Five. Garth for instance is almost certainly not present.

Dick, 18-20: Bruce fires Dick or has a massive fight with him (it’s definitely getting fired, Dick does not quit), usually over Dick being attacked by the Joker. Sometimes over Dick being shot by Two-Face.

Dick’s time as Robin: largely an impenetrable black hole. He and Bruce did everything together, they were the best, etc etc. Dick calls Clark “Uncle Clark” and Diana “Aunt Diana”. Only storylines referenced will be sneaking out to try and kill Zucco, and maybe the Hanging Judge with Two-Face.

Dick’s time with the Teen Titans: As likely to just be ‘remembered highlights of Teen Titans 2003 (cartoon)’ as actual comics events, but if they are comics events it’s the highlights of NTT: Trigon, Brother Blood, Judas Contract, plus Snowbirds Don’t Fly. They’re based in New York. Dick’s closest friendship is with Wally.

Optional teen Dick storyline: ‘Dick was Slade’s apprentice!’ via some horrible mashing of Devin Grayson’s Renegade arc with TT03 (cartoon)’s Red X arc. Dick spent 6 months or so under Slade’s mental control.

Second optional teen Dick storyline: AU where he was a Talon

Dick, 20: after being fired/fighting with Bruce, Dick becomes Nightwing and moves to Bludhaven immediately. He is either working as a gymnastics teacher or training to become a cop.

Dick, still 20: goes on a ski trip with Jason.

Dick, 21: probably was a relationship with Kory. They broke up. The reasons why are unknown, or implied to be due to Mirage. If you’re really lucky there’s a joke about the wedding. (yes. Events happen in this listed order)

Dick, 21: in space when Jason dies. Has a guilt complex over this forever.

Dick, mid 20s: tried to kill the Joker at some point. The Joker lived. Little context is given for this other than maybe mentioning that Joker mentioned Jason’s death. This is the single event that has occurred during the 90s and 2000s between ADITF and UTRH.

Dick, mid 20s: is (probably) a cop. Conflict with Blockbuster, Blockbuster dies, Dick is ‘raped in the rain’ by Catalina Flores. Whether anyone remembers she is Tarantula is up for debate. This is the single thing Catalina ever does.

Subsequent to this, Dick’s just…hanging around Gotham and Bludhaven. Not a single event in Nightwing vol 1 after Nightwing 93 occurs. He’s around the Batcave helping Bruce track Jason down during Under the Red Hood.

Dick, slightly later mid 20s: becomes Batman while Bruce is dead. Insert preferred flavour of Red Robin 1 angst here. Battle for the Cowl may happen, but if it does the only aspect of it involving Dick was that Dick was reluctant to become Batman.

Dick mid 20s: raises Damian all on his own! They become incredibly close immediately and Damian never bonds properly with Bruce or SHOULD do so, as Dick’s Damian’s real dad.

Dick later 20s: Spyral arc MAY have happened. It was traumatic. Dick is now back as Nightwing.

Dick, currently: Dick has remained Nightwing since either stopping being Batman or since Spyral. No other events have occurred. He lives in Bludhaven, drops in at the Manor constantly and cheerfully teases his brothers. He may have shared custody of Damian and be living at the Manor with him part time.

Dick, currently: is in a relationship with pick one - Barbara, Kory or Wally. If in a relationship with Wally, no event in the Flash has ever occurred. Linda who?

#potted bat fanon histories

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sassydefendorflower · 17 days

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for the reverse tropes - I would love to see some bat related nursing home au, that just sounds amazing lol

"If you steal my favorite checkers game one more time, Hood, I will personally make sure the staff finds your switchblades."

Dick "Nightwing" Grayson leaned back in the most comfortable armchair in the common room of the Batmania Nursing Home in Gotham City. Across the table sat Jason Todd, often referred to as Red Hood, since - according to his own fairy tales - he used to be a feared gangster, back before the second hip replacement and the accident on the ice skating rink.

"As if. Nobody's afraid of you, twinkletoes. Just because you used to do gymnastics... doesn't mean jackshit now." Jason pointed the cane leaning next to Dick's chair, an elegant thing made from mahogany, it's handle shaped like a bird about to take flight.

"Gentleman, let's try to get along, yes? Anyone up for a game of chess?" Barbara Gordon's white hair was bound back into a stern up-do, the young nurse wheeling her towards the table barely visible in the presence of Batmania's very own Oracle. Rumor had it that there was nothing Barbara didn't know - and so far that had held true.

"I don't think we have time for chess today, Babs."

"Why? Are you scared, Grayson?"

"No, today is Thursday."

"Ah, you're right." Barbara smiled, all three of them having come into the common room for a reason after all. Jason had even put down his book (some brick by David Graeber), another weapon surely hidden somewhere on his body, in anticipation of what was to come.

Because on Thursdays all three of them welcomed their favorite visitor.

Young Timothy Drake, almost twenty by now. He'd started coming around some years ago, as an afterschool project his parents signed him up to, and now he visited once a week just to see his three favorite old-timers.

And it was quite obvious why they enjoyed his presence so much.

He talked to them.

Better yet, he told them stories.

"Okay, so last time I was here, Red Hood had just returned from the dead to lay claim on Gotham and take revenge on Batman, yes?"

"Finally someone appreciates how badass I am."

"You're not, Todd."

Dick grinned, leaning forward as if to hear Tim better, even though his hearing hadn't left him yet. Jason flipped him off, not daring to loudly interrupt again out of fear that Tim would stop his story.

"Well, the Red Hood is certainly trying to appear daunting in this particular story."

"And where am I in this, Tim?"

"Oh, Oracle is busy in her tower. Have I never told you about the Birds of Prey?"

Timothy Drake was smiling, the rapt attention of his audience invigorating. Barbara shook her head, and he took her hand, ready to guide her into the favorite part of this majestic and heroic universe he had created specifically for them:

Batman. Nightwing. Red Hood. Robin. And, of course, Oracle.

A story just for them.

I hope you enjoyed that :D It was certainly fun to come up with!!!! And thank you so much!! <3 <3 <3

(send me a Reverse Trope Writing Prompt with a fandom and a set of characters and I'll write something small for you)

#ask game #dc #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #barbara gordan #tim drake #batfamily #writing prompts #reverse prompts #nursing home au #my writing #emu94blue #thank you so much!!! <3 <3 <3

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galaxymagitech · 19 days

Text

Bleed the Poison Out

Written for Dick Grayson Anniversary Week: Day 3 Prompt: Apologizing to Dick

@dickgraysonweek

Summary

When is an apology not an apology?

Bruce apologizes to Dick. The apology turns into an argument and the argument turns into another apology. Standing on the smoking dumpster-fire of the past, Dick tries to find a way on. Two steps forwards, one step back.

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Discussions of physical and emotional abuse, possibly depiction of emotional abuse.

Dick drives home in the rain. It’s a good thing that there aren’t very many cars on the highway at this time of night, because he’s doing a pretty poor job of keeping his eyes on the road.

The car skids through a puddle, throwing up a dirty, toxic spray of water onto his windows. Dick ignores it and tries to keep his hands from shaking on the wheel. Things had been going well, damn it! He’d been trying, Bruce had been trying. Batman and Nightwing. Batman and Batman. Surely, the two of them can get along if they just put their fucking minds to it.

But Damian had needled and Jason had raged and Tim had gotten that closed-off look of his and Duke had thrown up his hands in disgust and stormed out, and that had left Dick and Bruce standing on opposite sides of the cave, tempers high and rising higher.

It hadn’t gone well. The fight wasn’t even supposed to be about the two of them, but Dick couldn’t resist bringing up old arguments, could he? It didn’t matter that he was right, they had fucking moved on, and—

Dick swerves, ignoring his turn signal as he crosses over a lane and then onto an exit in an almost 90 degree angle. The momentum throws him against his seat, but he makes it out into Blüdhaven. He needs to focus and leave the self-reflection for when he’s not manning a several-ton souped-up vehicle.

---

Twenty minutes later, Dick enters his apartment, tossing his keys on the table by the entrance with a tired sigh. Immediately, he feels on edge. There’s someone else here with him. It could be one of his siblings, it could be Deathstroke, it could be anyone, but—but it’s probably Bruce. The World’s Greatest Detective can’t ever just leave things be, can he?

That’s not fair. Dick doesn’t leave things alone either. It’s just that he normally waits until the argument’s already started to bring shit up instead of seeking out fights.

He catches a glimpse of a suspiciously-Bruce-shaped shadow and forces himself to relax. If this fight is going to get nasty again, he deserves a cup of coffee first.

Unfortunately, Bruce clearly doesn’t have the same plan, shifting silently out of the darkness.

“Hey,” Dick says, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. He steps into the kitchen and considers the table. There are five chairs, which isn’t enough for all his siblings, but it’s all that could fit. When the Titans are over or there’s a large Batkid gathering, they normally hang out in the living room, sprawled all over the couch and the softest rug Dick could find. It’s now covered in stains, mostly pizza sauce (and some blood, not that the stains look much different), but is still just as soft as it was when he bought it.

“Dick,” Bruce says quietly. Bruce, because the man surprisingly isn’t wearing his Batman suit. Dick resists the urge to comment on it.

“Bruce,” Dick responds, because he likes being difficult.

“Sit down,” Bruce says. Dick bristles. He knows that’s just how Bruce talks a lot of the time, short and to the point, but this is Dick’s apartment and he’s certainly not going to let Bruce stand over him while he yells.

“You sit down,” Dick says tiredly. Surprisingly, Bruce…does. He takes a seat at the table, facing the wall, hands clasped together. Dick cautiously walks around the table and sits across from him. He can see all the exits in the room, but Bruce is between him and them. Was that purposeful? Everything is purposeful, with Bruce, but Dick should probably give him the benefit of the doubt. Bruce is paranoid as hell and would prefer to be sitting where Dick is, with a clear view of everything. Dick in-between him and the exit wouldn’t even be a consideration for Bruce. It shouldn’t be a consideration for Dick, not in his own fucking apartment, where he should be able to kick Bruce out if he feels trapped with him. But if Bruce wants to talk, he’ll talk, and now Dick can’t storm out without getting his path blocked.

For a moment, Dick considers voicing his thought process out loud. He’s well aware of how crazy it sounds, thinking about exits and danger and seating preferences like this. And he kind of wants to shove that in Bruce’s face, like, look, look what I’m thinking about, is that normal, Bruce?

But he doesn’t say a word, just watches Bruce until his mentor is ready to speak. Dick’s paranoia is more of a reflection on himself than a judgement on Bruce.

“Are we okay?” Bruce asks.

What a stupid question. An hour ago, they were wrapped up in a vicious screaming match. “What do you think, B?” Dick deflects.

“I want us to be okay,” Bruce tells him earnestly. “I…you brought up a lot, when we talked.” Talked. That’s one word for it. More like screamed at the top of their lungs. “I didn’t know all that was still weighing on you. Some of what you said, it’s been years.” That sounds like an accusation. “I’m concerned.”

“It’s not like we ever talk about things after the fact,” Dick says. “What, do you think I’m going to just get over things? Well, that’s not how it works, B—” He cuts himself off before he says more. If he continues speaking, he’ll get patronizing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dick snorts. Does he want to talk about it? Of course he does, but every time he brings up past disputes, it just makes the present ones worse. “You know,” Dick says, “I think we could’ve been fine if you just apologized. But you never did.” Thrown in there is the assumption that Bruce owes him an apology. It’s so out of nowhere that Dick can feel tiny electric spikes prickling across his sweaty palms. Bruce won’t take this lying down.

“I’m.” Bruce looks down at his hands. Up. Meets Dick’s eyes so intensely that it’s painful, and then says three words. “I’m sorry, Dick.”

And. And. And—

And something inside him sinks and something inside him floats and he feels like he’s been crushed even as he’s cleaved in two. This is all Dick has ever wanted to hear. The fact that Bruce is saying it is miraculous. Dick never would have expected this. He expected another argument at worst, and at best a simple handoff of a case with the implicit message that he’s still allowed in Gotham. Not an apology. So, it’s amazing, it really is. But it’s not enough.

Too little, too late, Dick wants to say, but that’s not really fair, is it? And he wants to say it, but he doesn’t want to mean it. Just say it because he could mean it, and then watch Bruce’s face fall, and then reconcile. That’s cruel of him. He shouldn’t be trying to cause pain. He should be trying to fix this. This is the best opportunity he’s gotten to fix things in years, maybe since Jason’s death. He does want to fix this, right?

“You have to say it’s not my fault.” The words slip out before Dick can even realize he’s about to say them. Immediately, he winces at how childish he sounds. He’s adding on requirements, moving the goalposts. And yet, he’s spent years trying to apportion the blame for their every fight, and this could settle that once and for all. Dick needs this.

There’s a long pause, and Dick thinks that maybe this is where Bruce draws the line. But then—“It wasn’t your fault that I…hurt you,” Bruce agrees.

“Get out,” Bruce had ordered.

“I’m not going until you get your head out of your ass.”

“Get out, now, before I get you out!”

And Dick, well, he could never do anything but pick at a scab until it bleeds. “Yeah, how’s that work? Going to hit me, Bruce? Wouldn’t be the first time!”

Wouldn’t be the first time Dick has brought that up in an argument, either. But it’s the first time Bruce hadn’t just shot right past it. Tonight is the first time Bruce is actually acknowledging it.

Dick closes his eyes. He should be watching Bruce, soaking in every second of this. After all, he’s only going to get this apology once. But Dick can’t bear to look at him.

“Do you even understand what you’re apologizing for?” Dick pushes. “Is this about me, about us, or is it you just being upset about your lack of self-discipline?” He doesn’t mean to, he swears. He never means to start a fight, to turn what should be a conversation into an argument, but he always does it anyway. It’s a twisted talent for incitation and escalation, his dramatic stage presence turned toward making his life hell. But no—he’s the one speaking. He can’t pin his constant confrontational attitude on something nebulous like “stage presence.” He has to take responsibility. Dick knows exactly what he’s doing, and he can’t—no, he doesn’tstop.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Bruce says quietly. “You’ve made a valid point that I’ve ignored your boundaries. And when you confronted me after—after Jason’s death, I…shouldn’t have hurt you.”

A valid point. Like Bruce is the final arbiter of that, judge and jury and his executioner’s axe is hanging right over Dick’s neck. It grates on him and his hands twitch, begging to curl into fists. Instead, he smooths them out palm-down on the table and presses lightly, enough to soothe himself without becoming threatening. Bruce doesn’t mean anything by the phrasing, it’s basically like lawyer language, carefully worded so as not to offend. Like Dick is a bomb that can be set off at any moment. The pressure of his hands on the table is the only thing holding his anger in. A valid point. Boundaries. Hurt you. Dick snorts. “Call it what it is, B. You hit me.”

