#Bruce hates himself after he called a stranger by all his kids names | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

red-jaebyrd · 3 years

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She Made Everything Better

Summary: Dick has his first cold since moving into the Manor with Bruce. All he wants is the one person he can’t have – his mom. Bruce does his best to fill the void as well as helping an ill and still grieving boy find safety and security in his new guardian.

For @ckbookish

There are many things that Bruce wasn’t prepared for when he took in 8 year old Dick Grayson. Little things like enforcing bedtimes and daily baths; to big things like no swimming in the pool alone and making sure Dick stayed off the front foyer chandelier…or any chandelier in the Manor. The other was taking care of a sick child.

Dick had only been living in the Manor for six months and had yet to come down with any kind of illness. Considering all the stories Bruce had been told by well-meaning co-workers of their kids coming home frequently with colds; he considered himself fortunate that Dick had remained cold-free.

Until one morning when he could hear faint coughing coming from the bedroom down the hall.

“Bruce,” Dick cried, dragging out his name followed by a series of more wet coughs.

Oh no, Bruce thought to himself. Those coughs didn’t sound good at all. He followed the cry and coughs to Dick’s room and saw the boy laying down on his bed bundled in blankets and surrounded by discarded tissues. His cheeks were flushed, his nose was red, and eyes were glassy.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked, sitting on the edge of Dick’s bed.

“My head hurts, my nose won’t stop running, and I’m coughing,” Dick answered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

Bruce quickly went through a mental checklist of what the boy might need while dealing with a cold. By the looks of the boy’s flushed cheeks, he likely had a fever. What was that saying, ‘feed a cold, starve a fever’; that didn’t sound right to Bruce.

Dick coughed and then groaned, snapping Bruce out of his thoughts.

“Why don’t you drink some water. It’s important to stay hydrated,” Bruce suggested, walking over to Dick’s nightstand and handing him his water bottle.

“No,” Dick whined with a pout pushing the water bottle away. “Water tastes gross, and it hurts when I swallow.”

“Understood,” Bruce said, a bit bewildered by Dick’s whining. Set the water bottle back onto the nightstand. He sat on the bed in front of Dick reaching to feel Dick’s forehead with the front of his wrist. Dick shivered at the contact. “You feel warmer than usual. I’ll be right back with a thermometer.”

“No,” Dick moaned, reaching his hand out for Bruce from under his blankets. “Don’t leave me.”

“I know you’re feeling bad, Chum, but I need to get a thermometer to see if you have a fever,” Bruce soothed, sweeping Dick’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. He smiled, taking Dick’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “I’m not leaving I’m just going to your bathroom to get the thermometer.

Bruce walked toward the en-suite bathroom in search of the thermometer but came up empty. He searched all the cabinets, and they didn’t even have any children’s medicine, just polysporin, hospital grade antiseptic and, tons of band-aids. Bruce could have sworn they had children’s Motrin, but sadly there was none.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Bruce said, closing the bathroom door and making his way toward the bedroom door.

“No, don’t leave,” Dick pleaded, reaching out frantically to Bruce this time with both hands. His eyes welled up with unshed tears. Bruce shoulders slumped and he sat down one the bed again, taking Dick’s cold hand in his and rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

Bruce furrowed his brow in concern at Dick’s behavior. It was extremely unusual for Dick to be this clingy and demanding when it came to Bruce. The two did spend more time together now that Bruce had changed his schedule a few months ago. Dick did like to seek attention from his guardian in the most heart stopping ways imaginable. Bruce quickly recalled the first and last time Dick backflipped off the second landing stairs nearly giving Bruce and Alfred a heart attack.

As Bruce had gotten to know Dick, he had learned that the boy liked being with people; liked spending time with Bruce and once Dick had got his fill of ‘peopling’, he’d be off outside or in his room playing alone. The boy liked attention, but he was far from clingy.

“Dick, I’m not leaving. I’m just heading to the intercom near the door to speak to Alfred,” Bruce explained, using his free hand to gently card his fingers through Dick’s hair and resting his hand on the boy’s cheek. “I’m not leaving.”

“Okay,” Dick sniffed, letting go of Bruce’s hand to rub his face with his blanket.

Bruce wrinkled his nose and handed Dick a fresh tissue from the discarded box on his bed. He then headed to the intercom near Dick’s bedroom door and pressed the button hoping Alfred was still in the kitchen.

“Alfred, I need a thermometer. Can you bring one to Dick’s bedroom, please.”

“Right away, Sir,” Alfred answered promptly.

Bruce turned and gave Dick a small smile, but the gesture wasn’t returned. He expected as much considering how poorly the boy felt. It warmed Bruce’s heart to know that Dick found security and safety in his presence. A little hand reached out to him from under the blankets. It made Bruce chuckle, so he made his way back to the bed and sat down taking Dick’s hand. Dick slouched low against his pillows blinking tiredly at Bruce.

“I wasn’t going to leave you. I told you I wasn’t,” Bruce reassured, trying to tuck Dick’s duvet around him with one hand and failing. Dick let go so Bruce could finish with both hands. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Just as Dick was going to answer Alfred arrived with a thermometer and a fresh box of tissues. He handed the thermometer to Bruce and set the tissue box on Dick’s nightstand. He then proceeded to collect the dirty tissues and deposit them in the trash bin.

“Will that be all, Sirs?” Alfred asked, moving the bin closer to the bed so it stayed within Dick’s reach near the nightstand.

Bruce stayed sitting on the bed and gave Alfred a rundown of all the supplies that they would need while Dick blew his nose. As usual Alfred had a pen and notepad on hand and wrote down everything.

“Anything else? Master Dick, would you like something to eat before I go?” Alfred asked, tucking the notepad and pen into his front jacket pocket.

Dick didn’t answer Alfred right away. The boy looked lost in his own thoughts, but mostly he looked tired. Poor guy, Bruce thought to himself, he must be feeling so out of it.

“Dick,” Bruce whispered, gently squeezing Dick’s hand to get his attention. Once the boy’s glassy eyes met his, Bruce took that as a sign to continue, “Are you hungry?

“Oh um –“ Dick stammered, and started playing with the hem of the duvet. “Would – would it be okay to have toast with cinnamon on top, please?”

“Certainly, young sir. I’ll get to it straight away.” Alfred replied and left the room closing the door behind him.

Bruce proceeded to take Dick’s temperature and just as he suspected after the thermometer beeped; he frowned looking at the number on the screen. Dick had a fever. Bruce was trying to remember if he should call a doctor right away or if he was supposed to wait two or three days if nothing improved. He’d likely call Leslie today just to be sure.

“Is it bad?” Dick asked, bringing the blanket up to his eyes.

“Well, it’s not good, 102.2, buddy. We’ll keep an eye on it. Make sure it goes down with meds. If not, I’ll have to call Dr Thompkins,” Bruce clarified, turning the thermometer off and setting it on the nightstand. “So cinnamon toast?”

“Mom would always give it to me whenever I got sick,” Dick swallowed thickly, looking down at his blankets. “She – she said the cinnamon had healing properties that would help make me feel better.”

“I’m sure it did,” Bruce said, brushing Dick’s bangs away from his face. “Moms are good like that aren’t they?”

Bruce tried to give Dick a smile, but it felt stiff on his face as he fought against the lump forming in his throat at the memory of his mom making him chicken noodle soup whenever he got a cold. He remembered loving the noodles and the broth but like all kids his age, Bruce hated the chicken and veggies. Over the years the soup was something that Alfred had tried to replicate, but to no avail. It just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his mom’s soup.

“My mom would –,” Bruce sniffed and then cleared his throat, but before he could finish his sentence; Dick’s face crumpled, and he started sobbing.

In the short time that Dick had been staying at the Manor, he had only cried a handful of times. Even after a nightmare, tears spilled down silently. Dick was always quick to wipe the tears away before Bruce could fully envelop him in a hug. Always pulling away from the embrace claiming he was fine as the tears continued to fall down his cheeks. Bruce had never pressed as he never felt he had the right words to say. Because ‘I know how you feel’ and ‘I’ve been there too’ didn’t really seem like great words of comfort.

But maybe they were the exact words that Dick needed to hear.

“Oh Dickie, come here,” Bruce offered, his arms outstretched and his own eyes filling with unshed tears. He gathered Dick in his arms and settled him on his lap. The boy practically melted into his embrace.

“I don’t feel good, Bruce,” Dick bawled, his breaths hitching from crying so hard. “I want – I want my mom.

The last sentence was said in a whisper in between sobs. Dick’s fingers tightened as he clung onto Bruce in a desperate hug.

“I m-miss her,” Dick mumbled, trying to catch his breath and failing. “I miss how – how she made everything better.”

Bruce’s heart sank; his own tears finally falling down his cheeks. She made everything better. It echoed in brain and he couldn’t deny that the boy was right. Of course, Dick missed his mom; it made sense that he missed her. Every child who felt ill wanted their mom to be the one holding them, taking care of them, and making their favorite comfort foods; not some stranger they’ve barely known for six months.

He hugged Dick a little tighter and sighed. They had come a long way these past six months, dealing with Dick’s anger and trust issues that had only been fueled by Bruce’s incompetence and neglect in the guise of protection. While necessary changes to his schedule were made to fit Dick into his busy life and it had changed the dynamic in how they interacted with each other; the change still didn’t do much to help Dick feel safe enough to talk to Bruce about the loss of his parents. Until now, so naturally Bruce took advantage of a missed opportunity.

“I know you do. I know you miss her so much and I’m so sorry,” Bruce empathized, resting his cheek on the Dick’s head and rubbing small circles on his back. “I know – I know how you feel, chum. I really do. I’ve been where you are and it – well it sucks.”

Dick nodded in silent agreement and continued to cry.

“I know it feels like – it feels like the pain is so much bigger than you, but one day it won’t feel so big and overwhelming,” Bruce comforted, wiping away his own tears with his free hand. “And – and while the hurt won’t go away completely. It will get better in time. For you, that I promise.”

Bruce continued to hold Dick as his body calmed from his crying jag. The boy’s breaths slowly regulating from shuddering gasps to hiccups. Bruce was happy to finally be able to provide such comfort to Dick after so many months of him pushing him away. His feelings were never hurt from the boy’s rejection, Bruce understood firsthand that type of vulnerability and transparency in grief can be scary, especially in an unknown environment.

He had hoped that their conversation today would help pave the way to more talks and further healing for Dick. Bruce was confident the boy would be alright, but these difficult conversations had to be something that Bruce initiated and participated in as well.

“Any time you want to talk ab out your mom or your dad; come find me, okay?” Bruce offered, giving Dick a reassuring smile. He wiped away Dick’s remaining tears with his thumb. “Even if it’s in the middle of night. Understand?”

Dick nodded, his breaths finally evening out.

They sat on the bed in companionable silence. Bruce hummed a tune he remembered his mom singing whenever she was knitting or just needed to fill the silence. He could slowly start to feel Dick’s body going boneless against his chest with exhaustion; his breaths gradually getting deeper with sleep.

Just as Bruce was about to close his eyes a knock on the door startled him and woke up Dick.

“Here is your toast, Master Dick,” Alfred announced, setting a tray on the other side of the bed. “I also added a few digestives and the last juice box until I can get the apple juice you requested.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick sniffed, still clinging onto Bruce.

Bruce brought the tray closer to Dick so the boy wouldn’t have to move from his place of comfort.

“You are very welcome, young sir. If there is nothing else you require of me, I shall leave to retrieve the necessary items.”

An hour later, once Alfred returned with the medicine, Bruce was pleased to finally be able to give the boy some much needed relief from the headache and congestion. Dick still wouldn’t let Bruce leave, so Bruce suggested they move to the media room to watch a movie.

Bruce covered them with a blanket thin enough to make Dick comfortable, but not too thick to spike his fever. Dick settled himself right up against Bruce’s side, draping a thin arm around him and using Bruce’s chest as a pillow. Dick fell asleep ten minutes into the movie. Bruce stayed watching the rest of the movie, carding his fingers gently though Dick’s hair relishing the closeness and comfort he was finally able to provide his hurting foster son.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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A Tear in the Fabric

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, binding.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and dark!Clark Kent and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Universes collided as a malfunction brings an unexpected visitor.

Note: This is my first DC/Superman fic and a rare crossover fic. I really hope y’all like it but tbh it’s filth.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office shook. Rather, quaked. The glass vase in the corner broke on the table and a flash rippled through the air. You clung to your desk to keep from falling out of your chair. You waited a moment as an eerie lull followed. Then voices and rushed footsteps followed.

You got up and followed the several other bodies towards the labs. You were of the dozen or so people permitted beyond the doors and you slipped past the rest of the confused employees of Stark Tower. Natasha met you at the door and you both peered inside, the door at your feet.

Peter was in a heap, another body beside his. He groaned as he rolled over beside the other man and screamed as he faced him. He scrambled away and pushed himself against the wall. Nat grabbed your arm and you looked at each other. The man on the floor was unfamiliar and peculiarly dressed. He fell flat on his back and his eyes opened.

“Parker, what did you do?” Tony pushed between you and Nat as he strode in. His hair was askew as he straightened his tie.

The dark-haired stranger sat up and was on his feet so quick, Tony and Peter flinched. Nat stepped inside, ready to fight, and you lingered by the door. He was tall, broad, and he wore dark blue gear with a red cape slung from his shoulders. His blue eyes flashed as he spun in bewilderment. His hands were fist, as ready as Nat for conflict.

“I was just-- I--”

“Who are you people?” The man asked. “Where am I?”

“Calm down, Schwarzenegger,” Tony raised his hands. “We’re all friends here… and we’re wondering the same about you.”

“I’m…” The man’s eyes bounced from person to person. “...Superman?”

“Are you asking me?” Tony scoffed and brushed past him. “Kid, what did you?”

“I was just… looking at the particles--”

“Looking?! And maybe some touching?” Tony shouted. “I told you they’re not toys.”

“I know. I was just-- I figured something out and--”

“Broke every window on the floor!” Tony interjected. “And zapped in Adonis 3000 over here for good measure.”

“Um,” The dark-haired man looked around. “Can someone please tell me where I am?”

“New York. Stark Tower.” Tony hissed over his shoulder as he stormed towards Peter.

You glanced over as you heard footsteps echo behind you. Steve, Bucky, and Sam were nearly tripping over each other and skidded to a halt in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” You kept your voice down. “Peter--”

“Peter, of course,” Bucky huffed as he crossed his arms.

“Who’s the muscle man?” Sam nodded to the stranger as he stared with consternation at one of Tony’s contraptions.

“Good question,” You passed through the door and Steve caught your arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Well, since Tony can only manage to yell at the kid, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

“He could be dangerous,” Steve said quietly.

“And I’ve got the most dangerous heroes all around me.” You brushed his hand from your arm. “I think if he meant to do something, he’d already have.”

The man seemed even bigger the closer you got. As you neared, you recalled you were the only one in the room without combat training, a special suit, or enhanced abilities. You were just the one who did the paperwork to clean up after all the rest. You cleared your throat.

“Um, hello,” You tried to smile and the man turned to you, blue eyes blazing. “That’s a, uh, nice cape. Were you by chance at a costume party or--”

“I’m Superman.” He repeated, this time firmer. He looked at you as if you were dumb.

“Yes, okay, well you are at Stark Tower… in New York? Where are you from?”

“Metropolis,” He spoke again with the same obvious tone. “Stark Tower? Never heard of it.”

“Tony Stark?” You blinked. “He runs Stark Industries.”

“Ah, like Wayne Industries,” He said. “Maybe he knows Bruce.”

“Wayne Industries?” You wondered. “What’s--”

“In Gotham City. Bruce Wayne; the world’s most infamous playboy?” He said with venom.

“Actually that’s my title,” Tony turned as he finally quit berating Peter. “Never heard of this Wayne guy.”

The man scowled and turned to Tony. “Well, you sound like him.’

“I hate to break it to you, beefcake, but you’re a long way from home.” Tony crossed his arms. “Without precise data, I’d surmise a few thousand dimensions away.”

“Dimensions? That’s--”

“Look, I could go into the science of it but I think that might be a bit over your head. To put it simply, we have these magical little particles that can affect the fabric of space and time. Maybe throw us back a few years here or there but it seems my… protege here decided to go sideways instead of backwards or forwards.” Tony explained. “What I’m trying to say is that whoever you are, Capeman or whatever, well, this isn’t the world you’re used to saving.”

“But you ended up in the right place,” Nat intoned. “Seems we have the same interests in mind.”

“Keeping people safe,” Steve added. “Right?”

“Of course,” The caped stranger spun around. “Forgive me if this isn’t a bit… unbelievable.”

“Buddy, I wish I could say it was just a dream,” Tony sighed. “Or a nightmare. However you wanna see it. The good news is, if I can get the kid to do exactly what he just did, we might be able to send you back.”

“Well, um, Mr. Stark…” Peter piped up from behind him. “I kinda… well, the stabilizer isn’t… working anymore.”

“Someone get the kid out of here,” Tony pinched his nose. “Please. I can’t look at him. I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten and he better be gone.”

“What does that mean?” The strange man asked. “Stabilizer?”

“It means,” Tony ignored Peter as he was ushered out by Natasha. “That you’re stuck here for a while… hopefully not forever.”

“Stuck?”

“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna toss you out on the street to terrorize the public.” Tony assured. “We’re just going to--”

The man raised his index finger and touched his temple as he hushed everyone. His forehead wrinkled as he listened and his hand formed a fist. He was suddenly gone as he darted out in a blur of blue and red; a speeding, flying blur.

You looked around as Tony stood with his mouth open and the three men around the door grimaced. Steve frowned and turned to rush out after him. You followed but barely reached the end of the hall, where others watched from the other side of the clear walls. The lot of you were stopped by the reappearance of the man in a furious gust.

“What the hell was that about?” Stark snorted as he caught up.

“Robbery. Ten blocks down. Suspect subdued, waiting for police.” The man confirmed with an arched brow.

“Tony,” Sam turned to look at his boss.

Tony nodded begrudgingly.

“So, Superman, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind cooling it while we try to figure out how to get you back home?”

“Cooling it?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t stop you from saving this world,” Tony chuckled. “Just… try to loosen up.”

“Mmm,” The man grumbled. “I’ll try.”

Tony winked at you and beckoned to the three other men. You knew that look; ‘take care of it’. Bucky and Sam crossed to Tony and Steve squinted at you before reluctantly following. You turned back to the stranger who called himself Superman and held out your hand and introduced yourself.

“Guess it doesn’t matter so much if you know my name,” He took your hand in his large one. “Clark. Clark Kent. Reporter.”

“Oh,” You smiled. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be a reporter.”

“Boring, most days,” He shrugged. “What do I do now?”

“Well, it’s kinda my job to get you situated.” You turned halfway between him and the other men. “Tony is the one you were talking to, the blond is Steve, the one in the middle is Bucky, and then you have Sam. Natasha was the one who took the kid, Peter out. And there’s a few more back at the compound.”

“Compound?” He wondered.

“Most of the Avengers live there. For response purposes, in case of emergency, they need to be able to mobilise,” You explained.

“You’re not an… Avenger?” He asked.

“I’m… a glorified babysitter and some would call me little more than a secretary,” You shook your head. “But no, not one of them.”

“Hmm,” He lowered his chin and thought. You peeked over at the others and Steve’s gaze met yours before it strayed to the large man across from you. “Well, where do we begin?”

“I’ll have to figure that out,” You replied. “Just this way.”

💥

One week. One week and it was a shit show. Tony still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the stabilizer, even with Banner’s help, and Peter was in virtual exile. You were left to watch over your visitor and the rest of the lot. For the most part, they were friendly but wary. All except one who seemed entirely suspicious of the man in the red cape.

The very one sat across from you. Steve stared at the tablet as you went through his last mission report and the numbers attached to the collateral. You hated it but Tony demanded it and you knew it wasn’t for his own needs. He had government agencies and the military breathing down his neck every day.

You leaned on your elbow as you went through your usual schtick, scribbling down Steve’s explanation and aligning them with the events noted in the report. You were roused by the knock that killed the drone of Steve’s voice. Your door opened and you smiled at Clark as he peered through shyly.

“Sorry, to interrupt. I guess I’m early. I’ll just wait out here.”

“It’s fine. We’re almost done,” You replied. “It’ll be about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” He backed up and shut the door.

You looked at Steve as he crossed his arms and frowned.

“Why’s he here?”

“Tony’s thinking about giving him missions. He’s going to be given access to training rooms and I told him I’d show him around the Tower.” You explained. “Anyways, the factory--”

“Oh? You and him… you his chaperone now?”

“As much as I am yours,” You half-sang. “Steve, let’s just get this done with.”

“We don’t know him. We don’t know if he is who he says he is.”

“I think we would know by now.” You countered.

“Wherever he’s from, how do we know he’s a good guy there?”

“How does he know we’re the good guys?” You returned. “Steve, come on. He’s… nice.”

“To you,” Steve said pointedly.

“And you?” You wondered.

Steve shrugged. He tapped his fingers on his leg and huffed.

“A car was diverted through the factory wall so that I could keep a civilian from getting hit instead. I did my best to aim it away from the building but was able to prevent casualties.” Steve recited. “Human life is worth more than concrete.”

“Mmhmm,” You stared at him a moment before you wrote down his explanation. “Alright, then, I guess we’re done.”

“I can show him around,” Steve stood. “If you want. You must be busy.”

“I need to register him in the system--”

“So do it. I’ll give him the tour.” Steve insisted. “I’ll give him a chance.”

“You sure?” You asked.

“Eh, we could use a fourth on poker night,” Steve said. “And you can catch up on work.”

“Deal.” You closed the folder and slid the tablet aside. “You’ll see, Steve. He’s a good guy.”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m sure.” He neared the door and grabbed the handle. “If you say so.”

💥

You strode through the halls of the Tower on your way to drop off your weekly rundown to Tony. Your eye was caught as you passed by the transparent wall of the Tower gym. At the compound, there were several but a few people used that at the Tower when they had business on site. You stopped and turned to find Clark waving at you through the plexiglass

You let yourself in and crossed to him as he sat on the weight bench. His thick muscles peeked out from beneath his grey tank as he smiled up at you.