Bruce, to his credit, doesn’t deny it. “Yes.”

How dare he be so calm? Dick is fighting everything in him not to yell right now, not to scream and fight and shout. And maybe that’s a sign that he’s everything that’s wrong in their not-quite-father-son relationship, because Bruce is sitting there calmly and apologizing even as Dick gives him a hard time about everything. “You hit me more than that. You didn’t mention those. Just right after Jason.”

“Once more,” Bruce says. “I’ve hit you twice and I—I apologized for the second time.”

The second time—though Dick isn’t even entirely sure it’s the second time, too many alternate timelines and ambiguous mental influence situations warping everything, making it impossible to keep count (and there’s a subtle sort of horror there, that he has to keep count)—the second time, Dick hit first. Bruce was being an asshole, abandoning his civilian identity and the entire family along with it, but Dick hit him first, and he hasn’t exactly apologized for it either. “I don’t care about that one. I attacked you. You defended yourself. It’s fine. You didn’t even need to apologize. But when you—when you thought Gordon was dead…I tried to stop you from going too far, and you hit me. I was just trying to help.”

“I’m sorry if you feel hurt by that, but—”

“I do,” Dick interrupts. How is Bruce supposed to apologize if Dick keeps interrupting? “I do feel hurt, because I was hurt, because you hit me. It’s not if.”

Bruce exhales. “I’m sorry that you feel hurt by that incident, but I threw you off me, Dick. I didn’t hit you.”

The funny thing is, Dick thinks, as the static fills his ears, I don’t think he’s lying. Bruce has never been one for lies. He’ll say he doesn’t care about emotions or something, but it’s about the words, not getting people to believe them. He’s as transparent as glass on that. And he’ll trick villains, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t lie about stuff like this. Dick’s good at reading people—he has to be. So, as he looks at Bruce’s face, he can confidently say that Bruce isn’t lying.

But Dick isn’t lying either, because he remembers it.

Dick should drop this. He has an apology, he has Bruce saying it wasn’t Dick’s fault, he has Bruce admitting it, mostly. Dick got what he wanted, or close enough, and he should just end the conversation here.

But Dick can’t seem to stop pushing. “You definitely hit me, B!”

“Are we really going to do this?” Bruce asks.

Dick stands up, his chair loudly scraping against the floor. He’s escalating again. He knows that, but it—it isn’t enough to make him stop. His heart clenches. It feels like the blood in it has turned to oil, slick and sickening. Everything feels so wrong. “Yes, we’re going to do this! I’m not lying, I’m—”

“I’m not accusing you of lying.” Bruce is still so fucking calm.

Dick hates when he’s like this, because sometimes Bruce is a raging storm and then sometimes it’s like he’s the most reasonable person in the universe. Dick never knows which version of his father he’s going to get. And when he gets one of them, he never knows if he’s just imagining the other.

“I’m saying that it was a complicated situation, and—”

“No!” Dick is breathing heavily and his voice is far too loud. Because he can’t listen, he doesn’t want to listen, he can’t listen, if he listens then he’ll start to believe it and he knows he’s right. But avoiding evidence is a sign of fearing the truth, and that’s not something a detective should ever do. Is Dick wrong? Mistaken? Accidentally trying to trick Bruce into believing something that isn’t true?

No. Deep breaths. Form an argument. Context clues. Dick can prove it, to himself and to Bruce.

“I had blood on my face, because you hit me. And I’m certain I did because I remember smelling it, tasting it. And Babs asked me what happened and I remember thinking, I don’t want to lie to her, and then doing it anyway. Where do you think that came from? My face just decided to injure itself after you politely pushed me off?”

“You’re arguing against a strawman—of course your face didn’t just injure itself. But I know I didn’t hit you.” It’s clear Dick’s sarcasm has gotten a rise out of Bruce, because Dick can hear the tension simmering in Bruce’s voice, watch his shoulders move from his normal awkward stiffness into something ready for offense. “Hitting someone in the face isn’t an effective way to stop them from pulling you away. I wouldn’t have hit you, it would be illogical.”

“Bruce, you weren’t thinking reasonably. I know what happened!”

“And I know what happened too. I’m telling you the truth, Dick. Please believe me on this.”

“But I’m telling you the truth! And you’re telling me—what, my memories are wrong? Come on, Bruce.”

“I am Batman.” Yeah, I fucking know that, no way do you think my memory sucks that much, Dick thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Sarcasm makes Bruce bristle, and Dick really needs to stop pushing things. Not that he’s. You know. Actually stopping. “I’ve trained for years to perfectly remember combat situations.” But not when he’s emotionally compromised. Not when he doesn’t want to remember. “I’m sorry I threw you off of me, but I won’t apologize for something that you’re misremembering. And I won’t let you force me to doubt my own memories.”

Dick lets out a hollow laugh, more for show than anything else. They’re dancing around the word, Dick knows, refusing to call it what it is. And suddenly, Dick can’t stand that. “You’re seriously accusing me of gaslighting you?”

“And what, you think it’s the other way around? I’ve made mistakes, Dick, but that is not something that I do.”

Dick throws his hands into the air. “I don’t know what to think!” He needs to calm down. This was supposed to be Bruce apologizing, and he’s ruining it. “I don’t know what to think,” he repeats more quietly, forcing himself to sit down. It sets him on edge. Batman—Bruce—is still blocking the exits. But he sits. “Okay,” Dick says. He breathes and imagines all the anger leaving his lungs. “I remember what I remember and…you remember what you remember. And neither of us are going to change our minds. So it…it is what it is.” He pivots. “But what about the tooth?”

“The tooth?” Bruce asks, and he’s back to being so fucking calm that Dick wants to sock him in the jaw and, well. If he feels like that, maybe he should have some empathy for what Bruce has to deal with when Dick’s being difficult. And, as this conversation is showing, Dick sure puts in an effort to be difficult. But, difficult or not, he’s still going to say his piece.

“You punched me hard enough that I lost a tooth, Bruce, what do you think I’m talking about?”

“I had to prove—”

“There’s such a thing as an X-ray.”

“I couldn’t risk—”

“No.”

“I didn’t have time—”

“No.”

“You wouldn’t have—”

“No.”

Dick can feel his heart beating too fast, can feel the rush it gives him to listen to Bruce try to defend himself and cut him off at every turn. But that’s not good. That’s not right, Dick shouldn’t be enjoying this, shouldn’t be playing like this is some sort of game, shouldn’t—

“Three times,” Bruce agrees quietly. “Three times. Dick, I—”

“And Spyral?” Dick asks. “What about in the cave, Bruce? Because what you did then…”

“We sparred,” Bruce says, but his face is closed-off.

“Some spar.”

“You wrapped your hands.”

Dick hadn’t remembered that part. But thinking back…Bruce was right. He did wrap his hands. Why had he done that? Why had he given up the one thing that would defend him now, show Bruce that this was wrong? By wrapping his hands, he had made it a spar. He had agreed to participate. It’s not fair to Bruce to pretend otherwise. But… “I asked to stop fighting.” But that’s wrong, isn’t it? He said no, he asked Bruce what was going on, he made it clear he wanted to stop, but he didn’t say that exactly. He wrapped his hands and he fought back. Fuck, he just lied, didn’t he? Dick just lied, but he didn’t mean to.

“You asked not to go to Spyral. You never tapped out.”

And yet… “I didn’t hit back until you sent me flying off a platform into Jason’s memorial. That’s not a spar, Bruce. I wasn’t fighting. You were, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t fair.”

“Dick.”

Dick feels himself falter. Like a marionette with his strings cut, his head tips down to hang loosely over the table. Slowly, he brings a hand to cover his face. It’s humiliating, it’s weakness, but he just. He just needs a moment. “I didn’t want to fight you, Bruce,” he says eventually.

“You could have said that.”

“Would you have listened? You sure didn’t listen the other times I’ve tried to talk to you. I wrapped my hands, I’ll admit it, I’m not being unreasonable Bruce, but I agreed to a spar, not a beating. I wanted to tap out. But.” Dick’s losing the thread. He was saying something really important, but he can’t remember where he was going. “I wanted to tap out,” he repeats. “I wanted to tap out, but I didn’t think I could. And you just kept hitting.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Dick.”

“I want…” It’s not about what Bruce is saying. He apologized. He said it wasn’t Dick’s fault. But Dick kept pushing for more and more and more. Because it wasn’t enough. Because it was just words. “I want you to be sorry.”

Fuck, Dick sounds like the Red Hood right now. Except, Jason’s grievances are legitimate and Dick’s…well, it’s not that his aren’t, he really hopes he’s in the right here, but his are certainly less important.

“I want you to hit me again,” he admits. It comes out of nowhere, but it’s not a lie. Because if Bruce just…just hit him. Now. After Spyral. Not under mind control. No Court of Owls, or dead sons, or dead friends, or justification. If Bruce just hit him, Dick would be right. He would know. And he tries to be a good person, a good leader, a good son, but he can’t get rid of that insufferable need to be right. Then again, Dick’s been scorning every single one of Bruce’s attempts to make things right this conversation. He’s been provoking Bruce at every turn, like it’s some sort of game. If Bruce hit him now, it probably wouldn’t change anything. Dick would be upset, but he’d know that he was also being an asshole and, when it came down to it, it was mostly his fault.

Bruce agreed it wasn’t, something in him says. But Bruce didn’t mean that.

“Dick…” Bruce says quietly. He sounds. He sounds devastated. And all Dick can think is good, and yeah, Dick’s definitely being an asshole right now. What kind of kid—not that Dick is a kid, but he sure feels like one right now—what kind of kid wants his father to hit him? What kind of kid says that out loud?

“I want to forgive you,” Dick says, “but I can’t forgive you if I can’t figure out if there’s something to forgive.”

The two of them are quiet for a long time. Dick doesn’t have anything else to say. He didn’t start this. He’s not the one who broke into his apartment and forced a conversation. And Bruce…

Dick watches his father sit still as a statue, clearly searching for words he doesn’t have.

Eventually, Bruce swallows visibly. “There is,” he says quietly. “I never meant for things to end up like this.”

Like what? Dick sitting across from him in an apartment a city away? All things considered, this is a pretty alright way for it to have gone. Dick could be away with the Titans permanently. They could be completely estranged. Dick could be dead.

“I should have adopted you earlier,” Bruce says, out of nowhere. “I shouldn’t have told you that you weren’t welcome in the Manor. I should never have hit you. I—”

“Stop,” Dick hisses. It’s too much. It doesn’t feel real even. It feels like someone’s skinning him alive and he’s just out of it enough to realize that this has to be a dream, but it isn’t and— “Just stop. I get it, okay? You’re sorry. Fine.” He leans over, resting his forehead in his hand and propping his elbow up on the table. It doesn’t make his growing headache any better. “I know I’m still allowed in Gotham. We’re fine. Alright?” Dick should be savoring this, but he just wants it to be over. “Now go and focus your efforts on the kids who actually need them. Tim still isn’t convinced he’s part of the family. Jason thinks you wish he never came back. Damian has some of his drawings in an art show, you should—”

“I know,” Bruce interrupts.

“Huh?”

“I know about the art show,” Bruce says awkwardly. “It’s in my calendar. I plan to go.”

Dick feels the wind leave his sails. “Yeah, good. That’s good.” He looks up at Bruce. “Did you want anything else, or did you just feel the need to invade my home so you could offload your feelings and stop feeling guilty?” That was unfair. Really unfair. Dick had just said they were good, he didn’t mean to say that, and Bruce clearly is trying. More than he’s ever tried before. More than he needs to. Dick should be grateful.

Bruce freezes, like he never even thought breaking into Dick’s apartment after an argument could be a bad idea. “I…shouldn’t have come here,” he says eventually. “I really was trying to. To be better. I was trying to be calm. I think I did a good job of that. But I shouldn’t have come here.”

Yeah, Bruce did do a good job. Dick was provoking him at every turn, and Bruce didn’t shout once. Dick wishes Bruce shouted. When Bruce is reasonable, Dick feels like he’s crazy, but…that’s a Dick problem, not a Bruce problem. If people being reasonable make him feel crazy, then Dick has something wrong with him.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Bruce says suddenly, breaking Dick out of his thoughts.

There’s a lot Bruce shouldn’t have said. There’s even more that Dick shouldn’t have said. “What?”

“That I did a good job of being calm. I don’t know why I said that.” Dick doesn’t know why he said half the things he said in this conversation either. He feels like a yoyo, de-escalating only to escalate again. He can’t make up his mind. “It’s difficult not to fall into the same patterns. Not that that’s an excuse.”

“I understand,” Dick says. He does. It’s a familiar rhythm, arguing with Bruce. Fights and betrayal and rage and storming out, accompanied by the occasional physical altercation. It’s almost comforting, even as it tears him apart. And it’s very, very difficult to avoid. “And you weren’t wrong.”

“I was.” The frustration is evident in Bruce’s voice. “I did the bare minimum.”

Dick shrugs.

“What do you want from me?”

Dick shrugs again. He wants to pause this moment in time and save it away and then come back to it later, when he has an actual answer that will leave him satisfied but won’t start another fight. But he doesn’t have that. Right now, he wants to go to sleep. Maybe have some hot cocoa first.

He has a feeling that he’ll be lying awake for a while tonight, even without caffeine.

“We’re fine, Bruce. This is the most…you’ve apologized, okay? Maybe not for everything I wish you would, but you apologized. Just...go back to Gotham and I’ll come over next weekend or something.”

“What do you want me to apologize for?”

Dick shakes his head. “Bruce, you’re not even going to remember half the things I care about. They were big to me, but not to you. I mean, do you even remember our fight after you made Jason Robin?”

“Not very well,” Bruce admits. “I know you were…upset.”

“You broke a display case,” Dick says. It sounds ridiculous when he says it. Sure, breaking things is one the checklist questions he’d ask a civilian—why the fuck is he thinking about the checklist?—but in the grand scheme of things… “It’s not that big of a deal. But I was really freaked out. See? It’s mostly little things.”

Bruce, in an uncharacteristic break from stoicism, rests both elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands. A few moments later, he raises his head again and looks Dick in the eye. “I shouldn’t have done that. And. And I find it difficult to believe I hit you when I you tried to stop me from going after Gordon’s killer, but…I have done similar things enough times that…I probably should not find it so difficult. So, I’m.” He swallows. “I’m sorry, Dick.”

“Just stop,” Dick says. Something’s crawling underneath his skin. This isn’t right, it isn’t real, it’s all just so wrong. Bruce is telling him exactly what he asks to hear, and it’s so ridiculous that he’d be more inclined to believe he’s currently in a simulation controlled by a fifth grader than actually listening to Bruce speak. Wait. There’s an idea. “38D90234FJK16.”

Bruce’s eyes widen. “9021V4Q3.”

Well, he got the identification code correct.

“I should go,” Bruce says, and this time, he stands up.

“That’s not suspicious at all.”

Slowly, Bruce sits down again. “I. You think I’m an imposter?”

“No.” He got the identification response code correct. And despite the weird turn Bruce has taken, he still gets the base mannerisms, the speech, the Bruce-ness correct in a way that Dick has never seen an imposer manage. It’s pretty embarrassing that Dick had to check, but he thought that Mr. ‘It’s not paranoia if they’re actually out to get you’ would appreciate the diligence. “I just figured…”

“You figured I don’t sound like myself.”

Dick doesn’t deny it.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I said that, and then I kept talking, didn’t I?” Bruce sighs. “Do you want me to leave, Dick?”

Dick doesn’t particularly want to stand up from the table. He didn’t want Bruce here, but right now, well, he is here. They’re not fighting. It’s okay. This is okay. “I don’t know.”

“I…” Bruce exhales. “I won’t hit you again. That’s a promise. If I break it, I want you to deal with me.”

Dick sighs. “We fight plenty, Bruce. I don’t—I’ve hit first, before. That’s not a promise you want to make.”

“I promise,” Bruce repeats. “If you want to talk, in the future, you can come to Gotham. Or call me. But I should leave.”

“Okay.”

Bruce stands up again.

“Wait,” Dick says suddenly.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say. I forgive you? But Dick doesn’t, not really. He wants to, but he’s still so angry. Maybe irrationally so. Definitely irrationally so. I want you to stay? Dick doesn’t want the conversation to be over, but he’s too tired for it, and Bruce probably has things to do in Gotham. I don’t forgive you? Dick wants to see what happens. Wants to watch the illusion break the second Bruce can’t get his reconciliation. He needs to say it. Needs to prove that this is all fake. He steels himself for the anger, for the mask to break, for the hurricane to start again and drag him into its winds.

“I don’t forgive you,” Dick whispers.

“You shouldn’t.”

Bruce turns around and leaves. Dick sits alone at the kitchen table for a long, long time.

#fanfiction #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #tw: abuse #dc comics #dcu #dc #batfamily #batfam #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dick grayson fanfiction #bad parent bruce wayne

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ephemerensis · 2 years

Text

Oatmeal Raisin // Jason Todd x GN! Reader

lil fluff piece. platonic! but any kind of relationship can be implied. jason has a lil craving for cookies that you help him out with. tim is allergic to peanuts which idk if that’s canon or not but…

—

As far as you were concerned Jason didn’t like you, not really. He got along with you civilly, certainly. But in all your years of friendship with one Timothy Jackson Drake, you hardly spoke. So you never really got to know Jason the way you got to know the others. At least not at first.

It was difficult to get to know any of them actually. Especially before you were let in on the whole Batman thing, and even after. It was hard for them to open up. And that was fine, because you understood that. And they were trying and you could appreciate that.

Naturally, Dick was the easiest to like and it got even easier when you found out that he was your beloved Nightwing. You were in love with Nightwing; owned all the memorabilia, had postcards of him plastered on your wall, knew his patrol routes as well as a civilian could so that you might just catch a glimpse of your favorite masked crusader. When you learned that you knew him? Dick became the sole recipient of your constant doting and gushing about how cool he looked on TV and what the latest magazine had to say on his relationships, his impacts on Bludhaven and so forth. You both shared a sense of humor, corny dad jokes and all.

Damian was trickier. You weren’t exactly good with children, which was bad enough, but he acted so maturely for his age it was hard for you to not feel intimidated. But as you fell for Titus, he yielded himself slightly. And when you learned that he could be swayed by the promise of a bedtime story (Jane Austen of course), so long as it was offered without condescension, it’d sealed the deal.

You bonded with Stephanie and Cass over disorganizing Tim’s meticulously arranged utility belt and hiding away all his suit capes around the manor. You argued with Babs over which stage of the hero’s journey Bruce was at in his developmental arc. You didn’t galavant the streets with them in search for crime, nor did you share tragic secrets in hushed solemn tones. Being a friend was enough.

Until eventually, you clicked with everyone over time. Everyone but Jason.

That’s not to say you didn’t like him. You admired him in your own way. He was pretty cool. He never missed a shot in training and if you were lucky enough to catch him in a talkative mood he’d teach you about the vital points to aim for or how to break off the safety switch on a gun so it wouldn’t interfere with your performance and throw you off (not a true story, just a hypothetical.) “Essential street smarts.” That was the extent of your interaction.

Until one night, you found him knocking on your window.

How he got your address was another story, probably the same way Tim knew your credit card number or how Cass found your Netflix password, but regardless he was at your window tapping away. You opened it, letting him in.

“Hey… If you’re looking Tim or something, he’s not here.

Jason clambered through the window, taking his hood off and setting it on your kitchen countertop on the way.

“Timberly? No no, I’m not here for that loser. He keeps talking about how much you like baking though, is it true?”

His back was to you as he tugged the gloves off his hands to run his hands under the water from your faucet. He sure knew how to make himself feel at home.

“Yes. Yeah. I do. Why?” Your brows knit in visible confusion as he turned off the water, wiping his hands on the towel you hung off the oven handle.

“You know know how to make oatmeal raisin cookies?”

“I’m sorry? Oatmeal raisin?”

“Yeah. You know how to make them or not?” Turning around, the muscular man crossed his arms, looking down at you from across the room almost condescendingly, like it was a challenge.

“...you know what? I do know how to make oatmeal raisin cookies. Go run and buy raisins, I’ll start on the batter.”

Sure enough, within ten minutes Jason came swinging back through your window with a jumbo bag of raisins. After nagging him for walking through your living room with his boots on and making a quip about how he’d never finish that many raisins, you invited him to the kitchen.

He was a terrible cook. You didn’t know how he succeeded in mistaking flour for sugar, but he managed. After scrapping the first batter he added four extra eggs to and halfway through the second, you kicked him out and took over completely.

“No, I insist. Let me do it, it’s okay. Just sit over there and read a book or twiddle your thumbs or something, please.”

A half hour later, your kitchen was soiled but they were baking. Closing the oven with a satisfied huff, you looked over to Jason as you straightened yourself up.

Jason was watching you. But not in the critical way he fixed his gaze on passerby’s on the street or the hard gaze he’d set on his targets; just watching you. Calloused hands tossed a bullet cartridge between them as his feet swung to and fro from your barstool chair. He looked so boyish, it was almost cute.

“They’ll be done in twelve. Why oatmeal raisin? I’m not judging or anything but I make a mean chocolate chip that blows raisins out of the water.”

A tap sounded as he placed the cartridge down on the marble counter with a shrug.

“S’what my mom used to make.”

Slinking over to the adjacent chair, you took off the oven mitts to rest your face in your palms, looking at him expectantly to continue.

“What? We’re telling stories now?”

“I mean, you almost never talk to me and then you swing in asking for the least popular cookie type to date— I think a story time might be in order.”

“You’re keeping your mouth shut short stack, no one hears any of this.”

Huffing a giggle, you motioned zipping your mouth and flicking away the invisible key as he rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t exactly grow up rich. We’d have oatmeal every other day, mostly because that’s what she could scrape together. Fucking twat I was, couldn’t stand it. Threw a tantrum couple times ‘bout how tired I was of it. So she made oatmeal raisin cookies.”

His gaze was on his hands as he spoke but his eyes seemed to see anything but.

“I don’t want to get into all the details but, no matter how she treated me or raised me, she was still my mother. Afforded me this much kindness. Sometimes I almost miss her. So. Oatmeal raisin cookies.”

Wide eyes watched him, at a loss for words as your mind ran to process a response.

Breaking free from the recesses of his mind, he turned to look at you as he continued.

“Alfred usually makes them, but he’s out of town on business so… just thought I’d swing by I guess.”

The beep of the oven took you out of the trance.

Blinking, you stood. Clapping your hands together and reaching for the oven mitts.

“Well! I don’t know how good hers were, but mine are pretty hard to beat.”

Pulling the tray out of the oven, you let them cool a moment as you sought out a plate. Transferring them over, you slid it in his direction with a smug smile.

“Yeah, nothing beats Alfred’s, bud.”

He brought one to his nose, taking an obnoxiously loud whiff, cocking an eyebrow almost animatedly.

“6/10, more cinnamon could’ve been in order.”

“It’s not my fault you dropped like half my jar in the first batch!”

“Don’t yell at your food critic. Three point deduction.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms, “my apologies, my liege.”

Without missing a beat, he’d managed to shove the entire cookie in his mouth in one bite with the same cocky arrogance he’d held before. Mid chew, he stopped, looking at you in bewilderment before reaching for another one.

“What the fuck did you put in this?”

You burst out grinning, “Love, rainbows, and cyanide, it’s a secret recipe.”

If he heard you, he didn’t acknowledge it; scarfing down another with hesitation. Not that you minded. His usually stoic, suave, aura paled in the way his face lit up.

Between the two of you (mostly him), three tray fulls evaporated in the span of half an hour.

Packing up the last few batches you’d prepped and insisting he take the raisins home, you handed him a bag to see him off with.

“These got any nuts by any chance?”

“I used peanut butter, yes.”

“Thank you for your service, I will be passing on some to Tim.”

You snorted, “You’re not killing my best friend.”

With his hood back on, bag in hand, he clambered halfway out your window before turning his head back towards you.

“...can I come back for these? When Alfred’s busy that is.”

It caught you off guard.

“Yeah. No yeah, absolutely! Whenever you want. I’ll keep my window unlocked.”

“Not in this city you’re not.”

—

if you guys read the Last Cup of Coffee fic sgdjdd this was a deleted segment because i wanted to focus more on Tim 😭😭 recycling content at its finest tbh

#jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #tim drake #tim drake fanfic #batman #dc #red robin #damian wayne #dick grayson #jason todd fanfiction #red hood #red hood fluff #red hood x reader #red hood fic #batboy fluff

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fantastic-nonsense · 2 years

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@magnetoeisenhardt: I get that this post is about the continuous objectification of female characters, and that is an important discussion to have, but I can't enjoy either cover because of the ableism in portraying Babs this way. You can do a tasteful sexy cover with Babs in her wheelchair, and although you are correct about the framing of the two covers, I don't think the inherit ableism in both can be ignored.

I agree, though ultimately I'm taking what I can get at the moment, which is Barbara wearing green again and being depicted a) with a keyboard, b) with glasses, and c) looking like a mature adult in her late 20s/early 30s:

That's (unfortunately) a significant step forward from the last 10 years, and I can appreciate cute art that's a step forward while still acknowledging how far we still have to go.

In general, finding DickBabs cover art that depicts Babs as visibly disabled is effectively impossible and it's extremely depressing. This applies regardless of universe, unfortunately; honestly I'm pretty sure the closest we've ever gotten to a ship-focused cover that showcases Babs as disabled were the Convergence: Nightwing/Oracle covers:

Even the famed BOP #8 cover masks Babs' paralysis by putting her in a Batgirl leotard. Her disability is only visible in the subtle wrappings on her legs and how Dick's leg is supporting her spine:

And it's not like there's really a lack of Dick/Babs covers. But for a variety of reasons (variants not really being a thing in the 90s and early 2000s, Nightwing and Birds of Prey traditionally having more action/plot-focused covers than romance-focused covers, Dick and Babs breaking up around the time DC started producing ship-focused covers on a semi-regular basis, etc) there simply aren't that many post-Crisis!Dick/Babs covers, and that was the era when Barbara was Oracle and visibly disabled.

So most Dick/Babs covers are from the post-Flashpoint universe where, as we have all pointed out and discussed at length for several years now, Babs is not really depicted as disabled. Jiménez's art is, ironically, probably the closest thing we've gotten to a Nightwing/Oracle cover since Convergence (besides Jamal Campbell's variant cover for Nightwing #88, I guess); it's almost certainly the cover that's gotten closest to capturing the vibes of pre-reboot Dick/Babs.

And I will never be happy until Babs is at minimum Oracle full-time again and shown as a visible ambulatory wheelchair user, but I'm also at a point where I'm willing to celebrate the wins that we've wrestled back from editorial since the New 52 era...and cute art depicting Babs as a grown adult and recognizing Oracle in a visible way is a win, no matter how small of a win it might seem.

#listen she's not in a Batgirl suit and Oracle is being visibly acknowledged #I'm exhausted and willing to take the partial win for what it is #especially considering how Babs is currently being depicted in Nightwing and Batgirls #and if you squint you can pretend Dick is fully holding her up and that's what I'm choosing to believe #dick grayson #barbara gordon #dickbabs #ableism #long post #dc comics #dc fanwank #oracle #batgirl #nightwing

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msfcatlover · 1 year

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NTT bugs me a LOT so PLEASE tell me about Dick and Jason bonding bc we were robbed

OKAY, SO! This got super long. I’d apologize, but I have so many feelings, and “sorry” is not one of them.

. First of all: after they defeat Trigon, I have no idea why we get scenes of most of the team having these soothing recovery-bonding moments with their families but for some reason Dick doesn’t get that??? When his “worst fear” as shown by Trigon was very specifically that Jason’s Robin training under just Bruce wouldn’t be enough, the scene Dick sees being Bruce dead & Jason brokenly sobbing that he tried his best, with the “worst self” counterpart to Dick telling Dick this was his fault for not being there for them. Dick’s worst fear is literally shown to be losing his family due to not reaching out to them and we don’t even get to see him, I don’t know, driving up to the manor or knocking on the door? You’re telling me that after a vision like that Dick Grayson wouldn’t want to visually confirm Bruce & Jason are okay? We don’t even get to see him call??? Golly gosh, did we just run out of page space & stiff the leader of our ensemble of his emotional payoff???????

This is the perfect moment for Dick to take a more active role as Jason’s big brother (we could’ve had Titans missions with Robin!Jay & Nightwing, goddammit, Jason could’ve complained about being cold to Dick’s face! That joke is x10 funnier if Dick’s standing there, now in pants, defending his original Robin design.) Dick now has experience training younger heroes, he has more patience & a longer fuse than he had as Robin, he is ready to be a mentor figure for his little brother.

In my head, there is a whole arc where Dick goes flying home on his motorcycle, too emotional to even think of going for the phone (between the vision he had & Raven seemingly dying, you really can’t blame him,) because he just needs to know, he needs to personally confirm that they are okay. He’s jumping off the bike before it fully stops moving, letting it skid down the gravel driveway (the paint job will be ruined, he will bemoan this choice later, but in the moment safety doesn’t matter so why would a few scratches?) Dick hammers on the door until Alfred opens it, and yanks Alfred into a hug before he can get two words out; Dick lets go almost as quickly, because Alfred isn’t who he came to see.