“I haven’t seen you much lately,” He greeted.

“Yeah, lots of work,” You waved the folder in your hand. “How’s life in the compound?”

“Different. Still.” He said. “Tony says it should be much longer.”

“You miss home?” You asked.

“Well… sometimes. A lot happened before I ended up here that makes me think, well, maybe I’m better off.”

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s… nice to have someone actually ask me how I’m doing.” He stood and went to the bar, carefully unscrewing the large weights. “Everyone here is nice, I guess, but… you’re nicer.”

“Heh, well, that’s half my job,” You chimed. “Smiling in the face of adversity.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at that,” He laughed and you both looked over as the door opened. “Not at all.”

“Hey, Steve,” You called to the new arrival.

“Hey,” He was evasive as he went to another machine.

“Case and point,” Clark placed the weights on the rack one at a time as he spoke.

“What?” You looked over at Steve again then back to Clark. “I thought-- didn’t he show you around the other day?”

“Oh yes, he did,” Clark finished up and clapped his hand on his shorts. “He told me how things were around here.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve done it--”

“I can take care of myself,” Clark assured you. “It was nothing. Can I walk you to… wherever you’re going?”

“Sure,” You smiled as he grabbed his bag. “I… I interrupted, though.”

“If you don’t mind my sweat, I don’t,” He affirmed.

He opened the door for you and you glanced back at Steve as he sat on the squat machine. He looked back at you and lifted a brow. You smiled and his gaze flicked over to Clark and he scowled. You hid your confusion and continued down the hall.

You’d never seen Steve like that; usually you admired how amiable he could be. Always smiling, always helpful. Perhaps Peter had done more than tear a hole in the universe.

💥

It was rare that you weren’t kept late on Friday. Even more unexpected that Steve would invite you to a movie. Sure, it was a pastime that you, along with Bucky, Sam, and sometimes Nat, would get together for, but it was so last minute you felt entirely unprepared. As you had felt for much of the last few weeks.

As you headed out from the Tower, you found yourself diverted by the scene you found in the hallway. Clark stood, hands in pocket, reading a glass plaque on the wall. There were several through the offices; each explained a different milestone in Stark Industries. He leaned closer and adjusted his glasses; those were Clark’s, not Superman’s he clarified.

You neared quietly and gripped your bag. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Not particularly,” He stopped reading and turned to you. “I like Tony, despite the obvious but… well, I don’t think anyone could ever like him as much as he likes himself.”

“He prefers people to think so,” You said. “What are you doing here?”

“They said they might have fixed the machine or whatever,” He explained. “They didn’t. The particles… They need more of those too. Said something about calling someone to get more? I don’t know, they seem to think I’m too stupid to understand any of it. You know, even my earth isn’t my home. I just happened to fall there… like I did here.”

“Krypton,” You offered. He’d told you a little about it, not much. “I’m sorry you--”

“I don’t miss it. I never knew it.” He shrugged. “I think what’s bugging me is I don’t even miss the place I should. My earth; Metropolis.”

“You had parents there?”

“Had…” He frowned.

“Anyone else?” You prodded.

“At one time but she-- Sometimes things just don’t work out.” He gave a grim smile.

You were silent for a moment. You looked over at the plaque, at the translucent outline of the helmet that topped the famous Iron Man suit. You fidgeted and glanced back at Clark.

“You wanna see a movie?”

“A movie?” His brows drew together.

“Yeah, kinda something we like to do around here when we’re not crammed in here like ants in a hill,” You said. “Bucky, Steve, Sam; they should all be there.”

“Ah,” He nodded hesitantly. “Well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Is it Steve? Don’t worry about him. I’m inviting you as my guest.”

“Well, in that case,” He smiled, genuinely that time.

You nodded down the hall and he gestured you ahead of him, following with his arm almost against yours.

“You know, you and Steve, you got a lot in common.” You said. “Now I’m not saying you have to be best friends but he was once you. One day, he was back in the forties and the next he’s stranded in the next century. I always thought it sounded lonely.”

“Really?” Clark asked. “I never… I didn’t know that.”

“Bucky too but… that’s a long story,” You led him to the elevators and hit the button. “I know they’re stubborn, always have been but I think you’ll see, you’re a lot more alike than you think.

💥

You walked into the movie theatre, staring at your phone as you texted Steve to let him know you were there. Clark grabbed your arm before you could collide with another moviegoer and you thanked him as you awaited a response. You stood awkwardly near the entrance, watching the scores of people and adrift in the smell of popcorn.

“Arcade,” Steve finally replied. “Claw machine.”

You told Clark to follow and dove into the crowd. You followed the current to the arcade and broke off. You stepped past the racing game and the electronic poker and spotted Steve’s broad shoulders as he fought with the stick of the machine. You neared as he bent to grab his prize from the open door beneath.

“Hey,” You chimed.

“Hey, just in time,” He turned with the stuffed rabbit in hand, “This is for--”

His voice died as his eyes settled on Clark. He grimaced and cleared his throat.

“For you.” He finished and kept his glare above you. “Clark.”

“Thanks,” You took it hesitantly. “Where is everyone else?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“I thought… Oh, well, I just, we usually, all of us,” You found it hard to complete a sentence. “I invited Clark so he wouldn’t be alone and--”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Steve said tersely. “I was waiting to ask you what you wanted to see so… didn’t get tickets yet.”

You smiled and looked down at the rabbit. You realised you might have misread Steve’s text. Yet you didn’t want to assume he meant this as anything more than your usual friendly get together either. You were certain he was just mad that Clark was there because for whatever reason, he just didn’t like him.

“Well, what’s playing?” You asked.

“The only thing still available is that horror movie, Crimson, or that comedy about the mime.” He said. “I’m not big on scary movies but--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya, buddy,” Clark chuckled. “I think a scary movie might be fun.”

“Do you?” Steve challenged.

“Alright, alright, you two, let’s go grab some tickets, maybe some snacks, and calm down,” You urged. “Do you think you can make it through two hours?”

“Easily,” Clark grinned.

“It’s not a problem,” Steve uttered stiffly. “I’ll grab the tickets, why don’t you wait by the gate?”

You gave a pathetic smile and grabbed Clark’s arm. Steve’s eye caught the movement before he stepped away with a scowl. You dragged Clark away and past the rows of game towards the admissions stall. You hovered there, releasing him only to wring your hands together.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-- It’s usually a whole lot of us,” You said nervously. “I just don’t know what his problem is. He’s usually so nice and--”

“Ego.” Clark said. “I’ve dealt with it before. He’s the big hero, he’s used to being the best, the one in charge. He doesn’t like that I don’t bow to every demand. That his buddy Stark doesn’t make me.”

“I don’t… know,” You looked over as Steve neared. “Just promise me you’ll try to be nice even if he’s not.”

“For you,” He said. “Of course.”

💥

You usually enjoyed the previews but not that night. On either side of you sat a large, tense, and silently fuming man. You felt trapped between them as their arms took up much of the armrests. You held an extra large popcorn that no one seemed interested in and stared up dumbly as the deep voice announced upcoming titles. You should have just gone home and stared at the ceiling. That would be more enjoyable than this.

Then the theatre went silent as the screen turned black. The sonorous soundtrack droned before the screen lit up again. A mosaic walkway with lines of blood running along the cracks. Slowly the camera panned in until the entire screen was a sickly shade of red and the word Crimson appeared in large black letters, the music stopping on a high, terrifying note.

You really wish you had argued for the comedy. Yeah, it would’ve been stupid but with your anxiety already running high, you’d rather roll your eyes than bite your tongue.

Twenty minutes in, you rolled up the top of the popcorn bag and set it on the floor. A waste of overpriced kernels but the gory scenes made you anything but hungry. You winced and flinched as the movie carried on and felt a subtle shift from your left.

Steve’s hand fluttered over yours and he squeezed. You looked over at him and smiled. He leaned in until his arm was flush against you.

From your right, another subtle movement. It was until Clark’s arm slipped down from the top of your seat and dropped over your shoulders that you realised what was going on. He whispered in your ear. “Spooky, huh?”

You nodded as you were trapped in the hot tension of their bodies. You blinked and focused on the screen but you couldn’t decipher the words of the characters, barely even registered their screams. Clark played with the shoulder of your shirt as Steve’s thumb brushed over your skin. You didn’t like whatever battle they had declared.

💥

After the movie, you walked out and shoved the bag of cold popcorn in the trash. Steve was ahead of you and Clark behind you. As you came out in the cool night air, you shivered but basked in the refreshing chill it sent up your spine. The two men were silent.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked, suffocating in their wordless standoff.

“It was alright.” Steve muttered. “Bloody.”

“I liked it,” Clark said. “Been a while since I’ve been to the theatre.”

You nodded and dug your heel into the pavement. You glanced up at the streetlight and down the tarmac at the shine of yellow and white.

“I should get a cab,” You said quietly.

“Here,” Steve raised his hand to hail a taxi. “I’ll share. Make sure you get home safe.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Clark insisted. “Besides, it’s you and me who are headed to the same place.”

“You never know in New York,” Steve watched a cab pull up and open the door. “Nothing wrong with making sure.”

“It’s fine,” You raised your hands in a plea. “Really. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You two just go… home.”

Clark gave a crooked smile and Steve frowned as he gripped the top of the open cab door. You got in looked up at them.

“Good night,” You grabbed the door. “I’ll see you two on Monday.”

“Night,” Steve’s hand dropped and he backed away.

“Good night,” Clark called to you. “Let me know when you get home safe.”

“Will do,” You said as you pulled the door closed.

You sighed and gave the cabbie your address before letting your head flop back against the leather seat. You couldn’t decide who was dumber; you or them.

💥

Monday came and you had a peculiar butterfly flapping around in your stomach. Friday night hung over you like a shadow. The thought of facing either man was unpromising. The idea of facing them together was worse and made you squirm. There was something you were missing and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Or you were just being willfully and stubbornly ignorant.

But at the Tower, neither of them appeared. Well, they didn’t need to be there everyday. They probably got more done at the compound with its bigger and more accommodating facilities. You were thankful for the unexpected respite. Still, you were anxious. There was always Tuesday.

You buried yourself in paperwork and spent a little too long on the phone with intelligence. You skipped your lunch and by the end of the day, you were thoroughly exhausted. Yet you still had work to do. A lot of work. So you hunkered down for a few hours of overtime and went over field reports as you paced around your office, trying to stretch out the kinks in your legs.

You were startled by a knock. The Tower had grown quiet, most of the employees gone, even Tony as he had plans with Pepper. You slid the folder onto your desk and went to the door. Clark beamed at you from the other side.

“You’re here late,” He said.

“You too,” You stuck your head out and peered up and down the hallway. “I didn’t know you were even here.”

“Well, you know, the compound can be a bit… much so I come here at night to work out.” He said. “It helps me relax.”

“Oh,” You looked up at him confused.

“I just… I could hear you walking around in here and if you need a break, I’ll be in the gym. That’s all.” He said.

“Okay,” You nodded. “Sure, um…” You glanced back at the office. “Maybe I’ll take a break now. I could use it.”

“Alright,” He said happily. “Well, um,” He rubbed his neck as he backed up. “Should I lead the way?”

You stepped out into the hallway and looked down towards the next. He turned and you followed just behind him. You frowned as you realised he wasn’t really dressed for the gym. Well, maybe he still needed to change. You kept on, happy at least to be out of your stuffy office for the first time all day.

He opened the gym door and you stepped through, only noticing that another was already there as the door clicked shut behind you. Steve sat, hands together, on the weight bench. He wore a tee shirt and jeans. Like Clark, he didn’t look as if he meant to use the equipment. You spun to looked back at Clark.

“Um, what’s going on?” You asked. “You two--”

“We have our differences,” Steve said from behind you. You turned back to him as he stood. “That much we’ve figured out but we’ve also found that we have one glaring thing in common.”

You narrowed your eyes, dizzy and you looked between them.

“You,” Clark said.

Your heart dropped. You gulped, speechless. Then you laughed. It was unbelievable. Ridiculous. You were misunderstanding them.

“Funny?” Clark asked and you choked on your giggles.

“Well, which one is it?” Steve asked.

“What do you--” You blinked. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Friends?” Steve scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Is this a game to you?” Clark asked. “Huh, you like to lead the boys on and then act innocent when they want more.”

“No, I never-- I was just being nice,” You snapped. “I don’t-- We saw a movie and-- I didn’t do anything to--”

“You didn’t stop anything either,” Steve stepped closer and Clark mirrored him. “Would you have? If my hand had slipped a little lower? Or his?”

“You two… this isn’t funny anymore.” You spun between them as they closed in.

“Choose,” Clark said. “Him or me? It’s obvious you want one of us.”

You were silent. You picked at your nail as you looked back and forth between them.

“Or both?” Steve smirked and his eyes met the other man’s over your head. “I mean, you’ve been trying to make peace between us. What better way?”

“I…” You shuddered. “I got work to--”

You tried to sidestep Clark and he caught you around the waist. He flung you back and you collided with Steve. His arm wrapped around you as you struggled with him. You stomped his foot but he merely grunted and Clark neared as you kicked out at him.

“Stop, stop!” You cried. “I didn’t mean for-- You’ve misunderstood-- I never--”

“Shhhh,” Clark caught your feet and you hung between the two men. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“The opposite, in fact,” Steve added as they moved you to the weight bench and forced you across it.

“Hold her still,” Clark flicked your heels off and they bounced across the floor. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s not play this game.”

“Steve,” You gasped as you looked up at the man holding down your shoulders. “Steve, please, why are you--”

He slid his arm across your chest and smothered you with his palm. Your legs flailed and Clark trapped them between his as he stood over you on the bench and tugged at the waist of your skirt, busting the zipper as he tore it past your thighs. You writhed as the fabric fluttered to the floor and he grabbed your panties. He slipped them down your legs, past the sheer thigh highs and the dropped atop your skirt.

“Don’t let her up,” Clark ordered and left you to kick against the bench.

He returned with a skipping rope and wound it around your waist and arms, securing you to the bench. He nodded to Steve who ripped open the front of your blouse, the fabric pushed back over your shoulders to bare your bra. He snapped the front of it and it fell away from your chest, agape like your open shirt.

Clark grabbed another skipping rope and wound it around your shoulders and neck. Steve let you go and you squirmed against the tight rubber cords.

“Please,” You begged.

“Do you want me to shut her up or--?” Steve asked.

“I thought you called the shots around her,” Clark snapped as he removed his glasses.

“Do I?” Steve neared him. “If it was up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be drooling like a lovesick puppy,” Clark sneered. “Shut her up, then.”

Steve snickered and turned away from him. He winked at you as he neared and undid the front of his jeans. You grunted as you tried to roll off the bench but only caused the rope to dig deeper into your flesh. You pushed your feet onto the bench and kicked, trying to break the ropes. Nothing.

Steve came around your head and pushed open the denim. He rolled his jeans down with his briefs as he pulled himself out, stroking his already hard cock. You shook your head, barely able to as the rope squeezed your neck. He gripped your chin tightly, pressing until you opened your mouth with a whimper.

He bent his knees and shoved himself inside. You gagged around him as he forced his cock down your throat. Your body spasmed at the suddenness of the intrusion and your fingers clawed at the bench. He pulled back but not for long as he slid back in, your throat contracting around him.

“Mmmm,” Clark purred as he wrenched your legs apart and sat between them. He dragged his fingers along your folds. “So sweet… well, that’s what you like people to think, isn’t it?”

You could only groan around Steve as Clark teased you. Rubbing you until you felt the wetness spread. He poked a thick finger inside of you and your legs tensed against him. Your legs were trapped against his as he held them wide apart with his knees. He added another finger as Steve pushed himself as deep as he could go.

“You just gonna play with her all night?” Steve rutted down your throat between thick breaths.

“I’ll do what I want,” Clark clasped your thigh roughly with his other hand.

He turned his fingers and curled them. A pressure built at his fingertips. You were ashamed of how easily your body responded to him. You gripped the side of the bench as it seemed to strain beneath you.

Clark hummed and drew his hand away. You couldn’t see him but could hear him suck his fingers. It added to the sickness that curdled your stomach as Steve fucked your mouth. The sloppy noises that came from you echoed across the airy gym.

The bench shifted as you sensed movement at the other end. Clark lifted your legs and slid closer. He rested your ankles against his shoulders as his hand brushed your cunt, then his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, poked inside a little, then pulled out.

He slicked himself along your folds, rubbing against you and once more pressed himself to your entrance. He sank inside of you slowly. He let out a long groan and the deeper he got, the louder he grew. He jolted you as he lost his patience and impaled you entirely.

Steve’s cock poked the back of your throat as he bent over you and sped up once more. Clark began to thrust from your other end, your walls stretched around him painfully, and you arched your back against the tension of the ropes. You were lightheaded, barely able to breathe, your eyes rolled back as you quivered between the men.

The heat bloomed within you, building and building, the fire flowed through your veins as the room faded away. You shuddered and gasped for breath around Steve’s cock. Large hands clung to your thighs and lifted your ass just slightly as Clark hammered into you harder and harder.

You legs shook at the sudden snap inside of you. You unraveled in an instant and murmured as you spasmed wildly atop the bench. Your orgasm washed away all your fear and doubts and your lips hugged Steve’s cock even snugger as it slid in and out of your mouth.

Then it stopped. All of it. The ropes loosened and you were suddenly very empty. The only bound that remained was that around your neck which grew tight. You opened your eyes as they turned you onto your stomach. Your arms and legs dangled over the sides of the bench and the rope, a noose at your throat, drew taut as your head was forced up.

Clark held the other end of the skipping rope as he poked at your lips. He slid his cock into your mouth and down your throat. Steve settled behind you and titled your pelvis as he felt around for your entrance. His cock filled you swiftly as he slid closer. His hands gripped your hips as he began to slam into you, forcing Clark’s cock further down your throat.

“Fuck,” Steve snarled as he crashed into you over and over, jerking your entire body as he did.

“She’s… good,” Clark breathed as pulled the rope tighter. “Very… good.”

“Shit, I’m almost there,” Steve slapped your ass as you began to quake again. “Look at her, she’s cumming again.”

“Mmm, such a good girl,” Clark’s large hand grasped your head as he hammered into you. “Yeah, oh, that’s it.”

Suddenly, he pulled out and dropped your head, the spit dripping from your lips. You felt a warmth on our back as he came between your shoulders, his groans deep and dusky. Steve followed shortly, pushing himself back as he slipped out of you and rubbed himself through his climax against your thigh.

You remained, weak and whimpering, on the bench. You couldn’t move; stunned, drained of every ounce of strength. You panted wildly and your fingertips felt the cold floor blindly.

“Get her up,” Clark ordered as your vision began to clear.

“You.” Steve countered sharply. “You said it yourself,” Fingers danced over your spine and made you shiver. “I’m in charge.”

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

Text

The Crown Found in Rose Thorns - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Talia al Ghul, Jon Kent, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Pairing: jondami Summary: “My name is Jonathan Kent, of the Kingdom of Krypton. And I’m here to marry Prince Damian of the Kingdom of Gotham.” A/N: I told @berryfartsart some medieval jondami headcanons inspired by the DKOS announcement and they cyberbullied me into writing the AU for it. (Kidding, of course.) Anyway get ready for some old fashion slow burns and smoopy goopy love~ (but like...eventually, this won’t be fast updated haha)

Damian huffed, crossing his arms, wincing as the Cassandra pulled the brush through his curls once more.

“This is a farce.” He droned. “A complete jester act.”

Talia chuckled, but didn’t look back at her son. Continued brushing her own hair.

“It’s going to be the same as the past three days.” Damian warned. “They’re all simpletons not worthy of my time, or anyone else’s.”

“Then I would at least like to remind you, my dear precious boy.” Talia hummed, effortlessly twirling her hair into a braid. “That I am not asking you to marry today. I am asking you to explore what traits might appeal to you, what kingdoms you trust, or don’t.”

Damian winced as his sister tugged gently at his hair, and scoffed. “It shouldn’t be up to me. My marriage is unimportant.” He mumbled. “You should be focusing on the heir’s marriage.”

Talia sighed, dropping her brush onto her vanity and standing. She stared into the mirror for a moment before leaning over and plucking Damian’s crown off its stand. She turned and slowly walked across the room, staring warmly down at Damian as she approached him.

“Richard does not have a threat hanging over his life.” She murmured, pushing his bangs back before carefully placing the crown on his head. “Richard does not need all the protection he can get.”

“And our brother already has a suitor.” Cassandra chimed in with a giggle. “That warrior princess from the Tamaranean lands.”

“Indeed.” Talia agreed. “So even if he needed any protection from something he could not handle himself, it appears he already has it.”

“Jason then.” Damian tried. He twisted to look at Cassandra. “Or you.” He sat up. “You’re already betrothed to that bard woman!” He turned back to his mother. “Why can’t we make a big deal about her nuptials instead!”

“Because her grandfather is not threatening to steal her away and hold her prisoner and eventually murder her for power.” Talia laughed, holding Damian’s face with a hand on his cheek. “And I am not above a political marriage if that means you have two kingdoms protecting you instead of just ours.”

Damian pursed his lips, ignored the heat rising through his face. “…And if I pick no one to attempt a courtship?”

“Like I said, my beloved.” Talia leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I am not above political marriage to protect you.” She smiled, eyes darting between his. “Even if you forever hate me for it.”

She stood back up, adjusted his crown, then Cassandra’s, then her own, and turned to glide out of the room.

The throne room was abuzz with citizens of the town, and even visitors who had come to try their luck and win Prince Damian’s hand.

Damian sighed as he followed Richard onto their altar. Scanning the room, he could already see no one of merit, and no one of interest. So it was going to be another boring, pointless, wasted day.

“This should be for you.” Damian mumbled again.

Richard snorted, plopping into his seat. “Sorry I found love on my own, little one. Without Mother and Father’s help.” He smirked. “Besides, you should be nice to me. I don’t have to sit here with you all day. I’m just here out of the goodness of my heart, and fondness for my poor, sorrowful, lonely little brother.”