(Dick goes to the manor, not the Batcave, because the Batcave isn’t home.)

I can’t decide if Dick sees Bruce or Jason first; it really come down to whether I want to imagine Dick picking Jason up like a piece of luggage and dragging Jason into Dick’s hug for Bruce, because once Dick sees Jason, he is not going to be letting go. Bruce realizes something must be wrong even before Dick tells him about Raven (though he’d certainly never deny Dick a hug, when Dick all but jumps into Bruce’s arms like he’s 9 again.) Jason is so fucking lost right now; at this point all his interactions with Dick have been short & curt, and included Dick outright denying Jason had any right to be Robin (hey, if DC can mix continuities then so can I! And the pre-Crisis moment when Jason asked for Dick’s blessing now that Dick was Nightwing, and Dick snapped at him about Robin still being Dick’s identity even when he wasn’t using it is so good for its angst potential, I’m taking it.) Poor Jason was under the impression Dick sorta-kinda hated him, that he was a nuisance at best, and now Dick is running down the hall with a shout of Jason’s name just to pull Jason into a hug so tight it’s actually hard to breathe, so like??? What is going on???

Dick tells them about losing Raven (maybe he mentions having to “fight our fears,” but he definitely doesn’t tell either of them about the fear-vision,) says something about being worried and this putting things in perspective. Then Dick takes a deep breath and steps back, looks Jason in the eye, and tells Jason that Dick will be helping with his Robin training from now on. (“Don’t look so excited. You’re going to hate me by the time we’re done.”)

AND THEN! Then we get Dick training Jason, and patrolling with Jason, and bowing out of certain social events because he promised this portion of his time to Jason already and he’s not going to break that promise. We get some mission running long, and Dick rushing home after dark to find Jason still waiting, because he didn’t want to believe Dick would just ditch him like that (Jason may or may not have gotten into a fight with Bruce about whether Jason needed to lower his expectations since Dick was still figuring this whole “adult” thing out, and also that Dick’s never been good with appointments because ADHD-induced timeblind!Dick, my beloved.) We get Dick helping Jason perfect certain moves, and Jason spinning around with a big grin like, “Did you see? Did you see me do it?” while Dick smiles proudly at him and tells Jay how awesome it was. We get mid-patrol snack-breaks, which they’re fully allowed, but still sneak in because it’s just more fun that way. We get late-night conversations over ice cream, and getting to fight as a team, and just, AH!!! We were robbed! They should’ve been bonding, it would’ve been so cute & wholesome, and just compounded the tragedy of Jason’s death.

We could’ve had Nightwing!Dick & Robin!Jay on the Titans at the same time. We could’ve seen all Dick’s friends’ reactions to his new little brother, rather than just another kid in the Robin suit while Dick was out of town. Maybe Donna wouldn’t have fucking projected so hard, she called Jason by Dick’s name the one time they worked together. Maybe Jason could’ve been a valued member of the team in his own right, like he deserved.

The other major event that makes me desperately fantasize about them getting to bond is… Listen. Fuck the mid-Crisis Starfire wedding arc. I do not have words for how much I hate the Starfire wedding arc and how everyone treats Dick like trash during it. It pissed me off so much, I had to put the whole damn series down and cleanse my palette with something else for a few months. Do not get me started, because I have already gone on 2 separate hour-long rants, and nobody wants to see me frothing at the mouth over this one stupid fucking arc that I hate so much, it killed my love for RobStar, a ship I have been sailing since before I knew what shipping was.

ANYWAY.

Dick fucking deserved better, so Imma give it to him. Fine, let all that happen, up to & including Bruce saying, “Oh, I almost forgot! Happy birthday!” while driving away, ignoring how obviously distraught Dick was. Something-something-crime fighting, Bruce is allowed to fuck up, failure to appropriately express his emotions (often at the worst possible times) is one of his most consistent character traits. Whatever.

Here’s what I want: Jason beats Donna to Dick’s apartment. How? No fucking clue, he called in a favor or something. So instead of Dick opening the door to Donna’s accusations when he’s already belligerently drunk, he opens it to an awkward baby brother while he’s still tipsy. Jason wants to apologize for Bruce being an asshole—not in the “I’ll take responsibility” way, or the “I’m carrying a message” way, but in the “It was shitty of him to treat you like that, and I’m sorry you had to deal with it” way—and wanted to bring Dick his birthday presents before they’re even later than they already were. Because they’re brothers, and Jason knows how even the smallest gesture of recognition can matter. So here Jason is, with an obviously hand-wrapped parcel and a homemade cake that’s more than a little lopsided (and probably a few days old, because the mission wasn’t supposed to keep Dick away that long, and I think Jason would’ve wanted it fresh from the oven when Dick got home,) but it’s decorated after the Nightwing suit with a big red R on the top, and it’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for Dick in weeks. The nicest thing anyone’s done since Dick left Earth. The only sign his birthday wasn’t entirely forgotten by everyone in his life, and the only person who seems like they were looking forward to seeing him again after the mess that was Tamaran. So, y’know, maybe he freezes in the doorway and tears up a little; blame it on the alcohol.

The banter is tense at first. Jason’s obviously a little disturbed to find Dick drowning his sorrows, and Dick quickly hides the bottle while apologizing for it (“You weren’t s’posed to see me like this. I never wanted any of you to see me like this.”) Neither of them wants to acknowledge just how upset Dick is right now. There’s probably jokes about Jason using Dick as a guinea pig for his culinary experiments, and how maybe they shouldn’t light the candles in case Dick’s whiskey breath starts a fire. They talk about light, shallow things, like which rogues escaped while Dick was away (never mind the Crisis,) and whether Jason finally managed to master that one flip he was working on. After, Jason catches Dick staring wistfully at a picture of Kori on the wall and blurts out, “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

They go see a movie at a late-night theatre, and mock how unrealistic the fight choreography was.

(Maybe they run into Donna at some point, but the fight doesn’t escalate because they’re in public & Dick’s basically sobered up by that point. Maybe Donna bangs on Dick’s door until it comes off its hinges, and finds an apartment empty except for the remains of two servings of chocolate cake and a ball of wrapping paper that missed the trashcan when someone tried to throw it. In any case, Dick & Donna don’t drag all their worst grievances with eachother out as weapons in a moment of shared pain, and Dick doesn’t go after Brother Blood’s cult alone.)

(Maybe Jason defends Dick’s honor, and says everything to Donna that I wanted to say while she was telling Dick it was all his fault Kori didn’t come back with him.)

(Maybe they go back to Dick’s apartment, and he’s finally tired enough to ignore all the lingering signs of Kori and just go to sleep. Maybe Dick insists on making sure Jason makes it back to Gotham safely, and then stays because it’s almost dawn by that point anyway. Either way, they fall asleep in a pile and Jason probably misses school the next day; he reserves the right to be a grouch about it.)

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havendance · 1 year

Text

Put a lot of thought into the trial portions of World Gone MAD and I want to talk about it, so here I am with my super secret bonus author commentary! Spoilers for World Gone MAD below the cut.

So the canon makeup of the Justice League at this point in the timeline was Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman (recently kicked out and reinstated), Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern, Flash, and Plastic Man. I knew right away that I didn’t want to just use the core lineup for the trial committee because about half the league were people I felt like I either didn’t have a good idea on which way they would vote, or I just didn’t care about them (sorry Plastic Man). Plus, I wanted I really wanted to use Huntress and she was technically out of her Justice League era by this point. And then the more I thought about what I wanted the functionality of the League to be in this fic, and like the reasons that Dick turned himself into them in the first, it just made sense to expand so that it felt like a major organization and not eight people who get together and beat up aliens on the weekends.

So, the committee makeup:

Huntress — I knew Huntress had to be on the committee because there was just a lot of interesting potential in her relationship with Nightwing and Robin and their differing opinions on justice and the like.

The Flash — Flash was the most obvious guy to be on the committee to vote for Nightwing’s innocence. They’re best friends. I needed some simple motivations on Nightwing’s side.

Green Lantern — Green Lantern, on the other hand is there to be obviously on the side that Nightwing did it as a core Justice League member who hasn’t known Dick since he was eight or whatever.

Wonder Woman — It was important that Wonder Woman be on the committee because she’s got the lasso of truth, and it was important to me that the lasso be there as an absence. Wonder Woman is there. She is leading the interrogation. At any point, they could find out the truth if they so chose and they do not. That was important on a thematic level. For that reason, she also had to vote that Nightwing was innocent. I wasn’t sure at first, which way she’d fall, and I still feel that I can’t really rule on her philosophy of justice, and how she values truth, and how does that tie in? Does she know Dick and have a relationship with him like Clark does? I’m not sure, but she votes the way she did, because she had to.

Hawkman is on there because I needed more people to vote that Nightwing was guilty and I wanted a non-core Justice League member.

Red Tornado was chosen because I was scrolling through a wikipedia article listing all the members of the Justice League and saw that he’d been on some incarnation of the team and I thought that he added some interesting dynamics. He adds the contrast of being someone who knows Robin better than Nightwing.

Superman — Superman had to be on this committee because he’s Superman and Dick calls him Uncle Clark. His was the hardest vote for me to figure out because it could go either way. I could see him making the tough right choice, especially coming off of the Tower of Babel storyline where he does vote to remove Bruce, his friend, from the league. But at the same time it’s Dick. I finally realized that he needed to be the tie-breaking vote, and he needed to vote that Dick was innocent as a way to be emblematic of the whole trial. It reinforces the central them of failures of Justice. Dick fails when he kills the Joker. Superman fails when he votes that Dick didn’t. And it’s all rooted in the fact that they love and care deeply.

And, as bonus, people who were not on the committee:

Batman — Batman almost certainly had to recuse himself due to conflict of interest

Green Arrow — recently came back from the dead. Has bigger problems to worry about than Justice League Jury duty.

Black Canary — I originally had Black Canary on the committee instead of Hawkman, but I couldn’t figure out which way she’d fall. There’s her friendship with Barbara and she does have a relationship with Dick, but is it enough to sway her? In the end, I just find a answer that satisfied me and I also realized I needed more people voting that Dick did it, so she got kicked off.

I also considered Power Girl and Hawkgirl as replacements for Black Canary. Power Girl I decided against because I all I knew about her was the two issues of Birds of Prey she showed up in. Hawkgirl, I was closer to settling on, but then I had a realization that basically boiled down to the fact that there are way more guys in the Justice League and having three women on the committee was dangerously close to having all of the League’s women on the committee and I kind of wanted it to be kind of proportional.

#super secret bonus author commentary #havendance writes #MAD universe #carthago delenda est #dc #bats + birds + affiliated

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empressofthelibrary · 1 year

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prompt meme: Bailey x Dick

when a character is taken hostage by the antagonist, and their lover goes absolutely ballistic, doing everything in their power to protect their lover, and the antagonist has to restrain them, but it doesn't stop this character from trying to get to their lover, doesn’t matter what happens to them, doesn’t matter if they get beaten as long as their lover's safe

asdfkf I had meant that reblog more as trope appreciation but that's just too good to pass up tbh

I could go so silly with this, but I won't. I'm gonna do this right

---

It’s been two months and this is so goddamn huge I’m thinking about posting it to ao3 and linking to save everyone’s dashboards good freakin’ mike

Tagging @weirdfishy @amodnamedmel and @hollyjollydjarins because this will already ping Lavie and that’s the taglist I remember

A word of forewarning, Dear Reader. If you have been following Bailey’s story up until this point, you’ll know this is far, far ahead of where she is now. This is a glance into a potential future, something that might be. And what you see herein, some of these events may come to pass, and some of them may not. The ones that do, almost certainly, will not happen in quite this way. The future is always in flux, after all.

So go, and enjoy the trip, but consider this something of a spoiler warning, and something of a caution sign. Parts of this may not make full sense without full context, but that will come in time.

Bailey grinned as she walked down the sidewalk, groceries in hand. Autumn leaves tumbled down from the trees, and the air was alive with the promise of an approaching thunderstorm. It was a mid-October Friday in Central City and she couldn’t feel more alive.

Her boyfriend was coming over for dinner. Her boyfriend.

Bailey skipped a few steps and giggled, twirling. It was still genuinely hard to believe she was dating anyone, let alone Richard Grayson, of all people. Nightwing. Vigilante, hero, leader, pillar of the caped community, friend and inspiration to so many people, in and out of the mask. …And gorgeous as hell to boot.

And he’d picked her. A nobody from a two-horse town in the hills, stumbling her way through one mistake after another. Trying her damndest to live up to the world of legend she’d tripped and fallen into a couple of years ago. A guy who should be astronomically far out of her league… Saw her as someone worth seeing.

Bailey paused to lean against a wall, pressing a hand to her sternum as the thought set her heart racing, butterflies zipping yellow-gold through her veins. She bit her lip to stifle another excited laugh, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He was hers. He was hers! And she was gonna prove she was worth it.

Bailey bounded up the stairs to her apartment, determination and joy spurring her along. Chicken and dumplings, baked potatoes, and a bottle of apple cider might not be anything wildly fancy, Bailey thought, but I did warn him I’m not much of a cook. And, she added with a smile, setting the ingredients out and swapping the chicken for the cider in the fridge, the chocolate-cinnamon cookies are gonna add something special.

Bailey turned the music on, bopping around the kitchen as she cooked. She had just enough time to get things ready by the time Dick was due at six. She’d cut it close, but that meant the food would be good and hot when he got here.

Bailey broke into a grin again, nose scrunching as she smiled down at the celery on her cutting board. “I don’t care if Monday’s blue,” the radio crooned, and Bailey jumped in, swaying and bouncing along.

“Tuesday’s gray and Wednesday too,” her voice rose to nearly cover the music. She knew she sounded bad, but she didn’t much care. “Thursday I don’t care ‘bout you, it’s Friday, I’m in love…” She swept the celery into the pot with a flourish, watching it join the onions and chicken. “Monday you can fall apart, Tuesday-Wednesday break-my-heart…”

Bailey closed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the counter, trying to quell the nervous joy that had her wanting to run around the apartment and scream. I’m gonna tell him. Tonight’s the night; I’m gonna say it out loud. She bit her lip at the thought, stomach flipping. I’m sure he knows – hell, he probably knew before I finally figured it out and that was, oh jeez, almost a year ago holy shit. But I’m gonna say it. Finally. Lanos was staying with Kyle for the weekend, after all, out in Metropolis. They’d have the apartment to themselves, nobody to intrude on the moment. It was the perfect chance, and she was gonna take it.

That was when her phone rang – “I got chills! They're multiplyin'~"

Bailey turned the radio off and snagged the phone, grinning. “Hey, Birdie. I was just thinkin’ about you. You on your way?”

The voice that answered wasn’t Dick’s. “Unfortunately, Lady Sikri, your betrothed is going to be delayed.”

Bailey felt her blood run cold. That voice, with its hollow cheer, still haunted her nightmares. “...Arvak Rul?” Memories of fire and pain, of dying, swirled at the edges of her mind.

Arin laughed. “Oh, you honor me, Lady, remembering me.”

“You’re dead.” Bailey swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. “You’re dead. I killed you.” This couldn’t happen.

“And so allowed my rebirth in your holy flames,” Arvak smiled. “You have blessed me greatly, Lady Sikri, and I shall continue to serve with grateful devotion.”

"I don't want your devotion," Bailey hissed. "I want you to die and stay dead."

Arvak clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Still trapped by your mortal shell, I see. But you will defeat her, my Lady. I will keep the faith."

"I'm going to kill you again," Bailey replied, her voice cold and dangerous as it finally sank in why he’d been the one to answer. "And if you've so much as touched him –"

Arvak's laugh splashed cold water down Bailey's spine. "Lady Sikri, I would never trust your… pet to anyone else. But if you wish to see his condition for yourself, you would honor us ."

"Where." The question felt so sharp with fury that Bailey could almost taste blood in her throat.

"The temple. I trust you have access to an ultrawarp drive."

Bailey was taking off from the balcony before she knew she'd reached it, wings beating behind her, bearing her aloft. How dare they use him to get to her like this. How dare it work. Bailey knew she was playing right into the Everburning's hands, but what other option did she have?

They had her Bluebird. He was in danger because of her. Because she loved him. And wasn't that just a kick in the teeth?

She'd spent so long afraid to love him, so sure she’d hurt him. So sure he’d hurt her. And now…

This was all her fault. Dick had been caught in the crossfire. He was hurt, maybe dying, maybe already –

No. No, Arvak wouldn't do that. He was too smart. He knew that, if Dick was dead, there was nothing in heaven or earth that could stop Bailey from personally hunting down every single one of the Everburning and taking them out. She'd leave Arvak for last. Make him watch as the goddess he mistook her for tore down his church and burned it to ashes.

And then she’d scatter him in pieces across the known galaxy. See him come back from that, if he dared.

It was a short trip over the river to the abandoned warehouse where the Theseus was stored. Wally, Uncle Barry, and Mr. Hal had set it up for her when she and Kyle had come home last spring. Bailey still wasn’t sure where they’d gotten all the parts for a DIY spaceship hangar, but the way Wally had grinned when she’d asked told her enough.

The hangar itself was fairly spartan, with most of the space being reserved for the Theseus. The walls were plain, save for a mural she and Kyle had painted on one side: four shooting stars – two green, one yellow, one violet – over a swirling nebula rippling with color. A way to commemorate their adventures together. On the other side, a staircase led to a small deck with a couple of couches and a minifridge, with the lockers underneath that.

Bailey sighed through her nose, lips pressed into a thin line as she opened her locker and grabbed the mission-bag she kept here. Flying a damn spaceship around in broad daylight is the exact opposite of keeping a low profile, she thought to herself. But enough weird shit happens in this city already; maybe I can slip under the radar. She turned toward the ship, shouldering the bag, and flipped through her mental checklist.

Jason has the spare key to the lockbox in case I don’t come home. I updated the letters a few weeks ago, which is good, because if I hadn’t it’s too late now. Lanos is safe with Kyle. Nothing else I can wait on.

Bailey moved up the ramp to the ship, stepping nimbly over the welding-seams that glued the pieces of differently-textured metals together. She set a hand on the patchwork hull, smiling softly. Laney worked so hard to keep this ship together, the whole time he was crossing the galaxy. He’s such a resourceful kid, but I’m glad he’s not on his own anymore. She rapped the hatch twice, for luck, and walked inside. The ramp slid closed behind her.

Bailey sat down at the control panel, the ship’s nacelles rumbling faintly as she started the engines. The warehouse’s roof split and slid down, the warm glow of the sunset spilling in through the front viewport.

Bailey set her jaw, guiding the ship up and forward, pointing towards open air and launching herself into the sky.

I’m coming, Bluebird. Just hold tight.

—

In Metropolis, half a continent away, Connor Hawke lifted his head from the book he was reading. “...Kyle? What’s that noise?”

Kyle Rayner turned away from the stove, puzzled. “What noise?”

“It sounds like… Something tapping on glass.”

“Probably something I’m doing in here. Dinner’ll be ready soon, by the way.”

“You’re sure you don’t want any help with it?” Connor turned to lean over the back of Kyle’s couch.

Kyle grinned. “I’m almost done. But could you go ask Lanos if he wants to at least sit with us? I know he doesn’t eat, but…” He let the sentence trail off, scratching at the back of his neck.

Connor nodded, getting up from the couch. “Sure.”

—

Bailey broke atmo, letting the Theseus ease into orbit while she fiddled with the controls. “Setting these coordinates is gonna be hard without Laney,” she mused. “But I got this. Bad enough Dick’s in the middle of my fight; no need to drag anyone else into the muck.”

The comm system buzzed – a hail from the Watchtower.

Bailey froze, fingers hovering over the buttons. If she answered, she’d have to lie. If she didn’t, she’d look suspicious as hell.

She tapped the comm.

“Hey, Eagle!” Booster Gold’s grinning face appeared in holo over the console. “What’s up? Just out for a joyride, or…?”

Bailey couldn’t help but return the smile. She didn’t know Booster too well, but it was hard not to find him endearingly annoying. “Something like that. Actually…” She tilted her head, thinking, as an idea crossed her mind. “Is Skeets there? I need ultrawarp coordinates and don’t have much time.”

Booster frowned, eyebrows knitting. “That doesn’t sound like a joyride. You got backup?”

“Yes,” Bailey lied. “And I need to get to Thanagar asap, so please don’t make me answer any more questions.”

Booster’s eyes widened. “Thanagar? Shit, is this when—” He turned. “Skeets, you got her? Awesome, thanks, little buddy.” He turned back, nodding grimly. “Sending you the coordinates now. Tell Kyle I said hi, okay?”

“Uh, sure,” Bailey answered absentmindedly, plugging the numbers in. “And thank you both.”

“Good luck out there. Call if you need help.”

“Will do,” Bailey signed off, punching into ultrawarp.

—

Wally smiled, snapping a photo of Irey and Jai sprawled over the couch and Jay, all three fast asleep. “Oh, Linda's gonna be so sorry she missed this."

The back door blew open as Barry rushed into the room. Wally turned, halfway into a glare before he registered the look on his uncle's face. "What's happened?"

"Iris just called. The Theseus just took off with no warning and in plain sight. There's a fire near 82nd and Perez."

Wally's face paled. "That's where Bailey's apartment is."

Two bolts of crimson slammed through the front door and down the street.

—

Bailey paced the bridge of the Theseus, unable to sit still a moment longer. It wasn’t far to the Polaris system, not by ultrawarp, but anything short of already being there was too long. Her hammer hung heavy at her hip, and she glared out at the rippling rainbow of warpspace, willing it to part and let her through to Thanagar. To Arvak. To Dick.

At long last, the prismatic void split into a burst of light, and Bailey found herself staring at Thanagar – or more acurately, at its moon. She flitted along the console, turning on the cloaking device before turning the ship towards Kalmoran. In and out, quick as I can, she thought. Get him free, get him safe, and get the hell outta Dodge before Her Imperial Majesty knows I’m here. Simple as pie.

The Theseus came to rest on Kalmoran’s surface, nestling into the shadow of a stony ridge. Bailey slipped quietly out of the ship and kept low to the ground as her eyes adjusted. These assholes are expecting me. As much as I want to storm in and start busting heads, that’ll just get us both killed. I need to be careful about this.

Her fingers tightened on the hilt of her hammer. Every muscle in her body screamed to lunge forward, to destroy everything in sight. It was getting harder and harder for Bailey to contain herself.

The Temple of The Lady Everburning was a cluster of spires, twisting up from the sandy soil like a crown of flames. Starlight turned the golden stone to silver, dancing across the points. In another life, it would have been beautiful, but the sight of it left a cold knot of fear and nausea in the pit of Bailey’s stomach.

“Guess you guys rebuilt,” Bailey muttered, taking note of the new plume of towers in the center, where she’d left a gaping hole and pile of rubble the last time she was here.

The last time she was here… The memory hung at the edge of her mind. Cuffed and bound to the altar, the drugged wine scattering her thoughts like dandelion seeds. Arvak looming over her, the torch in one hand and the Eye in the other. Feeling her soul come unmoored from her body.

The battle with Sikri. Watching Rashel, her great-grandmother, her mentor, bear the brunt of the cosmic phoenix’ attacks, protecting Bailey as well as she could. Rashel using her own spirit to seal Sikri back inside the crystal in a way Bailey still couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

The blur of destruction and manic high of power, fuzzy memories that made Bailey’s stomach turn. Watching her hands snap Arvak’s neck, his body slumping to the ground. Rubble raining down around her. The knowledge that Thanagar was broken, fundamentally. That the whole world, from one end of the universe to the other, was broken. The need to wipe the slate clean so something new could be built.

Bailey shook her head, teeth clenched. This is no time to get wrapped up in my memories. Focus. Keep your head level.

That was when a pained scream cut through the air.

Bailey was moving before she could stop herself, caution thrown out the window in favor of pure fury. Two guards on either side of the Temple’s entrance – Two tawny-feathered piles on the ground, dropped by her hammer.

Up the steps, through the door. Three more acolytes, caught by surprise, but better prepared. One ducked Bailey’s swing and caught her by the wrist, twisting until her hand opened and the hammer dropped. He stepped to pin Bailey’s arm and her wings behind her back, twisting painfully. Bailey threw her wings open, one catching him in the face and making him stumble. Another drew his mace and took a swing. It connected with Bailey’s sternum, driving the breath from her lungs. She fell backwards a step, gasping as she fought for air. The third took the opportunity to pounce from the shadows, something bright and sharp in her hand. Bailey had just enough time to twist to the side, but the taloned gauntlet raked painfully over her shoulder.

But the pain brought focus. The mace-wielder tried to take another swing, this time at Bailey’s ribs. She let it connect, snarling with the impact, but slammed her elbow into her opponent’s head. He stumbled, stunned, and Bailey snatched the mace from his hands as he fell.

She had just enough time to bring it up and block the first guy’s incoming blow with an axe. The hooked blade caught on the mace’s head, and Bailey used the leverage to sweep the weapon out of the way. Both axe and mace went clattering to the floor, and Bailey closed the distance before the acolyte could adjust. Her fist connected with his jaw, and he was down too.

Bailey spun, trying to find the lady with the claws. She was standing in the torchlight, eyes wide and confused as she stared down at her gauntlets.

She stood with her back to a pillar, narrow frame dwarfed by her wings.

She looked so small, so… lost.

She can’t be more than a teenager, Bailey realized. Suddenly Bailey’s anger shifted, and she found herself enraged on behalf of this girl, taught to fight and die for someone else’s cause.

“I don’t understand,” the girl managed weakly. “You… You bleed.”

Bailey blinked, shaken from the adrenaline haze enough to feel the blood running down her arm, hot and wet. She glanced down at her bicep, twisting a little to examine the wound. “Reckon I do.” She started to turn and move further into the temple, but stopped. “...You got a name, kid?”

“...Azra, my Lady. Azra Shar.” She looked at Bailey with wide amber eyes, hands curled against her sternum.

Bailey took a deep breath, forcing her voice into something calm. “Well, Miss Shar, I don’t know my way around this place. Can you point me to wherever they’re keeping my friend?”

Shar nodded, slowly, coming out of her confused daze. “Straight down the hall to the fork, then take the left path. Through the dining hall, into the kitchens, then turn right into the garden. They’ll be in the Grand Hall – the doors are hard to miss.”

Bailey nodded and picked her hammer up from the floor. “Thanks, kid. Now get the hell out of here and go somewhere safe.”

“Y–yes, my Lady. As you command.” Shar turned and rushed from the foyer.

“I’m not –” Bailey sighed, shaking her head as Shar’s wingtips disappeared around the corner. “Whatever.”

Bailey stepped through the halls, vicious anger burning low in her stomach. Arvak’s using child soldiers now. She’s what, fifteen? Relatively, at least. Just a kid. I can’t believe he’d stoop so low, the vile bastard, but I shouldn’t be surprised.

She leaned harder against the wall as pain spread through her ribs, hissing softly between clenched teeth. Kidnapping innocents, dragging people into the crossfire, getting kids involved in his war… All because he wants to see the world burn. Bailey shoved away from the wall. It was true that there was so much broken, on Thanagar, on Earth, everywhere. But ripping it all down in some kind of divine apocalypse wasn’t the solution.

There’s hope, Bailey thought to herself, forcing another step. Her lungs were starting to burn. There was probably some internal damage from the mace. Had one of the guards at the door managed to score a hit, too? She didn’t remember.

There’s hope, she repeated. No matter how broken and bleak and screwed up things get, I know there’s a light to keep fighting for. And I know that because… A series of images flashed through her mind: Dick, as Nightwing, helping her out of the museum window. Wally’s arm slung around her shoulders, both of them laughing about something stupid. Standing with Nelle, Kyle, and Donna at the art gallery, talking and having fun. Watching Wally and Roy argue over the grill at the annual Titans cookout. Learning to fence with Jason and launching into Tybalt and Mercutio’s duel just because.

Laney’s gigawatt smile when he’d reclaimed his memories. The way he’d been so proud to show her the physical body he’d built for himself, and so eager to learn about Earth firsthand. How determined he had been to find Aya, how shy he’d been to reunite, and how excited they both were to build a siblinghood.

Dick building a blanket fort with Lian and the Tornado Twins when he’d been put on mandatory injury leave. His fingers sliding down her wrist and over her palm, twining with her own. The way he leaned into her when he was tired, pulled her against him when she could hardly hold herself up. Dancing through the air together, turning the city into an improvised trapeze act. Soft words whispered into scalps and palms, gentle kisses and strong arms that let her feel like it was safe to fall apart.

Bailey grit her teeth, pushing herself forward. I can have hope for the world because they’re in it. As long as the people I love are here, there’s nothing we can’t fix. Nothing we can’t do. Nothing we can’t create. Bailey exited the kitchens, glowering across the garden at the massive, shining doors of the Great Hall. They were shaped like two upswept wings, the feathers shaped into stylized points like flames.

And that is why I will never let Arvak or Sikri take anyone else from me.

—

Connor set his fork down, looking over his shoulder in confusion. “Okay, please tell me one of you is hearing that.” A sharp tnk-tnk-tnk sounded from the wall, growing steadily louder as it continued.

Beside him at the small table, Lanos turned to peer in the direction of the noise. “I can hear it, yes.” He looked to Kyle. “Lantern Rayner, is that not the wall-safe where you keep your power battery?”