“Piss off. You’re here to amuse yourself at my expense.” Damian rolled his eyes, sitting more politely in the throne next to him. “And so you can go cackle at my misfortune with our brothers later.”

“Nonsense. We cackle at your misfortune on a normal day too.” Richard promised with a wink. “How’s that growth spurt treating you anyway?”

Damian frowned, tugging at his sleeves. “…I have requested a new fitting with Alfred after today’s…festivities.”

Dick smiled again, running his fingers through Damian’s neatly combed curls. “Your clothes will fit for longer than a week one day soon, kiddo.” He let his fingers fall from Damian’s hair to his cheek. “…I’m not just here to keep you company, you know.”

“…Oh?”

“Mhm.” Richard nodded. Damian watched as his blue eyes darted around the room. “I’m here to vet your potential suitors. Make sure they are good enough for you, strong enough to protect you-”

“I can protect myself, thank you.”

“-and this is the fourth day of the festivities. No doubt your grandfather has heard of them by now. Someone has to make sure no undesirables have snuck in, or attempt to make a move.”

“Do you truly think he would be so brash?” Damian questioned. “Besides, this whole thing was Mother’s doing. So, I thought that was why Father keeps attending, to keep watch.”

“He is. But like I said, this is the fourth day. Enough time to get word and move to strike. And forgive me if I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Richard smiled apologetically. “So Father and I are in here, Jason and Cassandra are running the perimeter and Timothy is monitoring the guard towers.”

Damian sighed, staring out into the crowd once more. A few of the guests were glancing their way now. Giggling and falling back into their whispers. Some of the less modest ones outright stared, giving Damian as flirty a smile as they could.

“…Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, I’m afraid it will all be for naught.” Damian drooped in his chair and crossed his arms. “If today is anything like the past three, it will be the most boring day of your life, and nothing will come to fruition.”

“Never say never, little one.” Richard offered dreamily. “Love strikes when you least expect it.”

“Love.” Damian scoffed, glancing over as Bruce and Talia entered the room, hands clasped between them. “Who said any of this was for love?”

“Well.” Richard hummed. “It is because we love you.” He offered. “And we’re hoping not to make this an arranged affair. That we can find you happiness in a partner as well as protection. That’s why we want you to choose.”

“And if I never choose anyone?”

Richard blinked, then offered a smile. But it was sad, almost pitying.

Damian crossed his arms tighter, glancing towards their parents as the King and Queen sat next to them.

“As I keep telling you all, I can protect myself.” Damian mumbled. “And I’m content being alone.”

Richard kept his sad smile. Damian refused to look at him anymore.

Damian wanted to rip his hair out.

As he had predicted many times that day, it was just more of the same.

A blacksmith offering the best weapons, and the safest house on the continent.

A nomad promising a life of adventure and delicious foods.

A group of sisters offering as many heirs as they could carry, and their father as the sole brave knight to protect them all.

A witch and a wizard together, offering magic as protection and endless fertility to continue the kingdom’s bloodline.

A princess offering the best clothes and parties.

A duke who…wasn’t even sure why he was there. He was sent by his father, and didn’t even know Damian’s name.

A young woman who merely offered her humor and loyalty. She could make him laugh, and made it clear that was all she had.

Damian almost agreed to meet with her, if only because he appreciated her honesty.

The sun was dipping in the sky outside the western window, and Damian could feel his stomach starting to growl. He glanced to his brother, who had sat all but stock-still all day, doing exactly as he’d said he would. Watching the room, vetting the visitors. Making sure these potential suitors were good enough for his littlest brother.

“…How many more do you think Mother will have stroll through here?” Damian whispered. “I don’t think I can take much more of this mind-numbing torture.”

Richard chuckled. “I’ll give her four more, then push for a recess. Alright?”

“Thank you.” Damian breathed in relief, glancing out towards the room. The crowd had thinned slightly, with some parties departing when their candidate was politely rejected. Others were just the local townsfolk, remaining purely to stick their noses in royal business.

Talia called for the next suitor to step up, and on the far side of the room, Damian saw three people stepping forward. But before they could make it even a yard, one of the large doors across from the thrones groaned open.

“Am I late?” A male voice called. A wave of chuckles swam around the room, and even Damian found himself smirking.

“Depends on what you’re looking for, son.” Bruce called. Despite the normal nature of the interruption, Damian could already see both his father and brother had put their hands on the hilt of their swords.

“Apologies, Your Highnesses,” Alfred appeared behind the man. He sent a glare over his shoulder as he passed by him. “I had asked him to wait a few moments, but he clearly refused. I do hope we aren’t interrupting.”

“No.” Bruce waved to three people apologetically, who nodded and disappeared back into the crowd. “If he is here for Damian, then we can hear him out.”

“I am!” The stranger called. When he moved, the sound of armor clanked around him. “Um, yes. I mean. I am. I am here for Prince Damian.”

“…Though tardiness is not a good first impression, I must say.” Talia scolded quietly. Bruce gave her a gentle smile and patted her hand. “Bring him forward.”

“Great!” The man – young, by the sound of it, probably closer to a boy – called, leaping past Alfred. “I mean, uh, thank you, Your Highness. For the opportunity.”

Damian watched the man as he walked the long carpet forward, and he felt his eyes narrowing in curiosity. He had dark hair that seemed permanently windblown framing his face, and an awkward smile that almost seemed like it was about to burst from his face.

What really struck Damian’s interest, however, were his eyes. They were a sharp violet, a color Damian didn’t recall ever seeing on a human being before. They were fascinating. Beautiful, even, if he really had to describe them.

As he approached, Damian realized the man – boy, he truly was a boy – was around his age. Seventeen like himself at most, but more likely a year or two younger. What surprised him about that, though, was the armour he wore. While a sparkling silver and recently cleaned, Damian could see nicks and dents in it, even a few shadows that could easily be blood stains, if he got close enough to look.

Barely seventeen and already a battle-worn war veteran?

Attached to the shoulder plate of his armour was a brooch that fastened his bright red cloak together around his neck. It was gold, shaped like a freshly cut diamond, with a large S painted blue on the inside.

Damian didn’t recognize the coat of arms. And Damian knew all the coat of arms of every kingdom and town on the continent.

That was suspicious.

He glanced to his side again. Richard had not taken his hand off his sword.

The boy had reached their feet now, that large smile still adorning his face.

“Hello.” He said plainly. “My name is Jonathan Kent, of the Kingdom of Krypton.”

Talia huffed, raising her head. “And what are you here for, Sir Jonathan?”

Jonathan’s smile, impossibly, seemed to widen.

“Well, Your Highness.” He started, turning his head to stare directly at Damian. Damian found himself flinching under the intense gaze. “I’m here to marry Prince Damian of the Kingdom of Gotham.”

A wave of gasps rolled through the room, followed by an almost deathly silence. While they were all here to propose a courtship and future with the prince, no one had dared to be so forward! Just as no one should have. It was presumptuous and out of place. Everyone knew that. Everyone.

Bruce and Talia glanced at each other, and Richard had the gall to stifle a laugh in his fist.

But Damian.

He was tired, he was annoyed. He was fed up with this charade that had not only taken up almost a week of his life, but one he did not want to partake in, in the first place. He was fed up with people looking at him. Fed up with being treated like a thing, a prize.

So as his parents glanced at each other, and the court calmed themselves over the offense, Damian stood, moving to the front of the altar.

“I beg your pardon?” He spat, brushing off Richard’s fingers as he tried to grab him. “How dare you think I’d want to marry a nameless peasant such as yourself.”

“Well, past experience says you wouldn’t be that against it.” Jonathan shrugged, armor clanking. “But that also is a moot point, because I’m not a peasant. I’m Jonathan, from the Kingdom of Krypto-”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Damian declared. “And I know every kingdom here to the coasts. Which makes you a liar, dear knight.”

The moniker was all but sneered, but Jonathan just let his smile grow a little wider, a little…fonder.

Suddenly Jonathan glanced over Damian’s shoulder. “My father’s name is Clark Kent, but he also sometimes goes by Kal. You’ve fought at his side before, King Bruce.”

Damian whirled around to find his father nodding. “Indeed I have.” Bruce frowned. “I don’t recall him being from any kingdom though. He called himself a traveler.”

“A…recent development.” Jonathan admitted. “One we are still getting used to. But Krypton is his – our – home, and once the truth was discovered, they welcomed us back with open arms.”

“Your father is king?” Jonathan nodded. “Quite the…development, as you said.” Bruce murmured. He glanced at Dick, who shook his head. “He never mentioned a son.”

“He has two. Myself and my older brother, Connor.” A nervous chuckle. “He was…very protective of us as we traveled. Hid us in forests and with witches when he and mother had dealings in towns and villages. Apparently whatever ousted him from Krypton all those years ago, he was afraid we would be its next target.”

“None of this is relevant to today.” Damian cut in, whirling back around to face the suitor. “How long have you been under the title of prince?”

“A few years.”

“And in a few years you did not learn any manners?” Damian scolded, crossing his arms. “You do not enter another’s kingdom and demand someone’s hand in marriage.”

“I did not demand.” Jonathan countered. “I promised.”

Damian felt heat rise to his cheeks. “And who said I would choose you? How do you know I have not chosen anyone to court yet?”

“Past experience.”

“Past experience with who?”

“You.”

The room’s silence grew tense. Damian’s hands balled into fists.

“I have never met you for a second in my life.”

Jonathan lowered his voice. “Are you so sure?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by his mother.

“Damian.” She hummed. “…What do you think of this…gentleman? Are you interested in him?”

“I think he’s a complete buffoon.” Damian answered instantly. Jonathan chuckled to himself. “An arrogant, deceptive moron.”

Jonathan merely blinked. “Your Highness, that doesn’t answer her question.”

Damian felt a blush blossoming on his face. “You-”

“And if we’re going to marry within the year, perhaps you should answer quickly, so we can begin our courtship.”

“Again, who said I would ever want to marry you?” Damian demanded.

Jonathan shrugged again. “Well, so far, you haven’t said you don’t.”

Damian felt his jaw go rigid. This idiot. This disrespectful, uneducated boy who claims he fell into power. So sure of himself, so narcissistic. And he already thought Damian belonged to him? That Damian was already his?

That smile was still plastered to his face. It was mischievous, and held a secret.

Held a challenge.

Say no, it said. I dare you. Let me embarrass you in front of your court and walk away with your tail between your legs. I dare you.

Damian never could turn down a dare. A test. And if it was a challenge Jonathan Kent of Krypton wanted, it was a challenge he would get.

He wanted to court Damian? Fine. Let him court Damian. Damian would eat him alive. Emotionally tear him limb from limb. Send him crawling back to Krypton wondering why he ever even bothered with the youngest Prince of Gotham.

After a moment, Damian returned the smile, slowly walked down the altar steps, and moved towards the knight. Stopped only inches away, and stared up into those mystical purple eyes.

There was something in those eyes, Damian noted. Something just out of reach. Purposefully hidden. Hidden from everyone? Or just Damian?

This close, and Damian was reminded once more of the marks on his armor. The red shadows he’d noticed before, he could now confirm were blood. Old and flaking, and much more of it than he first realized. Not his own, Damian decided, based on their locations. Blood from others.

Mischievous…and dangerous.

(And beautiful!, his brain supplied. But he ignored that part. Stayed focused on the challenge at hand.)

He glanced down between them when he noticed Jonathan’s fingers twitch, like he wanted to reach out. Want to touch him. Damian let his gaze rise. Smirked, and reveled in the scene of Jonathan biting his lip, just slightly.

“Yes, Mother.” He whispered. But his voice was heard through the whole room. “I think I am interested.”

Jonathan kept his gaze. Whispered back, “I knew you would be.”

“Your arrogance will be the death of you, Traveler.” Damian hummed, turning away. He began back up the steps, was almost to the top, when he heard the quietest words ever spoken.

“No, I do believe only you will be, love.”

Damian spun back around at the tender sound, his face heating up. Jonathan was still staring, but now his gaze was softer, more adoring. Like he’d known Damian for years.

Like he really was here just to profess his eternal love and marry him on the spot.

…Curious.

Suddenly, a hand was on Damian’s shoulder, and he turned to find Richard above him, watching Jonathan as he tugged Damian back to his seat.

Talia began speaking to Jonathan, Bruce adding a word or two, as Richard and Damian sat back down. That look was gone from Jonathan’s face now, back to business as the queen set a time for him to return the next day to spend time with her son.

“…First impression?” Damian murmured to his brother. He felt himself twitching every so often, when Jonathan would glance his way.

“Honestly? Suspicious.” Richard returned. “I’ll need to look deeper into this history he’s claiming. See if Father and I can get a hold of Clark. Find out about the status of Krypton.” Richard paused, then looked over at him. “Are you honestly interested in him?”

Damian shrugged. “If not for love, then for my personal entertainment.”

“That’s cruel, if he’s genuine.”

“Do you think he is?”

Richard looked back. The knight was bowing to their parents now. Stood, and turned to the two of them to bow again. When he stood upright once more, he gave Damian a wink, then turned to walk back down the aisle and out of the room.

Richard clicked his tongue as Jonathan disappeared out the large door. Glanced at Damian with a sly smile. “…Ask me again after your first date tomorrow.”

Damian groaned and slumped in his throne.

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Talia al Ghul #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #Princes au

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ckbookish · 3 years

Text

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim.

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones.

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call.

6 Two-face: The Better Choice

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat?

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself.

8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?”

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true. That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.

13 Dad: Storge

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily. The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way.

“Your dad must have his hands full with you.” Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view. It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world. The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield... Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad. But he wasn’t.

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard. The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway. Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter. He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it. Wolverhampton.

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been. Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.

23 Kidnapped: Chum

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing.

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

#batman bingo 2020 #Master Post #Batman #CK Writes #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #tim drake #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Red Robin #robin #My Writing

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batmanie · 3 years

Text

Worth it - Batman TAS

Out of the few books available at the Arkham rec room’s otherwise empty bookshelf Professor Crane had chosen to read “Pride and Prejudice” today. He had read it about ten times already but the small book collection was not getting any bigger and it was still better than reading the Bible.

“Alice’s adventures in Wonderland” had been banned from Arkham’s library quite some time ago for triggering a certain inmate, and “Christmas Carol” had lately been decorated with obscene doodles by the Joker which Jonathan did not wish to see ever again. The nursery rhymes book was always an option but currently, Harley had her fun with that, giggling each time she read a funny one.

Crane was sitting on the couch with his nose in the book, not bothering anyone with his presence. Next to him, Tetch was staring at the TV. The poor man looked so bored, mindlessly channel surfing, probably too high on medication to be able to entertain himself with any Wonderland plots.

With Joker not around, the rec room seemed calm, almost as calm as the sky before a heavy storm. And said storm came unexpectedly in the form of Jervis Tetch.

The bored man on the couch had switched to the Gotham’s evening news channel, listening in to the street interview with one of the new candidates for the city council, and then, out of nowhere, he threw a massive tantrum – his outburst included flipping the coffee-table and accidentally hitting Harley’s head with it. That, of course, resulted in Doctor Quinzel’s aggressive response. Not much remained left from the unfortunate table after Harley had finished with it.

Professor Crane watched in delight how Mad Hatter fought against a guard twice as big as himself, while Harley attempted to smash both of their heads with a table leg before two other guards managed to tranquilize her.

After a few more minutes, the rec room was calm again and Jonathan got back to his book. But as much as he tried to ignore the incident and focus on the plot, a little voice in his head, the voice of the psychologist who he’d never truly ceased to be, kept whispering a very important question. “What exactly has just happened here?” The voice asked, teasing Jon’s professional curiosity. He cast another glance at the tv. The candidate from the evening news smiled at the camera, still explaining how much he was helping the community.

Professor Crane had his suspicions. And who would have guessed? Mad Hatter broke out of Arkham no longer than three days after that event.

David Colton was in his mid-thirties and he was a man in his prime, looking exceptionally professional today in his expensive dark-blue suit, white shirt, and striped blue tie.

“Smoother than Bruce Wayne,” he thought with a pleasant smile, checking himself in the mirror.

Oh, yeah, he still got it! Still looking as youthful and handsome as the prom king he had been back in his high-school days.

“Almost ready Mr. Colton,” the make-up lady told him, and put some more powder onto his already fluid-heavy forehead. “No glossy faces on TV, that’s my rule. Those spotlights know no mercy,” she joked.

David chuckled. “The only thing that is allowed to shine tonight, is my charisma.”

They would have laughed some more, if not for a sudden knocking on the door to his private dressing room.

“Come in,” David called and took a deep, calming breath mentally preparing himself for showtime.

He was ready to present his best self to Gotham again, and at this rate of him constantly being invited to interviews, the seat in the council was practically his already.

His father was right, the ability to make a good impression and a thing for charity was everything that mattered in this town after all.

The door opened and a short man in a trench coat walked in, not a staff member judging simply by the lack of an ID. Yet, the man seemed familiar – Colton just couldn’t quite place him.

“Can I help you, pal?” He asked the newcomer, hiding his irritation behind a polite smile.

The man smiled brightly and took a few steps into the room. “Oh, yes, yes. I think you can,” he spoke with a quiet yet excited voice.

Colton caught his fake British accent right away – and again, it felt like he had heard it before.

“However, I wouldn’t call you my pal.” The man continued grinning. “Would I? Won’t I? Would I? Won’t I?”.

“Listen, pal,” Colton cut him off, not bothering anymore to be that polite. “My interview is starting in a few minutes. Can we get back to this conversation later?”

“I’m afraid that later will be too late,” the strange man shook his head and took out a silver pocket-watch. “It will take only a moment…”

David sighed, the intruder was really hard to get rid of – he hated those nosy people who worked for the press.

“Very well then.” He stood up from his seat and turned to his guest to shake his hand and introduce himself properly. “David Colton,” he offered his hand to the shorter man.

The man didn’t take it, which led to a very awkward moment.

“Oh, but we know each other,” he explained, staring at David with an intense glare.

Colton, confused as he was, took a closer look at the stranger – his blonde, messy hair, big nose, and even bigger front teeth. Suddenly it clicked. “Gotham High! Jervis, was it? Jervis the Jerkface,” he laughed at the old memories of those past, glorious days of his youth. “How have you been, Jerv?”.

“Surely not as good as you.” There was a hint of fake sadness in Jervis’ voice as he put on the black, old-school top hat that he had held in his hand behind his back the entire time.

That single move made Colton recall some very disturbing stories straight from Gotham’s underworld. He cast a worried look at the make-up lady – she looked terrified and about to scream.

Slowly, he gazed back at the small man before him – the man who used to be just a nerdy kid from his high school, a weird boy that everybody had laughed at – Jervis the Jerkface, Beaver-man, Ratter.

“They don’t call me names that often anymore,” Jervis said calmly, as if he had just read his mind, a nasty grin creeping back on his face. He held a card in his gloved hand. “They simply call me the Mad Hatter.”

-#-

Like every other Saturday, the rec room was hosting the four lucky high-profile inmates who had earned their right to be in here, thanks to their good behavior. This time it was Doctor Isley, surprisingly enough, Nygma and, even more surprisingly, Croc who accompanied Professor Crane during his well-deserved book-time.

Everyone was minding their own business, Ivy was occupied taking care of a small flowerpot of violets, Edward played chess with himself and Croc, well, Croc was currently using his claw as a toothpick to get rid of the remains of his dinner.

Jonathan relaxed on the couch that he had the luxury of having only for himself for once. He had tried to bury himself in a book but couldn’t concentrate on reading – something was on his mind ever since Mad Hatter had disappeared half a week ago. It was this tiny, little voice again, telling him to put the book aside and turn on the TV instead.

Slightly irritated by his own decision, he did as his intuition had told him to. The evening news was about to end and an interview with some philanthropist politician was about to start right after commercials.

When the show began, the fat, jovial host greeted his enthusiastic audience, gaining some applause in return, then he introduced the main guest of the evening, David Colton – Jonathan recognized the guy – it was the same politician who had been talking about the importance of charity just a week ago on the news.

Colton looked a bit stiff, smiling unnaturally wide. As the applause died out and the first question was asked, he didn’t move for a good few seconds, as if he didn’t even hear it. Jonathan couldn’t shake off the impression that the man was either on some medications or very, very stressed.

“David?” The host tried again as the uncomfortable silence dragged for too long. “Will you tell us about your foundation? We are all dying to know more.”

“No, Sam,” said Colton with a strangled voice, his face still kind of strange – more like a mask with a very fake smile and a dead look in his eyes. “First, I want to talk about my teenage years.”

“OK, let’s hear your story,” the host agreed, happily, probably determined to get anything at all from his non-cooperative guest. “I’ve heard you were an overachiever. A football player, a class president and even a prom king. Isn’t that right, David?”

“No. I was a selfish bastard who tormented less popular kids. I called them unfair names, put them in a locker, and made other boys beat them up just for a sake of it.”

The audience gasped at this confession. The host’s jaw dropped for a good five seconds.

Jonathan smiled to himself, satisfied that his intuition had not failed him.

“I was a popular kid so I never took the blame for my misbehavior,” Colton continued with a very calm and steady voice, his face showing no emotion. When the camera took a closeup on him, Jonathan noticed a tiny little detail – a 10/6 card sticking out of his boutonnière.

“I never cared for others' wellbeing either, this charity-thing is just for show. I only care for the fame and attention. In fact, you may say I’m not even a human being. I’m an ugly, stinking, lying chimpanzee.”

As soon as Colton finished his last line, an inhuman howl escaped his mouth. The audience screamed in terror. Colton suddenly jumped onto a couch he previously sat on, and he started to act like a real monkey.

Sam – the host – went utterly speechless, he jumped up from his own seat and just stood there, stunned.

Colton, screeching and howling like a mad chimpanzee, grabbed a glass of water from the tabletop and threw it at the host.

“Help, somebody help!” the poor host started screaming.

Meanwhile, Colton was jumping up and down on a couch, making “Ooh, aah!” sounds.

Before the security managed to catch him, Colton already had taken off his pants and his white, hairy ass was revealed for all of Gotham to see.

After that, the show was hurriedly cut off and the weather forecast started.

Professor Crane didn’t even notice that all the other rogues had joined him on the couch, and were now staring at the TV like a bunch of little kids watching their favorite cartoon.

“Well, that was definitely one way to destroy someone’s political career,” Nygma commented with a hint of amusement.

“A few more minutes and he would have started throwing his own poo,” Ivy added with a disgusted frown.

“Poo,” Crock giggled like a five-year-old and everyone else had to roll their eyes. “I like monkeys, monkeys are so stupid.”

“Well, actually, chimpanzees are…”

“Oh, shut up, Nygma!” Both Ivy and Crane growled as one and Edward went quiet.

“Anyway, Tetch should be back with us any minute now,” Pamela concluded with all certainty. “I hope his little revenge was worth a punch in the teeth from the Bat and getting dragged back to Arkham.”

Professor Crane didn’t say a word but he knew from an experience that yes, it was totally worth it.

#Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Batman TAS #batman fanfiction #Jervis Tetch #the mad hatter #madhatter #bullying #revange #fanfiction #My Story #Bat-mania #temarcia #Batman animated series

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ad1thi · 3 years

Text

2020 fic recs!! [Part 2]

part 2 of my 2020 fic recs!! as before, ive limited this to five fics per month; and fics are ordered by the month they were published. This spans fandoms and ships, and hopefully you find something you like!! credit for the idea goes to @iam93percentstardust

***

July

this is the start: @capnwinghead

Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.

great minds (love alike): @starklysteve

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with my ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.

---

Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.

Marvels Unsolved: @iam93percentstardust

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty web-series about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

it’s a small world after all: @maguna-stxrk

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins: @nethandrake

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

August

Five Times Danny said he’d marry Steve (plus one): @five-wow

Danny humphs. “Look, all I’m saying is, I think I’d probably have married you by now.”

“I’d marry you, too,” Steve says.

Or: An experiment in how many times you can say something before you have to put your money where your mouth is.

Family (You’ve Always Had It): @/SunnyQueen

A black Camaro and a scowling blond was not what Junior had been expecting.

“Hi, sir. You didn’t have to pick me up.”

The blond looked up from the screen on his phone and groaned, completely ignoring Junior's statement. “You are right, I didn't have to."

Ode To Yoga Pants: @riotfalling

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Through The Years: @hawkbucks

Tony brings home Natasha one day, proclaiming her to be his new sister.

Natasha takes this all in stride.

The broken road that led me home to you: @just-fandomthings

A documented list of conversations between Steve and Danny via text and phone call following the events of 10x22 "Aloha." (Where, even thousands of miles apart, Steve and Danny can't go without talking to each other.)

September

someday, we’ll pass it on to you: @starklysteve

Steve smiles.

Reaching up, he flattens his hand against his son’s far smaller one, curling gently around it. “You wanna be like him?”

“Da!” Peter agrees again.

One year old, and you already know who’s the best of us, Steve pauses to reflect, all his fears chased away by a fierce pride. “Your Dad’s coming home real soon,” he promises, “you should tell him that.”

---------------

Or, five times Peter did the repulsor pose as a toddler

+ one time he used the repulsors as an adult

Classic Sci Fi: @notdoingsohot

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

They were right.

Blooms in Frost: @/Diomedes

Tony coughs up his first petal on the sixth of July. He has been married to the love of his life for two years.

Bury a Hanahaki corpse in earth and it will beget the most beautiful garden. All that love, it is said, must go somewhere.

Hanahaki AU: Established relationship

------------------------------------------

A Single Thread of Gold: @lovelyirony

Rhodey doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that cheesy shit. He just wants someone who is nice, dependable, and safe.

Tony Stark is Housing Service's little problem for the school year, and now he's stuck in Rhodey's room because he's exploded the last two dorm rooms he's been in and won't live off-campus.

high roller, place your bet: @machi-kun

“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?”

“I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”

October

press my luck: @omg-just-peachy

But... Steve is almost ten years his junior, and he could be with just about anyone, looking and acting like he does. And then there’s the not so small fact of Tony’s name and net worth and the fact that, okay, Tony had paid for Steve’s grad school tuition, and now he’s worried Steve feels obligated to stay. Or something.

Or, Tony is a billionaire, Steve is a grad student, and they learn to let themselves be taken care of.

see it with the lights out: @starklysteve

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

(or, Steve goes on an Instagram spree and Tony misses home)

adulthood is looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane: @starkslovemail

It was a perfect plan, if Peter did say so himself.

The Buy In: @dracusfyre

For the ImagineTonyandBucky prompt: Mafia AU with Tony as the Boss (except he's a really good one, making the streets safe, keeping drugs away from kids etc) and Bucky as the detective sent to go undercover to catch him out but ends up realizing he's actually doing more good than harm and they end up falling in love

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

November

“Hey Tony”: @riotfalling

Steve points out that Bucky never calls Tony by his actual name. Bucky doesn’t believe him, until he does.

Remembering You is Hard to Do: @lovelyirony

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours): @starklysteve

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."

----------

Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.: @nethandrake

For as long as Steve can remember, he's been crushing on Tony Stark. The thing is, he's pretty sure Tony doesn't know Steve exists. And how could he? Steve's scrawny and little. He's a nobody compared to Tony who's Mr Popular and the son of a billionaire.

Or at least he thought so until Tony swings by the bakery Steve's mother happens to own to enlist Steve's help in finding the perfect Valentine's Day card.

The perfect Valentine's Day card for someone who isn't Steve.

One Song (My Heart Keeps Singing): @iam93percentstardust

When Thor is old enough to understand what a Heartsong is, he goes to his mother to ask her why he can’t understand the language his is in. He listens as she tells him about the first soulmates who couldn't understand their Heartsong until the day they meet, excited by the thought of a grand adventure, one that will take him across the cosmos in search of his One.

He’ll search all the Nine Realms if he has to.

December

Swiping Right: @s-horne

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

set your flight path home (to me): @starklysteve

Tony puts down his welding torch. “I’m building you a plane.”

Stepping carefully over the gears and tools scattered about, Rhodey slowly makes his way to him.

“And when did you become an expert on how to build a plane?”

“Last night,” Tony grins.

---------------

Tony builds a plane, and Rhodey teaches Tony how to fly it. Or he would be teaching Tony, if Tony didn't distract him so much.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand: @thefourofswords

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids.

“Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.”

“What do you like in bed?”

Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

same time next year: @omg-just-peachy

“I forgot to ask. When’s your flight home?” Steve asks, draping his arm over Tony’s shoulder and settling in against him.

Tony ignores the knot that forms in his chest at the idea of it, leaving Steve again for his own impersonal apartment, his piles of books and projects and the nights without sleep.

“Day after tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a little sigh, then brings his lips to Tony’s neck. “Well, we’ll have to make the most of it, won’t we?”

Or, four (4) Christmases with two (2) idiots who can't admit they're in love.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile): @starklysteve

"You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

----------

Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try

#adi's rec list #superbat #superhusbands #winterironfalcon #mcdanno #buckytony #peppernat #superfamily #rhodeytony #ironfamily #and that's a wrap!!!

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ace-of-pythons · 3 years

Text

A bunch of marvel headcanons for your entertainment

Some of these are inspired by general stuff I've seen on the internet a while ago, others are completely random

• Clint Barton often inhabits the vents. He's been doing so for years and the avengers have all gotten used to it. He will usually sit in the vents and record them doing stupid stuff and adds it to his smack cam. He actually has a youtube channel called "HawkeyeTheBestAvenger" and has quite a few followers.

• Tony stark and dr. Stephen strange have a web show called "stark contrasts, strange similarities". They were very bored and apparently people found amusement in hearing them engage in a battle of wit. It now is a weekly activity and some of the other avengers will come down and watch the show. It helps the two so they have a designated time to verbally attack eachother instead of doing so on the battle field. They used to ignore each others plans and argue to the point of losing the battle, but now they are an unstoppable force and barely anything stands in their way. Except peter parker's puppy dog eyes.

• Clint Barton wanted to be a stand-up comedian, but he ended up becoming an assassin instead.

• Doctor strange owns at least 4 different copies of lord of the rings. Only peter parker knows this. If tony were to find out, he would never let him live it down.

• Peter parker often confuses the ceiling and the floor which has lead to tony freaking out at 2AM because he saw a figure crawling on the ceiling. (Tony called an exorcist soon after, but it happened to be doctor strange. The following events are now known as the not-so-demonic-doctor-and-the-spiderlings-unfortunate-timing.)

• Natasha and bucky sometimes have entire conversations in Russian without realizing it. Once they were talking late at night and had switched over to Russian without realizing and then steve walked into the kitchen. Nat asked what he was doing and he looked confused. She asked again but he still wasn't saying anything. Bucky then asked and all steve said was "what?". The two assassins then started to yell at steve in Russian. They forgot to watch their volume and ended up waking everyone. They were still shouting at steve when clint walked in and said "You know they are just asking you what you're doing up this late at night, right?" The rest of the night was filled with a tired spider-child, a blanket covered Bruce, and an overly annoyed tony.

• Tony has many nicknames for dr. Strange including, but not limited to: strange, stranger danger, Dumbledore, wizard, Merlin, Harry Potter, better steve, and stephanie.

• Outside of avengers tower, most people think that tony treats his intern poorly, but in reality he treats him like royalty. Peter has gotten used to tony stark's dad mode, everytime someone new comes in they are always surprised. Tony will cary around all the things his spider child needs. Food? He has a plethora of snacks. Backpacks? He has a closet with a bunch of new ones. Web fluid? He always has a replacement vial of the stuff if peter runs out. Hotel? Travago. He makes sure the spiderling is as happy as possible and will go to any length to make it happen. Scott lang was shocked to discover this. He then assumed that peter was his actual child. No one had the heart to tell him otherwise. He didnt find out he wasn't Tony's biological child until a month later.

• When scott lang, aka ant man, first joined it caused much confusion. The later deemed bug bois had a rocky start, but in an interesting way. Scott was under the impression that peter can control spiders and peter thought that Scott's full name was Scottish language. It took an hour and a spider sister for everything to be cleared up. Now the bug bois and the spider sister go on many missions together. Peter and scott always make as many nerd and science puns as possible while natasha just shakes her head.

• Tony does a bad. A terrible, terrible thing. He introduced peter to harley. This resulted in immediate vine references and instant friendship. It also caused the labs to catch on fire. The pure chaos that these two caused is more than even clint and scott can cause which is saying alot. It got to a point where the whole base was covered in waiting pranks and operational lightsabers. The two also figured out how to safely eat tide pods. You can imagine Tony's reaction. And to add insult to injury, king T'Challa came to the compound. With Shuri. S h u r i. The damage increased by double in the first hour alone. Let's just say that tony had to call Stephen to try to clean everything up. They still find shaving cream in the labs and kitchen even after they thought they were done cleaning.

• Doctor strange is broke. He had literally no money whatsoever. In the beginning he had started to spend it faster then he was making it. He then spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to try and fix his hands and when that didn't work he sold his things to get to Nepal. Specifically Kathmandu. Even more specifically, kamar-taj. Once he became a sorcerer money didn't matter as much. Now that he's back in New York, well, money is a problem again. He'll sometimes do really odd jobs to make a little bit more money in his free time (which is already minimal). The weirdest job he took was being a magician for a little kids birthday party. He may or may not have sent a kid to another dimension, but he'll never tell. (Sorry Marcus).

• Matt has a habit of getting thrown into dumpsters. Clint also has a habit of getting thrown into dumpsters. You can imagine Matt's suprise when someone else gets thrown into his dumpster. That's the somewhat anticlimactic way that Hawkeye and Daredevil meet. It's the deaf leading the blind. Two halves of one full idiot. They hated each other at first but they kept ending up in dumpsters. After one battle where daredevil got seriously injured, clint helped patch him up. From that moment on they learned that teaming up with each other wasn't that bad. Now the two can be seen patrolling around hell's kitchen and Manhattan and chatting all along the way.

• Peter got stuck. Quarantined in tony stark's laboratory. With iron man himself. And a few of the avengers. They have been pretty good with not bothering Peter while he's on a zoom call. That was until strange came by because of some multi-dimensional beast or something that turned out to be nothing. Well after that was settled, wong refused to let strange back into the sanctum. Resulting in Stephen being stuck at the compound with everyone else. This of course included tony. Peter was minding his own business following along with his chemistry class one peaceful Wednesday. Tony was tinkering on some piece of the newest iron man armor. Peter had turned his microphone on to answer a question when suddenly, strange yells out " Anthony Edward Stark!" Turns out that tony wasn't going to let the wizard enjoy his stay and decided to channel his inner loki. The good doctor appeared in the doorway covered head to toe with bright pink glittery paint. Tony then proceeded to laugh so hard he's on the floor. Peter had at one point, gotten up to help the sorcerer leaving his call unmuted. Meaning that his entire class heard the absolutely absurd conversation happening. That was how his class learned that he did in fact have an internship with tony stark himself.

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peppersonironi · 3 years

Note

12, 21, 19

(Is this late? Oops. Sorry!)

12: Favourite character to write about this year

Stephanie Brown, easy. She's my spirit animal, so I might be doing a touch of projecting, but I honestly don't care. She's just pure chaos in the best way. Some of my favourite lines that I've written are for her. Such as:

"What's up bitches? I brought donuts!"

"My waffles await!"

"FEAR ME!"

"Welcome to Steph’s Glitter Bomb Palace, Where Snitches get Stitches™! So don’t tell Bruce or I’ll sic Jason on you."

She's also the character I've gotten the most comments on. People really seen to enjoy how I write her!

A close second would be Duke Thomas. Bliss, a fic I wrote for the 2020 Duke Week, was one of my favourites! Or maybe Damian? His dialogue just comes easy to me.

21: Most memorable comment/review

the batfamily exist:

everyone: is,,is that allowed?

On Code Orange (Batfam/Young Justice Crossover)

*Or*

I have wanted to read a DCU/MCU crossover for a VERY long time. This story is such a delight. Your characterisation (and for me an introduction to The Signal) was fascinating in the extreme. I loved the game playing and the fact that I could watch (open-mouthed) as Bruce Wayne enjoyed childlike fun with his children and Alfred(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake. I look forward to your updates in a way that you wouldn't believe.

On Batfam/Avengers Crossover

19: Any new fics to start next year

Oh boy. So many. You know what? Here's a list. It'll be good to get these ideas out. Plus, you guys can tell me what you'd rather see first!

Gen/just Batfam

Crack fic based off this piece of dialogue (came from a convo between my sister and I): Tim reached forward and poked Duke's face. "You're right!" He exclaimed. "You really *do* squish like a block of wood!" Duke Centric.

Based on THIS Incorrect Quotes. Talia moves into the Manor because she's sick of Ra's. Featuring a bunch of good mom!Talia.

Based off THIS Incorrect Quotes. Jason runs for President as Red Hood. I have so many ideas! This'll be really fun.

Loosely based on THIS post. It explores Jason and Cassandra's relationship, and how it evolves.

Duke Thomas Big Bang Fic (can't say much, but it'll be great!)

Platonic (need to be certain you understand that. There were some misconceptions w/ my Discord server) Slow Burn between Tim and Damian. At the beginning the absolutely despise each other. But over time they realise their own insecurities, and how they don't actually hate the other. And by the end they fully admit and embrace their being brothers.

Reverse Robins with Damian as the oldest (I made THIS post talking about it a while back. But I've highly revised it.)

Reverse Robins with Duke as the oldest (I wrote THIS fic, but I think I want to change this into a series!)

Cassandra as Batman. Stephanie as Catwoman. Carrie Kelley as Robin.

5 Times Bette Kane was the mastermind behind the batkids' pranks without Bruce's knowledge, and 1 Time her brilliance was brought to light.

5 Times Duke thought that he couldn't possibly get any more siblings and 1 Time he met the cousins (AKA: Duke meets the extended family)

Birdflash

Birdflash in the JL/JLU universe (based off that one hexagon by @novaviis ! Super fun!). The league is inviting potential members to the Watchtower one day. Except Wally wasn't there during the choosing of said members. So he's completely shocked when his husband Nightwing shows up. They have to act like they don't know each other, which basically involves Dick flirting his butt off with Wally, Wally trying desperately to remain professional, Bruce digging in the corner, the rest of the League in varying degrees of disapproval and confusion (at least a couple have seen Wally's wedding ring. So that adds a while 'nother layer).

Young Justice soulmate au. Dick, and eventually everyone else, knows that Wally is his soulmate. Wally is oblivious. Lots of pining and angst in this one. Slow burn to an extent (depends on how long I make it). But definitely a happy fluffy ending in sight!

Batfam Meets Young Justice

THIS fic.

Duke gets yeeted into the YJ universe, and promptly passes out. He wakes up in the Watchtower, and breaks out of the confinement the Team has set up for him. Pulls shenanigans (some unwittingly) and used his powers. The Team and JL are confused, and panicking. Because this guy keeps muttering things about the Batfam. And he has a bat on his chest.

The Team break into some ancient temple after getting info on a new Supervillian plot. They find purple clothed woman draped across a throne. She talks, and they panic, as she knows all their secret identities. The only one who isn't, is Tim. He looks bored. Alternatively: Steph needs Tim's credit card to take his sister out on a date, and absolutely refuses to text.

While the Team is on a mission to stop Lady Shiva, a dimensional portal opens up and spits out a strange Robin (Damian) and what seemed to be a female Batman (Cass as Black Bat). This new dynamic due promptly defeats Lady Shiva and all the goons. The Team is freaked out, and 'apprehends' the dimensional anomalies, bringing them back to the Watchtower. Where the due promptly break and and start chaos. Featuring "Toxic" by Britney Spears. I will not explain why.

The Watchtower gets a sudden emergency message from the Batcave. They accept, to find a stranger calling himself Signal panicking about Robin being missing. They all look at Tim, who ignores them, and says that he doesn't know where Robin is. Some naming shenanigans occur.

(Not sure if this fits here, oh well) Set in Season One, Bruce is tired of Clark's attitude towards Superboy, and adopts the clone himself. Not sure how far this'll go, but at least goes through Dick's time as Robin. (Based on THIS Tumblr post)

(Also iffy on placement) a continuation of one (not sure which? Probably Damian as older) Reverse Robins fics. It's a retelling of Season One of YJ, with Dick as Robin. Nightwing (Damian) feels protective of his brother, and so takes on the role Black Canary had in the show, training the Team. But as time goes on, he ends up being more of a big brother to the group. Cameos from the rest of the Batfam as well! And an Identity Reveal (including finding out Dick and Dami are brothers) at the end!

Batfam Meets the Justice League

Cass takes over being Batman for a bit, because Bruce was an idiot and broke his leg. This happens to line up with when the Justice League reach out to the Dark Knight, in order to extend an invitation to the league. They eventually meet Bruce as Batman, and are confused as to why he is so tall. And male.

Joyfire

Lian accidentally reveals her three parents' relationship by calling Bruce 'grandpa' over dinner.

Museum Heist

THIS fic

Operation: Seduce Nightwing. Based on a post for an ATLA ot3, Wally and Artemis realise silumaneously “Hey, we kinda have the hots for Dick” and decide together to see if he likes them back. Which involves a heck ton of over the top flirting, and shenanigans. The Team is sighing on the sidelines at their idiocy. Dick is internally combusting and thinking “Do they like me back? I’’m not sure.”

5 times Dick and Wally fought over being the middle spoon, and one time Artemis had had enough.

Set in Season 3 (but ignores some canon), Bart is kidnapped by some mad scientist obsessed with the Speed Force. The Team mobilizes, and gets Bart back from the evil base. But when they get there, they find Wally West freed from the Speed Force. He and Artemis reunite, and everyone is happy. They prepare to leave. Then the Pick-up Squad arrive in the bioship, and Dick gets out. Everyone is expecting Dick to give Wally a hug, because hey, he's his best friend! What they weren't expecting was him to run forward and pull the speedster into a passionate kiss. They go back to the Watchtower, and some more stuff happens.

Soulmate AU where the first thing your soulmate says to you after they fall in love with you is tattooed on your body.

Post Season Two Get Together. Starts with Artemis living with Dick as opposed to Will. Might be Slow Burn? (They come pretty close to kissing) Eventually Wally comes back. Arty and Wally are back together. They both live in the same house as Dick, for convenience. Then some more Slow Burn happens. Maybe some Birdflash moments. Arty tells Wally she kinda had a thing for Dick. Wally admits the same. Maybe a touch more Slow Burn. They Eventually get together.

Batlantern

AU where Bruce met Hal back when he first came back to Gotham. Fic goes through how their relationship evolves over the years (up until current time, when Damian is 13). I'm considering a relationship reveal with the Justice League.

Hal's interactions with Bruce's kids.

Green Lantern Corp acting protective of Hal when Bruce comes to Oa. This was an ask that I got, and I'm holding off on writing it till I get as much into on the GL's as possible, as all I know if their characterization comes from that animated series, and Guy Gardener's (Hilarious!) parts on Young Justice.

Marvel

Like 3 different versions of the Peter Parker Field Trip to Stark Tower Trope.

2-part Crossover with the Batfam (they exist in the same universe), where the Avengers go to a Wayne Gala, and interact with the family. The second chapter involves them heading out the next night to try and contact Batman.

THIS fic.

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cdelphiki · 4 years

Note

Was re-reading ‘In for a Penny’ when I read this sentence “if we do not rescue Damian today, “Clark said, finally speaking up, “I have a feeling we will one day face him in battle”and thought what if Bruce wasn’t able to find Damian, instead meets him again when he’s ten, how would he feel?What would happen? Damian holding a sword to the father he doesn’t remembers throat, dick finally seeing his brother again. Memories, baby things left untouched in the manor. Would love to hear your thoughts-M

The years since Damian’s kidnapping had not been kind to Bruce.

Dick left him. When he was barely eighteen. Packed up and moved to Bludhaven, where he still lived some six years later.

Bruce couldn’t blame him. Not really. He’d not been much of a father, once Damian went missing.