Kyle’s brow knit in concern. “Yeah, and a couple other – Wait, how do you know where I keep my battery?”

“I took note of its placement in case of emergency,” Lanos bluffed, looking for all the world like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I know the Captain’s orders – no vigilantism until I have acclimated to life on Earth.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kyle replied, one eyebrow raised, as he pushed away from the table and stepped to the wall, taking down the painting that hung there. “Anyway, the battery isn’t the only thing in here, and – Gah!”

All at once, a violet light ripped out of the safe in a plume of drywall dust and blew past Kyle’s head, hanging a hard left and smashing through the window.

“Well there goes my deposit,” Kyle joked, turning to watch it go.

“Captain Adler is in trouble,” Lanos stated, his normally chipper tone fading into something serious. The humanoid hologram he wore dispersed in a flash of emerald. “We need to follow that ring.”

Connor looked between the two, already turning for the bow and quiver he’d left by the door. “Fill me in later. I’ll be suited up as fast as I can be.”

Kyle nodded, already in his green-and-black.

—

Bailey pushed herself towards those massive, shining doors, feeling bile rise in the back of her throat. Time was running out.

Another shout cut through the air. Bailey threw herself across the sand.

The double-doors slammed open, an Everburning acolyte landing in the dust and skidding.

Bailey snapped her head up to see Dick, shirt torn, bruised and bleeding, breathing hard as he caught himself on the doorframe.

“Hey, Angel,” he managed, that crooked grin spreading over his face as he made eye contact. “I was starting to think you were gonna miss the party.”

Bailey jumped forward, grabbing Dick by the waist and spinning to pull him out of the way as another of the Everburning swung a hammer at him. “And let you have all the fun? Never.”

Dick laughed and leaned in for a quick kiss before pulling away and turning to face the fight. “Feel like dancing?”

“Always, Birdie.” Bailey shifted her grip on the hammer, lightning crackling across the head.

"What do you know about these guys," Dick asked, ducking a mace and swerving to trip the guy swinging it.

"Is 'evil space cult' not obvious?" Bailey slammed her elbow into an acolyte's exposed throat, then grabbed him by the breastplate and turned, using him to block an incoming blow.

Dick jerked to the side, managing to get his head out of the way of an Eveburning blow, but taking it on the shoulder instead. He grunted in pain, and Bailey turned, driving her hammer into the opponent’s helmet with a snarl.

"Is that all?" Dick caught one of the Everburning in a hold and twisted, followed by a pop and a pained shout. "You’re out for blood."

"They kidnapped you." Bailey's hammer came down in the soft space under an acolyte's ribcage. "They dragged you halfway across the galaxy." A wing snapped under her hands. "And they were going to kill you." Bailey spun, wrenching an axe from a dropped opponent's belt and swinging it at another.

And suddenly Bailey's arm was frozen, Dick's hand wrapped around her wrist. His other arm looped around her waist, pinning her against him. The axe-blade hovered an inch from the acolyte's neck.

"I'm okay." Dick's voice was strained, rough. But his face pressed close against her temple, breath stirring the hair that slipped from under the helmet. "I'm alive. And we're gonna get out of this." Gently, he pulled at her arm, guiding the axe away from the Thanagarian's neck. "We're gonna go home."

Bailey closed her eyes, letting herself feel his presence, his body against hers. Let herself breathe him in, vanilla and amber.

He was here. He was alive. She could still keep him safe.

Slowly, her grip loosened on the axe, and it fell into the dust below. The acolyte scrambled away, taking off. Bailey didn't give a damn – she turned, burying her face in Dick's neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and trying to muffle the sobs bubbling up around the lump in her throat.

His arms twined around her lower back, under the base of her wings, as he pulled her close. "Hey. It's gonna be okay."

"I don't want them to hurt you," Bailey whispered. "I won't let them hurt you like they hurt me."

"Well this is a beautifully tender moment," a new voice drawled. "But I'm afraid I have to interrupt."

Bailey whirled, pushing Dick behind her, wings flaring protectively. Arvak stood on the steps to the Hall, a serpent’s smile spreading across his face. His hair had warmed from brown to red, and two golden-feathered wings stretched from his back; all physical evidence that what he’d told Bailey was true – He had died. And Sikri had brought him back.

I only legitimized him, Bailey realized. I fucking tied him to me. I gave him exactly what he wanted. I’ll never be free now. Oh, god, what have I done?

Dick’s hand tightened on Bailey’s arm. “Give. That. Back.”

Bailey blinked, gaze refocusing. Sitting over Arvak’s heart, holding his tabard over his breastplate, were three golden feathers fixed to an amber cabochon.

The feathers she’d given Dick. The favor she’d placed in his hand, trying to tell him how she felt. The pin he’d made from it, to tell her he finally understood what she meant.

And the wrong man was wearing it.

“That isn’t yours,” Bailey hissed. “And you have no right to it.”

“Oh, but I have every right, My Lady.” Arvak’s voice dripped with false sweetness. “Far more than he does, anyway. I was the first you chose. The first you blessed. He –” Arvak jabbed an accusing hand forward “-- is nothing. Mortal. Powerless. He isn’t even Thanagarian – he’s worse than the Wingless.”

“Bailey, what the fuck is he talking about,” Dick asked in a whisper. She didn’t answer, too focused on Arvak coming down the steps. More of the Everburning fell in beside and behind him, silently surrounding the scene.

“I have no aspirations of courtship, Lady,” Arvak continued. “I know my station as your humble servant and vassal. But if you’ll allow me –”

THOK!

Bailey drew her arm back, knuckles stinging. “How dare you,” she spat. “This man is everything to me. He is a source of comfort when I have none. The light that brings me out of my darker days and guides me home. The example that inspires me to be my best, the person who reminds me who I want to be. I can keep fighting for each new dawn because I know he’s right there beside me, fighting for the same thing. The same dream of a better tomorrow. He is the reason I have a future to hope for.” She drew back, glaring down at Arvak in disgust. “I love him. And you will never. Touch him. Again.”

Arvak pulled himself to his feet, one hand still holding his jaw. A bruise was already forming, and blood colored the space between his fingers red. Likely a split lip or a broken nose, Bailey thought. Maybe she’d gotten lucky and managed both.

Arvak lifted his hand away from his face, wiping away the blood. He stared at his hand, contemplating, as he assessed the cut in his lower lip, the missing tooth, and the crimson still running from one nostril. “I… See,” he said, clicking his tongue. “I know that’s simply the shell talking, Lady Sikri. I know that isn’t you.” He motioned to the Everburning around them, and the circle tightened. “But we will hear your truth soon enough. And then this world will meet the end it deserves.” He turned, hands behind his back, and started to walk away.

“No,” Bailey snarled, lunging forward. Her hand closed on his wing, but the acolytes grabbed her and pulled her back. There was shouting behind her, and a too-familiar voice in pain. “Dick?!” Bailey swerved, trying to get to him. But there were too many to fight, was too much pain under her ribs. She screamed, half raging anguish, half futile warcry, as hands forced her to her knees in the dirt.

The cuffs came down around her wrists with a sharp click, arms now bound around her own wings, behind her back. A rough hand jerked her up by the shoulder, forcing her forward.

This is all my fault, Bailey thought to herself. We can’t beat them. And now they’re gonna kill us both, summon Sikri into my corpse, and destroy the goddamn universe. And it’s all because of me! I’m literally gonna be responsible for the end of everything!

“So,” Dick whispered as the Everburning shoved him into step beside Bailey. “Somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

Bailey blinked, dragging her thoughts out of the downward spiral to replay the last few minutes over again. Her eyes went wide when she realized what she’d said. “Aw shit. That… That wasn’t how I wanted to say it. Fuck.”

“I was talking about you being worshipped by some kind of apocalypse cult, but sure, let’s focus on you using the L-word.”

“Right, bigger things to worry about.” They climbed the steps and were marched into the temple proper.

“We are talking about that later, though.”

“If we live to later,” Bailey hissed back.

“Oh, don’t worry, Angel.” Even beaten half to hell, Dick’s crooked little grin was infectious. “We’ll live. Trust me.”

“Always.” Bailey could feel hope sparking in her chest again, dim though the light was. “If there’s anybody that can come up with a plan to get us out of here, it’s you.”

“You’ve beaten them before, right? How?”

Bailey’s stomach churned, seeing the stone dias under the skylight ahead of them. Arvak standing at it, waiting. “I lost, actually.”

“...Ah.” Dick looked away, gaze fixed on some indistinct point in the distance. Something bitter twisted into his grin. “Y’know, Angel, when I said I’d meet you at the altar one of these days, I don’t think this is what I meant.”

Bailey blinked, stumbling over her own feet as she was shoved down the steps. “I – gah – What?!”

Dick turned, something akin to a laugh in his voice, as they were both forced to their knees again, in front of the altar. “Had I not said that out loud yet?”

Bailey’s mind was spinning, struggling to keep up under the emotional whiplash. He wanted to marry her?! They were about to die – everything was about to die – and he was talking about getting married?!

“You picked a helluva time to bring this up!”

Dick shrugged with one shoulder. “We might not get a better one.” He shifted to look at her, cornflower-blue eyes burning like stars. “I love you, Bailey Adler. And I wanna marry you one of these days.”

Bailey’s heart leapt into her throat, tears stinging in her eyes. “I… I love you too, Bluebird,” she whispered. “With all my heart.” A moment’s pause, followed by a half-hysterical laugh. “But please tell me this isn’t how you’re actually proposing.”

“If you two are quite done,” Arvak drawled, “we have our own ceremony to complete.”

Bailey snapped her head up to look at Arvak, already holding the Eye in his hands. It pulsed and flickered with an orange glow, filled with Sikri’s fire. But then something over Arvak’s shoulder caught Bailey’s attention.

“No, actually, I’m not,” Bailey quipped, dragging her gaze back down to Arvak. “I’m not done talking and interrupting your ceremony. You really think I’m Sikri? Really think I’m your Everburning Lady of Holy Destruction or whatever the fuck?” She shoved herself to her feet. “If that’s true, why do you need to force me to be here? Why do you need to kidnap my boyfriend and use him as bait to drag me across half a galaxy? Why do you need to bind my wings?!”

Dick glanced up, watching with cautious concern. Meeting her gaze, he nodded once, barely perceptible.

Bailey stomped up onto the altar, spinning to face the crowd. “If I’m your damned goddess, why does your high priest have to fight me? If he’s Sikri’s chosen mouthpiece, why doesn’t he listen to me?!” The words left her chest in a roar, righteous anger filling her lungs. “I know you are all so tired, so angry and jaded with the world. I know what Thanagar is like! I’ve walked the lower levels! I’ve seen your pain, your misery! But there is hope, and it isn’t in the form of some – some divine doomsday!”

“Don’t listen!” Arvak snarled, gripping Bailey’s wrist and trying to yank her off the altar. “This isn’t Sikri talking, it’s the shell she’s trapped inside! There’s only one way to make things right, and you all know it!”

“I know what it’s like!” Bailey ripped her arm free of Arvak’s grip. “I know what it’s like to feel alone! To feel like there’s nothing you can do to fight against the evil in this world! To feel like there’s nothing worth fighting for!”

A faint violet light started to spill into the room as Bailey continued. “Things are bad. I won’t deny that! You wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. You look ahead and all you can see is more of the same, more pain, more sorrow, more lonliness and suffering.”

“Because that’s all there is anymore,” Arvak argued, trying to take control of the crowd.

“No,” Bailey cut him off. “No, that isn’t true. You all came here because you were hungry for something, for some shred of hope, connection, community!” The violet light was brighter now, radiating from behind her. “Alone, we can’t find our way out of the dark. We need friends, family – we need love to guide us out. To give us hope, a reason to fight, to make things better.” Bailey glanced down, meeting Dick’s wide eyes, and smiled. “I found my star to follow.”

There was the faintest clink of metal, and the flicker of a grin across Dick’s face. Bailey closed her hand around her prize. Perfect timing.

Arvak snarled, grabbing Bailey with one hand on her wings, the other pulling her leg out from under her. She hit the altar with a grunt, but kept her fists clenched at her back.

Dick sprang over the altar, slamming his knee into Arvak’s face with a wordless growl.

Bailey dragged herself up to one knee, spitting out blood from where she’d bitten her tongue. How did Gigi start this again…? Right, I remember.

Taking a deep breath, Bailey started the oath. “For hearts long lost and full of fright.” She shoved herself upward, climbing to her feet. “For those alone, in blackest night!” She could feel the power surging through her hands and up her arms, making a beeline for her heart. Fitting. “I accept the ring and join the fight! Love conquers all, with violet light!”

And suddenly Bailey was suspended in a glowing crystal cocoon. Power flowed around her, through her, melding the broken rib, burning away her exhaustion and fatigue. She smiled, bright and joyful, as she pulled her hands free from behind her back, the shackles long gone, and drove her fist into the crystal wall. The gauntlets she wore now were pink and sliver, knuckles studded with red-violet crystals.

Fractures spiraled out from that point of impact, and with a loud KR-KRACK, the cocoon shattered, fragments spiralling away and dissolving into light. Bailey threw her arms out, pale pink wings stretching, as she leapt into the air. Her breastplate and the skirt of armored plates were the same rosy red-violet, detailed in silver, and with the starburst of the Violet Lanterns encircling Sikri’s upraised wings on her chest. The helmet was gone, replaced with a winged headdress, violet, pink, and silver. She grinned, whirling. A brilliant, giddy feeling poured through every vein, inescapable and enrapturing. And there was someone Bailey needed to share it with. Where is he?

Arvak had Dick pinned against the altar, a knife in his hand. Suddenly all the joy in Bailey’s heart turned to something else, something violent and vicious and sharp. With a wordless snarl, she dove, catching Arvak’s wrist and shoulder, wrenching the limb backwards.

Arvak screamed as something snapped, but Bailey didn’t relent, snatching him up by the back of his robes, driving the both of them into the air with a powerful beat of her wings.

“I told you,” Bailey hissed, “what would happen if you hurt him.” She carried them higher and higher, through the skylight and up into the air. The ring gave her speed, and soon they had left the ground far behind them.

“Let me go,” Arvak howled, arm hanging uselessly at his side while he thrashed.

“You sure about that,” Bailey asked, feeling the manic grin spread across her face. She held out her arm, letting Arvak feel the distance to Kalmoran’s surface. “I’ll do it. Ask nice.”

“Bailey, no!” A streak of emerald light shot up from below, and suddenly Kyle was hovering in midair beside her.

“Hey, Glowstick.” Bailey didn’t take her eyes off Arvak. His eyes were wide with terror, his one good arm wrapped around hers. His wings flapped behind him, one bloody and pierced with a green-fletched arrow. “Connor’s here too, I take it.” If Bailey dropped Arvak, it would be to his death. Something in Bailey enjoyed that thought, enjoyed this sight.