Then Jason came along, and Bruce had tried really hard for that boy. He’d worked on himself, worked on his availability. Adopted him, right from the start.

It hadn’t mattered.

Because in the end, Jason had left him, too. In the most painful way possible.

At least Damian was out there.

Somewhere.

Growing up, living his life.

Jason’s had been cut short.

After that, Bruce had sworn off kids. He wanted nothing to do with children ever again, because brining a child in his life just meant he’d love that child, and life didn’t let him keep the things he loved.

He wasn’t sure how many more times he could go through that.

Those he loved suffered in the worst ways possible, and how could he do that to another child?

Then Tim came around. Kind of forced his way into Bruce’s life. Reluctantly, and completely against his will, Bruce had come to love Tim, as well. Had adopted him, when the opportunity arose, as tragic as it was.

Talia had made herself scarce in the years since stealing Damian away from him. He’d tried to find them. Many times. But they always evaded him. Were always too well hidden.

He hadn’t… given up.

Per se.

But as Damian grew older, Bruce’s hope dwindled. He’d not even been two yet, when Talia took him away. There was no chance he’d even remember Bruce at five.

Or eight.

Or the ten he was now.

What right would Bruce have to swoop in and steal him away? Rip him away from the only family he remembered?

To him, Bruce was the absent father, living on the opposite side of the planet, and as much as he wanted to see his son, as badly as he wanted to hold his baby in his arms, he was a stranger to Damian.

He had no right over him any more.

All he had left of his little boy were pictures and a stuffed cow.

He’d given away everything else. To Clark, when Lois was expecting Jon.

To Selina. When she was expecting Helena.

Damian was too old for baby things, anyway. And walking past a nursery was painful.

They’d turned that room into Jason’s.

It wasn’t any less painful, now.

Bruce tried not to think about any of it. Tried not to think about Damian.

But it was hard, when Talia al Ghul kidnapped him while he was on mission in England.

Strung him up and got right in his face.

Hers was not a face he wanted to see.

“Talia,” he snarled, flexing his hands, testing his strength against the bat-thing that held him tight.

It would take a remarkable show of strength to free himself. He wasn’t sure he could. Even if he did, there were half a dozen more of the bat-things all around him. He knew himself outnumbered when he saw it.

He was just thankful Tim had taken the weekend off, rather than accompanying him on this trip.

“What do you want, Talia,” he spat, when she came too close, running her fingers across his chest. He had no interest in her. And she should know that by now.

She had killed any chance of there being anything between them eleven years prior.

And then burned it to the ground when she stole their son away from him.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Beloved,” she drawled, pulling away from Bruce and drawing her sword. She toyed with it, staring at the blade in her hand, without saying anything further.

“What. Do. You. Want,” he ground out. Games were also not something he was interested in.

“Hm,” she hummed, still toying with her blade for a moment before finally asking, “You remember our son?”

“How could I forget,” he growled. If she had merely kidnapped him to taunt him…

He might need to call in Clark to hold him back. He pulled at his arms again, and could feel the give in his captors’ hold. Knew, if he pulled his arms in just the right way, kicked his legs back at just the right moment, he’d be able to free himself easily.

“Hm. Yes, well,” she said, waving a hand at him, as if dismissing his anger, “He has grown wild. I can no longer control him.”

His sweet little baby?

Unlikely.

“What did you do to him?” he shouted, seriously contemplating calling in Clark. Because he was not sure he’d be able to control himself if he found out Damian had been mistreated in any way.

And he couldn’t think of a single other explanation for his Damian turning ‘wild.’ Not his sweet little baby who loved animals and was so gentle. So empathetic. So kind.

“Do not be so dramatic,” Talia snapped, “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy about what.”

“He needs… taming,” she said, twirling her sword around, a little, before she sheathed it again, “He lacks discipline. I had hoped some time with his father would straighten him out.”

“Time with,” he started, only to fumble over his words.

Was she…

Introducing him to Damian?

Why… why would she… after all these years…?

What was her game?

“You’ll hear from me soon, Beloved, though I’ll imagine you’ll be busy. I intend to hold the whole world hostage.”

Bruce tried to look back up at her, to ask her what the fuck that meant, but his head was pushed forward by one of the man-bats, and the entire world seemed to freeze.

Because a small child had materialized before him.

A… boy.

His boy.

In the eight years since he’d seen Damian, he had changed so much, but at the same time, not at all.

He had the same nose. The same… little button nose he’d had, as a baby. The same bright green eyes.

The same scowl.

“Damian,” he whispered, looking Damian up and down, trying to commit every little detail to memory.

“Father,” Damian responded, pushing his sword forward, almost touching Bruce’s neck, “I imagined you taller.”

“You-“ Bruce started, but had to stop. Because he was overcome with laughter.

The man-bats let go of him, and Bruce slumped to the ground, right to his knees, only keeping himself upright with his hands as his laughter turned a tad hysteric.

His little boy.

His little boy, was standing right in front of him. Was… Was within reach.

Was coming home with him.

“You are the great warrior Mother has told me about?” Damian asked skeptically, his sword now sheathed.

That was enough to pull Bruce back to the moment. He sniffed, and sat back so he could get a good look at his little boy.

“Hi, Damian,” he said, smiling a little, to force the overwhelming urge to weep to go away.

Damian scowled, a little, and shot Bruce as critical look. “How do you know my name?”

“What?”

Out of all the things Damian could ask…

“My name. Mother said you did not know of me. She did not tell you my name just now. How do you know it?”

“I- What?” Bruce repeated.

“You are not as intelligent as Mother claimed. Shame.”

“Damian,” he said, slowly, “You- you lived with me. For almost a year, as an infant.”

“Tt,” he huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, “Now you are suggesting my mother is a liar. She has done a lot of things, but she has never lied to me.”

“Just, come here,” Bruce said, looping an arm around Damian’s shoulders and tugging him close, “I have missed you so much.”

Damian tensed in Bruce’s arms, but didn’t push him away. That is, not until Bruce started crying.

Bruce didn’t blame him. He’d be uncomfortable, too, if a stranger claiming to know and love him started crying into his hair.

They had so much ground to recover.

- - -

Damian was a massive brat.

Bruce felt like a terrible parent for thinking such a thing about his own son, but Damian was downright horrible.

He did nothing but yell and scream and throw things around. He fought with Alfred. Fought with Bruce.

Hated Tim.

Considering the boy had attempted to push Tim off the top level of the cave, that first night Bruce brought him home, he couldn’t trust Damian anywhere near Tim.

And Tim hated Damian in return.

Or, at least, considered him to be the ‘son of satan’ and avoided him at all costs.

Bruce wasn’t sure how to make his family all mesh together. Wasn’t sure how to get Damian to calm down and give them all a shot.

All those years Bruce had imagined, fantasized with it would be like to get Damian back, never once had he considered he might not like the boy.

He still loved him, of course. Loved him so much it hurt.

His son was finally home, and his home had been thrown into pure chaos.

Handing Damian the cow had been a difficult decision.

For eight years, that cow had been all Bruce had. The only physical reminder he had of the little boy he’d lost.

Damian and Cow had been inseparable, when he was an infant. Bruce had bought three more, the very second he realized how attached to the dumb toy Damian had become. He had four of those cows, and when Talia’s men took Damian, they’d taken none of them.

It’d been a stab in his heart, every time he looked at cow. Knowing how scared Damian would be without it. How upset.

Knowing Damian likely cried for weeks, if not months, for that stupid cow.

And in the eight years since Damian’s kidnapping, Bruce had become a little attached to the cow, himself. It sat on his bed stand. Right next to his favorite photo of Damian. He pat cow’s head every night, as if doing so would be telling his own little boy ‘good night, I love you.’

Just like he’d done every single night Damian lived with him.

Handing Damian that cow was difficult. Because Damian destroyed everything he was given. He was violent. He threw tantrums.

And he was, above all, not a child.

But Cow belonged to Damian, and Bruce was unable to put it off any longer.

“Damian,” he said, knocking on his boy’s door, allowing it to creak open as he did, “I wanted to give you something.”

“What is it now,” Damian started, but paused when he got a look at the toy in Bruce’s hand. Bruce walked over to the bed where Damian was reading and held it out, for Damian to take.

But instead, Damian just said, “That’s… Mr. Cow.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, laughing a little to cover up the desire to cry.

Because Damian remembered.

“I—“ Bruce started, “He was yours. When you lived here. I’ve— I’ve kept him in my room, ever since you left. To remind me of you. But, he was yours, so I thought I should give him back.”

“Why,” Damian said, slowly, in the least snotty tone Bruce had heard yet, “Why do I remember a stupid toy but I do not remember you?”

Bruce sighed, and sat down on the bed next to his son. He placed Cow down in Damian’s lap, even though Damian made not move to take it.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. He’d been a little distraught when none of the photos had jogged anything.

He hadn’t specifically expected Damian to remember things from when he was 20-months-old, but to have his own boy accuse him of doctoring the photos, just to “get into his head” and “paint his mother as the liar” had hurt.

“You were young. Most people don’t remember much from before the age of three, and you weren’t even two when you left.”

“But I remember the cow.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, placing his arm behind Damian as he leaned back, “You couldn’t sleep without the damn thing. My guess is you cried for it every night for months, after you left. It probably stuck with you because of that.”

“Oh.” Damian placed his hand on cow’s head and stroked. Just once. Before his cheeks flushed and he yanked his hand away sharply.

“I’m really happy you’re back,” Bruce said, moving his hand so it was sitting on Damian’s shoulder. Damian still didn’t let him hug him, but at least he didn’t shrug his hand away. “I hope you know that. I want nothing more than to get to know you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Damian said crisply, then faltered before adding, much less confidently, “I have always wished to… know you.”

Bruce couldn’t help it. He pulled Damian in by the hand on his shoulder, and wrapped his arms around. “Well, I’m glad we have this chance, then.”

For once, Damian didn’t fight him. He did fidget, a little, with Cow started to fall, but he caught the little toy and held it a little more securely while Bruce rested his head down on Damian’s hair.

And when Damian didn’t push him away for several minutes, Bruce started to think… maybe Damian wasn’t a hopeless case, after all.

#this is your fault #also it turned a little sweeter than I first thought it would so :)#happy ending #i'll post this to ao3 in a couple days #or maybe tomorrow #idk #wanna put some time between the new chapter and it #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batman #robin #batfam #batfamily #fanfiction #c writes #pennyverse #sort of alt universe #remember i aged dick up for this fic #Anonymous

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daringyounggrayson · 4 years

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Here’s part 2 for the fic I wrote for @batfam-big-bang! Once again, thank you so much to my amazing betas @huilian, @tintinnabulation-of-the-bells and @yellow-warbler and my incredibly talented artists @annasartverse, @noroomforcream, and @zeribip <3

Summary: The double homicide at Haly’s Circus is not Bruce’s first case involving a child, and while there’s no overt indication that Bruce should react differently to this case, he supposes that his previous cases did not involve the witness known as Dick Grayson. On the surface, the Grayson case seems like any other gang case, but the more time Bruce spends with the boy, the more he begins to doubt his own instincts.

Part 1: AO3 | tumblr

Part 2

For the first time since this whole thing started, Bruce regrets not hacking into the Child Protection and Permanency system and forging a foster license. Sure, it would have raised a few eyebrows, and yes, dealing with the repercussions would have been exhausting. But he could have handled it; he has more than enough money to bribe the right people efficiently, and when required, he can be rather charismatic. As much as he hates to use his influence in that way, it would have been for a good cause. A less than ideal mean for a more than necessary end. And at least then Richard would have been safe.

Batman swoops in through a window, sending pieces of glass shattering around him as he takes down one of the Zucco’s henchmen. Shouting erupts across the room, but Batman’s already taken down another member, securing him with zip ties.

“Where’s the boy?” he growls into the man’s ear.

“B-basement,” he says, voice garbled through his split lip.

Bruce stands, quickly surveying the room for a door. Spotting one, he runs toward it, flinging the door open and triggering more shouting. He leaps down the stairs, listening as the shouts turn into screams. In another scenario, Bruce would drop a smoke bomb and work in the dark, but they have guns held tightly in their hands and Bruce doesn’t trust them to avoid their hostage. Instead, Bruce takes them down overtly, his work somewhat sloppy as he hurries to disarm and restrain all of them so he can get to Richard as quickly as possible.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asks when he finally makes his way to Richard. He removes the gag gently and then moves behind the boy to cut the overly-complicated restraints.

“I think so—ahh,” he breaks off into a hiss and flexes his hand. When the rope falls, he brings his right wrist in front of himself, hiding it from Bruce’s view.

Bruce moves back to the front of the chair and kneels. “May I?” Richard nods and Bruce takes his right wrist. It’s already swollen, and Bruce is almost positive that it’s broken. Other than a small grimace, Richard remains stoic during the brief examination. “It’s likely broken. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Richard shakes his head.

“Did they hit your head, give you anything?”

“No, just my wrist.”

“Do you remember who did it?” Bruce asks.

“The tall guy with the beard. I think he went back upstairs when they heard you come in,” Richard explains.

“Hnn. Can you walk?”

Richard nods, standing. He braces his right wrist with his left hand, holding it against his chest as Bruce leads him out of the house. “I got out of the ropes when they tied me up the first time,” Richard tells him, a touch of excitement—maybe pride—in his voice. “He grabbed my wrist before I could run away, though. I heard it crack when he twisted it.”

The excitement drops toward the end, but the detail of Richard’s escape attempt explains the complex restraints.

“Bastard,” Bruce says under his breath, but Richard must hear it because a ghost of a grin crosses his face. “You were very brave tonight. I—I’m glad you’re safe, Richard.”

Richard hums. “I’m just glad you showed up when you did.”

Bruce and Richard make their way to the ambulance parked across the street as the police rush into the house that’s now behind them. Gordon meets up with them, telling Richard he’d like to speak with him after he’s been treated.

Gordon glances at Bruce quickly, and before Gordon rushes off to join his officers, they share a moment of relief. Because the thing is, Zucco already tried to kill the boy once, and tonight, they had been expecting to find a dead child at worst and a dying one at best. To see that Richard escaped with only a broken wrist is cause for celebration, but it also begs the question: Why didn’t Zucco have him killed immediately? And what was he planning on doing instead?

Bruce intends to stay with Richard until someone else arrives to ride with him to the hospital. However, those plans are cut short when he sees a familiar shadow leap from a nearby roof.

“Don’t go anywhere without Gordon,” Bruce tells Richard. The boy nods, and when he turns to the paramedic, she nods too.

Bruce runs toward the shadow, but he quickly realizes they’re already too far ahead.

He calls the car and does his best to follow the shadow from the street. They’re moving fast and with a new purpose, one other than avoiding Batman. For a fleeting moment, Bruce wonders if the shadow is leading him to a trap.

The shadow leads Bruce to a familiar area not too far from where Richard was being kept. He’s lost the shadow’s specific location, but he’s confident that he’s caught up with them enough to go on foot. A good decision, too: the sound of shattering glass followed by a scream leads him to a nearby garage.

“Help!” a man yells, followed by another round of breaking glass.

Bruce picks up his pace, sharply turning into the garage only to find the people he’s been looking for for weeks: Tony Zucco and the Shadow. The Shadow is wearing a dark suit with knives across their chest that glisten in the light; their mask covers their entire head, the eye region reminding Bruce of an owl. They’re approaching Zucco in a calculated manner, knife held comfortable in one hand. There are pieces of glass bottles all over the floor, bottles Zucco most likely threw at the Shadow as a form of self-defense. Out of bottles, he’s left to crouch behind a garbage can and yell for the mercy of strangers.

“Batman, help! He’s trying to kill me!”

Zucco’s words are pointless—Bruce is already on top of the Shadow by the time he’s finished saying them.

The Shadow dodges easily with a grace Bruce knows he will never be capable of. The Shadow pushes Bruce aside and aims at Zucco again, but just before they can release the throwing knife, Bruce knocks them off course. Zucco cries out when the knife makes contact with his flesh, but it doesn’t cut his chest—he’ll live.

Bruce waits for the Shadow to make a move, fully anticipating for their spar to continue. The Shadow, however, has other plans.

They turn to Zucco. “This is your only warning: Do not harm the Grayson.” And then they’re gone.

In a matter of seconds, Bruce has Zucco restrained and handcuffed to a shelf, but the Shadow is long gone by the time Bruce chases after them. There is some relief in knowing the Shadow is closer to an ally than another enemy, but Bruce knows nothing about them or what their motives are. All he knows is that they aimed to kill tonight. This Shadow may not see Batman as an enemy, but until proven otherwise, Bruce will have to consider them as a threat.

Bruce returns to the garage, relieved that Zucco is both still there and not dumb enough to remove the knife.

“The police and the paramedics will arrive shortly,” Bruce tells him. “In the meantime, you are going to answer some questions.”

Zucco sneers. “And why would I do that, huh? I’ve done nothing wrong; I’m a victim tonight.”

“Richard Grayson is the victim,” Bruce growls. “His parents are victims. You are a murderer.”

“Says who? Some circus brat?”

Bruce is in Zucco’s face faster than either of them can blink, holding him up by his collar. “Don’t test me. What did you want with Grayson?”

Zucco’s quiet. Bruce shakes him once.

“We were just going to give the kid a scare, alright? No harm done. Just trying to teach him how things work in Gotham,” Zucco says.

“Why?” Bruce presses.

“The kid’s been spreading some nasty rumors; it’s disrespectful.”

“What. Were. You. Planning.”

“Okay, okay,” Zucco says, handcuff clanking against the shelf as he struggles in Bruce’s hold. “We weren’t going to kill the kid, alright? We’re not stupid. We were just going to send him off with a few friends for a while. They would have brought him back in about a week, nothing too bad.”

Bruce has seen the people who take trips after getting in trouble with some of the local gangs, and he wouldn’t describe their experiences as “nothing too bad.”

“Names.”

After Zucco spits out a few names, Bruce moves to a nearby building to wait for the police and paramedics, not able to stand being near Zucco any longer. He’s hoping this is it; that he can tell Richard it’s over.

Just when Bruce can make out the sound of sirens, Alfred informs him of a call from his civilian phone. Bruce takes it.

“Bruce Wayne,” he says in a cheerful voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi Mr. Wayne, this is Ms. Briggs with Child Protection and Permanency. Congratulations: You’ve been matched with Richard Grayson.”

oOo

To say Alfred was caught off guard by Bruce’s announcement that a child would be coming to stay with them for an indefinite amount of time would have been an understatement. Still, the older man has grown used to such surprises by now and he handled it well.

“For future reference,” Alfred says, breaking the paradoxically loud silence between the two, “I would appreciate slightly more notice before we have houseguests.”

“Alfred,” Bruce breathes, a hint of pleading in his voice. Alfred has already lectured him, and while he’s sure more lectures will come tomorrow after the man has slept and regained his energy, for now they share a shaky truce. Bruce hopes it can be maintained for the rest of the evening. “I told you as soon as I knew.”

As soon as he hung up with Ms. Briggs, Bruce had gone home and explained everything to Alfred in person. He assured Alfred that he’d had every intention of obtaining the foster license legally, and only then hacking into CPP to match himself with Richard if it became necessary. He told Alfred about Martin, how he must have been responsible for the early foster license, and that matching with Richard must have been a coincidence. Although, had Alfred asked, Bruce would have admitted that after tonight’s events, he’d planned to forgo the legal route and place Richard in his care, effective immediately. Honestly, he would have preferred the latter; now he knows he’ll be receiving a phone call any day from a Mr. Martin Sinclair to cash in on the “favor.”

(Hopefully, a favor is all that will come of this.)

Alfred sniffs. “I believe you have already admitted quite the opposite. Unless you are implying that you have been unaware of your own actions for the past month?”

“I was going to tell you,” Bruce says—again—now referencing the foster license itself and not Richard’s new custody arrangement. “Until tonight, I was starting to think I wouldn’t need it. Richard seemed to be doing well.”

“So you said.”

Bruce sighs, sliding a pillow into its case. An apology readies itself on his tongue, but he’s already given enough for tonight, so he swallows it. “This will be temporary, Alfred. Just until I can find a safe family to adopt Richard.”

“Of course.”

They finish putting the room together in silence. Alfred avoids looking in Bruce’s direction, which only makes Bruce’s guilt grow more. He knows this is the right decision, even if it’s not ideal. Bruce thinks Alfred knows that too, not that it seems to be doing much to smooth things over at the moment.

“I think that’s as best as we can make it with such short notice,” Alfred announces.

“Thank you,” Bruce says. “For your help.”

Alfred looks at him for a few seconds, a soft expression on his face. “Shall we wait downstairs for the lad to arrive?”

oOo

Two hours later, Bruce is pacing in the foyer, still waiting for Richard to arrive. It’s late, so late that it’s almost early.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon, sir,” Alfred tells him—again. “Be patient.”

Bruce grunts, but he stops his pacing and takes a seat next to Alfred, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands under his chin. The more time passes, the more anxious Bruce feels and the more he doubts himself and his capabilities. Capabilities which seem to have dwindled since receiving the phone call.

Alfred rests his hand on Bruce’s shoulder and sighs like he can hear Bruce’s thoughts. Bruce leans into the touch, patiently waiting for Alfred to speak.

“You have a big heart, Master Bruce, you always have. It’s the trait I am most proud of,” Alfred says. “Deciding to take in Richard, while very characteristic of you, is an enormous responsibility—as I’m sure you are well aware. I believe that you can rise to the challenge and be an outstanding guardian, but for as long as the boy is with us, he will have to be your first priority. Not Gotham.”

“I know, Alfred,” Bruce murmurs.

Alfred hums. “I am willing to assist you as needed, but assisting is all I will do. The boy will be under your care, not mine.”

“I know, Alfred,” Bruce murmurs again. “I . . . Thank you.”

Alfred squeezes Bruce’s shoulder once before letting him go. “Perhaps this will be good for you. Perhaps you two will be able to help each other.”

Bruce doesn’t know what to say, so they slide back into their silence. The silence is no longer loud, however; it’s comfortable, the way it should be.

Not even a minute later, headlights cut through the window. Bruce and Alfred both stand, moving toward the door. Bruce opens it and he and Alfred walk outside, watching from the porch as the car comes to a stop. Ms. Briggs gets out first and moves around to the back, opening the door. Richard steps out of the car, head tilted back and eyes glued to Wayne Manor, taking in its size. Bruce’s eyes, in turn, are glued to the blue cast on the boy’s wrist.

“Ms. Briggs, Richard,” Bruce greets with a warm smile, leaving Alfred on the porch as he approaches the car.

“Hello Mr. Wayne,” Ms. Briggs says, holding out her hand. Bruce takes it, and they shake twice before releasing.

She places a hand on Richard’s shoulder briefly, encouraging him to offer a quiet, “Hello Mr. Wayne.”

“You can call me Bruce if you want,” he says, to which Richard only nods.

“My apologies again for this happening so late,” Ms. Briggs says, “but as I explained on the phone, we have quite a special case here. I have some papers for you to sign.”

Bruce gestures toward the house. “Please, come inside. We can take care of everything there.”

“Perfect. Richard, do you want to grab your stuff from the trunk?” Ms. Briggs asks, pressing a button on her key fob as Richard nods and walks toward the back of the car.

“Here, let me,” Bruce says, following Richard. “I don’t want you to make your wrist worse.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Richard says in a barely audible voice.

Bruce smiles again, a smile Richard doesn’t return. It feels out of character, but the behavior isn’t unexpected; Richard has had what is probably the second-worst night of his life and he’s once again surrounded by strangers.

Upon opening the trunk, a wave of anger runs through Bruce when, instead of luggage or a backpack, he finds a garbage bag.

Bruce looks toward the social worker, who has moved to the porch and is speaking with Alfred. Bruce looks back to the trunk and picks up the bag, closing the trunk before he can give it another thought. “How are you feeling, Richard? I know tonight has been more than difficult.”

“I’m okay,” Richard tells him, still using that quiet, reserved voice.

Bruce hums, leading the two of them into the house. “You’ll feel better after some sleep.”

Richard continues his odd silence for the rest of the meeting. Bruce hands the garbage bag full of Richard’s clothing to Alfred, who takes it up to the room they had prepared. Bruce signs the papers and says goodbye to the social worker in record time, thanking her for everything she had done that evening as she leaves the house.

He turns back to Richard, taking in his empty expression, the bags under his eyes, and the blue cast on his right hand. He thinks of Richard sitting without his parents in a hospital emergency room, how he had been forced to go to his old foster home and pack up his belongings in a garbage bag. This would mark the third time he had been forced to move in with strangers, the third time he had been forced to shove his belongings into a garbage bag.

Bruce kneels in front of Richard, looking him in the eye to try to gain his attention. “Richard?”

Richard blinks, moving his eyes to look at Bruce. “Sorry.”

Bruce shakes his head, dismissing the need for an apology. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Richard tells him softly, voice hollow.

“Hn." Bruce thinks, trying to decide if he should push or let it be for now. He looks at Richard—his drawn face and closed posture—and goes with the latter. "Are you hungry?”

Richard shakes his head. “I had some crackers and juice at the hospital.”

“That doesn’t sound like very much to eat,” Bruce says. “How about we go into the kitchen and see if anything sounds good to you?"

“Can . . . can I just go to bed? I’m really tired.”

"Okay." Bruce stands, nodding in resigned agreement. “If you’re sure.”

Bruce takes Richard upstairs, pointing out his own bedroom before going into Richard’s.

“If you need anything, I’ll be right down there,” Bruce tells him. “You can wake me up for anything, even if you don’t think it qualifies as an emergency.”

“Okay.”

Bruce swallows, then takes them back to Richard’s room. He shows him the ensuite bathroom, pointing out where the extra toiletries are kept as well as the shower covers for his cast. He also shows him how to work the shower, just in case he wants to take one before coming downstairs in the morning.

“Do you need help putting your clothes away?” Bruce asks, not allowing his eyes to linger on the garbage bag Alfred placed near the dresser.

“No, I can do it.”

The I can take care of myself echoes in Bruce’s head; Richard had used the phrase directly during one of their early meetings, but now he only implies it.

“If you change your mind,” Bruce says, and Richard nods in understanding. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” Bruce moves to the door, pausing in the doorway and turning to face Richard once more. “Goodnight Richard, I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “Goodnight Bruce.”

Bruce hesitates for a moment, then closes the door with a soft click and goes to his room. Once there, he paces, waiting for something to happen. Nothing does.

He pulls out his phone, checking his news alerts to find that Zucco, predictably, hadn’t been taken to the hospital by the police. He had fled the scene, and while there had been a chase, the officers lost him. Bruce groans, running a hand through his hair. With how long it took the social worker to arrive with Richard, Bruce could have stayed to escort Zucco personally. Maybe then—

No. Going to the manor and waiting for Richard had been the right decision. Even if Bruce had stayed with Zucco, that was no guarantee that he wouldn’t have bribed someone to let him go, and with the kidnapping earlier, the station would have been too hectic for Gordon to do much. But Zucco is getting anxious, reckless even; he’ll be easy to find again.

Still, Bruce doesn’t get much sleep that night.

oOo

The first week with Richard is stressful. Bruce doesn’t go into work that entire week, which he’s sure he’ll regret when he’s eventually forced to return and finds a nightmare waiting for him. He spends most of his time trying to find Zucco, either from the cave or in the streets, meaning he hasn’t spent much quality time with Richard. Richard doesn’t seem to mind, preferring to spend most of his time alone even when Bruce is available. Bruce isn’t sure if this is the right thing to do, but he allows it. The boy is adjusting, after all, and Bruce doesn’t want to push him too soon. (Not that he’d know what to say even if he did want to push.)

From what little he’s seen of Richard, he’s learned a few things: the boy is still grieving, badly, and that grief is mixing with trauma. Bruce has awoken to screaming from night terrors on three separate nights in the past week, and he’s sure there have also been plenty of nightmares that Richard hasn’t shared with them. Richard doesn’t seem to get much sleep as a result, and Bruce has found him passed out in random parts of the manor twice.

What Bruce hasn’t learned, he already knew: Richard is very bright and observant. He’s managed to maintain his athletic abilities, and Alfred has told him that the boy wakes up early to exercise each morning. Bruce has asked Richard about his exercises, both out of curiosity and to ensure he wasn’t hurting his wrist. From the sound of it, Richard would enjoy the equipment Bruce keeps downstairs. That’s not possible, of course, so he invites Richard to use the house’s gym and Bruce makes a note to himself to buy some gymnastics equipment.

By the end of the week, Richard seems more comfortable, but he’s still quiet and reserved for the most part. There are glimpses, however, of the enthusiastic boy who would wait up at night to talk with Batman, and also glimpses of a happy boy from an earlier time.

It’s around this point that Richard starts sneaking out again. Bruce has been expecting it, and the alarm system informs him that Richard has departed before Alfred does. Bruce had already left for patrol, but he quickly circles back and is able to meet up with Richard before he’s technically even off the property.

“Now that’s impressive,” Richard says when Batman jumps out of the car and lands in front of him. “How do you keep finding me anyway? Did you put a tracker on me or something?”

“No.” Well, not tonight.

“Are you one of those computer hackers?”

“When it’s necessary.”

“That’s so cool! Could you teach me?” Richard asks, rising up on his toes ever so slightly.

“Hn.”

“I’m going to take that as a maybe,” Richard says, grinning.

“What are you doing out here?” Bruce asks.

Richard shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

They’re in the woods surrounding the manor. When Bruce was Richard’s age, he had been too afraid to go in them alone during the day. It’s definitely not where he would have gone to relax.

“How is your new foster placement?”

“Fine, I guess.” Richard rubs the inside of his elbow. “Do you think when this is over they’ll let me go home?”

As Batman, Bruce had asked Gordon if it would be possible for Richard to be placed in Haly’s care. Someone had reached out, but Haly hadn’t been willing. “I’m sorry Richard, but that doesn’t seem very likely.”

Richard looks away, sniffing. “Figures.”

Bruce kneels down, taking Richard’s cast-free hand in his own.

“I just want to go home.”

“Is that where you were going tonight?” Bruce asks.

Richard shakes his head but says nothing.

“Then where?” Bruce presses.

“I . . . I was going to try to find Zucco,” Richard admits, looking anywhere but Bruce. “I was going to take a bus downtown and ask around; say he was my uncle. I thought that even if I couldn’t find him, he would hear that I was looking for him and come after me again. And then, and then you could arrest him.”

“Richard.” Bruce’s heart is pounding in his chest, eyes wide with fear for this child. “You know how unsafe that is.”

“Like you care!” Richard screams—screams—at him, pulling his hand out of Bruce’s grasp and throwing both of them above his head in anger. “My parents have been gone for two months”—Richard’s small fists land across the bat emblem with no regard for his cast and containing more strength than Bruce expected—“and Zucco is still out there! If you’re not going to do anything, then I will!”

The boy is crying—heavy, angry, hurt tears—and for a moment, all Bruce can do is stare at him, barely breathing as he watches the tears and feels the fists pound against his chest. He thinks this is my fault and he wishes that that thought wasn’t as true as it is.

Bruce grabs Richard’s hands, pulling them back down gently. “I’m sorry. This never should have happened to you. And I’m sorry I haven’t been able to find Zucco yet, but I am looking for him.”

Richard isn’t fighting his hold, but he’s still crying, gasping for breath every few seconds. “You promised! You said you would bring him to justice—that’s what you said!”

“I know. And I promise I’m doing everything I can. This case is my top priority.” And that’s the truth—the rest of the truth is that it’s not his only case. There are several other open cases that have needed his attention, the Shadow that he can sense watching them right now being one of them.

Richard’s lip trembles, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares at Bruce with a look of disappointment and doubt.

Bruce swallows, running the case through his head before calmly presenting it to Richard. “I’ve been collecting evidence and sharing what I know with Gordon. Last month, we found one of the men, Garry Peters, who was responsible for putting the acid on the lines. A warrant was put out for his arrest and he confessed. He’s not currently in custody, but he will be tried in court and he’s been fairly cooperative with the police in exchange for protection. He’s refused to confirm that this was Zucco’s plan, but he’s given other names.”

Richard’s breaths are slowing down, and he’s looking at Bruce eagerly. Richard already knows some of this information—Batman had told him personally—but it’s clear from Richard’s reactions that he had not known all of it.

“Peters shared the name of his two partners that night, Emmanuel Hebert and Rachel Clay. Both of them have been arrested. They also received bail, but they’ll be at the hearing. So far, everyone we’ve spoken to has refused to confirm Zucco’s involvement.”

“But I saw him,” Richard insists.

“I know, Richard. But Zucco is being protected, so even with your testimony, it’s difficult.” Bruce hates everything about this case, and having to explain this to Richard makes it that much worse. “But there was a breakthrough about two weeks ago when someone came forward with evidence that Zucco purchased the type of acid used on the lines. This person also provided more proof that the three people who were arrested worked other jobs for Zucco in the past, as well as circumstantial evidence that Zucco hired them for this job. It was enough for Gordon to get a warrant for Zucco’s arrest. That’s why he went after you last week.”

Richard nods, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he absorbs the information.

“He was spotted near where you were kidnapped but he escaped before an arrest could be made. I’ve been trying to track him down, but I’m also trying to collect all of the evidence I can to ensure that when Zucco goes to court, he won’t be able to walk.” And that Zucco’s charges will reflect what truly happened. Zucco had intended to kill the entire Grayson family that night, and Bruce will see to it personally that that is reflected in Zucco’s charges.

“What if you can’t find him?” Richard asks. “What if he leaves the city, or the country?”

“I will find him.”

“Let me help,” Richard says. “You could use me as bait, that would—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I am not putting your life in danger, and it’s completely unnecessary. Zucco is getting nervous; finding him will be much easier now.”

“Can I come with you?” Richard asks. “I’ll stay in the car, like last time.”

“Not tonight.” Bruce pauses. “Will you let me take you back to the house?”

Richard bites his lip. “Are you going to come back here again?”

Bruce looks at Richard, trying to decipher what his question means. “Yes. If you want, I can visit you every night and give you an update on the case until Zucco is found.”

Richard nods. “Then I’ll go back.”

oOo

Every night for the next week, Bruce keeps his promise and shows up at Richard’s window to give him an update as Batman. He tries to keep it as detailed as he can and answer all of Richard’s questions, but there’s often not much to report. Richard enjoys the conversations though, and he often leads them to discuss things other than the case. By the time Bruce leaves, Richard has done most of the talking. Richard, Bruce supposes, is lonely.

Bruce feels more comfortable talking to the boy as Batman, and he wonders if that’s because Batman is less of a stranger to Richard than Bruce Wayne is, or if it’s because Batman can help the boy in a way Bruce can’t, meaning that there’s less guilt talking to him as the former. There’s also the fact that Bruce is keeping up something close to his public persona at home, ensuring that Richard doesn’t learn his secret. It’s exhausting and likely adding to his problems, but it’s necessary for now.

Bruce’s comfort and exhaustion doesn’t matter, however. The boy is hurting and lonely, and Bruce needs to make more of an effort to help Richard, not just his case. Richard is his priority, and Bruce needs to start acting like it.

“Ah, Master Bruce,” Alfred says when Bruce exits the car. “I would have called, but I thought it best not to worry you unnecessarily.”

Bruce pushes his cowl back. “What happened?”

Richard steps out from behind the car.

Alfred clears his throat. “I found him in the cave. It appears we have taken in another detective, sir.”

oOo

“I could help,” Richard insists for the millionth time this week. “You could train me and I could be your partner.”

“No.”

“I’m already a professional athlete,” Richard points out. “I’d be really easy to train.”

While true, that’s far from the point. “No. I’m not training a child soldier.”

Richard huffs and rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t be a child soldier; I’d be a hero. Like you.”

Bruce spins his chair to look at Richard for the first time. With a hard glare, he tells him, “No. That’s final.” He spins his chair back around to face his screen once more.

Richard leans against the chair. “Why not? You need someone to watch your back and I’m right here. I could be your lookout, or at least your getaway driver.”

Bruce closes his eyes, exhaling in a slow, controlled matter, pretending he’s calm. “Richard.”

“Just give me a chance,” Richard whines. “I’ll prove that I can be a good partner.”

Bruce stands quickly, sending his chair rolling behind him. Richard takes a step back, but Bruce is too worked up to realize that he’s probably scaring him. He glares down at him, and the boy shrinks under his gaze. “No. This is not up for debate.”

Richard’s face crumples, then turns into a scowl. “You can’t tell me what to do. I bet I could find Zucco faster on my own anyway.”

“You are not to leave this house. Is that clear?”

Richard is silent for a long time. Bruce’s stomach twists, but he can’t give in.

Richard wipes his sleeve across his eyes before dashing back upstairs. Bruce sinks into his chair; he’s clearly not cut out to be anything close to a father.

oOo

A few days later, Batman receives a tip telling him where Zucco is expected to be later that night. Richard has been ignoring him since their fight, and Bruce has been trying his best to give him space.

“Richard?” he calls, knocking on the closed door. There’s no answer. “I have a lead on Zucco. If everything goes as planned, I’ll be taking him in tonight.”

Bruce hears the floors creak, telling him Richard has come closer to the door.

“You can’t come, but if you want, you can sit on the comms with Alfred.”

When there’s no answer after two minutes, Bruce sighs and steps away from the door, wondering how long children can stay mad.

oOo

Bruce has been Batman long enough to be able to look at a criminal and tell how desperate they are. Zucco is incredibly desperate, and when people are that desperate, they do stupid things. Reckless things.

“Put down the gun,” Bruce says firmly, holding back a growl. He quickly ducks as Zucco pulls the trigger, missing Bruce by at least a foot.

“Take me in and that kid will be dead by morning, understand?”

Zucco has a lot to lose by going to prison; there are many who would be happy to see him in a place where they have the upper hand.

“No one else dies.” This time, Bruce doesn’t hold back the growl.

He throws one of his metal discs, taking out Zucco’s gun. The man yells in frustration before taking off, tipping over whatever’s in his path to put something—anything—between himself and The Batman.

Zucco is already at his car and fumbling with the keys by the time Bruce catches up to him. Bruce is fast, but not faster than a car; he raises his hand to call the car just as something swishes past his ear. It lands near Zucco, and he yelps as it makes contact and forces him to drop his keys. Bruce picks up his pace, turning ever so slightly to see who threw the object. He’s expecting to see the Shadow again, but instead he sees a small boy running toward him, dressed in dark green athletic tights, a red leotard, green gloves, and a green mask over his eyes made out of what used to be a beanie.

Despite the attempt at a disguise, Bruce can immediately tell it’s Richard, and for a second, his world freezes over.

But then Richard is passing him, waving and smiling as he goes. He’s chasing after Zucco, who has decided to ditch the car and run toward the pier instead, zig-zagging as he goes.

Bruce presses the button on his belt. “The car will be here shortly,” he hisses at Richard when he catches up to him. “Get inside and stay put until I get back.”

“Make me,” Richard says brightly, speeding up and passing Bruce again. He’s pulling out an object from his pocket, aiming it at Zucco. Bruce recognizes it as his own throwing discs, something the boy must have grabbed from the cave.

He throws it and hits Zucco’s foot, making the man stumble.

Bruce grabs Richard’s left hand, pulling him back. “Car. Now.”

Richard, to Bruce’s surprise, listens. He slows to a stop as Bruce passes him, and Bruce reaches for his restraints as he approaches Zucco.

“You hiring kiddies now, Bats?” Zucco taunts through panting breaths. He’s backed into a corner, and he’s watching Batman with wild eyes. Something glints in the light, and Bruce recognizes it as a knife just before it comes racing toward his shoulder.

Bruce moves swiftly, dodging the blade with practiced ease. Zucco comes at him again, this time going for the restraints. Bruce jumps on top of the railing, careful to maintain his balance as the old wood wobbles under his weight. Zucco kicks at the railing, causing a piece to break off just as Bruce jumps back down to avoid falling over the edge.

He sweeps Zucco’s legs out and is on top of the man as soon as he hits the ground. Zucco swipes at Bruce’s hand with his knife, hitting him for the first time that night and making Bruce lose the restraints as well as a few drops of blood. Bruce disposes of the knife and tries to manually restrain Zucco, but Zucco is throwing punches like his life depends on it and it’s all Bruce can do to block the hits.

“Batman!” Richard yells.

Bruce follows the sound of his voice to see that the boy has found a hiding spot on a nearby roof. He’s pointing in the opposite direction, and Bruce shifts his gaze to see that two men have joined them, both of them armed.

No.

“Shoot!” Zucco yells.

A clink of metal followed by yelling tells Bruce that Richard threw another disc and hit his mark; a gunshot tells him he only hit one gun.

Bruce can’t see for sure, but it doesn’t sound like anyone was hit. The commotion is enough to make Zucco slow down, and Bruce uses that to his advantage and grabs a new pair of restraints from his belt, clapping them on Zucco’s hands. When he has Zucco handcuffed to the pier, he looks for Richard. Bruce sees him climbing down a fire escape, several discs held firmly in his hand like he’s intending to fight the two men by himself.

The men, thank god, are more worried about Batman than the kid and give him their full attention. They’re both holding guns again and they set off another round. Dodging them requires a level of attention and energy Bruce doesn’t quite have, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful that Richard threw another round of discs, taking out one of the guns and hitting the other gunman in the arm, causing him to miss.

Bruce picks up his speed, jumping as he takes out the still-armed man. He kicks the gun away and throws a bolas at the other man before he can reclaim his own weapon. As he’s tying them up, Richard is running toward them, collecting the guns as he goes.

Both men are tied up by the time Richard is standing next to him, breathing a little fast but not nearly close to being out of breath.

Bruce wordlessly presses the button on his belt to call the car for the final time that night.

“We make a good team,” Richard tells him, a brightness in his voice that Bruce hasn’t heard in days.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

oOo

“What happens now?” Richard asks.

The two of them are sitting on a nearby roof, watching as Zucco and his two henchmen are put into separate squad cars.

“They’ll be taken in for questioning. Gordon has assured me that Zucco won’t qualify for bail, but I can’t speak for the other two. There will be a preliminary hearing, hopefully sometime this week, and depending on what happens there, a court date will be set.”

“Why wouldn’t there be a court date?” Richard asks, eyes never leaving the scene below. “You said there’s enough evidence to convict.”

“There is,” Bruce assures. “Zucco might take a plea deal.”

“Oh.”

They sit in a solemn silence until the squad cars pull away, Gordon riding in the car with Zucco. It isn’t until they can no longer see the cars that the two wordlessly move to their own car and go home.

oOo

Bruce sends Richard to bed without a lecture, deciding it can wait until the morning. Right now, Richard is still ecstatic about his adventure, and with Zucco finally in custody, Bruce is in a forgiving mood and doesn’t feel like crushing Richard’s spirit.

By the time he finishes writing up his report, Alfred has gone to bed and he expects Richard to have done the same. When he passes his room, however, he sees that the light is still on.

He taps on the door. “Richard? Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Richard replies quietly.

Bruce opens the door to find Richard sitting on his bed, still wearing his red leotard and green tights. Bruce crosses the room and takes a seat next to Richard on the bed. He doesn’t know what to say, but his instincts tell him that staying is the right thing to do.

“You can call me Dick, if you want,” Richard—Dick—says, looking up at him with the eyes of someone who’s seen far too much for someone so young. “That’s what everyone back home calls me.”

A smile tugs at Bruce’s lips, and he allows it to rest on his face for a moment. “Alright, Dick.”

Dick smiles too, but it lasts even shorter than Bruce’s.

“How do you feel? Bruce asks.

“I’m . . .” Dick stares at his hands, furrowing his eyebrows. He shakes his head, starting again. “I’m glad Zucco’s in custody, and I know you’re probably mad, but I’m glad I was there. It felt good. But I don’t . . . I don’t think I feel any different.”

Bruce pauses, taking in the statement. “What do you mean?”