“Nobody needs to die.” His hands were out, palms up, trying to reach her. “C’mon, look at him, he’s not worth it. Let’s just go home.”

“...He killed me, you know.”

“What?” Kyle’s tone was one of disbelief. “You, uh, look pretty good for a dead woman.”

“I came back. It’s fine. I’m fine.” Liar. “But he was gonna kill Dick. And I can’t let that happen.” Bailey relaxed her grip, just for an instant, and bit down on a laugh as Arvak screamed, his nails digging into her exposed arm.

“It’s not like I didn’t warn him,” Bailey continued. “Told him at the start I was gonna kill him again. And that I’d make him suffer, this time, if he hurt him.”

“So why haven’t you dropped him yet?” There was something cold in Kyle’s voice now. Almost like his objections were withdrawn.

Bailey shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t holding Arvak. “Dunno. Figure Dick’d be pretty pissed about it, I guess.” She drew her arm back in, leaning down into Arvak’s face. “Speaking of? You have something that doesn’t belong to you.” Bailey reached forward and ripped the brooch from Arvak’s chest, the torn fabric sliding off and spinning away into the air.

“My – My Lady, please –”

“Not your anything, creep,” Bailey snarled. “How many times do I have to tell you that?” She drew back, holding him out again. “Doesn’t matter. You did ask politely.”

“What are you – No!” But Arvak’s protests were cut off as Bailey let go – catching Arvak in a crystalline bubble.

Kyle let out a breath. “I’d have understood. But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Silently, Bailey turned, diving back towards the temple. Arvak, in his hamsterball, followed behind.

The sound of combat rose to meet the three of them as they neared the ground. Diving through the skylight, Bailey realized the entire temple had been thrown into chaos.

The rest of their party was still trapped at the altar, slowly trying to carve their way through the crowd to the door. Around them, the Everburning seemed to be fighting themselves, voices shouting and blows flying. Dick was leaning on Connor’s shoulder, the two of them trying to dodge and defend, aided by the figure hovering above them.

“LANEY?” Bailey’s tone was outraged. “Kyle, what the fuck–! Why is the kid here?!” Turning, she smacked her friend upside the head. “What is wrong with – Ooh, we are gonna talk about this when we get home.” Without waiting for a reply, Bailey dove into the fray.

“Yes ma’am,” Kyle snarked, rubbing the back of his head and following.

“Greetings, Captain!” Laney’s greeting was chipper as ever. “Are you well?”

Bailey braked in midair, wings flaring, as she caught the little android by the shoulders and held him out at arms’ length. “Forget about me, kiddo, are you okay?”

“I am operating at optimal capacity,” Lanos chirped. “Minor surface damage, but nothing worth concern.”

Bailey wrapped a hand around the back of Lanos’ head and pressed his forehead to hers. “Good. I need you safe.” Letting go, she turned and dropped to the ground. “Dick!”

Dick turned, pushing off of Connor’s shoulder, a strained smile on his face. “I’m here.”

Bailey wrapped one arm around his chest, pulling him into her, sinking her fingers into his hair again as she dragged him into a searing, hungry kiss. Something surged up from her chest, flowing forward, through her and into him. Pulling away, Bailey wrapped herself around Dick, folding her wings around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. “I love you.”

“I know,” Dick replied, pulling away and holding Bailey’s face gently, thumb tracing an arc over her cheekbone. “I love you too.”

THWAK!

Connor winced, turning, as the Everburning member dropped to the ground. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt the moment.”

“No, we need to get out of here,” Dick acknowledged, and then paused as a puzzled look crossed his face. “Bailey? Did you… Heal me?”

“Mmmaybe?” Bailey blinked, letting her eyes skim over Dick’s chest. The cut that had crossed from his left shoulder to his sternum was gone, as were the bruises that had formed. “I, uh, don’t know everything this thing can do yet.” She held up her left hand, indicating the ring with a wave.

“The Star Sapphire rings have the strongest healing capabilities of all the Lantern rings,” Lanos offered, pushing the battle back with a wall of green light. “A Sapphire with a strong enough love can even bring their loved one back from death’s door.”

“The Princess Bride jokes write themselves,” Kyle chimed in. “Can we skip to the part where we get the hell out of here?” A winged horse leapt from his ring, galloping in a downward spiral and landing in front of Connor with a whinny and a toss of its head.

Connor laughed and swung onto the horse, grinning. “So sentimental.”

“So dramatic,” Bailey corrected, words eased with a fond grin. She closed her eyes, smiling, tapping into the warmth lodged in her chest, letting it expand until it felt like her ribcage would burst. Violet light burst from the ring in a flare, coalescing into a sleek, angular motorcycle.

Dick raised an eyebrow, throwing one leg over the seat. “Now who’s being sentimental?”

Bailey shrugged wordlessly, swinging on behind him. “I have far less hesitation about holding on, this time.” Her arms wrapped tight around his waist, pulling herself close against his back as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

A low chuckle rumbled through Dick’s chest as he pressed a hand against Bailey’s clasped ones. He revved the bike’s engine, and Bailey could almost feel the grin on his face. “Laney? Can you clear us a path to the door?”

“My designation is Lanos,” Laney corrected, the note of cheer in his voice turning hollow. “And yes, I can. Lantern Rayner? I am handing crowd control over to you.”

“On it, bud.” Kyle raised his hands like a conductor, and a platoon of skeletal emerald warriors surrounded them, forming a shieldwall.

Laney turned, and bright green energy flowed from his hands, forming a plow. Smart kid, Bailey thought, pride swelling in her chest. Just push ‘em aside, minimize injury.

“GA, you got the door?”

“I think I can handle that,” Connor said, already nocking an arrow.

“Alright then.” Dick’s voice was level, focused on the mission. “We move on three. One. Tw–”

“Three,” Laney interrupted, shoving forward.

The rest of the party stumbled into action behind the android, Kyle’s shieldwall breaking and moving along to hold the gap as they moved. Two shafts flew from above, landing in the joints of the door’s hinges. A faint beeping rose into the air, and a moment later, twin explosions erupted from them. With a creaking groan, the doors dropped from the wall, falling to the ground with an echoing boom.

The room fell quiet for a moment, as the riot stilled to look at the remains of the door. And then, slowly, everyone turned to stare at Bailey and her companions, wreathed in emerald and amethyst light.

“Go faster,” Bailey urged. “Go go go go go go now go –”

Shouting erupted around them again, louder this time. Some were calling out to Bailey – “Lady Sikri!” – others calling for blood – “Liar! Pretender!” Bailey tucked her head against Dick’s shoulder and willed the bike to move faster. The five of them tore through the doorway in a blur of green and violet, Arvak trailing behind.

“I left the ship over there,” Bailey yelled, pointing over Dick’s shoulder. “Behind that ridge!”

The team hung a hard right, and they tore across the landscape, sand and gravel flying up behind them. They shot over the open space, the bike roaring up and over the ridge.

“Hold on,” Bailey yelled, the bike dissipating as her concentration shattered. Dick’s arms locked around her neck, her arms sliding underneath him. Swooping down into a landing, she raised an irritated eyebrow.

“There were safer ways to get to the ship.”

“I thought a straight line would be faster,” Dick replied, head tilting as he grinned down at her. “And you can’t tell me we’re not both enjoying this.”

Bailey’s grip on Dick’s thigh tightened. “Y’know, if you wanted me to scoop you up like this – “

“Hey, lovebirds!” Kyle was standing on the Theseus’ boarding ramp, hands thrown up in exasperation. “Get your asses in the ship before we leave without you!”

“Right, escaping, sorry!” Bailey kicked into the air, Dick still in a bridal carry. “He’s just. He’s very distracting,” she managed, setting him down as the hatch hissed closed behind her.

“Yeah, well, save the honeymoon for when we get home,” Kyle sighed, the fond smile taking the bite out of his words. “And preferably when I’m not around.”

“They’re as bad as Ollie and Dinah,” Connor teased, leaning on the wall. “Can’t blame ‘em though, being newlyweds and all.”

“What.” The word came out of Bailey’s throat in a strangled cough. She’d blame the way she half-fell into Dick on the Theseus’ rough takeoff.

“They’re joking,” Dick reassured, rolling his eyes at the commentary and easing Bailey back to her feet.

“I do remember an altar and vows,” Kyle pointed out. “And a ring.”

“We even have a priest," Connor added, gesturing towards Arvak, slumped in the corner of the brig, unconscious. "Almost lost him when you dropped him a minute ago, but he's here."

Bailey sighed hard through her nose, crossing her arms as she glared into the cell. "He sure is. Question is, what do we do with him now?"

"Well," Dick said in a half-drawl, "in my experience, crazy bad guys usually go to the authorities."

"No Earth court has jurisdiction over this dirtbag," Bailey replied. "What authorities do we take him to?"

"The Lantern Corps can take authority," Kyle offered, face scrunching. "There'll be, like, paperwork and stuff. But he was, technically, arrested by a Green Lantern and a Star Sapphire."

Bailey felt her own face mirror Kyle's. "Ew, paperwork." She shook her head. "I'm gonna go check in on Laney. I know he said he's fine, but the way we jerked just there, I don't like it."

Dick nodded as she stepped away. "We'll give you two a minute."

Bailey turned and caught Dick's hand, pressing her lips to his knuckles. "Thank you, love."

"And I thought the pining was bad."

Bailey shoved Kyle's shoulder as she went by. "Aw, shuddup, Glowstick. You ain't got room to talk."

Kyle stammered, caught off-guard, as Bailey swept onto the bridge. She grinned as she heard Connor behind her: "Kyle? What did she mean by that?"

The doors hissed shut before she could catch Kyle's reply, and Bailey found herself striding towards the Captain's chair.

"Hey, Laney-bug. You doing alright?"

Lanos turned his head to glance sidelong at his Captain. "I believe I have answered this question already, Captain Adler." All the false cheer was gone from his voice. "I am in optimal condition."

Bailey sighed and turned to lean against the console, peering out the viewport at the stars. "Physically, maybe." She turned back and set a hand on his shoulder, thumb running back and forth over his pauldron. "But something's bothering you. You... don't have to talk to me about it now, not unless you want to. But if and when you do, I want to listen."

After a long moment, Lanos looked up at Bailey, his eyebrows knitted. "...Thank you, Bailey."

"Hey, what are starship captains for, if not that?" Bailey wrapped a hand around the side of Laney's head and kissed the top of his helmet. "I take care of my crew."

Laney's expression shifted into a smile as he laid his hand around Bailey's wrist. "What's our course, Captain?"

"Oa. We're dropping our guest into a sciencell and throwing away the key." Bailey crossed her arms over her chest, jaw set in a grim line.

Laney drew back, shocked. "Are you certain, Captain?"

Bailey shrugged. "I know it sounds harsh, but believe me, Arvak's getting off light. If it were up to me, he'd be in the airlock, not the brig." Her tongue clicked as she sucked on her lower teeth. "Which is why, I suppose, it isn't up to me."

"Oh!" Laney heaved a sigh of relief. "The prisoner. I had thought you were referring to the young woman in the ventilation system."

"The who in the what."

Skreee-THOOMPH!

Bailey spun on her heel to find a pile of brown feathers and lanky limbs picking itself up from the floor. A panel hung loose from the ceiling, dangling by one bent screw.

"Azra?!" Bailey could feel the headache building behind her eyes. "Kid, how the – what the hell are you doing here?!"

Azra bit her lip and pushed a lock of long blonde hair out of her face, shoulders high. "You told me to go somewhere safe, My Lady."

"I just meant – I didn't mean – Argh!" Bailey dragged her hands down her face and sighed, trying to calm down. "Kid, you need to go back to Thanagar. Your parents–"

"Are dead," Azra interrupted. "I'm an orphan. No family to speak of."

Bailey opened her mouth, then closed it. "Friends, then. School? A life!"

Azra's eyes were downcast. "...I was just a child when Arvak found me. The Everburning was all I had."

There was a full marching band playing between Bailey's temples now. "...Well. I can't really send ya back there, now can I?"

Azra looked up at Bailey, expression uncertain. "My Lady, I–"

Bailey held up a hand. "We can sort this out after we deal with Arvak. But hell if I'm gonna drop you off at some spaceport, so don't even ask. You are too damn young to be out on your own."

"Captain?" Laney had moved to the navigator's seat. "Shall I set course for Oa now?"

Bailey nodded with a sigh, falling into the Captain's chair. "Roll out. And tell the boys they can come in whenever they're ready."

#Bailey gets kidnapped enough as the story goes along it's Dick's turn okay #i'm posting this at 12:30 at night so please forgive any typos this is 100% a rough draft #i decided halfway through that this isn't how i actually want to handle... pretty much any of these plot points #but it's way the HELL in the future so we'll see what happens when we actually get to this point #oh wow by the time the formatting got fixed it's 1:15 in the morning #wheeeeeee i hope you guys like this

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mischiefandspirits · 2 years

Text

YA Vampire Love Story (6/6)

When Tim started at Louis E. Grieve Memorial High School, he’d just wanted to catch a criminal. He wasn’t expecting to find a pair of lifelong friends in Bernard and Darla.

Wait, does it count as lifelong if they stay friends after they die?

Part of my Colony of Gotham universe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Corvid!?”

Tim and Dick dropped their controllers as they looked up at Bernard in shock. Tim jumped off the couch and raced towards him while Dick looked him up and down with a frown.

“He shouldn’t have woken up this quickly,” Dick said to himself.

“How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?” Tim asked, checking Bernard over for a moment before slipping under his arm to help support him. “Let me help you.”

“You’re Corvid.”

Tim looked away. “What are the chances I could convince you it’s cosplay?”

Bernard stared at him.

“Yeah, I figured.” He helped Bernard over to the couch and Dick got up so Bernard could lay down.

“You’re an angel.”

Tim flushed.

Dick snorted and turned towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab him something to drink.”

“I’m not an angel,” Tim said, sitting next to Bernard’s hip.

“A demon then,” he sighed. It sucked that his theory was wrong, but they couldn’t all be right. “Wait, you’ve listened to me talk about my theories for years and never said anything!”

Tim opened his mouth.

“Hold on, I’d known you for years before Corvid showed up. How does that work?”

Tim closed his mouth and put his face in his hands.

“And what’s the deal with Wayne? Does he know you’re a demon? Is he a demon? Are all your siblings demons? Oh my God! Your whole family’s the Colony! But how can Wayne be a demon? He had parents. Well-known parents from a well-known family. Was he possessed? Are you possessed? Should I call Darla?”

“I thought you explained it to him before you turned him,” Dick said, coming out with a steaming mug.

Flinching, Tim moved his hands from holding his face to tugging on his hair. “I might have just told him he was going to change, but not what he was, you know, going to change into, exactly.”