“I thought it would be better, once we found him, but it’s not.”

Oh. “The grief, you mean.”

Dick nods and mumbles, “It’s stupid.”

“No.” Bruce wraps his arm around Dick’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “No, sweetheart, it’s not.”

For the longest time, Bruce had thought that if he could just find his parents’ killer, it would fix everything and he would feel normal again. Maybe not completely, but when you’re hurting that badly, something is better than nothing.

“I miss them,” Dick says, a sob finally running through him and shaking his whole body. “It hurts all the time, Bruce. I just want it to stop.”

“I know.” Bruce rocks Dick back and forth, running a hand through his hair. “Shh, I know.”

Dick cries, and Bruce holds him. It’s not much, but it’s something.

oOo

“Good.”

“Oh, come on, B, that was great!” Dick calls from the mats. “Amazing even.”

Bruce smiles; the tumbling sequence had been impressive. “Hnn. Go again.”

“You said we could spar if I stuck it,” Dick protests.

“Afraid you can’t stick it twice in a row?” In reality, Bruce is trying to test Dick’s stamina, trying to figure out where his limit is and how far they can push it.

Dick rolls his eyes but jogs back to his starting place, takes a breath, and then goes again. Bruce watches as he launches himself into the air and contorts his body into a series of flips, landing briefly on his hands before going right back up. Dick lands for a final time, sticking his landing perfectly and breathing heavy. He lowers his arms and looks at Bruce. “Can we spar now?”

Bruce still struggles to understand how casually Dick can execute those skills like they’re nothing. “Water break. Then we’ll spar.”

“Yes!” Dick runs off to grab his water, and Bruce can’t help but chuckle at the enthusiasm.

Today has been a good day, and Bruce finds himself thinking about how the past two months have gone by in a whirlwind, filled with highs and lows.

The Grayson case has been officially closed. The court date has been set and everything looks like it will go in their favor. Despite the success of the case overall, there are still several loose ends that eat at Bruce on nights when he can’t sleep. The biggest being the Shadow, although that problem has seemingly solved itself. Bruce hasn’t felt the presence in weeks, and he hasn’t found a trace of the possible-vigilante anywhere. He hopes that whoever it was simply retired of their own accord, that something worse hadn’t befallen them. Like Haly’s true involvement with Gotham’s gangs, however, Bruce has been forced to accept that it's a mystery he’ll never truly solve.

More important than the case, Dick has been doing much better. He’s opened up to both Alfred and Bruce now, and he feels comfortable coming to them when he’s struggling. Even better, the night terrors have become less frequent, as have the regular nightmares.

Just as Alfred had predicted, Dick has been good for Bruce, too. He provides a light that Bruce so desperately needed, and he’s made the manor feel like a home again. Bruce is realizing it’s something he doesn’t want to let go of anytime soon. He’s seriously considering making Dick’s custody arrangement permanent, though he’s still unsure how to broach the topic without making everyone uncomfortable. After all, Bruce still doesn’t feel cut out to be a father most days, and Dick has made it clear he doesn’t want a new one.

Another change since Dick first moved in is that they’ve been spending a lot of time in the cave, training Dick both physically and mentally for vigilantism. The boy hadn’t dropped the topic since he helped take down Zucco, and after only a week of pleading, among other tactics, Bruce had given in. He’s still holding out hope that this will turn out to be a phase, a temporary aspiration, but the further they go, the more certain Dick seems.

Bruce isn’t exactly happy about it, but he knows that Dick will do this with or without him. Bruce’s job is to keep the boy as safe as possible. Happy or not, Bruce can’t deny that Dick is good, extraordinarily talented for someone his age. He has the potential to be better than Bruce could ever dream.

A weight slams down against his back as Dick latches onto him. “Prepare to be defeated!” Dick yells into his ear.

Bruce grabs Dick’s forearms, pulling him off his back and onto the mats. Dick jumps up from his back and lands on his feet, falling into one of the stances Bruce taught him.

“Let’s see you try,” Bruce says, eliciting a smile from Dick, who has gained a mischievous glint in his eyes. “On three. One.”

Dick rises on his toes, preparing to charge.

“Two—”

“Three!” Dick shouts, cutting Bruce off as usual and running toward him.

Yes, Bruce thinks as Dick dodges Bruce’s defensive maneuver with a flip and a laugh, today is a good day.

#batfam big bang 2020 #dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #batfam #court of owls #elizabeth writes

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d-xs · 4 years

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SPY! JASON AU

Jason is not the son of Dr. Sheila Haywood and Willis Todd. Instead, he is the son of Sharmin Rosen, the secret agent, and Willis Todd.

Sharmin was deep undercover at the time and she made the decision to go through with the pregnancy. The plan was to drop the kid off with Willis. Her lifestyle does not allow for kids and between the two of them, Willis was the more favorable option.

Once the baby is born, however, the thought of letting him go is too impossible to imagine. Plus, Willis may have a more steady lifestyle, but he hates kids.

In the end, Sharmin decides to try the whole parenting thing. It can't be that hard if everyone is doing it.

With a secret agent for a mother, Jason is indoctrinated into the life of a spy at a very young age. His mom is never one to hide the truth or shield Jason from anything. Sharmin tells it like it is.

By the time he was 9, Jason knows multiple ways to kill a person and has gotten used to moving and memorizing a new family history every time his mom packs them up and moves.

Jason is ten when Batman becomes an inconvenience to his mother's organization. At eleven, Batman and his Robin has parted ways. His mom's organization needs someone on the inside to help them take down the elusive bat. Who better to send in than their very own little protégé?

Jason's ties to Gotham makes his new back story foolproof, even for the World's greatest detective. The fact that Willis was killed in prison and his wife died of overdose shortly after serves as the perfect sob story for a little homeless boy.

At the age of eleven, Jason goes to Gotham for his first undercover mission. It doesn't take long to catch the Bat's eyes and lands the Robin gig.

It's all well and good for a while. Robin takes to Gotham's sky and he's doing great. Spying on Bruce and stealing information to help his mom's agency. But that's not hard. The information helps his mom and the people he grew up with escape Batman, so it couldn't be that bad.

Except, the more Jason is ingratiated into the family, the harder it is for him to spy on them. As much as Sharmin loves Jason, he's never had any semblance of a normal life. He's never gone to a real school or gone to a game. He was home schooled and every game they played was a training. He's never spent time with other young people like him. Family bonding was all about learning to fight or lie convincingly. It meant going on missions and killing bad guys.

Before Bruce and Batman, the only person he could trust in his life was his mother. But here these strangers are, treating him like one of them, even though they picked him off the streets.

Jason could admit that Bruce was doing good work in Gotham. It doesn't help that thanks to the information he got from Bruce, he has come to know that his mother's organization aren't the good guys they pretend to be.

So he gives up on the mission. He stops spying on Bruce and stops dropping off information. But he doesn't know how to proceed. Does he tell Bruce about it and hope Bruce forgives him or continue like he wasn't ever there to spy on him?

What if someone from his past tells Bruce and Bruce sends him to Arkham or Blackgate? What then? What will happen to his mom if he breaks cover?

This dilemma starts to affect his performance as Robin and his relationship with Bruce.

His mom's organization sees that their agent has deflected, so they take matters into their own hands. What better way to punish the rogue agent, masquerading as Batman's partner without drawing Batman's ire? Get one of Batman's rogues to do it.

When Sharmin discovers the plan, she decides to warn Jason. She may not support her son's decision to deflect to the enemy's side, but he's her son. His happiness and safety will always be the most important thing to her.

But the organization finds out Sharmin's plans. They wait until she has called Robin away from Batman's side before springing a surprise attack on both of them. They didn't stand a chance.

Once they're subdued, the joker is invited to finish mother and son off.

Batman is non the wiser. He thinks Jason ran off to take on the joker himself.

Jason's life goes the same way when he's resurrected. Talia al Ghul takes him in and cares for him, until she puts him back in the pit.

When he finds out about the Joker and the new Robin, he's very heartbroken. All of Bruce's talk about love and family is meaningless. Batman is all talk and no action.

The circles of betrayal just keeps going around. For now, though, Jason has a bigger target in his mind than Batman. First, name on the list is the Joker. He doesn't need Batman to kill the clown for him. Not after the clown killed his mom.

After that, he goes after his mom's organization.

#cara writes #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Sharmin Rosen #Spy Jason #headcanon

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miss-choco-chips · 5 years

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Twisted soulmates

BIG Thank you to @iphoenixrising who let me babble on chat about this idea, and to @the-sky-is-a-lie who is an awesome sweetheart and read and edited this for me (THANK YOU!)

---------------------------

Tim has three names on one wrist. His soulmates. Tim has one name on the other wrist. His nemesis.

...or are they?

Tim gets his first mark the night the Graysons fell, ‘Richard John Grayson’ forever tattooed on him, the otherwise unblemished white skin of his left wrist almost shining in contrast to the new addition.

Young, he might be, but not stupid; never stupid. Neither of his parents would approve of a circus artist, perfect as he may be in Tim’s wide opened eyes, so he had to be smart about this. His mind hasn’t stopped whirling since the little touch that burned Dick’s name on him and vice versa, all kind of plans on how to broach the subject with the adults, how to make Dick like him beyond the promised love of a soulmate, every possibility dancing through his eyes, while his parents look for their seats at the stands none the wiser.

He's planning on asking his mom to stay after the show, so he might properly introduce himself to this marvelous trapezist, maybe proclaim an interest in the training - anything that could improve his overall abilities was a good thing in Janet’s eyes, and having her on board would be enough to force his father to accept. He’s excited at the prospect, and a part of him thinks Dick, up the trapeze getting ready for his act, feels the same. That he could feel, through the bond that snapped in place when the other kid first touched him, an echo of his own happiness, a joy at finding, so soon in life, something as beautiful as this.

He’s going to stay after the show. He’ll talk to Dick, introduce himself properly, be as mature as possible- Dick wouldn’t want a dumb kid as his soulmate. Maybe even make friends with this wonderful boy that can fly and is destined to love him.

(Love him, him, him. He can’t wrap his head around this strange concept of being on the receiving end of something strong and wonderful. He might cry.)

Then the tragedy occurs, and Tim's too traumatized to think about doing anything about it. He can't pester a grieving boy with this. They are kids after all, and it’s not like their bond is going anywhere.

(I don’t want to wait, please don’t forget about me, please love me.)

---.---

Dick has just been adopted, his entire worldview had changed, adding a soulmate to care about would be just too mean of him. Tim can take care of himself, even when sometimes, after his parents left for yet another trip, he yearns for someone to hold his hand after a nightmare. To brush his hair back and hug him.

But that’s just the child in him. He doesn’t need it to live, it’s just a silly comfort thing to wish for, like the baby blanket his mother had made the servants take away once Tim turned four. So he keeps quiet. He waits.

Dick’s name is on his left wrist, after all. He is his soulmate.

----.----

He gets his second mark years later, when the Batcave’s security is breached and some strange men attack Bruce. The giant penny is too tall, but he still get a good look at the man below it, and something in his gut twists. It all makes sense a few minutes later, when Bruce is fighting someone else and the man in green robes pushes Tim aside, holding him hostage to get the Batman’s cooperation.

The skin on his wrist, the one that doesn't have Dick's promised love tattooed on it, burns. He doesn’t dare look down, aware of how taking your eyes from the predator in the room could mean instant death. He doesn’t need to, anyway; he already knows.

Tim’s pretty sure this is his nemesis, because no way he'd be destined to hate Dick and love this criminal, and they are on opposite wrists. So… getting away is the first step on his ‘do not interact with this terrorist until I’m significantly better at defending myself’ plan. Easy peasy.

He catches the side glance the man shoots him, because of course he also felt the burn, and there’s curiosity there. Something akin to amusement, which, Tim can get behind, he’s also seeing the irony of this, the utterly ridiculousness of him being important enough in the grand scheme of things to warrant being tattooed on this man’s skin.

There’s also possessiveness there, which isn’t fun at all. Stranger danger, his mind screams at him.

His nemesis shouldn’t be possessive of him, unless he has a really fucked up view of his enemies, in a ‘their death is mine, and mine only’ way. Because this is his nemesis, there's no doubt in his mind of that.

Dick is on his other wrist, after all, and he is his soulmate.

----.----

Bruce goes mental when he finds out later, and almost blows a gasket. Ra’s, as Tim later finds out his nemesis is called, is suddenly one upping the Joker on Batman’s high priority enemies list, which means only a glimpse of him anywhere near the city borders would warrant a call to Superman, Bruce’s ultimate last resort. That’s how big this is.

Young Justice has split feelings on the matter. Cissie and Cassie, ever the bloodthirsty ones in Tim’s humble opinion, suggest tracking the man down before he can get to their leader, and taking him out of the game. Probably permanently. Kon seems torn, half with the girls, half with Bart, who finds the whole thing amusing and exciting. Ra’s Al Ghul, one of the most dangerous enemies the Justice League ever faced, and little old Robin is his fated enemy. Not Superman, not Wonder Woman, not Batman himself; just their Rob. That, according to the speedster, is so, so, so crash. The rest of the team, if they have opinions, keep them to themselves. It takes a while to calm the room down and focus on their mission of the day, but he eventually succeeds.

Dick, on his part, comes back from where he was brooding with the Titans after a fight with his mentor to fret over Tim, and everything is right in the world.

He isn't afraid of Ra's. He has his new family, new friends, and soulmate.

----.----

There’s something on his pillow when he gets back from the weekend with his friends.

A perfect rose, white as snow, thorns so sharp Tim knows they would pierce skin if touched. Not that he would be so stupid as to do it, not when foes like Ivy existed.

But… there’s a ribbon, and it sends ice through his veins. A red ribbon, tied at the stem’s exact center. A flower with a ribbon, the universal symbol of soulmates.

He’s pretty sure Dick’s back in San Francisco. Which leaves...

No.

He squares his shoulders and searches in his bag for his Robin gauntlets, protecting his hands with them as he disposes of the rose.

His right hand stings a little through the entire process.

----.----

When he gets his third mark, he's honestly surprised. As well as on the edge of unconsciousness from blood loss.

The blood flooding his airways is his, and the building that he believed was his safe place would never feel like that again. His knocked out friends litter the hallways, the bo staff he tried to use to defend himself long lost to the fight, as this man, his hero, his Robin, his apparent Soulmate, tries to kill him.

(Their eyes meet and they feel it at the same time, the twist in their stomachs, which is what stops Jason's blade. Tim’s hand raises up, weakly, and carefully brushes against the one holding the knife. It burns, and everything goes black for a minute.)

(Jason stops breathing. He has the Joker on one hand, and was markless on the other until now, so this runt has to be his soulmate. No way it's the deranged clown. Which means he almost....)

Jason runs away (this is Jason, his wrist claims, not the mysterious Red Hood any longer) and Tim patches himself up, does damage control with his friends, calls Batman. His heart is beating twice as fast as usual, but he tries to be logical; Jason is on the same wrist as Dick, who is his soulmate, and opposite to Ra's, who's most likely his nemesis. Ergo, Jason's gotta be his soulmate.

His confused, probably traumatized, totally not in his right mind soulmate.

He's gotta be patient and wait. Jason surely will get better, will come back to Tim, will fix this mistake he almost made, will... will love him.

Dick is his soulmate, and calls him ‘little brother’, which hurts, but he says it with such warmth that it soothes the ache. Dick loves him.

Jason will, too, someday.

----.----

A few weeks later, he wakes up in the middle of the night, conscious of the feeling of being watched from the shadows of his room.

There’s the teddy bear Steph won for him at the fair some months ago, sitting on the chair near his bed where he last put it, but… odd. There’s something about it that’s not quite normal, something that wasn’t there when he went to sleep half an hour ago.

It took him less than a minute to spot it, which would still be shameful if Bruce ever found out, but he sees the unusual shine in the bear’s eye and groans, more tired than rightfully angry, feeling like the moody teenager he never actually was.

A hidden camera. This was the fifth of the year, what the hell?

Pissed off, he gets up and takes the scissors he leaves by his bedside (can’t exactly go to sleep with a birdarang there, his dad might check on him at night and freak out, but sleeping without a weapon in easy reach just makes him uncomfortable) and makes quick work of the bear, getting the device out with as minimal damage to the plushie as possible. He’ll fix it later.

Beyond done, one hand opens the window with more strength than absolutely necessary, the other flying back to gather momentum and throw the thing right at the supposedly empty shadow on the roof of the building across the street. He’s not surprised when a dark gloved hand catches it, the rest of the body still perfectly concealed by the night. Fucking ninja.

No words needed, he slams the window shut again and grumbles his way to his desk, turning on his lamp. He’s not falling asleep again tonight, so might as well work on some cases.

----.----

His fourth mark is both exciting and like a bucket of cold water.

It's a fucking kid.

Is this how Dick felt when he first got Tim's mark? No wonder he avoided talking about the subject, this was uncomfortable as fuck. Granted, it didn't necessarily have to be a romantic soulmate, platonic soulmates were a thing too, but... still. Awkward.

Even worse because the kid didn't have another mark and, as Tim was his first, was convinced he had to be his fated nemesis. No matter how hard Tim tried to explain the opposite; after the heart stilling moment where he extended his hand for a shake and was slapped away, thus providing the skin to skin contact needed for the bond to form, the brat was sure it was nothing but a ruse to get him to lower his defenses or something. God this kid was fucked up.

So. In short. There were two of his soulmates trying to kill him. Great.

But... Dick was on the same wrist as them. Dick loved him. Dick was his soulmate. So Damian... Damian had to be, as well. Maybe he'd grow out if his hate, maybe it was just a phase.

Maybe.

----.----

His mother and father were dead. Steph was dead. His two best friends were dead.

Tim was numb, going through the motions but not really feeling anything. His only source of emotion, nowadays, was his constant rage at Damian, and the adrenaline while fighting a bad guy.

He barely slept. He couldn’t remember the last time he properly ate. The manor wasn’t comforting enough with the little assassin roaming around for him to get any shut eye, and how could Tim be sure he wasn’t going to poison his food?

Sleeping in safe houses seemed the smarter move, even when they weren’t really safe at all, judging by the ‘gifts’ that kept appearing every time he turned his back. Food - sealed and untempered with - files on whatever case he was working on, a brand of turkish coffee that he would gladly down even if it contained poison…

Flowers, hundreds of them, all white in color, tiny red ribbons tying their stems.

Tim shivered at the meaning, but no longer minded the feeling of eyes on him while he slept. Looking for hidden cameras was too much effort to be worth it, as long as there were none in the bathroom and his walk in closet. He couldn’t care less, these days.

----.----

Jason tried to kill him. Again. In the middle of a Pit Episode, even after all Tim had done to help him, to mend their relationship.

Damian was even worse, abusing Tim any way he could, any time he got the chance to get away with it. And it was a startlingly large amount of times, considering their family should be more attentive to attempted murder. None of Tim's effort to bond ever bore fruit.

But he's still convinced they are his soulmates, so he's gotta be patient. They have to be.

Because Dick is his soulmate, and they share a wrist.

Because Dick...

----.----

Dick betrayed him. In the worst possible way, in the most vulnerable moment of his life. When Tim needed him the most.

Jason tried to kill him.

Damian tried to kill him.

Dick betrayed him (which was, arguably, worse).

Dick was his soulmate. Jason was his soulmate. Damian was his soulmate.

They had to be.

----.----

His quest for Batman would’ve been a lonely affair, if not for the honeyed voice whispering in his ear. The silent eyes he felt on his skin wherever he went, more heavy than his three assassin escorts’ stares.

What a crazy world it was, where Tim’s nemesis believed in him, while his first soulmate, the one he loved almost his entire life, claimed delusion. Where his nemesis sent his people to keep him alive, to keep others out of his way, while his other two sought his death.

What a crazy world indeed.

----.----

-I think we need to talk, Timothy. About this bond we share.

-I’m listening.

Timothy, he said, but it didn’t sound like his name at all.

In his mind, it echoed something scary, something that made him shiver and tense.

It sounded like Mine.

----.----

Ra's al Ghul was probably his soulmate.

He's gotta be. Because there's no way Tim's fated to love three people that are just going to break his heart again and again and again.

When he goes to the League for help looking for Bruce, he steels himself in place when Ra's’ voice in his ear makes him want to flinch. He grits his teeth at the viper like words murmured in soft tones. Makes himself accept when Ra's offers to train him in the ninja arts after he successfully brought his mentor back. Clenches his fists when he's asked to dinner in a dimly lit French restaurant.

Ra's didn't retaliate when Tim blew up half his bases. He kept giving Tim pointers and praises. Seeking his company.

So he breathes in.

He forgave Damian for being a killer, Jason for being one, too. He surely can find it in himself to forgive his actual soulmate for being a criminal.

In time.

Right?

...Right?

----.----

Something dark and victorious twists in Ra’s chest when the Detective doesn’t flinch away from his touch, and silently accepts the white rose and red ribbon he presents before guiding him deep into the restaurant. There’s acceptance in Timothy’s eyes, reluctant but hopeful, even if he stirs away from any ‘dangerous’ topics of conversation and very firmly drops a drug test pill in his glass of water the second the waitress turns her back on them.

Ra’s doesn’t comment on it, merely mirrors the act on his own wine (one could never be too sure, not when an enemy as interesting as this is seated across from him) before raising it for a toast. Not that the Detective was aware of the reason.

He’s got a lot to celebrate.

Deceiving this one wasn’t easy, after all.

----.----

Later that night, alone in his room, Tim turns in the bed, his back to the cameras on the far end of the room. The movement is slow, lazy, following his usual sleeping patterns. A clumsy hand pats the mattress, blindly looking for a pillow and dragging it to his chest, face hidden by its softness. He goes lax again, peaceful and oblivious to the world around him to any lingering eye.

Once he’s sure there’s no way anyone could see him, Tim lets a slow, dangerous smile creep on his face, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeling so alive it’s almost painful after all the numbness.

Ra’s was looking so smug, like the cat that got the canary. Oh, he tried to hide it, but Tim had made it his life's mission since he was twelve to understand the man to his truest essence, to be able to read him as one would a book, and practice had taught him how to play him like a cheap kazoo.

He probably shouldn’t smile, safe as he is in hiding his face in the pillow, but he can’t help it.

Deceiving Ra’s, soulmate or not, wasn’t easy.

#Tim Drake #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #bruce wayne #ra's al ghul #Ra's is creepy #but he's smart about it #OR IS HE #Young Justice #Timdick #Jaytim #damitim #ra'stim #soulmates au #nemesis au #which one is each though #my writting

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nrecoveryn · 3 years

Text

Nails in the coffin

Chapter 7

Thor and Loki followed the six strangers inside the tower. It was even more amazing from the inside. Mr. Stark gestured for them to get inside a strange room with buttons on the wall. Thor entered, Loki too, but rather hesitantly. They were both surprised, when it started, going up.

- Don't worry, this is completely safe. - said the blonde man. - This thing is called an elevator, it takes us to another floor.

- Amazing! - whispered Loki.

- Yeah, it is pretty cool. - said Thor.

The elevator stopped and everyone, except Loki and Thor got out.

- Come on, kids. - said Mr. Stark, inviting them to follow.

The brothers did, what they were told.

- Is this one an elevator too? - asked Thor, excited, to which Mr. Stark laughed.

- No, this is my living room. Come on, take a seat.

Thor and Loki sat on the big couch, the strangers didn't take a seat though, but were instead standing in front of them.

- My friends, I think it is time we introduced ourselves, but maybe someone else should be first. - said the blond-haired man.

- Right. My name is Tony Stark, this is Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton.

- And I am Thor... Odinson.

- Cool, you have the same name as me! - exclaimed the younger Thor.

- I don't think he only has the same name as you, he is you. - said Loki.

- You are quick on the uptake, kid. - said Tony.

- So it is true? You are me? That's so weird!

- It's not less weird for me, kid. - answered the older Thor.

- Or for us. - said Natasha.

- Can we get to the big question? Why are you two here? Especially him?! - asked rather aggressively Clint, pointing at Loki.

- Why especially me?

- Because... - began Clint.

- Barton, a word, please! Actually all of you, come! - said Thor, already heading for the door.

- Kids, no touching of my stuff! - warned Tony.

Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Steve and Stark followed Thor out of the room.

- No talking about, what happened last year in front of them, got it? - asked Thor.

- I think that's best too. - answered Bruce.

- Sure, we don't want to mess up the timeline... - began Tony.

- Why, perhaps we could prevent everything? If we just catch Loki now... - said Clint.

- You will do no such thing! - warned Thor, reaching for his hammer.

- Everyone, calm down! - yelled Tony. - Yes, we could prevent everything, but by doing that, we could bring upon something even worse.

- Tony is right. Besides he is just a kid. He hasn't done anything yet. - said Bruce.

- I am with Bruce. - agreed Steve.

Clint looked at Natasha.

- I am with Bruce and Tony too. - said, a little guilty, Natasha.

- Great! - exclaimed Clint and threw his hands in the air.

- Now that we are on the same page, let's get back inside. - told everyone Thor.

Thor and Loki were starting to get bored and extremely curious.

- What do you think, they are talking about? - asked Thor.

- Something about me, I am sure, if they know older you, they might know older me too. And it doesn't look like they are too fond of him, especially that guy with the arrows.

- Loki, can I ask you a question?

- You just did.

- Okey, can I ask you another question?

- Well, technically...sure.

- Why do you always think, that people don't like you? It's not true.

Loki was surprised by Thor's question, and touched by his brother's care for him.

- I... Thank you, Thor, but you know, they don't.

- You are wrong! Loki, you need to be more confident.

- Thor, I am just being a realist.

- No, you are being a pessimist!

- Let's change the subject.

Thor sighed.

- Quit with the self pity, Loki!

- I am not self pitying! You are getting on my nerves now!

- And what are you gonna do, huh?

- Woah, woah, kids, calm down! - said Tony, walking into the room.

- Stay out of it! - cut him off Loki.

Tony's eyes widened.

- As always all bark and no bite, huh, Loki? - asked sarcastically the younger Thor.

- Better than being an idiot, who only knows, how to use his fists! - answered with spite Loki.

- It's no wonder, everyone hates you!

- Okey, enough! - shouted the older Thor. - Come with me, Thor!

The younger Thor glared at his brother and followed his older self.

- You need to be kinder to your brother. - said the older Thor, immediately after getting out of the room and closing it's door.

- Yeah, sure. - answered uninterested the other Thor.

- I mean it. I know things, you don't know and someday you will regret your behaviour towards him.

- I was being nice, he...

- I don't want to hear excuses, you forget, that I am you. I know your temper is short and you ego is big, but for your brother's sake you will have to change.

- What happened to Loki? I mean future Loki. Is he okey?

- I can't tell you that, but if you want him to be okey, you will try and be a good brother.

- Okey.

Loki tried to hold back his tears, but he failed, as they started falling from his eyes.

- Oh, no, I don't want crying kids in my tower. Suck it up!- said Tony.

- Tony! - warned Bruce.

- I mean, your brother wasn't talking seriously, he was just angry. - corrected himself Tony.

- I am sorry for crying, I just... - sobbed Loki, embarrassed.

- It's okey. - answered Steve, feeling bad, he hated, seeing kids cry.

- We are back. - said older Thor, entering the room again, with his younger self behind him.

- Your brother wants to tell you something. - he continued.

Loki turned his attention to the younger Thor.

- I am sorry, I didn't mean, what I said.

- Called it! - interrupted Stark.

Loki laughed through his tears.

- Thanks, Thor. - he said. - I didn't mean, what I said either.

- Now that this situation is settled, can you tell us, why and how you two are here? - asked Natasha.

- Oh, sure. - answered Loki, wiping away his tears.

#loki (marvel)#loki fandom #loki odinson #loki of asgard #marvel #faniction #loki fanfic #avengers fanfiction #fanfic #the avengers #god of mischief #god of thunder #marvel fanfiction

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dukereviewstv · 3 years

Text

Duke Reviews TV: Batman: The Animated Series 1x13 I've Got Batman In My Basement

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews TV Where We Continue Our Look At Batman: The Animated Series By Looking At Episode 13 Of Season 1, I've Got Batman In My Basement...

The Best Way To Describe This Episode Is That It's Basically Stranger Things Except Instead Of Eleven We Have Batman And In The Place Of Evil Government Organizations Or Monster/Monsters That Kidnap Kids And Cause Chaos, We Have The Penguin (Voiced By Songwriter Paul Williams)

Which Has Me Wondering Why They Even Bothered To Make That Documentary About Him Because I Knew He Was Still Alive...

But For Those That Don't Know Who Paul Williams Is, He's A Great Songwriter Who Has Written Alot Of Good Songs But He's Remembered By Me For 1. His Work With The Muppets Where He's Remembered For Writing This Song In Particular...

And His Voice Acting As The Penguin In This Series And The New Batman Adventures, He Also Lent His Voice To A Piano Teacher On An Episode Of Dexter's Lab, Where His Singing Skills Came Into Play...

youtube

(Start At 0:23, End At 1:46)

But Back To His Work With DC, Recently I Saw The Adaptation Of Superman: Red Sun And I Got To Say His Brainiac Creeps Me Out.,,

Yeah, Who Knew Paul Williams Could Out Do Corey Burton, The Best Brainiac Ever (Except In Static Shock)....

Seriously What Was Up With Brainiac's Voice In Those Episodes?

Anyway, I Realize I'm Getting Off Topic Here By Doing This Little History Lesson So Let's Move On Now To Our Review Of I've Got Batman In My Basement...

The Episode Starts At Night In Gotham City, Where 2 Criminals Steal A Fabergé Egg And Try To Escape But Before They Can Get Far They're Confronted By Batman...

However, Before He Can Attack Them, A Giant South American Vulture Appears And Attacks Him...

He Manages To Fight It Off, But In The Process The Criminals Get Away Only Leaving Birdseed Behind At The Scene...

The Next Day In The Suburbs Of Gotham, 2 Children, Roberta And Sherman..

Who Are Basically Are Basically The Nancy And Will Of The Story...

Look Through A Junior Detective Kit Filled With Novelty Spy Items As 2 Older Boys Named Frank And Nick...

Who Are Basically Billy And Season 1 Steve, Basic Bullies, But By The End Of This, They End Up Becoming Good Guys, So I Guess You Could Consider Them More Like Dustin? (I Guess) And Season 2 Steve...

Show Up And Start Harassing The Duo By Taking Stuff But When Frank Sees The Vulture, Sherman Decides Investigate It With Roberta As It Shouldn't Even Be In Gotham...

Following The Vulture To An Abandoned Birdseed Factory, The Kids Go Inside To Find The Criminals From The Heist Who Are Waiting For The Arrival Of The Penguin Who Hired Them To Get The Egg...

Recognizing Both The Egg And The Penguin, They Decide To Go Alert The Authorities But They're Unfortunately, Spotted By The Vulture Who Goes By Scrap...

Attempting To Attack The Kids, They Are Saved By Batman Who Catches It In A Net Before Going To Bury The Penguin And His Thugs In Birdseed...

Birdseed! I Hate Birdseed!

But As The 2 Kids Go To Get Out, The 2 Kids Activate A Conveyor Belt That Leads To A Grinder. Saving The Kids Again, Batman Goes To Deal With The Penguin Only To Be Hit By A Gas Pellet From His Umbrella That Causes Him To Start To Weaken...

Staggering To The Batmobile, He Is Saved By Roberta And Sherman Who Get Him Into The Car And Shut The Door Before Penguin And His Minions Arrive, They Breaking Into The Batmobile But The Kids Get The Vehicle Started And Toss Them All Off Before They Can...

Setting Batman On The Couch In Their Basement, He Says The Words Capsule And Visor, But The 2 Kids Don't Understand What He Means. Roberta Tries To Call The Police But They Be Real Detectives And Decide To Protect The Identity Of Their Client...

Yeah, I Agree On That Part...

Now If They Were Real Detectives I'd Understand This, But They're Just Kids And This Is The Penguin, Call The Cops And Get Help...

youtube

Later, Frank And Nick Show Up And Discover The Batmobile After Knocking Over The Boxes That Are Hiding It, But As The 2 Bullies They Find Capsules Under The Car's Visor...

This Gets Gets Sherman To Realize That That's What Batman Was Talking About...

As Sherman Runs Inside, Scrap Finds The Batmobile As Sherman Is Followed By The 2 Bullies Who Discover Batman And Try To Take Off His Mask But Luckily, They're Stopped By Sherman...

But Soon, Penguin Shows Up With His Men And Disable All The Phones, Preventing The Kids From Calling The Police

And From There It's Basically Home Alone...

I Wish I Was Joking...

The Kids Set Up Traps Using Objects In Batman's Utility Belt, But Unlike Home Alone, They Prove To Be Minor Delays Rather Than Stuff That Could Get These Guys Killed

youtube

Making Their Way To The Basement After Surviving The Traps, Penguin Grabs The Egg And Attempts To Kill Batman With A Buzzsaw In His Umbrella. Luckily Though, Batman Wakes Up And Defeats The Penguin And His Thugs As Sherman's Mom Comes Home...

With Sherman And The Kids Making The News, Including Articles About The Penguin's Arrest And Scrap Being Taken To The Gotham Zoo, Sherman Starts His Own Detective Agency With Roberta, Nick And Frank As Our Episode Ends...

And That's I've Got Batman In My Basement And For An Episode That's Despised By The Fan Base And Creator Bruce Timm Himself, Who's Gone So Far As To Say That...

"The Script Came In And It Was Terrible. Normally, I Tell The Director To Do What He Can To Make It Interesting And Nobody Could Figure Out A Way To Make It Interesting. The Storyboard Artists Didn't Care And It Shows"-Bruce Timm

I Honestly Love This Episode...

Yeah, It's Not Dark Like Most Episodes Of The Series Are But If Every Episode Was Dark, It Would Be Like The DCEU, Completely Boring And Not Keeping To The Look, Feel And Origin Of These Heroes, (Yes, It's Gotten Better, But Not Really)...

But Still, The Story Was Entertaining, I Did Enjoy The Penguin As The Bad Guy In This Episode (Even Though He Was Modeled After Danny Devito's Penguin In Batman Returns) And I Enjoyed Some Of The Scenes Including The Home Alone Type Traps And Batman Sword Fighting The Penguin With A Screwdriver...

If You Hate This Episode, Fine, That's Your Opinion, But As For Me, I Love These Episodes With The Main Rogues And I Say See This Episode...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

#batman the animated series #BTAS #Kevin Conroy #rob paulsen #paul williams #dc animated universe #dc animated movies #dc animation #dc animated series #DCAU #superman red son

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atsixesandcevans · 4 years

Text

my only wish (this year)

Summary: The world is different after the events of the snap, and that causes both you and Steve to make major changes in your respective lives, unknowingly pushing yourselves towards each other.

Both unlucky in love, and both longing for something fundamentally missing in your lives, what happens when you – quite literally – crash land into each others’ lives?

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/N: this was written for @capcountdownchristmas‘s challenge with the prompt of the song My Only Wish (This Year) by Britney Spears, though it ended up being only loosely based on that hahaha!

set post-endgame, except everyone’s alive and nobody’s sad :)

this will be a small series, I’m not sure how many parts there’ll be or when they’ll be posted but they are in the works, so please feel free to send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in this or any other of my works :)

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

November 2023

The disappearances – people had started calling it the snap, though you weren’t entirely sure why – had changed you. Changed everyone, really, in one way or the other. Every single person in the world either lost someone to the whims of the mad titan, or had been lost themselves.

You had been walking through Central Park when the screaming started. Panicked shouts of names, people disintegrating before your eyes. Your confusion morphed into dizziness, stumbling on your feet a little as you slowed to a stop. A gasp was caught in your throat as you looked down at your body that was half-gone already, fear swelling in your chest before everything went black.

When you woke up what felt like five minutes later, you were still in the park, but it felt… different, somehow. The sky seemed darker, the trees less vibrant. All around you, people were on the ground, matching confused expressions as they sat up, passers by rushing to help people up. Someone came and held your hand, pulling you to your feet, and you stuttered out a strained “what happened?”

The stranger’s confused but hopeful eyes scanned you for injuries, while they replied, “you’re not gonna believe me.”

Five years. They told you it had been five years since Thanos – whatever the hell that was – wiped out half the planet. You found it near impossible to fathom that half a decade had passed without you – without 50 percent of the world’s population.

Just like the rest of the world, you went on with your life as usual. At least, you tried to. You really did try, but each time you got up and went to the boring office job you hated, making the same small talk with co-workers you didn’t care to be friends with, every time you came home to your drab, empty apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was fundamentally missing.

It seemed that the snap had put things in perspective for a lot of people; walking home at the end of the day, surrounded by couples holding hands, going on dates. Even your friends were in love; two of them had had a romantic epiphany in the midst of the grief surrounding the snap, and had been in a happy relationship ever since. You were happy for them, of course, but you couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that you felt whenever you saw them kiss or be romantic around you. You longed for what they had; someone for you to love, who loved you in return. Another person to share your little corner of the world with, someone to celebrate the highs and commiserate the lows of life with. You yearned for it, and held out hope that you’d have that someday, and yet every year that went by, every birthday, every Christmas spent alone made that hope dwindle further and further.

You were stood in front of the coffee machine in the break room at work a month or so after the snap was fixed when you had what you could only describe as a moment of clarity. It dawned on you that the only way your life was going to change was if you changed it yourself. It was then that you decided that you would live your life the way you wanted to, no exceptions.

So, the next morning, you handed your two-weeks’ notice to your boss, and started looking for a house in Brooklyn, where you grew up.

Luck was on your side, it seemed, because you quickly found a small, reasonably priced (for Brooklyn) brownstone house in the Clinton Hill neighbourhood. After a viewing, you used your savings to buy the place, and within a month you were all moved in, with a part-time job lined up at a nearby art gallery to keep on top of your finances while you pursue your passion for art.

You still felt the absence of deep human connection, but you could only hope that the changes you had made would only bring more good things your way.

Steve had been staying upstate in Tony’s house since the defeat of Thanos and he had returned the stones to their rightful places in their respective timelines. Upon his return, Steve passed his shield on to Sam, who he knew would do a great job in the role of Captain America, officially hanging up his suit and finally allowing himself to just exist, without the responsibility that being in the Avengers had brought.

For two months, Steve had been helping Tony with the rebuild of the compound, as well as figuring out what role everyone would play in the new Avengers. It was quickly decided that Tony, like Steve, would be retiring, to spend time with his family and watch Morgan grow up. Bucky and Sam would lead the team, with Wanda and Peter working alongside them to tackle the evils of the world. Natasha decided to finally put aside the Black Widow title, though she would remain at the compound as an agent, leading the training of the new recruits for both S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers, as well as acting as a kind of logistics support for missions. And Bruce would continue as he always did; conducting experiments and continuing to use science and technology to make the world a better place.

With everyone settling into their roles, Steve found himself feeling almost restless. He had agreed to remain a semi-active member of the team, offering advice and support to the active members, but ultimately decided that he would move back into his house in Brooklyn and rediscover who Steve Rogers was outside of the Captain America image.

And so, he made the move back to Brooklyn, with the minimal belongings he had with him upstate stashed in a duffel bag, and the motorcycle that was almost an exact replica of his old one that Tony somehow had hidden away at the back of his garage. He had handed him the keys with a shrug and a non-committal “let’s just call it a little retirement present, from me to you.” Steve still often found himself baffled by his friend, but he couldn’t deny the genuine affection that had developed between them over the years.

As Steve re-entered the city, he was reminded of just how much he loved living here; sure, it could be loud and dirty and crowded at times, and there were definitely too many hipster coffee shops around… but it was home. Despite the changes that had inevitably happened in the 80 years or so since he grew up there, there was still the same feel to the place, the old brownstone buildings lining the streets reminding him of the apartment where he lived with his mother, the kids that often played in the streets reminding him of all the times he was ill and wishing that he could be out there with them. His memories of this place were good and bad, sure, but for the first time in a while he found himself thankful for the body given to him by the serum; he finally had the physical wellness and the free time to able to go out and enjoy his city in a way he never had been before.

Steve walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he made the walk from where he parked his bike to his front door. There were more cars about now than there were last time he was here, so he ended up having to park almost half a block away. As he passed the house next to his, he noticed that the small garden that was overgrown and messy was now neat and tidy, and there were potted plants on the stoop, as well as heavy curtains that replaced the tattered blinds that once covered the windows.

He was so preoccupied looking at the clearly now inhabited house and wondering who it was who had finally bought the place, that he didn’t notice you coming from the other direction, eyes glued to your phone screen as you read through an email from your boss.

The two of you collided, and Steve tripped on uneven ground, sending him falling backwards, landing on his back. In your attempt to remain on your feet, you ended up tripping over the same bit of ground, and landed on what you could feel was an incredibly defined chest, both of you releasing a soft grunt at the impact. Glancing up towards his face, ready to apologise, you were taken aback and your words caught in your throat at the sight of easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen; strong features, soft beard spread across what you could tell was an angular jaw, and long lashes framing eyes the prettiest shade of periwinkle blue.

You suddenly became very aware of how close your face was to his, and immediately felt a blush creep onto your face as you hastily moved to push yourself up and off him, rattling off a litany of oh god I’m so sorry and I wasn’t looking where I was going. The stranger smiled almost shyly at you, cheeks tinted pink, probably from the cold evening air, as he shook his head and got back on his feet, insisting “please, it’s my fault entirely, I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness; he was the one who had landed flat on his back with a whole other person on top of him, and he was asking you if you were okay?

Realising that he was still waiting for an answer, you cleared your throat before replying with a chuckle, “apart from a couple bruises to my dignity, I think I’m okay.”

His laugh shook his whole body, his face scrunching up in the most adorable way, and an inexplicable warmth spread through your chest at the sound, finding yourself desperate to hear it again.

You bit your lip to suppress a grin as he held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Taking hold of his hand, you noticed just how warm it was, despite being bare in the cold winter air, and introduced yourself, adding “I promise I don’t make a habit out of literally running into strangers outside my house.”

Steve cocked his head to one side, confusion across his face. “Your house?”

“Yeah, I live just there,” you said, pointing to the house he had just passed – the one that he was busy thinking about when he bumped into you.

A wave of understanding crossed his face before he let out a surprised laugh, nodding to the house next door, the one you had been passing not five minutes earlier. “I live next door.”

It was your turn to be confused. “You do? I’ve never seen anyone go in or out of that house in the two weeks I’ve been living here.”

Steve chuckled wryly. “Yeah, I’ve had some… business to deal with upstate, so I was gone for a few months.” He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t completely open about being an Avenger – or, ex-Avenger, now – but subconsciously, a part of him wanted to live as Steve Rogers from Brooklyn, instead of the persona he had been presented as for many years… and that same part of him wanted you to know him only as that version of him.

You nodded, though the expression on your face told him you were unconvinced by his bending of the truth. The two of you stood in silence for several moments, looking at each other with soft smiles on your faces, until you finally broke the silence. “Well, I um… I should probably head inside, it’s getting late.”

Steve nodded, though he couldn’t help the inkling of disappointment he felt. You both shared a soft goodnight with a smile before you moved past him and through the wrought-iron gate leading up to your door. It was as you were unlocking the door that you heard him call your name and you turned towards where he stood at the bottom of his own stoop steps. “Yeah, Steve?”

He looked oddly nervous, a shy smile on his lips as he fiddled with his keys, an almost imperceptible pink tinge to his cheeks. “I don’t suppose you’d want to grab a coffee with me sometime, would you? I’d love to make it up to you for knocking you over, and it’d be nice to get to know my new neighbour a little.”

His voice was hopeful, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Sure, I’d love to. But there’s really nothing to make up for, I was the one who knocked into you.”

Steve smiled wide, though he shook his head a little, getting the feeling that he wouldn’t win the fight with you about who bumped into who. “How does 11 o’clock Friday sound?”

You mentally checked your availability before grinning brightly at him. “Sounds perfect.”

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