“Tim!”

“I told you I wasn’t thinking straight. He was dying and I had to move fast.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose and passed Bernard the mug, which looked and smelled exactly like what had been in the IV.

“What is this?”

Dick gave Tim a pointed look.

“Blood,” Tim said, face blank.

Bernard tried to pass the cup back to Dick. “I’m good.”

“It’ll help you feel better,” Tim insisted.

“I know you grew up with stuff like blood pudding and old British home remedies, but -”

“Actually, Tim grew up almost entirely on human blood and coffee,” Dick snorted and Tim jabbed him in the side.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, that makes sense.” Right, Tim was a demon. Demons would eat… yeah.

Tim sighed. “Bernard, I’m not-My family aren’t demons. Or angels or anything like that. Bruce just played it up when people started saying Batman was a demon because of the fear it inspired. We can’t do all the stuff people seem to think we can, like traveling through shadows or ripping our heads off and putting them back on. It’s just a lot of training and makeup.”

“Robin can move so fast it’s like he’s in two places.”

“Carrie and Damian are both Robin. Robin has mostly been two people ever since Jay and I shared the role after I joined the family.”

“Batgirl can turn invisible.”

“Cloaking device.”

“You can fly.

“Jetpack.”

“Nightwing has no bones.”

“Dick’s just like that.”

“Lark can see the future.”

“Oh, Duke actually can do that. He’s a meta with photokinetic abilities,” Dick chimed in. “He’s the light sheep of the family, if you will.”

Tim jabbed him again.

“So most of the Colony are just normal humans.” That was certainly not an idea he’d ever considered or heard of. It explained how fit Tim’s family was, though, and quite a few other things too. “But then what did you mean about changing me? And what’s with the blood?”

“I didn’t say we were human,” Tim argued. “We’re just a lot lower on the power scale and we don’t really use what little powers we do have in the field.”

“So you’re metas?” But then why act like Duke was the exception.

“No, we’re, uh… vampires.”

Bernard stared at Tim for a moment, then looked up at Dick.

He gave a comforting smile, which showed off a pair of fangs.

“Tim, I’ve seen you out during the day before,” Bernard said slowly. Then the blood left his face. “Wait, was Stephenie Meyer right?”

Dick burst out laughing.

“Please don’t ever say that in Jason’s presence,” Tim begged, pushing his brother away when he tried to use him as a crutch. “Sunlight doesn’t affect us at all. We do lose our powers during the day, though, which is where the idea of us being creatures of the night came from.

“No sparkles,” Dick cackled with a nod.

“Jason’s going to fill your bed with glitter again,” Tim hissed.

“And I’ll rock it again.”

“But will Artemis?”

Dick flinched as he sobered up.

Bernard looked between them with a frown. He still had so many questions, but first, “So that explains the blood, but not the saving me thing.”

“I turned you,” Tim said. “It was the only way to save you.”

“But I can’t be turned.”

The brothers stared at him.

“What do you mean?” Tim asked.

“Remember how you bailed on Easter horror night?”

“You guys celebrate Easter with horror movies?” Dick muttered.

“Jesus rose from the grave so I suggested we watch zombie movies to celebrate. You know, in respect to their religions,” Tim explained to his brother quickly before turning back to his friend. “In my defense, Joker had hidden egg bombs all over the city so it was all hands on deck. I didn’t want to ditch you guys.”

“Okay, but since you weren’t there we decided to play a drinking game. Then we were watching Zombienie and I just-I was really drunk so I started getting upset and worrying about getting bit by a zombie. I was freaking out and Darla, in her infinite drunk wisdom, said she could place an enchantment on me that would protect me against any kind of minor contagious magic. Like zombies and vampires and werewolves and stuff. Then she did it.”

“You-She-Why didn’t you tell me?” Tim asked.

“I did. I called you while we were doing it. Remember?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “I remember getting a call from you about how you’d never have to eat my brains now. And when I tried to get you to clarify, you just said something about my brains being big and tasty before hanging up.”

Blushing, Bernard bit his lip. Had he said that? “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, wait, if you were enchanted, how did Tim turn you?” Dick asked.

“He couldn’t have,” Bernard argued.

Tim stared into the distance for a moment before jumping to his feet. He raced over to the laptop on the dining room table and started typing on it. A moment later Bernard heard a call being placed.

“Hey, Tim,” Darla answered. “Have you heard anything about Bernard? I should be able to get to Gotham by lunch tomorrow, then I’ll tear that Chaos Monster to shreds.”

“It’s okay. Bernard’s here. But, uh, hypothetically, would the enchantment you placed on Bernard to protect him from contagious magic end when he died?”

Bernard frowned when Dick stiffened, but stayed quiet.

“… What happened?”

“I said hypothetically.” When she didn’t respond, Tim said, “Long story. I promise I’ll tell you later if you just answer the question.”

“… I can’t believe you two. Bernard finally asks you out and you two pull this. Yes, it would end the moment he died. I expect a full explanation when I get there, Wayne.”

“Yep, got it. Thanks, Darla.” Tim hung up.

“You two were on a date?” Dick asked, voice blank.

“Is that really what you want to talk about right now?” Tim groaned and pressed his face into the table.

Dick threw his hands in the air. “You’d rather talk about how you made a strigoi.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“What’s a strigoi?” Bernard asked.

“It’s a zombie vampire.”

The three spun around to see Red Hood leaning against the door to the balcony, his muzzle hanging from his hip and his voice distinctly Jason’s.

“How long have you been there?”

“Just got here. Oracle sent me over to see how you’re doing, but I’m guessing blondy asking about strigoi means the answer is not well.”

Dick started for the door. “I’ll catch the others up with what I know while you talk to Bernard.”

Tim didn’t respond. He didn’t even move until the balcony door shut behind his brothers. He came back over to the couch and sat down next to it. He grabbed the mug off the coffee table and fiddled with it for a second before handing it to Bernard.

The blond stared down at the blood. “I’m a zombie vampire?” Did that mean he only ate zombie brains?

“No, ignore Jason.”

“Then what’s a strigoi?”

“It’s-If a human dies after getting bitten by a vampire, there’s a very, very small chance they can come back as a strigoi. It doesn’t happen if that person had started turning or more than five hours had passed since the bite, and the chances are one in fifty, but it can happen. Strigoi don’t have anything in common with zombies except the coming back to life thing, but plenty of other things also involve coming back to life so Jason was just being a jerk.”

“So strigoi are just undead vampires? But aren’t all vampires undead?”

Tim shook his head. “Another misconception. Mostly because strigoi and vampires often get combined or are considered two of a kind, even by people who know about all this stuff.”

“So what’s the difference then?”

“Strigoi drink blood like vampires, but they -- you -- don’t need as much. It’s because we need to get nutrients from the blood while you're only supplementing your life energy. So if you’re injured, you’ll need more to heal yourself. You’ll also need normal food daily like a human, unlike us. We're both able to transform into an animal from a group that’s natural to our kind, but only we can influence our sister animals. Our strength, speed, and senses are slightly better than a human’s, but yours will be the same as they’ve ever been. In return, you can heal faster than we can and you have the ability to turn invisible. Something to do with manipulating life energy as light, I think. Alfred would be able to explain it better.”

“Ok.” That was… a lot. He took a sip without thinking and was surprised when he didn’t taste blood. The taste was as indescribable as the smell, but it was good. He took a few more sips, remembering what Tim had said about feeling better. The pain in his chest did start to lighten and he felt more awake, energized, his thoughts ordering out some. “I’ve got a lot of questions.”

“I figured.”

“But first, is there something wrong with me being a strigoi? Dick looked kind of freaked.”

“No, it’s not you. Being a strigoi is fine. It’s making a strigoi that has a bit of a stigma. A strigoi’s death isn’t always an accident.”

Bernard had grown up in Gotham. He knew there were messed-up people out there. “Vampires have killed people trying to make a strigoi.”

“People have killed a lot of people trying to make a strigoi. It’s not always the vampire’s fault and it’s not the only way strigoi come about, but there’s always this worry whenever one pops up. Dick’s just worried I could get into trouble. It should be fine, though. Jason Blood’s the resident overseer and he’s friends with Bruce so he’ll hear us out. The Kanes might kick up a fuss, but they don’t like us at the best of times so there’s nothing new there.”

“There’s a vampire called Jason Blood?”

“Oh, he’s not a vampire. Let’s just say he’s got more in common with Darla and leave it at that. Not my story to tell.”

Bernard nodded and took another sip from the mug. Then he realized something. “Have you guys ever taken a bite of the guys you fight?”

“Excluding B’s whole thing with Selina?” Tim deadpanned and it hit Bernard that Selina Kyle-Wayne was Catwoman. Either that or Bruce was cheating, but he was guessing the former considering just how many cats she and Damian had. “Would you want to put your mouth on any of them?”

“Well, Deadshot’s kind of a DIL-”

“Bernard!”

“And I’m straight, but Poison Ivy -”

“No! The answer’s no! Please stop talking!” Tim groaned and Bernard snickered into his mug. He was so cute when he got flustered. “We don’t feed on any of them! It’s unhygienic and who knows what they’ve got flowing in their veins! We stick to the blood we buy from a bank!”

“So you’ve never fed on a person, then?”

“Not any more than what gets in my mouth during a quick bite, no. Dick has and I think Bruce and Kate might have too during their travels, but I don’t think any of the rest have.”

Bernard hummed. “So you guys are proper, civilized vampires then?”

“Yeah,” Tim snorted.

“But you guys only drink human blood? Are you not able to drink animal blood?”

Tim made a so-so motion. “For both vampires and strigoi, it works similar to how xenotransfusion works for humans. There are only a few kinds of animals we can drink from, mostly apes and pigs. Anything else would make us sick. Drinking too much animal blood can also have adverse reactions and there isn’t a need. Blood shortages happen, but not often thanks to modern medicine and we’ve got the benefit of not having to worry about things like blood types.”

Bernard nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, staring at his lap. “I should have talked to you about all this before I turned you.”

“Hey, no. Tim, I was dying. I did die.” That was also something he’d have to think about, later. “You saved me. That’s what matters. Besides, I knew you were going to do something to change me and this -” he shook his mug a little “- is weird, but not anywhere as bad as Darla’s heart almost being taken over by demonic magic. It’s all good, Tim. Promise.”

Tim gave him a shaky smile and Bernard returned it with a more genuine one.

He grabbed Tim’s hand and brought it to his lips, fighting back a smile at the blush that took over Tim’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darla pushed past Tim when he let her into his apartment.

Bernard was sitting on the couch with a steaming mug and looked up with a smile when she came in.

“How was your guys’ date?”

Tim choked and Bernard’s grin grew.

“Is that really the first thing you want to know?” Tim asked.

“You’re both alive and in one piece, so yes. We can discuss Tim’s concerning call and who I need to kill later.”

“You don’t need to kill -”

“How’d the date go?” she cut across Tim and he gave up with a sigh.

“I got kidnapped,” Bernard pointed out.

“I meant before you got kidnapped, obviously,” she huffed and dropped into an armchair. “How was it going?”

Bernard opened up his mouth, but Tim spoke first.

“I didn’t know it was a date.”

The two stared at him blankly.

He shrugged. “Sorry?”

She pulled her phone out. “I need to text Stephanie.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Tim, I asked you to dinner,” Bernard said, watching as Tim stole Darla’s phone.

“I thought it was just us going out as friends.”

“If I wanted to go out as friends, I would have suggested Batburguer, not an upscale bar.”

She shook her head. “You two. I should have known you’d mess this up without me. Did you even bring Tim flowers, Bernard?”

“What? Me? Why do I have to be the one to bring flowers?”

“Because you asked him out! I guess that answers my question, though.” She tried to get her phone back, but Tim kept it out of her reach and dodged when she tried to grab it with magic. “Wayne! Give me back my phone!”

“Not if you’re going to text Steph about this!”

“She’s going to find out eventually!”

“Only if you tell her!”

She crossed her arms. “And why shouldn’t I?”

Tim sighed and sat down on the arm of the couch. “What do you want?”

“I want Metropolis’s number.”

“Metropolis?”

“Tall, pale, and handsome in the leather jacket.”

“Superboy?” Tim teased.

She rolled her eyes.

“Wait, do you know Superboy?” She turned to see Bernard staring off into space. “Oh my God! How many superheroes do you know?”

Tim rubbed a hand down his face. “Bernard joined a cult and got stabbed in the heart, and we’re discussing my connections? Seriously?”

“You what!?” She rushed to Bernard’s side and started checking him over.

“You’ll pay for this, Wayne,” he hissed over her shoulder before smiling at her. “I’m fine, really.”

“You got stabbed. In the heart. ”

“Yeah, but I got better.”

She turned to Tim.

“He’s a strigoi.”

“Dying is not getting better!” she snapped, turning back to Bernard.

“That’s rich coming from a fellow zombie.”

“I was not fine after coming back. I was the opposite of fine. I nearly tried to kill Robin, remember?”

His eyes widened and darted to Tim. “Oh my God! She-That was…”

“Bette and I at the time,” Tim finished.

“And she was head over heels for you. That must have been-Wait, Bette? But she’s a girl.”

“So’s Steph and Carrie.”

“I completely forgot you said Carrie was working with Damian. And Steph too? Isn’t that weird?”

“Probably would have been if it’d been Jason and it got a little weird during Duke’s year for multiple reasons, but we make it work.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Darla asked, looking between the two.

“Tim’s a vampire.��

“Tim’s whole family are vampires, what’s your point? Wait,” she turned to Tim, “you’re the one who turned him? Why would bite him knowing he couldn’t be turned? I’d think it was a kink but you didn’t know you guys were on a date.”

“I didn’t know he couldn’t be turned,” Tim groaned.

“Bernard told me he was going to tell you about the enchantment.”

“He was drunk.”

She nodded. “That explains it.”

“Rude,” Bernard muttered. He poked Tim in the side. “How come you told her you were a vampire?”

“I didn’t, and that’s a good point,” Tim said. “Since when did you know we were vampires?”

“Zatanna told me.”

“That snitch!”

“So what exactly happened? Why’d you get stabbed and why were you close enough to help?”

Bernard bit his lip and looked up at Tim. “How much can we tell her?”

“All of it, actually. Something happened this winter while B and Selina were on their honeymoon and, well, I’ve been meaning to tell you both. I didn’t want to do it over the phone, though, and getting us all in the same place has been difficult. And there was no way I was going to deal with one of you guys getting mad if the other found out first.”

“Are you sure Zatanna didn’t snitch about this too?”

“Considering she doesn’t know? Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Darla asked, narrowing her eyes.

#Tim Drake #bernard dowd #timber #Red Robin #darla aquista #colony of gotham #fanfiction

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